He chuckled. "No, it certainly wasn't normal conversation. But they didn't hate you. I knew they wouldn't."
He pulled to a stop in front of the house and turned to look at her. "We're here."
Claire sat and stared at the lovely home, well-manicured lawn, the nice car in the driveway. "He's not living in poverty, is he?"
"No, not at all. He's very happy, Claire, I promise. Come on, I'm sure they're waiting for us."
He got out of the car and came around to help her out, noting her fingers were like ice when he took her hand. He didn't let her go once she was out of the car. "It's going to be fine, Claire," he said reassuringly one more time.
She ignored him.
When they reached the front porch, the door opened before he could press the bell.
"We've been waiting for you," Mrs. Browning said, stepping forward to take Tom's hand. Then she turned to Claire and said, "I'm Margaret Browning. Won't you come in?"
"I'm Claire Goodman," Claire managed to say. Tom held her arm to make sure she didn't fall if she fainted. He wasn't sure what her reaction would be.
There were two males standing in the entryway, their gazes fixed on Claire. Tom thought they looked remarkably alike, considering the circumstances. The boy was almost as tall as his dad and had the same clear, direct gaze. But his nervousness showed in his Adam's apple as he tried to swallow.
"This is my husband, Richard, and our son, Jordan." Mrs. Browning didn't add anything else and they all stood in the entryway, not moving.
Tom finally cleared his throat. Claire was devouring the boy with her gaze, as he returned the favor. "Maybe we could go sit down?" Tom asked gently.
"Oh! Oh, yes, of course. Where are my manners? Come in, Miss Goodman. Come sit down. I've made a pot of coffee and there are cookies. Jordan, of course, is drinking milk. We tell him coffee will stunt his growth."
The man chuckled, as if that were a standard family joke, but the boy didn't crack a smile.
Tom clasped Claire's hand in his and pulled her into the family room. He led her to the sofa and they sat. Mrs. Browning sat down beside Claire while her husband and son took the matching chairs at each end.
Silence again.
Tom leaned forward. "We certainly want to thank you for letting us barge into your lives like this. Claire has worried about her son for a number of years."
"Then why didn't she agree to meet with us when I asked?" The boy stared at Claire and Tom could see resentment there.
Claire stared at him. "You - you asked to see me?"
"Two years ago. When Mom and Dad sent in that report as usual, Mom added a note saying I wanted to meet you."
Claire looked pained and Tom understood why.
"And this year, too. And you didn't even call," Jordan added, still glaring at her.
"Son," his father said quietly. He didn't add any admonitions and it spoke worlds for their communication that the one word was all he needed for the boy to duck his head and sit back.
"Claire didn't know - " Tom began, anxious to defend her, but she stopped him.
"Jordan," Claire said softly, addressing her son for the first time. "I didn't learn where you were or anything about the reports until two days ago. That doesn't excuse me because - because it's my fault I didn't know. My parents never mentioned you after I gave birth. None of us spoke about you. I was upset, and somehow I assumed they didn't know where you were. Then, as I got older, I grew afraid to ask questions, fearful that the answers would be - something I didn't want to hear. It was cowardly of me and I have no excuses."
"I don't believe you," the boy said, his words almost sullen.
Mr. Browning leaned forward. "When Jordan wanted more information about you, we put in a note asking that you contact us. He was very disappointed when you didn't."
"I understand," she said keeping her head down. "I should've looked for you sooner."
Tom looked at the boy. "I think you're being a little hard on Claire. She was only fifteen when you were born. It's a difficult time for any kid."
Claire lifted her chin and stared at her son. All six feet of him. "All I can do is apologize... and answer any questions you have now."
"Why should I care now?"
Tom wanted to remind him he was talking to his mother, but Browning got there first.
"Son, either you speak politely to Miss Goodman or don't speak at all. This isn't easy for her."
After staring straight ahead, Claire said, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I didn't look for you because I was afraid you'd hate me for giving you up. Afraid I wouldn't be what you wanted. I - I was f-fifteen and - "
She broke into sobs and Tom couldn't hold back any longer. His arms went around her and she buried her face into his chest.
Tom whispered encouragement to Claire, but already she was pulling herself together. The boy sat in silence, watching her.
Mrs. Browning handed her a tissue, using one herself, and Claire wiped her face. "I apologize. Do you want to ask anything?"
"That was one of them," Jordan said.
"What was?"
"How old you were. Mom and Dad said they thought you were young. Who was my dad?"
"A boy at school," Claire said with a shrug. "I thought he was my one true love," she whispered with an awkward laugh. "My hero. Until he found out what had happened. Then he ran as fast as he could."
Jordan sounded horrified. "He didn't stand by you?"
"He was only sixteen, with a bright future, Jordan. Don't blame him."
"But he left you alone to face everything!"
"Not what we'd consider good behavior," Mr. Browning said. "Jordan has been taught to be responsible for his behavior."
"I'm glad," Claire said, a small smile breaking through. "I was taught that, too. I gave birth to you, but I never saw you. My father insisted I sign the adoption papers at once and, when they took me home from the hospital, they never spoke of my 'problem' again."
They all stared at her, incomprehension in their gazes.
"It was a shameful thing, you see. They put me in a new school and pretended I was a carefree teenager." She tried to smile again, but it didn't quite make it.
Tom decided it was time to give Claire a break. "Claire is a nurse at Maitland Maternity Clinic. She takes care of the preemies the babies who are born too early."
"Wow, that must be hard," Jordan said looking at Claire with a little more acceptance. Then he asked, "Have you had other children?"
"No! No, I've never married and - "
"She's going to marry me, I hope."
Mr. Browning cleared his throat. "Congratulations. I wish you as much happiness as we've had. Jordan made our marriage perfect." He smiled at his son and Tom could see the pride in his gaze. He hoped Claire saw that.
"Would you like to see Jordan's baby pictures, Claire?'' Margaret asked as another uncomfortable silence fell.
Claire looked at Jordan. "Would you mind?"
"No, I don't mind," the boy said, a little surprised by her question.
Soon the two ladies were gathered on the sofa looking at photo albums, with Jordan hanging over the back of the sofa, making comments.
Mr. Browning stood and crossed the room to stare out a window at the backyard, and Tom joined him.
Without looking at him, the man said, "You know, when Margaret wanted to adopt, I wasn't sure it was such a good idea. I figured without children we could travel, have extra money for whatever we wanted. But I agreed because I loved her.
"Smartest thing I ever did. The past fifteen years have been wonderful. You tell Claire that her sacrifice made a huge difference in our lives. I can tell it was hard on her, but she blessed us."
"I'll tell her. She's had a lot to deal with this week. Are you and your wife going to have any problem with Claire visiting with Jordan occasionally? Like an aunt or something? Letting him visit us?"
"Of course not. We discussed it last night before we went to sleep. The more family Jordan has, the better
off he'll be. We still intend to be his parents, but we'd welcome Claire joining the family."
"Good." Tom looked over at Claire and saw the weariness on her face. He decided it was time to cut the evening short. "Claire, do you mind if we go now? I've still got some work to do. Maybe we can make plans to meet soon. When do you play basketball again, Jordan?"
"Next Wednesday. Our games are always on Wednesday afternoons."
"How about we meet next Wednesday, see the game and we take you and your parents out to dinner?''
"Sure," the boy agreed, sticking his thumbs in his jean pockets. "Uh, I'm no Michael Jordan, you know," he added, shrugging his shoulders.
Claire stood and smiled at him. "You will be to me. Thank you for letting us come - for letting me get to know you and your parents."
The boy shrugged awkwardly again. "No problem."
"It's our pleasure," Margaret said softly, behind Claire. Claire turned and, after hesitating, hugged Margaret.
"I appreciate this so much. You've done such a wonderful job of raising him."
"We thank you for the precious gift you gave us, and I'm sorry it caused you so much pain."
Tom slipped his arm around Claire and guided her to the door. "We'll look forward next Wednesday." Then he led her to the car.
After driving silently for about five minutes, Claire said, "My parents have lied to me by omission for fifteen years."
"Your mother told you the truth when you asked. Maybe they believed you didn't want to know." He cleared his throat. "They may have gone about things the wrong way, Claire, but I think they were trying to do the right thing."
"How terrible to screw up so badly 'trying to do the right thing,'" she said bitterly.
"He's turned out to be a fine young man. And he looks a lot like you."
"Do you think so? I didn't see any resemblance." She stared out the passenger window.
"There's a stubborn line that appears on your face when you're digging in your heels. He has that. There's a generosity of spirit that matches yours, too. And a sense of humor."
After a minute, she said, "The Brownings are very nice... and generous."
"Yes, they are. Mr. Browning told me to tell you that Jordan has made a huge difference in their lives and he thanks you for him."
She sniffed several times. "There's no need to thank me. I didn't do so by choice."
"Maybe not by choice, Claire, but it was a huge gift, a gift of love that keeps on giving. It's really the spirit of Christmas, only it's for all year round."
She covered her face with her hands and Tom didn't say anything else until they reached her apartment complex.
"Why don't you go in and gather what you'll need for tomorrow and come back to Dad's house with me?"
"No. No, I need some time to think. I'll be over tomorrow."
"Will you stay tomorrow night? After the party?" He grinned. "Then you don't have to worry about drinking and driving."
"I don't drink, Tom," she said stiffly as she got out of the car.
He followed her, not wanting to end the conversation yet. "I'd noticed, but I didn't know why."
"I was drunk the night Jordan was conceived." She looked at him. "I gave up alcohol then."
"I see. Will you spend the night anyway?"
She hesitated. "I need time to think. So much has happened."
"I don't want you to leave me, Claire. Haven't I convinced you of that yet?" he asked, his heart catching in his chest.
"Tom," she began, drawing a deep breath, and he felt sure she was going to completely reject him. "You were right. My plans to make right giving up Jordan by having another child in a perfect family was childish." She closed the car door and leaned against it. "And I know enough about having babies that there are other ways for us to have children, including adopting."
He came around the car and took hold of her arms. "Good."
"But I have to deal with my cowardice. I'd like to blame everything on my parents, but that would be just as childish. Just give me a little time. I need to get to know the real me."
He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her. "I know the real you, and you're the one for me. But I'll give you time, if you promise not to run away. To discuss things before it's final."
She laid her head on his chest. "I promise we’ll talk. I just can't say when."
"Good enough. I'll see you in the morning at Dad's house. Bring your blue dress."
"Do you still think I should come?"
"More than ever. Until you say no, I'm planning on marrying you. Even if you say no, I can't promise I won't try to change your mind. My world revolves around you."
He kissed her good-night and then left before she could change her mind. At least he still had a chance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Claire was amazed when she awoke Friday morning. She'd fallen asleep the night before as soon as she went to bed. She'd expected to lie awake for hours, thinking about Jordan. Instead she'd slept soundly.
This morning, there was a lightness in her step that amazed her. Her child, her son, was happy, well-adjusted, and willing to get to know her. Wednesday night she'd see him again.
And she owed it all to Tom.
He'd held on when she'd tried to say goodbye. He'd forced her to look at herself. He'd been there to help her when she'd asked for help. She didn't have any doubt of his love.
Which made her decision even a little more difficult. She couldn't be selfish and choose to marry him unless she believed she wouldn't hurt him. Tonight was the test.
Last night, Megan Maitland's reaction to Claire's "dirty little secret" took away some of her fears. If Megan didn't have a problem, or Hugh Blake, who else would she worry about?
With hope in her heart, she gathered everything she would need, including her beautiful new gown, and headed to the Blake mansion. Possibly her new home, dare she think it?
She was soon involved with Mrs. Dee, making last-minute preparations. Occasionally, she would sneak into the living room and stare at the beautiful tree. She didn't have a wrapped present for Tom. But she hoped to give him what he'd said was the best gift of all: her love.
When Tom caught her there early in the afternoon, he hugged her and collected a good morning kiss that knocked her socks off.
When he released her, he looked surprised. "Wow. That was very - stimulating, Miss Goodman."
"Yes, it was, wasn't it? Have I thanked you for what you did for me, for Jordan, I mean?" she asked.
"I believe you did."
"Well, I want to thank you again. I realized last night that if you hadn't held on, I might not have realized what I needed to do."
"No problem. I'll add it to your bill."
"Hmm, I'm getting worried about how I'll pay that bill, Mr. Blake. I owe you a great deal."
"Marry a rich lawyer and he'll take care of it." He smiled but she read the seriousness in his gaze.
When she started to speak, he raised his hands and said, "I know, I know, I'm supposed to be patient. How are things going in the kitchen?"
Claire took a deep breath and grabbed Tom by his shirt. She'd done a lot of thinking, too much thinking. She knew what she wanted, and she finally believed she deserved to be happy. And was willing to fight for it, as Tom was.
"I don't want you to be patient."
He froze, staring at her. "You've made up your mind?"
She nodded, wondering how he'd react.
He didn't hesitate. His lips covered hers and he lifted her in the air, spinning her around as he kissed her deeply. When he finally released her, he asked for more details. "You'll marry me?"
"Yes, please," she agreed, beaming at him.
"Claire, I'm so happy. So pleased. I've never - You're the most wonderful woman in the world. At once? Will you marry me at once?"
She nodded again.
Suddenly, they were no longer alone. His father and Megan Maitland came in the front door, and Diane and Whitney came from the kitchen.
> Tom looked at Claire, a question in his eyes.
She nodded again.
"Hey, we're going to be married," he announced loudly so everyone could hear. There was a swell of congratulations. Mrs. Dee stuck her head in the door from the kitchen, a beaming smile on her face.
"Mrs. Dee, did Dad tell you I'm buying the house from him?"
"Why, no! That's wonderful. I wondered what would happen to it."
"It will be fine as long as you stay. Will you, Mrs. Dee? I've asked Claire to marry me, and we're going to need you."
Her face suddenly crumpled and Tom was afraid he'd done something wrong. She covered her face with her apron.
"Mrs. Dee? What's wrong?" he asked, hurrying to her side.
"I - I didn't know. I knew Mr. Blake would be fair, but I love it here."
"You thought you were about to be tossed out on your rear? That was careless of us. Of course that wouldn't happen. And if you want to go with Dad to Megan's house, I'm sure he'll take you. But Claire and I need you."
"I'd love to work for you and Claire. But are you sure? Some newlyweds like to be alone."
"I'm sure Claire will want a family. We'll need you."
"Oh, my, yes! That's wonderful!"
He hugged her. "Everything's wonderful!"
Claire had never felt so welcome, or so happy. The perfect family she'd dreamed of paled in comparison to the love she had for Tom and his family. The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled on them as she got the best Christmas present of all.
Tom, however, had one more present for her. He pulled her to the sitting room where she'd napped. "I have one thing to tell you. Whitney came to my office today to say she'd let us adopt her babies. Is that okay?"
She couldn't believe her good fortune. "Oh, Tom, that's wonderful. Our family will be complete!"
"We'll see," he said, a twinkle in his eye.
THE ENDS OF THE EARTH
Muriel Jensen
Dear Reader,
I love Christmas! I feel enriched by the spiritual significance, really enjoy the family and community aspects, and I even like the commercial stuff that upsets everyone else.
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