Maitland Maternity Christmas

by Judy Christenberry; Muriel Jensen; TINA LEONARD

  It was five o'clock by the time Doug finally got out of the operating room. Tired but pleased with his work, he scrubbed and changed, then called his mom.

  She answered on the first ring, her voice raspy.

  "Are you sick?'' he asked, instantly worried.

  "I think I might be just a touch out of sorts," Francine replied.

  "Why didn't you call me? Are the girls behaving?''

  "They're fine, just fine," Francine said. "Don't worry about them, honey, I've got Su - "

  His eyes widened. "You sound horrible. Are you coughing? Is your throat sore? Do you have a fever?"

  "Goodness, Doug. I'm fine. Truly. We'll all be here when you get home. Don't worry about us, because - "

  He frowned. "I most certainly am worried! I'll be there as quick as I can. You should be resting."

  "I've been resting. Honest."

  "Not with my crew there, you haven't. Tell them I'm on the way, and to save their energy for me."

  But when Doug got to his mother's, the first thing he saw was four figures lying on their backs in the snow, staring up at the twilight sky.

  "Oh, for crying out loud," he said, getting out and slamming the door to his Jaguar. "You should be resting, you most certainly shouldn't be lying in the snow - "

  Then he stopped, as Edie cried, "Look, Daddy! We're snow angels!"

  He looked into Suzanne's eyes as she quickly sat up, her hair caked with snow, her red nose and cheeks slightly dewy with the cold moisture. "You sure are," he said. "The prettiest snow angels I ever saw."

  Doug called in a prescription for his mother after examining her, and then turned to face Suzanne who was now dry and warm as she and his girls sat in front of the gas log fireplace. "I'm going to run to the drugstore to get the prescription. Does anyone feel like going with and grabbing some takeout?"

  Edie, Fran and Kimmie jumped at the chance to go anywhere with their father. But Suzanne looked at him and shook her head. "I should be getting home."

  "It's selfish of me, considering you've given up your afternoon to take care of my kids and my mother, but I'd love to talk you into reconsidering. It's almost no fun to eat Chinese food without someone to open the fortune cookies with. And we could pick up some sake."

  "You have your girls," she said with a smile.

  "Yes, but you and I can warm up the bottle of sake and share that, something my girls can't do with me."

  "Mmm-hmm. Warm sake after rolling in the snow making snow angels? I don't think I can refuse that."

  "Good. I'm happy. Okay, everybody in the van. Mom, we're going to pick up takeout and your prescription," he called down the hall. "Would you eat some wonton soup?"

  "I'm never too sick to enjoy wonton soup," Francine called back.

  He slipped into a zippered jacket, and together he and Suzanne put parkas on the girls. "Snug as bugs, you are," Doug said.

  "I don't like bugs," Kimmie told him, her eyes big.

  "I don't either, unless they're ladybugs, lightning bugs and butterflies, which are not exactly in the bad insect genus, I don't think, but never mind."

  "What am I, Daddy?" Fran wanted to know.

  "Well," he said, thoughtfully considering his daughters, "Edie is my lightning bug, because she lights up at night when she should be asleep." He kissed Edie's nose. "Fran's my ladybug, because of the three of you, she's most likely to use the hairbrush."

  And he kissed the tip of Fran's nose. "Kimmie, you're my butterfly, because you're always flitting around trying to escape my net. Like now," he said, grabbing her and making her giggle as he kissed her nose. "But now I've caught all of you, so you have to get in the jar, which is really the van, and put your seat belts on."

  "What is she?" Fran wanted to know, pointing at Suzanne.

  To his surprise, Suzanne blushed a very becoming pink. He realized she wasn't comfortable being included in the family game. "Well," he said, getting to his feet to usher them all out to the van, "I think Ms. Blake isn't a bug. We probably shouldn't classify her as any type of insect after she was nice enough to come over and make snow angels with you, right?"

  She blinked at him, and he couldn't read her expression. It had been so sweet of her to come over - and yet, he didn't want to read any more into the gesture than she'd meant. Suzanne was a nice lady - the kind who took pregnant teenagers to the clinic, who designed scarves with designated proceeds to women's causes, who made grilled cheese sandwiches instead of going to a fancy restaurant so the housekeeper wouldn't worry about driving in the snow, and who wouldn't let a sick elderly lady take care of three kids by herself.

  Classifying her as a bug was something for which she probably wasn't ready.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Suzanne couldn't believe how much fun she was having on the ride to the pharmacy and then to grab the Chinese takeout. Doug and the girls sang off tune Christmas carols, and she found herself joining in. Once back in the driveway, they indulged in a very tame snowball fight, with tiny, lightly packed snowballs. Doug tackled her once - gently - and the girls piled on top as Suzanne scooted out from underneath, squealing with the excitement of the chase.

  "Get off!" she huffed, having a blast and yet trying to sound like she wasn't as Doug grabbed the back of her jacket and slid snow under the collar. "Oh, my gosh, that's cold!" But she was laughing and he was, too, even as she pelted him in the face with a handful of snow and ran for the doorway.

  She made it up the rock-salted steps before he grabbed her arm and tried hauling her back into the snow. But she had one last weapon left to her - a fraction of a snowball in her hand - which she deftly slid inside his shirt front.

  Jumping back to shake the snow out, he released her long enough for Suzanne to dart inside. She was sitting in front of the fireplace, her eyes twinkling with victory, by the time he'd ushered the girls onto the porch and removed their shoes to join her.

  "Did you forget something?" she asked.

  "Like what?"

  "Maybe the prescription and the food?" Suzanne laughed at his oh-my-gosh expression.

  Grumbling good-naturedly, he went back out. The girls came to sit beside Suzanne, less hesitant with her than they had been before.

  "That was fun," Edie said. "I like snow."

  Suzanne looked down at the three girls. "I had fun, too."

  "Daddy's silly," Fran observed.

  Suzanne had to smile at that. "I guess he is. It's probably a good thing for a daddy to be silly sometimes, don't you think?"

  They nodded, giggling. Suzanne patted their knees, then said, "Sit right here while I go check on your grandma." Going down the hall, she softly called, "Francine?"

  "Don't worry, I'm awake," Francine answered. "I couldn't have slept through all that racket if I'd wanted."

  "Were you asleep? Are you feeling better?"

  "No, I wasn't asleep, and no, I'm not feeling better, but after hearing my son laugh like that, I think I am now," Francine replied.

  Oh. Suzanne's heart sank a little. She didn't want to get Francine's hopes up. Nor Doug's. And certainly not his little flurries. "Can I bring you your soup?" she asked softly, unable to think of an appropriate comment.

  "It sure does sound good, not that I meant to have you waiting on me. Goodness, I should be waiting on you."

  "Don't worry, Francine. You need to concentrate on yourself right now. I'll be right back."

  She met Doug in the hallway. He towered over her, gazing down at her with an un-mistakably masculine presence she found very attractive. In fact, she found a lot about Doug appealing. Enticing. Sexy. "Your mom thinks she could take some of that wonton soup," she said softly, gazing up at him. "Doug, I - I forgot a meeting I have early in the morning. Would you mind dreadfully if I...if I..."

  “Are you about to make your excuses after all?"

  She stared up at him, caught by the fact that he'd perceived her sudden panic attack.

  "Don't, Suzanne," he said quietly. "I know what you're thinking, but you have nothi
ng to fear from me. I completely understand your position, and have greatly appreciated your honesty. This is a difficult time for all of us," he said, stopping to swallow and take a deep breath, "because my wife died just before Christmas. So although it would be easy for us to get attached to you, the truth is, I know I'm at a vulnerable place in my life. I promise not to ask you for more than you can give."

  She stared up at him, her heart beating hard. "Oh, Doug," she said, her voice soft. "I had no idea."

  "I said I wasn't going to shortchange anyone's Christmas by dwelling on it, and I'm not. I decorate my offices like a mad Santa, and I'm going to overdo the holidays with wretched excess for the sake of my mother and my girls. I'm taking them skiing right after Christmas, where we can all hole up in a ski-in, ski-out condo and heal in the mountain air. But you," he said, sliding his thumb along her bottom lip, "you're not in danger of being swept up in our situation. I promise."

  Slowly, Suzanne nodded. "All right," she agreed. "Thank you for sharing your circumstances with me. I won't feel so guilty now."

  "Don't feel guilty at all. You're a surprise we hadn't counted on, and while we appreciate you, we know you're not ours forever." He smiled at her. "Now, if I don't feed everyone this food, it's going to be cold Chinese, and that won't go well with warm sake."

  She followed him into the kitchen, slanting a glance at him as he prepared a bowl of soup for his mother and small plates for the girls. Diane would have a fit if she knew just how wonderful a man Doug was - no doubt she'd tell Suzanne how crazy she was to pass him up. The eldest sister marries first in other countries.... That conversation came to mind, nearly making Suzanne smile. Diane wasn't averse to lightly applying guilt if necessary, but it wasn't going to work.

  I want a husband some day, Suzanne told herself. I want someone who won't mind my messy loft, someone who understands artistic moods, someone who isn't afraid of my success, someone who likes warm beaches and cold daiquiris.

  She glanced at Doug. Or cozy ski resorts and warm sake.

  No way. She couldn't raise these three little girls. She was used to peace and quiet.

  But rolling around in the snow throwing snowballs had been nice, too. She'd been surprised by the girls' eagerness to abandon themselves to the roughhousing. It had been so much fun.

  She broke open a fortune cookie, lost in her thoughts as she read the fortune. "Little things soon become big things."

  Well, yes. That was exactly what she was afraid of. The teenage years. She looked at Edie, Fran and Kimmie, remembering the threesome of her own family: Tom, Suzanne and Diane. She'd worked hard being the "mother" of their small family, even though Mrs. Dee took care of most things for all of them. But Suzanne felt responsible nonetheless.

  Edie, Fran and Kimmie had a lot of family support.

  They would do fine. It was all right to take Doug at his word and just relax.

  After the girls were tucked into bed, Suzanne sat in front of the fireplace with Doug, feeling warm from the sake, and the fire - and being with him.

  "So, was Diane a hellion?" Doug asked.

  "Was?" Suzanne raised her brows. "She still is."

  He shook his head. "She's supposed to be an excellent teacher."

  "She'll take on anyone's life at the expense of her own," Suzanne complained. "She does far too much, and not enough for herself."

  "You could say the same about yourself."

  "Well, but...I mean, this is all temporary," she said uncomfortably. "And then I'll be footloose again, and back to working like mad."

  “What are you going to do with the drawing you did the other night?"

  "Oh. That." She shrugged. "Maybe try to think it through the production stage, see if I can determine a market-driven idea for developing it."

  He nodded. "Is that what you did with your scarf?"

  "Yes. Although there's no predicting fads, I try to stay classic within fashion trends."

  "You're sexy when you talk business." She stared into his eyes. "Is that the sake talking?"

  "No, but it's giving me a shot of bravery."

  Her smile was wry. "I think you're brave, anyway."

  "So you don't mind me telling you you're sexy? In spite of our previous understanding?"

  "I don't think there's a woman on the planet who minds hearing that she's sexy."

  His stare was long and appreciative. Suzanne could almost feel his gaze caress her cheeks, her lips. It was as if his fingers touched her skin in a way no one ever had. She knew he wanted to kiss her - and also knew he wouldn't do it unless she signaled to him that she welcomed his kiss.

  Her heart hitched in her chest. "Doug," she murmured, "the way you're looking at me is...so patient. So understanding. It's almost as if I know what you're thinking."

  He clasped her hands between his. “You probably do. Am I making you nervous?"

  Slowly, she shook her head, never releasing his gaze. "Strangely, I don't feel nervous. All I feel is...happy."

  His gaze held hers as he looked into her eyes, as if he were making certain that the answer she was giving verbally was the same one inside her soul. Then, as if he'd assured himself that it was, he bent his lips to hers, touching, seeking, hovering like a butterfly seeking a flower's sweetness.

  Suzanne's heart stilled inside her as she closed her eyes, giving in to the magic. He smelled good, he felt warm against her mouth. She slid one hand up his chest, to slide around his neck, telling him that she wasn't going anywhere. The response was instant as he stroked her jaw with a big hand, kissing her more deeply, creating a bond between them that she didn't want to be released from.

  I'm falling for him, she thought helplessly. He's everything I could dream of in a man, and yet, I can't give him the very thing he needs most.

  "I don't get it," Jimmy said the next morning. "What's the problem?"

  Suzanne shook her head, almost lost in her own thoughts as she sat at her desk. "There isn't one."

  "And that's a problem."

  "I couldn't explain this if I tried," Suzanne admitted. "Doug is awesome. I may never meet anyone else like him."

  "You just don't see yourself slipping into a stepparent role." Jimmy shrugged. "Many women - and men - have grappled with that issue. Frankly, I'm happy that you're thinking this through. It would be easy for a woman in your position to fall like an overripe apple from a tree."

  She narrowed her gaze on him suspiciously. "In my position?"

  Jimmy put two blank art boards up on the easel in front of her desk. “Peering in on the age thirty psychoses. Biological clock ticking like a bomb. Scared of being left out of the two-by-two march through life. You know. All the stuff other women go through, except you."

  "Jimmy, are you trying to make a point or irritate me?"

  "Neither. Just glad to see you're not a victim of typical female worries."

  "I see." She was too worried about the way she'd felt when Doug had kissed her last night to try to understand Jimmy's tangled point. When Doug had gently told her he understood what she was afraid of, and then kissed her so that she could almost feel their souls connecting, her whole inner woman awoke, singing.

  Once in every person's lifetime, Diane had said, everyone hopes to meet their true love.

  And now what? I specifically crossed children off my list many years ago. Those little girls deserve more than what I have to give. I spend all my days creating, thinking, working. They deserve a mother who can...well, be the wonderful mother they need.

  "They deserve more than I can give them," Suzanne murmured.

  Jimmy shrugged. "Sure. Don't we all?"

  She gave him a sharp look. "What does that mean?"

  "That you're thinking of them as little baggages. Maybe Doug and his girls aren't baggages, but blessings."

  "I know that, Jimmy. Blessings I'm not equipped to enjoy." A distraught lump began to rise in her throat. "Raising kids is a full-time job. They have emotional needs, even more in this case because they lost their mom."
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  "So did you," Jimmy said gently. "Suzanne, you have excellent survival skills you could teach them."

  Her eyes wide, she just stared at him, speechless.

  Of course, maybe it was true.

  "And in the meantime," Jimmy said, "I believe they have much to offer you. In point of rebuttal, I submit these examples of your thriving creativity." With a flourish, he turned one of the white boards on the easel. A replication of her three-girls-dancing drawing was on the board, enlarged. "In your designs, you have always sought to nurture the female psyche. All of your work is geared not only to make a woman feel beautiful, but to give her emotions a lift, her soul a sense of sisterhood and beauty. Connection. Here, you illustrate that more beautifully than I believe you ever have. This is a gift, Suzanne, from you to women everywhere - but this time, your inspiration seems to have come from children." He looked at her closely. "A very surprising realization, considering your feelings on the subject."

  She got up, walking to the drawing that Jimmy had interpreted on the board. "It's beautiful," she said softly. "Where did you find my sketches?"

  "I borrowed them from your desk. I thought you needed a visual of what you have to offer."

  He nodded, looking at the drawing. "You forged a new level here of satisfaction and pride a woman can have in herself."

  "You caught it so well."

  "It transposed well, because your vision was easy to see."

  As if she waited for the next ghost of Christmas, she watched as Jimmy turned the board to another drawing.

  "And if you try to convince yourself that one drawing was an accident, that you could never be struck by the same creative lightning, let me offer this as example B."

  Jimmy's rendering of the love-is-in-the-air drawing was breathtaking. The full celebration of a woman's spirit was certainly represented as the soft lines undulated. Joy and happiness. "I see it," she said, her voice soft with admiration.