Breakfast With Santa

by Pamela Browning

  But Tom didn’t call.

  A FEW DAYS LATER, Beth delivered two chairs to one of the model homes in the Hillsdale subdivision, which required that she pass the Holcomb Ranch. On her way back into town, she noticed Tom’s pickup parked in front of the bunkhouse, signaling that he was there. Impulsively, she headed down the driveway, bumping over a series of ruts and rocks and past the windmill, on its spindly metal legs, turning slowly on her right. She pulled the minivan up next to Tom’s truck and cut the engine. Divver’s wife, Patty, waved as she drove by, probably heading to her job at the hospital where she worked as a pediatric nurse.

  The temperature today was comfortable, not cold. A hawk wheeled overhead, and Beth heard voices on the other side of the barn where the corral was located. She slowly got out of the car and walked up the path to the bunkhouse. Near the equipment shed, Dallas perked up and trotted over, tail wagging. Beth indulged her in a companionable scrub behind the ears and continued into the bunkhouse. Finding no sign of Tom, she started for the barn.

  There, the light from the open door was diffused by the bare branches of the trees outside. Horses in their stalls shuffled and whinnied at her approach. The familiar scent of fresh hay and horse made her feel less restless, less nervous about confronting Tom.

  She found him in the feed room, checking off items on a list. His eyes lit up when she walked in.

  “Beth,” he said, coming to meet her.

  “I—I needed to touch base with you,” she said, her voice sounding high and uncertain. She swallowed and tried again. “I came to ask about Mitchell’s riding lesson tomorrow. He keeps mentioning it.”

  She detected a momentary flicker of apprehension in Tom’s eyes, but he was beaming down at her as if he never wanted to stop.

  “I’ll pick the two of you up tomorrow after lunch. Is that a good time?”

  Beth nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was overwhelmed with gratitude that Tom hadn’t forgotten, that he was planning to honor his promise to Mitchell.

  “What’s the matter?” Tom asked, his voice full of concern.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d be planning to—to—” Words failed her as she gazed up at his expression, at his eyes, at his mouth. His mouth, which was only inches away. Which she inexplicably found herself wanting to kiss in the worst way.

  “Tomorrow’s Mitchell’s birthday. I haven’t forgotten.” He sounded incredulous, unbelieving that she might have doubted.

  All she could do was stare at him mutely.

  He took her hand and led her to a bale of hay. He sat and pulled her down beside him. “You thought I’d renege?”

  “Not—not exactly,” she stammered. And, hating herself for saying it, she blurted, “After the other night, when—when—well, you hung up. We haven’t heard from you since.”

  Tom gazed off into the distance for a moment, then at her. “No,” he said softly. “No, you haven’t. I guess I have some explaining to do.” He clasped her hands in his. “I needed time and space, Beth,” he said gently. “It seemed kinder not to call or see you when I wasn’t feeling positive about what was going on.”

  “I understand,” she said heavily, and in that moment, she understood things from Tom’s point of view. He must feel as if he’d been misplaced in her affections by her son. He didn’t have any idea what else might be going through her mind.

  Tom brushed a tendril of hair back from her forehead. “We haven’t been apart very long, Beth, but I’ve been going through acute withdrawal. I’m not a poet, and I don’t say things in a fancy way, but—” He lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I want to make things right between us. I’m sorry I hung up. I should have called you back immediately, but, well, I’ve got a temper and sometimes it gets the better of me.”

  Now her tears really did spill over. She swiped at them with the back of her hand. “I didn’t want to stop by here today, but I had to, for Mitchell’s sake.”

  “I’m glad you came. Beth, I’m sure we can work everything out. About us, I mean.” He pulled a bandana from his back pocket and dabbed at her cheek.

  He stood and drew her up beside him, then planted himself squarely in front of her and wrapped his arms around her. It felt to Beth like a welcome, like stepping into a warm familiar place where when you go there, they have to take you in.

  She found comfort in his strength, listening to her heart beating against his. His shirt smelled like sunshine and the outdoors. She closed her eyes, willing herself back to the time when everything had been so easy between them. Tom kissed her, gently at first and then more passionately, his beard rough against her cheek. He held her tightly. When, after a while, they relaxed their embrace, she was trembling and longing for more. Right here, in the barn on the hay with the horses nearby and Dallas outside, thumping her tail in the dust. She was shaken at the passion that drove her desire.

  Even more of a revelation was her certainty that she’d never felt this way about anyone else. This new person that she had become was a stranger to her. And to everyone else, no doubt, including her son.

  “I want to be with you tonight,” Tom murmured in her ear. “It’s been too long.”

  “After Mitchell goes to bed,” she said in a rush. “Come over. I’ll be waiting.”

  “How about asking Leanne if Mitchell can spend the night with Jeremiah? She probably wouldn’t mind.”

  Quickly, Beth explained that Mitchell was on restriction. “I can’t let him go to Jeremiah’s house when I already told him he couldn’t, but I want to be alone with you.”

  “We’ll manage it. Phone me after Mitchell is asleep, and I’ll sneak over in the dark of night. We’ll have a secret tryst.” He smiled mischievously.

  “Tom,” called Divver from the direction of the corral. “Hurry out here and give us a hand, will you?”

  “Be right there,” Tom shouted back.

  “I’d better go,” Beth said. “I’m supposed to pick Mitchell and Ryan up this afternoon.”

  “You have a lot of obligations,” he said, “and mine are going to increase in the next few weeks as we rev up for the students’ arrival. Don’t worry, Beth. You’re high on my list of priorities, and—well, if you’re worried about Mitchell and me, don’t be.”

  She merely stared at him, glad he was saying this but unsure how to react.

  “Your son is part of you, Beth. I get along with him just fine. Like I said, we can work it out. Together.”

  “Together,” she said, and it seemed a magical word, with the power to make everything right.

  He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be over tonight.”

  “Tom!”

  It was Divver again, sounding impatient. “I’d better go,” Tom said.

  She held on to his hand until the last moment and stood watching as Tom headed out into the bright sunshine.

  Not until she was halfway home did she realize that she’d forgotten all about mentioning Nikki. And in spite of all her doubts, the question didn’t even seem relevant anymore.

  From the Farish Tribune:

  Here ’n’ There in Farish

  by Muffy Ledbetter

  Amy Holcomb hosted a party at the skating rink in Kettersburg last week for her Sunday-school class at the First Church of Farish. Attending were Necie-Lizbeth Eubanks, Jennifer Morris, Alisyn Morris, Tara Clark, Emily Weiss, Margaret Wesloski, Jenny Ballinger, Rosie Cerratano and Sophie Pell. A good time was had by all.

  As in every January, we have a whole bunch of people on our sick list this week: Teresa Boggs and Joe Gomez have colds, and Teresa’s mother, Elsa, went to the hospital with pneumonia last week. Get well soon, Elsa. We miss your smiling face behind the counter at the hardware store. Doc Walter Lewis was down with the flu, but he’s back on schedule now. If you missed an appointment because of a cancellation, call Miss Betty in his office and she’ll set you up.

  This week’s column is short because I’ve got a whopper of a sore throat myself. Don’t forget to call in your news to my cell phone, a
nd leave a message if I don’t answer. This week, until I feel better, I most likely will not be seeing anyone here ’n’there in Farish.

  Chapter Fifteen

  That night after Mitchell was asleep, Beth left her front door unlocked for Tom and waited for him in bed. She was dozing when she heard the latch click, and she came half-awake. His skin was still cold with the chill from outside when he slipped naked into bed beside her.

  “Warm me up,” he whispered as she turned toward him.

  She felt her nipples tighten as his leg slid between hers. The hair on his chest tickled her cheek, his rough hands stroked her skin and he buried his face in her long, loose hair. It was so good to touch him like this, to feel him, to inhale him. His hands, creating the most wonderful friction, moved down to her buttocks to caress her with hunger and exquisite tenderness. She closed her eyes, feeling his breath blowing hot against her shoulder. She’d yearned to be with Tom like this every night, wanted to wake up to his smiling face every day, and longed with her whole being to make love with him whenever she wanted.

  “Beth,” he murmured. He wasn’t cold now; she could feel the heat emanating from his body as she kissed him, his hardness pressing against her.

  “Oh, my dear Tom,” she said, opening to him on a gasp of pleasure, and quickly, surprisingly—just like that—he entered her, filled her, made her whole again. For their bodies to be joined seemed so natural, so right. In those moments, there was nothing in her world but Tom, the two of them one.

  With a clarity that had previously escaped her, she knew that she and Tom were meant to be together, were supposed to be doing this. They had been created for each other, and this mutual passion of theirs could empower them to live fully and meaningfully. This was a profound revelation, whose significance only enhanced her experience.

  Afterward, he held her for a long time, his breathing slowly returning to normal. She felt the tears swelling in her eyes, drawn from the well of deep emotion that had been tapped as they’d made love.

  Tom noticed the dampness on her cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asked tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  She shook her head. “They’re happy tears,” she said. “I love you so much, Tom. So much—” Her voice cracked, almost broke, but they were words that she had to say. Wanted to say. Needed to hear.

  “I love you, too, honey.”

  “You’re not just saying that because I did, I hope.” She spoke with trepidation.

  “No, Beth. I should have told you a long time ago.”

  “We only met before Christmas,” she reminded him, feeling utterly content and fulfilled. Tom loved her. She loved him. It should be so simple, really.

  He nuzzled her ear. “I fell in love with you at the pancake breakfast when I spotted you in that cute little elf suit.”

  Drowsy but amused, Beth put that statement away for future reference, but she smiled. She was so tired. “I’d better get to sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

  “Rest easy, honey,” he said as he stroked her cheek. “I’ll be gone when you wake up.”

  “Sorry,” Beth murmured, but it was the way things had to be. Mitchell would come bouncing in first thing in the morning, and he didn’t need to find Tom there with her.

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, when she opened her eyes in the morning, the only evidence of Tom’s presence the night before was his belt with the silver longhorn buckle, which he had evidently forgotten in his haste. Mitchell, who galloped noisily into her room at seven, wearing his cowboy boots and cowboy hat with his pajamas, recognized it immediately.

  “Tom left this,” Mitchell said, clearly mystified as he picked up the belt from the floor.

  “Uh, well, it does resemble his, doesn’t it.” Beth was mortified, but she reassured herself that Mitchell wouldn’t understand enough at his age to put one and one together and get two in her bed last night.

  “It is Tom’s, Mommy. I remember the longhorn on it.”

  “Mmm,” Beth said. “You’d better give it to me and we’ll return it to him today when we see him at the ranch.”

  Mitchell relinquished the belt without further comment. “Yippee! I can’t wait to go horseback riding.”

  “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Happy six years old.” She mussed Mitchell’s hair even more than it already was and recalled the day she’d given birth to him. The long painful contractions and the controlled breathing had exhausted her, and at one point she was sure it was never going to end. Finally, with Richie at her side, the doctor had held Mitchell up and said, “It’s a boy, Beth. Richard, you have a son,” changing their lives forever for the better. Richie had been so relieved and happy that it was all over, and she had been overwhelmed with love when the nurse settled Mitchell in her arms. No moment before or since could compare with it for sheer joy. Even though things had gone terribly wrong later, she and Richie had done something right. They had made Mitchell.

  Oblivious to her musings, Mitchell rattled on. “I hope Captain likes me. Will he?”

  Beth had already started for the kitchen. There, she coiled Tom’s belt and shoved it deep into her purse, which was hanging on the kitchen doorknob. “Of course he will.” She poured cereal into a bowl and set it on the table.

  “Ryan doesn’t believe I’m going to ride a horse. He thinks I’m fibbing. You’ll tell him, won’t you, Mommy?”

  “Right,” she said. She scooped coffee into the coffeemaker and switched it on before taking a bagel out of the freezer for herself.

  “Can I get dressed? And open my presents?”

  She’d invited Ryan and Jeremiah over for tacos, ice cream and cake tonight; it was to be Mitchell’s birthday party. She hoped Tom could come, too. “We should wait to open your presents when the boys and Tom are here. And you haven’t finished your breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry. I want to get ready to ride Captain.” He slid down from his chair. “Can I wear my Shrek T-shirt? And my favorite jeans?”

  That meant the pair with the tear in the knee, but Beth knew it wouldn’t matter to Tom. “Sure,” she said.

  Mitchell went whooping down the hall, and Beth realized that she was in for a difficult morning of dealing with a rambunctious kid. Still, the afternoon would be fun, since she would be spending it with her favorite guys, Mitchell and Tom.

  WITH MIXED FEELINGS, Tom watched Beth and Mitchell climb out of the minivan. On the one hand, he wished he could spend the afternoon alone with Beth. On the other, he warmed to the way Mitchell’s eyes brightened at the sight of him.

  Mitchell broke into a run. “Hi, Tom,” he said. “Today’s the day!

  Tom didn’t know how it happened, but one minute Mitchell was running toward him, and the next his arms were outstretched toward the boy and he was swinging him high in the air. Mitchell laughed with glee before Tom returned him to the ground.

  Dallas came bounding up, wagging her tail. She almost bowled Mitchell over, so they had to be introduced. Mitchell backed off when Dallas tried to lick his face, but after a few seconds of uncertainty, he threw his arms around her and embraced her wholeheartedly.

  “I like this dog,” Mitchell said as Dallas slurped at his cheek with her tongue. “Mommy, when can we get one?”

  “Not yet,” she said. She bent and scratched Dallas behind one ear, and the dog closed her eyes in bliss.

  Mitchell refused to give up the idea. “Ryan’s going to get a puppy, and his mom is going to stop being a teacher when she gets married. If you got married, you could quit your job, too.”

  Beth flushed and assiduously avoided Tom’s eyes. She’d told him once that she’d never close her business. She’d worked too hard to give it up. He’d assumed that she meant that she’d want to keep working if she got married, but neither of them had steered the discussion in that direction. Now he was overwhelmingly curious about Beth’s inclinations in the matter, and he wished he’d pressed the issue.

  This wasn’t the time, however. “Want to tour the Holcomb Ranch, Mitc
hell?”

  “I sure do.”

  The three of them walked side by side toward the bunkhouse, where Tom held the door open for the two of them before following them in. He showed Mitchell the classroom as well as his office and Divver’s. Mitchell’s eyes widened with interest when Tom pointed out where the cowboys’ bunks used to be.

  “Maybe you and me and Jeremiah and his dad could camp out here in front of the fireplace some night like I used to when I was a kid,” Tom suggested. “We could bring sleeping bags and make a pot of cowboy stew for dinner.”

  “You mean it?” Mitchell asked, eyes shining.

  “I’ll suggest it to Jeremiah’s dad,” Tom promised.

  “What’s cowboy stew?”

  “We brown hamburger in a big pot, and then everyone adds a can of something, and we let it simmer over the fire.”

  “I’ll bring a can of chocolate pudding,” Mitchell said seriously. “That’s my favorite canned thing.”

  “Maybe you’d better ask your mother what she thinks about that before you go shopping.” He winked at Beth, who only smiled.

  Dallas was waiting for them outside the front door, and Mitchell walked beside Tom with his hand on the dog’s neck. On the way to the barn, Tom got in a few important pointers about how the riding lesson would proceed. Beth followed behind, watching and listening.

  In the dark recesses of the barn, Captain nosed at the door of his stall. The stocky little brown pony always perked up when kids appeared because he understood that he’d be getting some exercise.

  Mitchell was wide-eyed as Tom saddled the pony and explained how the cinch held the saddle on.

  “You’ve got to keep an eye on Captain,” Tom told him. “Sometimes he’ll inhale a lot of air, then blow it out later so the saddle will loosen.”

  “Pretty smart pony,” Mitchell said.

  Tom demonstrated how to mount Captain from the left side and how to hold the reins. He insisted that Mitchell wear a safety helmet, telling him that even though Captain was gentle enough for a beginner, it was best to stay safe.