The Giving Season

by Rebecca Brock

  Jessy needed to be told beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was loved. He understood that now.

  He also understood that her concern about Ann taking the kids was simply a way of hiding her own fears of allowing herself the vulnerability of getting too close to him and his family. For Jessy, life would be easier if she didn’t get involved. To her, love equaled pain—so to avoid the agony of grief again, she would just be numb. And instead of living, she would merely exist.

  As he drove, Michael chanced a quick glance at Jessy. She sat ramrod straight, her beautiful chestnut hair loose and spilling over her shoulders in soft waves. She sensed his gaze and grimly smiled.

  “I warned you about me,” she said quietly, a faint note of sour humor in her tone. It was enough to give Michael a glimmer of hope.

  “Yes, you did,” Michael said. “But I’m not one to listen to warnings.”

  Jessy almost smiled at that, looking straight ahead instead of at Michael. “I don’t know what else to say to you, Michael.”

  “I don’t either,” he said, swinging his own gaze back to the road. “That’s why I want you to listen to me now and hear what I have to say.”

  The unusual forcefulness of his words caught Jessy off-guard. She frowned faintly, but said nothing. For once, she didn’t attempt to argue.

  Michael pulled the Bronco onto the shoulder of the road and cut the engine. An uneasy silence settled between them as the engine ticked and snow softly tapped against the windows.

  “I know why you’re afraid,” he said, voice as soft as a caress. “I understand.”

  Michael undid his seatbelt and half-turned in his seat, facing Jessy. It had been so long since he’d talked about this, years since he’d even allowed himself to dwell on it—but Jessy needed to hear it. And maybe he needed to share it.

  “When Libby and Marie and Ben were born,” he said quietly, “I didn’t think it was possible to love anyone as much as I loved them. From the moment they were born, I knew that I was taking a risk by loving them so much. Every time they bumped their head or caught a cold, it reminded me just how easily I could lose them.”

  Jessy remained silent, gazing steadily at Michael. He looked away, eyes shining with sudden tears. He gritted his teeth for a moment, steadied himself to continue.

  “We almost lost Libby,” he finally said. “She was just a few months old, just a little thing. One second she was smiling at me in her crib and the next—” His voice caught and he swallowed hard. Jessy reached out to smooth down his hair, a simple gesture that suddenly meant the world.

  “What happened?” she asked softly.

  “Convulsions,” Michael said simply, meeting Jessy’s gaze again. “Her temperature spiked to a hundred and one by the time we got her to the hospital. Ann and I spent the night in the ER while they packed Libby in ice and reduced her fever. Every time I saw a doctor walk by, I was afraid he was going to tell me that my little girl had died.”

  Jessy reached out, covering his hand with hers. He smiled slightly, grateful for her touch.

  “It wasn’t until we lost my dad that I understood how the world worked,” Michael said, his voice not much more than a whisper. “There’s a price we have to pay, a trade-off. If we’re going to be happy or love somebody or be loved—we have to be willing to accept the fact that one day it’s going to end.”

  Jessy nodded slowly. “But when it ends—it hurts so much—”

  “It should,” Michael said, a faint smile slanting over his lips. “That pain is what reminds us of how much we loved. Yes, it hurts to let go and face the end of that love—but I don’t believe that it ever really ends. It just changes.”

  Jessy thought of her parents, gone for so many years, yet still so alive in her heart and memories. Michael was right; she still loved her parents as much as she ever had, if not more. And she knew— felt in her heart—that wherever they were, they still loved her.

  “You have to take that chance, Jessy.” Michael touched her cheek, cupping it gently in his palm. “I know you’ve had a lot of pain in your life—but you’re entitled to some happiness, too. If you don’t allow yourself that, then—then all the pain was for nothing.”

  Jessy studied him for a few moments, feeling something deep inside her linking to him. He was speaking the truth, a truth she had tried to convince herself of time and time again. “You think so, huh?” she asked with a faint, lopsided smile.

  “I know so.” Michael felt an almost sickening lurch of fear in his belly as he realized that now was the time to tell her how he felt. There would be no better chance, no more perfect opportunity. “Jessy—”

  His voice trailed away and she waited for him to continue, gazing at him with guileless, wide eyes. Her breath had caught, as if she somehow sensed what he was about to say.

  But the words wouldn’t come.

  “Don’t run away from us,” he said instead, his slight smile fading even more. “The kids don’t want you to go. Stay until Christmas at least—please. Then you can do whatever you want. Just—think about it.”

  Michael heard the pleading tone in his own voice and forced himself to stop before he could embarrass them both. For all his talk of taking risks, he couldn’t bring himself to take that chance yet—just in case she didn’t feel the same.

  Jessy said nothing, keeping her eyes averted as she finally, slowly, nodded her head. Michael had the very bad feeling that somehow, without meaning to, he had hurt her even more by not being completely honest. He had let the moment pass, and now it was too late to fix it.

  “Jessy,” he said softly, taking her hand before she could move away from him. “I told you I’d give you all the time you need—all the time we need—and I meant it. I promise you.”

  She nodded, struggling for control of her emotions, but said nothing.

  “So what do we do now?” Michael asked, voice barely more than a whisper. “Do I drive you into town, or do I take you home?”

  Jessy closed her eyes for a moment, a tear trickling silently down her cheek. Her silence seemed to last an eternity to Michael. She could say anything right now. With her decision, she could either destroy the fragile thing they had created, or she could make everything right again.

  “Take me home,”she finally whispered. “Just—take me home.”

  Resisting the urge to laugh, to take her into his arms and shout his relief to the world, Michael simply nodded.

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Michael held to his promise. The rest of the week passed in a pleasant whirl of Christmas shopping and school pageants and cookie decorating, and Michael never again mentioned their argument or the reasons behind it. If anything, he was more wonderful than ever, as friendly and caring and generous as always. He kept his thoughts and feelings to himself, and if Jessy glanced up and caught him studying her, he merely looked away without a comment. Every night, after the kids were put to bed, they sat up and watched television for a while—usually while Lyssa dozed in her easychair—and then went their separate ways to bed. Michael never tried to kiss her or touch her or do anything that might scare her away.

  And after a week of it, Jessy was just about to lose her mind.

  It drove her crazy to be close to him, to catch a whiff of his soap or feel the faintest accidental brush of his hand against hers. The memory of that last kiss they’d shared in the garage haunted her. Every time she saw him smile, every time she heard his voice, she was jolted with total recall of how it had felt to kiss him, how sweet his lips had tasted, how gentle his hands had been—

  Crazy. She was going crazy. He’d said he’d give her time, so he’d given her time. Plenty of time. More time than she’d needed to realize that she wanted to be with Michael, that it was too late for her to be afraid of getting too close to him. Now she wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted him to make advances and do all the things that she’d always dreamed a man might do—

  But he was still
giving her time.

  “Make me a cat pancake!” Ben said, grinning broadly.

  Jessy wrinkled up her nose in a playful grimace. “A cat pancake? Eww—yuck! I’ll make blueberry or banana, but cat-flavored—?”

  Ben’s chuckle made Jessy’s heart feel lighter, banishing the more frustrating thoughts of Michael to the back of her mind. Even though she had the feeling that something was building between them—something big and scary and completely unfamiliar to her—she welcomed the distraction of the kids.

  “How about snowmen pancakes?” Maria asked, leaning on her elbows and half-lying over the counter. “Gramma makes them all the time.”

  Jessy glanced over to Lyssa, who sat at the breakfast nook with the morning paper spread out over the table. Lyssa looked over the rim of her bifocals and smiled. “I’m a culinary genius. What can I say?”

  Jessy laughed and quickly glanced around the kitchen, smile widening when she saw the basket filled with old-fashioned metal cookie cutters in the shapes of Christmas trees, Santas, reindeers, and sleighs. Perfect.

  “I don’t know if I can do snowmen,” she said to Ben and Marie, “but how about some Christmas pancakes instead?”

  As Ben and Marie watched, fascinated, Jessy placed the cookie cutters onto the griddle and filled them with batter. She made Santas with blueberry eyes and Christmas trees decorated with strawberry slices and bits of banana. She was just about to pour batter into the reindeer cookie cutter to make a strawberry-nosed Rudolph when Michael burst through the back door, a huge grin on his face as he quickly stomped snow from his boots and shook it from his hair.

  “Mom, could you give Doc Neilson a call?” he said, yanking off his gloves. “We’re about to add to the family.”

  Lyssa’s glasses slid off the end of her nose. “Lolita’s in labor?”

  “As we speak.” Michael grinned over to Jessy, reading her puzzled expression instantly. “Lolita’s one of the cows. She’s about to drop a calf and I’m afraid it might be breech.”

  Lyssa quickly made the phone call as Michael joined Jessy at the stove, sampling a Santa pancake. “This is actually good,” he said through a mouthful.

  “You sound surprised.” Jessy said and smiled. “I happen to be an excellent cook. You don’t get to be my size without—” She caught the sudden disapproval in Michael’s eyes and let the rest of the sentence trail away. “Sorry—habit.”

  “It’s a bad habit.”

  “I know, I know—” Jessy batted her eyes as she cocked her head and smiled up at him. “Forgive me?”

  “Well—” Michael slowly smiled. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  Their smiles locked and held for a long, sweet moment. For just an instant, a heartbeat, it felt as if anything could be possible between them.

  “Are you feeling better about—things?” Michael asked softly, standing so close to Jessy that she had to almost crane her head to look into his eyes. With Lyssa on the phone, Libby preoccupied with her magazine, and the twins playing with their food, it was almost as if they had the world to themselves. At least, it felt close enough for Jessy.

  “Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath and inhaling deeply all of Michael’s good smells—soap, fresh hay, skin. He hadn’t yet shaved that morning, so a stubbly growth of beard darkened his cheeks and chin and throat. He hadn’t bothered to brush his hair either and it stood at all angles, styled by the wind and snow. He looked as if he had just rolled out of bed after a particularly strenuous night—and Jessy had to rein her thoughts in before they could go any further. “Much better.”

  Michael slowly smiled down at her, as if he could read her thoughts. “So I’ve given you enough time and space and all that other jazz? You’ve thought about everything?”

  “Mucho thought,” Jessy said, her own smile growing. He shifted a little closer to her, still smiling in a way that made her heart triphammer.

  “So what have you decided?” he murmured, brushing a stray hair from Jessy’s temple, his fingertips lingering along the line of her cheek. One look into his eyes told her that he knew exactly what kind of reaction that gesture would cause. And he wasn’t far wrong. All of a sudden she forgot how to speak English.

  “I’m—I mean—I guess I’m—”

  “Doctor’s on his way,” Lyssa announced, turning around just as Michael was moving in closer. “Oh—don’t let me interrupt.”

  Michael grinned and tipped a quick wink to Jessy, then turned to Lyssa. And just like that, the spell was broken and Jessy regained the use of her brain. She sagged a little against the counter, pleasantly overwhelmed by whatever had just happened.

  “Guess I’d better go deliver me a calf,” Michael said, tugging on his gloves again. “Libs? Would my future veterinarian like to come watch?”

  Libby looked up from her magazine. “Is it all gross and yucky?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  Libby suddenly smiled. “Cool.”

  “Can we go?” Marie asked, tugging at Michael’s coat. “Please, Daddy?”

  “Not this time, sweetie.” Michael knelt in front of Ben and Marie, anticipating their pouts as he smiled. “I know Lolita’s your favorite, but she needs to be by herself for a while so she can have her baby and be safe.”

  “Can we visit her after she has the baby?” Ben asked.

  “Of course. I think she’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Michael kissed their cheeks and gave them each a quick tickle. “But right now, I want you two to eat your breakfast so we can go Christmas shopping this afternoon. Right?”

  “Right!” they chorused, smiling as they climbed back up on the barstools. Michael straightened and turned back to Jessy. For a moment they gazed at each other, connected in that moment of cozy domesticity.

  And right then, she couldn’t resist a moment longer.

  “Hurry back,” she finally said, stretching up on tiptoe to quickly kiss Michael’s cheek. He blinked in surprise, then frowned faintly to egg on Ben and Marie’s giggles.

  “You call that a goodbye kiss?” he muttered, smiling faintly as he snagged his arm around Jessy’s waist and pulled her flush against his side, gazing melodramatically into her eyes for a moment. Jessy, caught completely off-guard, laughed.

  “Michael—“

  Before she could say another word, Michael dipped her deeply, as if they were doing a tango in an old movie, and slowly, thoroughly kissed her. Jessy forgot she was supposed to be self-conscious of her weight, feeling as if her entire body had dissolved into a boneless rag, supported entirely in Michael’s strong arms, aware of absolutely nothing but the feel of his lips on hers. Everything else in the world melted away.

  When it ended, Jessy breathlessly gazed up at him. Michael just smiled.

  “Now that’s a kiss,” he said, winking as he helped her stand again. Jessy had to lean against the countertop to keep her trembling knees from giving out on her.

  “Wow,” she whispered.

  Michael laughed and kissed her again, the scratch of his stubble tickling her nose. “I’ll be back in a bit. Keep some pancakes warm for me, please.”

  Jessy managed a weak nod. “Sure—”

  With another wink, Michael left the house, followed by Libby. Jessy watched him go and then sank onto a stool, dazed and flushed and tingling from the lips down. Ben and Marie peeked at her through their hands, giggling. Lyssa just grinned as she poured a cup of coffee for Jessy and handed it to her.

  “And that’s what he does in front of family,” Lyssa said and tsked playfully. “Remind me to have you two chaperoned at all times.”

  text-indent:13.15pt;line-height:14.4pt"Jessy laughed. With the thoughts running through her mind just then, a chaperone might not be such a bad idea after all.

  “Daddy! It’s Santa Claus!” Ben gave Michael’s hand a mighty tug as he pointed towards the street corner, where a Salvation Army Santa stood ringing a handbell.

  Marie, holding Jessy’s hand, frowned faintly. “How can Santa be here and
at the North Pole at the same time?”

  As they walked along the town square, Michael glanced over to Jessy and smiled, his eyebrows raising as if to say How am I gonna get out of this one?

  “Well—” Michael cleared his throat and shrugged uncomfortably as he looked down and met Marie’s questioning gaze. “Santa is, uh, a busy guy—”

  “But how can he be here and be at the mall and be at the North Pole making toys all at the same time?” Marie asked.

  “Maybe he’s been clowned,” Ben said softly, voice dropping with awe.

  “Cloned,” Michael corrected, smiling. “And no, there’s only one Santa.”

  Marie wasn’t satisfied. “Then how—“

  “Elves,” Jessy said quickly, giving Marie’s hand a light squeeze. “Santa has a secret group of specially trained elves who go out and make all his public appearances for him.”

  “Really?” Both Ben and Marie frowned.

  “Jessy’s right,” Michael said, nodding. “Like I said, Santa’s a busy guy. He can’t go gallivanting all over the world to ring bells or sit in toy stores, so he has his elves go for him.”

  “Oh.” Marie suddenly smiled as everything clicked. “Okay.”

  Michael and Jessy looked at each other over the children’s heads and shared a relieved smile. He mouthed a silent “thank you” and Jessy grinned, shrugging. She had enjoyed every last second of their trip into the town of Scottsview—which was, to be honest, like taking a trip into a Norman Rockwell painting. Every storefront was decorated beautifully for Christmas and Hanukkah, with wreaths hanging from each street lamp and multi-colored lights criss-crossing the streets. For the first time in far too many years, Jessy actually felt excited about Christmas.