by Judy Duarte
In the process, their hands had touched, their gazes had locked, and Mac had fallen in love for the first and only time in his life.
Three months later, she’d dumped him.
But hey, he should have known better than to imagine anything could have really developed between them. Jillian had grown up as an only child in a loving home on Sugar Plum Lane. And Mac had spent his early years in a rundown apartment on the east side of town with an alcoholic mother and a father who’d been an on-again, off-again druggie. So the cards had been stacked against them since day one.
Suddenly, a little tiptoe down Memory Lane had turned into a full-on run. Mac tried to backpedal, but something in Jillian’s pretty green eyes zeroed in on him, just the way it always had, and he felt like an awestruck adolescent all over again.
“That’ll be four dollars and twenty-eight cents,” Ralph said. “That is, unless you two want a cone or something.”
Mac turned to Jillian and smiled. “It’s your last chance to cheat on that diet. For what it’s worth, you look just fine to me. And this has got to be the worst time of the year to be watching what you eat.”
“Thanks, but I’m going to pass. You go ahead. How about one of those triple-scoop Rocky Road cones you used to like?”
“Not today.” He wouldn’t feel right eating in front of her. “I think I’ll just have a cup of coffee.”
Jillian ordered hot tea, and as the clerk prepared their drinks, Megan and Tommy tasted their ice cream cones, then wandered to the back of the shop and slid into a booth. Mac had almost suggested they move to the one in the back corner, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a twenty from his wallet and waited for Ralph to tally the tab.
“I heard you talking about Christmas Under the Stars,” Ralph said, handing an insulated cup of hot water to Jillian, as well as a teabag. “It’s an annual event, and the kids will love it. I hope you’ll consider taking them. We sing carols by candlelight and drink hot cocoa. There’s also a live nativity display.”
“You know, I think I will take them.” Jillian dropped the teabag into her cup. “It’ll provide them with a bit of the holiday spirit since we won’t be celebrating in the usual way at home this year.”
Ralph handed Mac a large coffee and nodded to a table to the left of the counter. “You’ll find sugar and cream over there.”
“Thanks.” Mac would drink his black, but he wasn’t sure about Jillian’s preferences.
He watched her stop by the table and pick up a packet of sugar-free sweetener. Then she looked at him, her eyes just as bright and expressive as ever. “How about you? Will you be going?”
“No, I’ve never made a big deal out of holidays.” There’d never been a reason to. The last time he’d tried was when he’d dated Stacy Pernicano, a hairstylist by trade and his longest lasting relationship. A few years back, she’d taken him home to meet her family and to spend Christmas evening with them.
Her parents had gone all out with the outdoor lights and a Nutcracker scene that moved around the lawn. And inside, a ten-foot tree, its branches fully lit and loaded with ornaments, took center stage in the living room, surrounded by a mound of colorfully wrapped gifts. Stacy’s mom had gone all out on a gourmet feast, too.
But Mac had been uneasy all evening.
It was more than just the over-the-top holiday scene that had made him skittish. It was because Stacy had gotten a little clingy, and he preferred not to let women get too close. He was more of a loner than most, and he liked it that way. So he’d broken things off after New Year’s.
“I can’t imagine not celebrating Christmas at all,” she said. “It makes me sad to think of you being alone.”
“Don’t worry about me. I keep busy.” He usually volunteered to work extra shifts so the other officers could spend the holidays with their families.
As he and Jillian approached the table where Tommy and Megan were sitting, she slid in first and made room for him.
He tried to focus on the kids and their ice cream cones, rather than on Jillian, whose arm touched his. Whose light, floral scent reminded him just how little had changed.
Fifteen years ago, she’d always insisted that they meet somewhere, which was probably because Mac had been a budding delinquent her father hadn’t approved of.
Of course, that was the old Mac, a guy who no longer existed. Still, as he sat at a table with Jillian and her kids, those same adolescent insecurities began to surface again, reminding him of how star-crossed his crush on Jillian had been. And being together again at The Creamery, where the walls seemed to be closing in on him and forcing his memories to the surface, was making it worse.
He suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Look, Mom.” Tommy pointed at the window that looked out at the park. “There’s a playground over there. And it’s got a teeter-totter, a slide, and all the stuff Meggie likes.”
“Where?” His sister scrambled to get to her knees, ditching all signs of her shyness. “I want to see it.”
Mac glanced across the street, noting that the playground hadn’t been anywhere near as grand fifteen years ago and wondering when it had been remodeled.
“It looks fun,” Jillian said. “Before school starts in January, I’ll have to take you there.”
Sensing an escape route, Mac slid out of the booth and got to his feet. “What’s wrong with going there now?”
Chapter Four
Jillian and Mac, each with an insulated cup in hand, steam rising and twisting in the cool, wintry air, walked the children across the street to Mulberry Park.
Today had been surreal, Jillian thought, first with Mac showing up at the door and then with him suggesting they take the kids to The Creamery. And now they were headed to the playground.
She’d always wanted Jared to take part in outings like this, and while they did occasionally go to dinner or to school programs together, he usually had a reason for not joining her and the kids.
“Sorry, babe,” he would say, sometimes placing a kiss on her cheek and sometimes not giving her so much as a glance. “I’ve got another meeting I have to attend. And you know that business comes first.”
She just hadn’t realized he’d meant monkey business.
Of course, now Jared was probably strolling the deck of a cruise ship with his new family in tow, which wasn’t fair to the two children he’d left behind.
But she shook off the thought. The divorce was behind her, and it was best if she focused on the future. Whatever that might bring.
She stole a peek at Mac, who was looking ahead and scanning the park. He’d always been keenly aware of his surroundings, a tendency that, whether innate or learned as a child, probably came in handy with his job as a detective.
“Come on,” Tommy said as he and Megan reached the end of the crosswalk and stepped onto the curb. “Let’s go ride the teeter-totter first.”
“Okay, I’ll race you.” Megan took off across the grass, running toward the playground, her blond ponytail swishing across her back. Yet even though her brother reached the sand several strides ahead of her, she didn’t seem the least bit disappointed to come in second place.
“I’m glad I made the kids put on a jacket before we left,” Jillian said, noting that Mac only had on a white T-shirt. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Not really.” He took a sip of coffee.
She again noticed the red and black lettering on his shirt, and curiosity got the better of her. “What’s with Jiffy Bail Bonds? That seems like an odd shirt for a police officer to wear. I thought it was your job to lock up the bad guys and make sure they stayed there.”
He glanced at the block lettering across his chest, then tossed her a crooked grin, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and chuckled. “One of my buddies had these made up for a department softball game. It was our way of razzing our opponents. The captain of the other team was a public defender.”
“Cute. I’ll bet your opponents loved that.”
“Yeah, bu
t don’t worry. The shirts they wore were blue and said The Donut Stop, the Safest Place in Town.”
“That must have been some softball game.”
“It was a lot of fun. Especially the heckling.” He nodded toward a green fiberglass picnic table. “Why don’t we sit over there and watch the kids play? Unless, of course, you’d rather join them on the playground?”
Like they’d done on the night they’d met?
Her thoughts drifted to the first Christmas Under the Stars event, when she and Mac had wandered away from the couples and families holding candles and singing carols, away from the twinkling lights that adorned the trees.
They’d teeter-tottered for a while, their only light coming from the ornamental electric lampposts located near the cinder block building that housed the restrooms. Then they’d moved on to the swing set.
For two teenagers with very little in common, except a mutual attraction that had caught them both off guard, they’d hit it off that night. And when no one was looking, they’d slipped behind the restrooms and shared a kiss that began sweet and hesitant, then grew hungry and urgent.
Had Mac been remembering it all, too?
As they each took a seat on the bench, their backs to the table, they faced the playground where Tommy and Megan had joined several other children. She stole another look at her teenage crush, but couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His gaze was on her son, who, fortunately, seemed to have left his troubles at home today.
“Tommy’s always been a happy child,” she said. “It’s just since the divorce that he’s been a little…down and snappy.”
“Have you taken him to see a counselor?”
“Not yet.” She would have done it by now, but the new insurance plan Jared had recently acquired didn’t cover anything other than basic medical and only some dental. And with the expense of the move and a delay in the child support check…“I’ve enrolled the kids at the new school, and their first day is on the fifth of January. So I thought I’d see if the district psychologist might talk to him at that time. And then we’ll see what he or she recommends.”
“I’m sure that’ll help.”
“I hope something will. I’ve been at a loss. It’s tough to see your kids hurting and not know what to do about it.” She’d always been a mother-knows-best sort of woman, but in this case, she was treading water and hoping for the best. “I’ve prayed about it,” she added, not sure at all how Mac would feel about that. Her father had taken her to church regularly as a child, while Mac, according to what he’d once told her, had never stepped foot inside one.
Had that changed?
She slid another glance his way, but couldn’t read his expression. For some reason, she felt compelled to explain. “A couple of days ago, Tommy blew up over a lost toy. Not the parachute guy, but another one. And he started crying, saying that everything he loves gets stolen or lost or broken. I knew he was talking about more than just the toy.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I brought up his father, planning to explain—again—that the divorce had nothing to do with him at all, but he just stomped out of the room and slammed the front door. I probably should have gone after him, but I was feeling so helpless when it came to knowing what to say and how to deal with his pain and anger, that I fell apart and started crying. All I could do was pray. I heard the front door open again, and some footsteps in the hall. They paused for a moment or two, then continued on to his bedroom. I suspect he might have heard the desperation in my sobs, but if so, he never mentioned it.”
“If he’s like most males I know, he probably didn’t know what to say to a woman in tears so he chose to keep quiet.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Does his father see him and his sister very often?”
“No.” And now, since she’d moved to Fairbrook, Jared would see them even less. But she’d needed the distance, even if the kids didn’t. She’d gotten tired of running into friends they’d had as a couple, people who were uncomfortable with the situation and didn’t know what to say to her anymore.
Sometimes, she’d spot one of them at the market, and they’d either hem and haw, opt to study something on the shelves to keep from addressing her, or make a quick U-turn and take their cart down another aisle.
Bottom line, though? She’d also come home to lick her wounds. But Mac didn’t need to know any of that.
Silence stretched between them like a frayed rubber band, ready to snap in two.
Then he turned ever so slightly, his knee grazing her leg, his gaze locking in on hers. “Your husband was a fool to ever let you go.”
The sincerity in his eyes and the kindness of his words were a balm to her bruised ego, and she clung to them as long as she dared.
If more time had passed, if she were even ten pounds lighter…If they were teenagers again and could start all over…
But there were way too many ifs, too many memories and emotions balling together in her chest that made her want to get this conversation headed in another direction.
Yet it wasn’t memories of Jared that caused her uneasiness. It was the memories of Mac, of what they’d once had. Of what she’d given up.
She needed to change the subject, to break eye contact, but his penetrating gaze wasn’t letting up.
Fortunately, her daughter came to the rescue, her little arm extended with a pink, gooey, strawberry mess. “Mommy, can you please hold my ice cream for me?”
As Jillian’s fingers stuck to the soggy paper cover, which already bore traces of sand, she scrunched her face, then opened her mouth to object. But Megan was already heading back to the playground.
“That doesn’t look too appetizing,” Mac said.
“You’re right. I’ll hold this for a little while, then I’ll encourage her to throw it away.”
“Look on the bright side.” The laughter in his voice was calming, soothing. “At least you won’t be tempted to eat it.”
“That’s for sure. I’ve been known to finish off a few treats, but this won’t be one of them.”
He leaned his back against the edge of the table and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. “I’d never be able to steer myself away from sweets for more than a day or two, so I admire your willpower.”
She wondered what he would think if he learned that her self-improvement program had only begun the minute she’d laid eyes on him again.
At the beginning of the year, though, when she’d first learned that Jared was having an affair, she’d started a diet and exercise plan, hoping she could entice her husband to end things and come back home. But then she’d connected the dots and realized the man she’d thought was a workaholic had actually been a womanizer. And she’d decided not to stress about carbs or calories until after the divorce was final and she’d gotten the kids resettled in Fairbrook.
But settling in was more difficult than she’d imagined it would be, and her last plan had been to start watching her weight as a New Year’s resolution.
She glanced at Mac, saw him studying her, and forced herself to look away. Shrugging off the possibility of mutual interest, she stood and called Megan. When the child acknowledged her, she began walking to the trash can that was located near the drinking fountain. “I’m going to throw this away, Meggie. It’s melting.”
“Oh, okay.”
After dumping the cone, she used the fountain, its water brisk and cold, to rinse her hands. She wiped them dry on her denim jeans, then shoved them into her pockets for warmth.
Upon her return to the picnic table, she decided to take control of the conversation, shifting it from her and her children to him.
“I’m curious, Mac. How did you decide to pursue a career in law enforcement?”
He looked beyond the playground, then seemed to study his feet. About the time she thought he wasn’t going to answer at all, he said, “Your dad was right about me. I’d had a lousy home and very little parental direction. I’d alread
y started down the wrong path, but when you and I were seeing each other, I was determined to change. To be the kind of guy you thought I could be.”
She felt the need to argue, to defend the boy he used to be, but she kept quiet.
“And to be honest?” Mac’s gaze reached deep inside of her, where there was no need for arguments, excuses, and false sentiment. “I wasn’t sure I could be that man. But, for what it’s worth, your grades might have slipped, but mine had begun to climb.”
Her father had believed that Mac would drag her down, and he’d done his best to discourage her from seeing him.
“After we broke up and you went to college, I figured to heck with it and fell in with a bad crowd, a group of bad-ass delinquents who were in trouble more times than not.” He lifted his hand and pinched his index finger and thumb. “I was this close to crossing the line and facing some jail time.”
“What happened to change that?” she asked.
Again he looked into the distance, and when his gaze returned to her, a crooked grin formed, crinkling the edges of his eyes with wry humor. “I’m probably the only guy you know whose life was turned around by a homeless man.”
“You mean you saw a guy living on the streets and realized you might end up like that?”
“Nope.”
She turned in her seat, her knee brushing against the warmth of his leg. She considered pulling away, but she missed what little connection they still had. “Then how did he…?”
“One day I was cutting through this very park to meet up with some of my friends, and I ran into this homeless guy. At least, I assumed he was homeless. He wore a dark jacket with a torn sleeve, a faded black shirt, and brown frayed pants. His long, stringy hair hung to his shoulders, and he had a bushy, silver-streaked beard.”
“Who was he?”
“He said his name was Jesse—just Jesse. And he had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He seemed to know a lot about me, and he talked the way I always imagined a father might speak to his son.” Mac shrugged a single shoulder. “You know, in a Ward Cleaver or Pa Ingalls sort of way.”
