The Giving Season

by Rebecca Brock

  Jessy couldn’t help but wonder what else Michael hadn’t told her. “She what?”

  “We were talking and actually getting along for once and—”

  “She kissed you,” Jessy said, voice flat. “Well—”

  “It didn’t mean anything to me.”

  Jessy looked him in the eye. “That’s pretty cavalier of you.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  Jessy abruptly stood up, picking up her plate and silverware. “I don’t think I can have this argument with you again.”

  “What argument?” Michael stood and followed her into the kitchen. “Would you please tell me what’s going on here, because I haven’t got a clue.”

  Jessy kept her back to him as she busied herself at the sink, not trusting herself to look him in the eye. “This is exactly what we talked about this morning—you and Ann.”

  “Jessy, nothing happened.”

  “Except you kissed her.” Jessy finally faced him again. “You kissed her and didn’t even mention it to me today. I don’t consider that ‘nothing.’”

  “I don’t believe this.” Michael leaned against the countertop, exasperated. “We talked. She kissed me. It meant nothing!”

  Before Jessy could speak, the front door opened and the house exploded with life again. Ben and Marie thundered through the house, followed by Ann’s cheery voice. “Hello? Anybody home? Mike?”

  Michael turned towards the doorway, his relief so obvious that Jessy didn’t have the heart to keep the argument going.

  “I’ll get the dishes done,” Jessy said quietly, knowing that his attention was already wandering. “It would be better if I don’t have to talk to Ann.”

  Michael looked to her again. “This conversation isn’t finished.”

  Jessy said nothing, focusing on the soapy water and dirty dishes. Without another word, Michael walked out of the kitchen. To Ann and their children.

  To his family.

  It took only a few minutes to wash the dishes. Dimly aware of the sound of their conversation in the living room, Jessy tried to stall, to divert her attention by keeping busy, but finally ran out of things to do. She’d have to face them if she wanted to go upstairs. She had to square her shoulders, take a deep breath, and walk through the living room like it didn’t kill her to see Ann and Michael together.

  This was going to be hard. But she refused to hide.

  Before she could change her mind, Jessy tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ears and walked out of the kitchen, through the dining room, pausing just outside the living room entryway as her courage stuttered and faded away.

  “Now you just try to tell me that our little girl isn’t going to look like an angel in this!” Ann’s voice sounded warmer, more loving than usual, and Jessy peeked around the edge of the door to the living room, hesitant to intrude.

  Ann stood behind a beaming Libby, one arm around the girl’s shoulders as she held up a gorgeous white dress. They looked as if they’d never had a cross word, as if Ann had never said one hurtful thing to her daughter. Libby gazed at Ann adoringly, almost starstruck, giddy with the joy of being the focus of her beautiful mother’s attention.

  For a moment Jessy didn’t know whom she envied more: Ann or Libby.

  “We practiced singing all the way home,” Libby said, laughing. “Mom made me sing all the high notes because she said she’d crack the windows.”

  “Now that I believe.” Michael grinned. “One time she tried singing ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ at a ballgame and ended up shattering every pair of sunglasses in the stands.”

  “Not fair!” Ann said, laughing with mock indignation as she playfully swatted Michael’s arm. “I can’t help it if our children inherited my good looks and your singing ability.”

  “Well, at least we got lucky with that, didn’t we?”

  Ann’s smile mellowed, gaze softening as she studied Michael. “Yeah, we did.”

  As Jessy hid in the doorway, she watched as Michael and Ann gazed at each other, something silent and momentous passing between them. Something intimate. Something loving.

  Something she had no right to interfere with.

  “I’m going to go try on my dress again,” Libby said, also sensing the change of atmosphere in the room. “Mom—will you come up and help me fix my hair?”

  Ann reluctantly dragged her gaze away from Michael’s. “Sure, baby—I’ll be up there in a few minutes. I need to talk to your dad first.”

  Libby smiled and rose up on tiptoes to kiss Ann’s cheek. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Ann hugged Libby extra hard and then let her go. “Maybe we’ll even experiment with some makeup—how’s that sound?”

  “Cool!” With another huge smile Libby turned to leave the room, passing by the doorway as she crossed to the stairs. Horrified by the thought of being caught eavesdropping, Jessy scrambled away from the door frame, racing back to the kitchen. She hurried to the sink and plunged her hands into the lukewarm dishwater, her heart hammering as she simply stood there for a few moments. She heard Libby’s footsteps on the stairs. Michael and Ann were finally left alone.

  And the thought brought a sudden, unexpected wave of nausea. She had seen the tenderness that had passed between them. She had seen the way their marriage must have been once. The way it could be again.

  Jessy gripped the edge of the sink. She could hear the faint whisper of their voices in the other room. The urge to go back to the door, to listen, nearly overwhelmed her. It would be wrong to eavesdrop. It would be wrong and hurtful and—

  And impossible to resist.

  Jessy dried her hands again and edged to the kitchen doorway, her heart beating almost painfully, a stomach-twisting sense of dread building with each moment that passed. She didn’t want to hear what they were saying to each other, didn’t want to know.

  But she did. She had to know. For better or worse, no matter how awful the truth might be, she had to know.

  She moved closer to the living room, ears pricked, listening. The whisper of their voices had stopped. They weren’t speaking at all.

  Jessy knew what she would see before she even reached the door.

  She didn’t even bother to hide. Michael and Ann were unaware of anything but each other, kissing with a passion and urgency that seemed forever out of Jessy’s reach. Ann luxuriated in his kiss, her arms entwined around his neck, her hands dug into his soft, thick hair. Their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly—Michael’s hard muscles and Ann’s perfect curves molding themselves against each other so intimately that they looked as though they had been made for each other.

  Jessy felt oddly detached from the moment. She felt as if she were being anesthetized, aware of the blurry edges of the pain descending upon her, but not yet feeling the full impact. That would come later. Right now there was just the sight of Michael’s hands on Ann’s slender waist, his mouth against her lips, his body pressed tightly against hers—and Jessy knew that every time she closed her eyes she would relive this moment.

  The dishcloth fell from her hands as she forced herself to turn away, forced herself to move and walk away from the doorway, away from Michael and Ann and their rediscovered intimacy. She had known it was too good to be true. She had known it deep down in her heart and yet she had ignored those doubts, so desperate to be with Michael that she was willing to make a pathetic fool of herself.

  But no more. Michael had made his decision, whether he was aware of it or not. And so had she.

  An unnatural calmness settled over Jessy as she picked up the phone in the kitchen and called information. Then, without hesitation, she dialed the number of the only hotel in town. That would do until the next bus ran.

  She had stayed long past her welcome.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Michael managed to push Ann back a step, breaking away from her kiss with a gasp of breath. “Ann—stop it!”

  Ann gazed up at him with a voluptuous smile on her lips, h
er eyes filled with invitation. She sidled up against him again, pressing her hips against his, rubbing against him as she flattened her hands against his shoulders. “Your heart’s racing,” she said, pressing her lips against the center of his chest. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

  Michael gently but firmly pushed her away. “Ann, I’ve told you—”

  “And I don’t believe you.” Undeterred, Ann slithered against him again, nuzzling his neck through the open collar of his shirt. “I think you want this just as badly as I do.”

  “No—”

  “That’d sound more convincing if you weren’t so obviously enjoying this.” Ann’s gaze dipped down between their bodies, then back to Michael’s eyes again. “I want you, Michael.”

  Michael shook his head. “It’s not going to work, Ann.”

  Anger flared in Ann’s eyes. “Why not?”

  “I don’t love you anymore.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” Ann’s lips slanted in a sardonic smile. “I know you, Michael. You’re not the kind of man who can just fall out of love—especially with me.”

  “And why do you say that?” Michael asked, almost amused by her vanity.

  “Because I’m your wife,” Ann said quietly. “I’m the mother of your children.”

  Michael said nothing for a moment, studying the smug perfection of Ann’s smile. She was so assured, so certain of herself. She had never had one moment of doubt or self-consciousness in her life. Once upon a time, that had been one of the things he’d loved about her.

  “What about Jessy?” he finally said, voice soft.

  Ann laughed at that, dismissing him with a flap of her hand as she collapsed onto the couch and carelessly crossed her long legs. “Jessy? You mean the Jessy who is staying here? With you?”

  “Yes.” Michael kept his voice carefully monotone, his face neutral.

  “Oh, honey—please.” Ann laughed again, shaking her head. “You do not want to be seen with her. Can you imagine what the people in town would think?”

  “Maybe I don’t care what they’d think.”

  Ann’s smile abruptly died. “Well, maybe I would.”

  “Why? You don’t even live here anymore.”

  “The people in town know we were married. And they know that our divorce is just temporary.”

  Michael’s eyes widened. “Just what?”

  “We married too young, Mike. You knew that I wanted to do more than just live on a farm. I needed to experience life—and I couldn’t get that by staying married to you.” Ann shrugged, as if divorcing Michael, tearing his heart out by rejecting his love, hadn’t mattered to her. “I’d always planned to come back when I was settled—so here I am.”

  “No.” Michael shook his head, suddenly so furious that he couldn’t stay still. He stalked over to the fireplace, gripping the mantel with both hands and squeezing so tightly his knuckles whitened. All those nights of sleeping alone in their bed. All those tearful talks with the kids about why their mother forgot their birthday or didn’t visit. All those memories that had haunted him during the empty early days of their divorce—

  “I thought about you all day today,” Ann said as she rose from the couch. She wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist, pressing her breasts against his back as she kissed the hollow between his shoulderblades. “I kept thinking about making love to you. The way you used to kiss me. The things you used to do to me—”

  Michael squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He remembered all those things, too. Remembered them with such graphic detail that he couldn’t control the rush of heat that flared through his blood. Making love to Ann had always been good. That was the one thing in their marriage that had been perfect. Even when everything else had gone to hell.

  Her hands snaked around his waist to his stomach, flattening there for a moment, temptingly hovering just above his belt. Ann stood on tiptoes and nuzzled his neck, kissing just below his ear, knowing full well the effect it would have on him.

  “Let’s make love, Michael,” Ann whispered. “I haven’t been with anyone in so long—nobody has ever made me feel the way you do.”

  Michael turned to face Ann. She had that look in her eye, the one he’d dreamed about for so many years after the divorce, the one he’d remembered so well from all their years together. She wanted him, wanted him now, and would do anything he asked. Once upon a time, that alone would have ignited a passion that couldn’t be satisfied until he’d buried himself inside her.

  Now it did nothing for him. Nothing at all.

  “Ann—” His voice trailed away as he caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway. Jessy. Looking at him as if he’d driven a dagger into her heart.

  How much had she heard? What had she seen?

  Ann turned her head, her smile turning into a smirk at the sight of Jessy. “Well, well—I suppose no one ever taught you not to eavesdrop, did they?”

  “Hello, Ann.” Jessy said tightly.

  “It’s Mrs. Forrester, please.” Ann’s smile quirked.

  Michael disengaged himself from Ann’s clutching embrace. “Jess—this isn’t—”

  “I’m just going upstairs,” Jessy said as she entered the room, carefully avoiding his gaze. “Please don’t let me interrupt.”

  “Jessy—”

  “Let her go, Mike.” Ann smiled coolly. “At least she realizes when she’s worn out her welcome.”

  Michael lunged forward, fingertips brushing against Jessy’s arm, the contact just galvanizing enough to stop her in her tracks. It took every ounce of courage, every bit of control, to keep her expression impassive as she turned to look at him.

  “You heard her, Michael,” Jessy said quietly. “Let me go.”

  “Yes, Mikey. Let her go back upstairs.” Ann’s smile grew venomous as she looked at Jessy. “You interrupted a very important conversation between my husband and I.”

  “My husband and me,” Jessy muttered.

  Ann’s eyebrows arched. “Excuse me?”

  “If you’re trying to fake intelligence, at least get the grammar right.” Jessy returned Ann’s stare just long enough to see the anger flashing in her eyes, then glanced to Michael again. “I’ve called a taxi. I need to go upstairs and pack.”

  Michael blinked, stunned. “You’ve what? Jessy—”

  “Excuse me, Michael.” Jessy stepped past him, but he captured her arm again.

  “You’re not leaving.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, how about this?” Ann laughed, the sound ugly and harsh in the silence. “She actually has enough brains in her head to realize when the game’s over. Good for you, Jessy.”

  “This has never been a game to me,” Jessy said quietly, trying to control the quaver in her voice. “I don’t play games with people’s emotions the way you do, Ann. I don’t use people until I get tired of them.”

  Michael moved toward Jessy, who would not look away from Ann’s icy gaze. “Jess—”

  “Oh, that’s right, Michael,” Ann sneered. “Go running to her. Make sure your little fat friend’s feelings aren’t hurt. Where was all this concern this morning out at the corral?”

  “That’s enough, Ann!” Michael’s voice tightened with anger as he turned to face Ann.

  “What’s wrong, Michael? You don’t want her to know you and I were together this morning?” Ann glanced at Jessy and smiled spitefully. “Lovely time. Have you had the chance to kiss my husband yet? It’s delicious.”

  Jessy winced but was damned if she’d let Ann see how deeply her words cut. “I can’t believe you’re being this way after what happened this morning, Mikey,” Ann continued, focusing all her attention on Michael now. “After what we discussed—what we did—”

  “What we did meant nothing to me, Ann.”

  “Michael,” Ann said softly, “I’m just trying to make you see before it’s too late,”

  “Too late for what?”

  “She’s using the kids to get to you. I can’t believe you don’t see t
hrough her little act.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jessy said, barely able to control her outrage. “You’re the one using the children to get back at Michael. You don’t even realize how much you’re hurting them.”

  “Oh, really?” Ann took a step closer, almost cocky as she flicked her gaze over Jessy. “Tell me—how on Earth could you even imagine that Michael would possibly fall in love with somebody like you?”

  “Somebody like me?” Jessy repeated quietly.

  “Stop it, Ann,” Michael said, slipping his arm around Jessy’s shoulders. She cringed to think of how huge she must seem beside him.

  “Look at yourself,” Ann continued, eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “It’s not like you’re going to have too many offers, as fat as you are. When an easy touch like Michael comes along, you’re going to take advantage of it. And all Michael feels for you is pity. Not love. Certainly not sexual attraction. Just plain old pity—he felt sorry for the lonely fat girl.”

  For a moment Jessy couldn’t speak, so choked with anger that she could actually taste the rising bile. Somehow, with the intuition of the truly cruel, Ann had known exactly what to say to inflict maximum pain.

  “Really, Michael,” Ann said with a suddenly brilliant smile. “Is this the best you can do? I’m disappointed in you.”

  “Jessy is a wonderful woman—”

  Ann cut him off with a disdainful laugh. “Oh, right—a ‘wonderful woman.’ And I’ll bet she has a great personality and a helluva sense of humor, too. Right?” Ann’s smile faded as she looked back to Jessy again. “Did you really think Michael could fall in love with you? Were you that deluded to think he could actually love somebody like you?”

  Jessy couldn’t bring herself to respond to that. Every fear, every doubt—Ann had magically magnified them a thousand times over.

  “How can you stand there and say that?” Michael asked, voice dropping to little more than a whisper. His eyes blazed with anger. “How can you say that?”