Second Chance Christmas--A Clean Romance

by Rula Sinara

  “It would be better than menopause. Besides, Tom and I met when we were their age. We knew everything about each other—the good and the bad—and we grew to love each other more for all of it. No one knew me like he did.”

  “You must miss him.” She couldn’t help but think of how she and Damon had gotten along fine at that age. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood and had gone to the same schools from kindergarten on up. Even if he was a year ahead, they were often on the same playground or at the same community and school events, especially since her sister was in his class.

  Their moms had been more civil with each other back then. It wasn’t until after third and fourth grade that their irritation with each other grew. As a kid, she didn’t really understand why. Now she understood that there was some sort of unspoken competitiveness between them. One was a lawyer and the other a doctor but how they each approached blending that with motherhood had been the crux of the problem.

  Zuri’s parents had hired a nanny. Damon’s mother had more family support and she had been able to adjust her schedule so that she could volunteer in her kids’ classrooms as much as possible. There was no right or wrong. Each had done what made sense for their families and careers. If only judgment and defensiveness hadn’t come into play.

  But even if Damon and Zuri didn’t always hang around together because their families, who lived down the street from each other, weren’t the best of friends, they knew each other well enough. She knew what he liked to get in the lunch line and he knew she hated catching balls or anything else flying at her face, but that she was also one of the few girls who wasn’t afraid of spiders, lizards and grass snakes. Plus, she was pulled out of her reading class during fourth grade and spent that time with the fifth graders because she was advanced in that area.

  They’d known and had accepted everything about each other and, although he’d become the stereotypical popular kid in high school, he still acted as though he respected her. He’d flat out asked to work with her in the tutoring clinic. But puppy love had ruined everything. A part of her missed the way things had been before the “crush.”

  “I miss him every day,” Melanie said. “But it gets easier. Especially when you’re surrounded by family and friends who love you. Around here, that includes just about the entire town.”

  Zuri swirled the last sip of cocoa in her mug. It gets easier. Would it? Would she ever adjust to not having Vera around anymore? Would it ever get easier for Caden? She thought about Damon losing Lucas and realized, of all the people she knew, he’d survived the kind of loss she was enduring. But what about Caden? Losing a parent at his age had to be horrible. Completely unimaginable. Vera had lined up a grief therapist for him before her passing and he’d been to a few sessions, but from what Zuri had witnessed, a connection was missing. The kid had refused to open up and talk.

  She watched as he used a fork to push a marshmallow off his skewer and onto the graham cracker and chocolate Sara was holding. Funny how the most precious connections could come out of nowhere. And they couldn’t be forced.

  “Are Sara’s parents not coming?” She didn’t mean to pry but the question had slipped from her subconscious. All the confusion about kids and parenthood was clouding her better judgment. “I don’t mean to be nosy. You don’t have to answer.”

  “It’s fine. They’ll join us on Christmas Eve. I insisted that they take some time off together. It’s the secret to having a marriage last as long as mine did. Besides, it gives me time to spoil her rotten before they come and start reinforcing rules.” Her sly grin revealed a mischievous, sassy side.

  Neither Zuri’s paternal nor maternal grandparents had been spoilers or rule breakers. They were almost stricter than her parents had been, which was probably why her parents ended up becoming medical doctors who devoted long hours to their careers. Vera hadn’t been nearly as strict, although Caden had a natural affinity for information gathering and didn’t need to be prodded to do homework. Zuri was still trying to get a feel for where she fell on the spectrum of parenting, but she did believe structure was needed. She was just applying the science of entropy. Without putting energy into raising a kid, they’d inevitably become more disorderly. She glanced at her watch.

  “I should probably get him to bed. Do you need help putting out the fire?”

  “I’ve got it. I might spend a few minutes with Sara down there before dousing it.” She opened the door and called Caden up for Zuri, then held up a finger. “Oh. Before I forget. Damon called and said he’d be joining us for breakfast tomorrow morning. And no, I don’t know how you two know each other and I’m not asking for the story. I’m not a gossip. I will warn you, though, the grapevine is very ripe around here. Small towns have that reputation for a reason. It’s not merely a cliché. Anyhow, I thought I should let you know about breakfast.”

  Seriously? After what happened at dinner he wanted to show up for breakfast?

  “Thank you.”

  It was the only response she could muster. Couldn’t he have waited until lunch or until she and Caden could meet him somewhere other than where she was staying? Ripe grapevine and all. Couldn’t he at least let her enjoy her cup of coffee before stirring up Caden’s emotions again...and hers?

  Caden opened the glass patio door and slipped past her without a word. No doubt he had overheard Melanie. His mood swings were going to give Zuri whiplash. She followed him upstairs and they took turns in the bathroom without a word.

  She bit her tongue to give him whatever space he needed and crawled into her bed by the window with the latest issue of the research journal she subscribed to. He settled into his bed on the other side of the room, turned on his side, his back to her, and switched off his bedside lamp.

  The sounds of the wind and shore made her feel like they were camping. She never heard this much nature at her apartment in Boston, nor at her sister’s house. No doubt he wished he was in his own room back home. She wished she was in hers as well, although she had to admit that having to share this space at the B and B allowed her to keep an eye on him.

  Everything happens for a reason. His therapist had warned her about signs of worsening depression, including running away or self-harm or worse. It was hard enough to sleep and relax away from home. Being able to hear his soft, rhythmic breathing while he slept was reassuring. But she didn’t want him to go to sleep upset.

  She started counting in her head. If he didn’t say something within sixty seconds, she’d turn off her light and let it all go until morning. She could hear the waves scrambling ashore. The sound would have soothed her under any other circumstances. Thirty seconds...twenty-nine...

  “Are you leaving me here, Aunt Zuri?”

  Bless his heart. She tossed her reading material on the foot of the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “You didn’t pack as much as you made me pack. And I just found out my father lives here.” He still kept his back to her.

  “Do you really think I’d let you spend Christmas without me? Honestly, I had considered leaving you here but only for a week or so, once I made sure things would be okay. And only so that I can get work done at the lab. But not forever. No way, kiddo.”

  He rolled over in bed and faced her, twisting his lips as if deciding whether or not to believe her.

  “How long have you known?” he asked. Oh, boy.

  “Long enough. It wasn’t my place to say anything.”

  “How long?”

  “Since the beginning.” She couldn’t lie to him anymore. The least she could do was to tell the truth. Not that it would make up for all the years he’d lost with his dad.

  Would Caden still be the same Caden had Damon been around? The two liked the same ice cream flavor and had similar mannerisms, all without ever having met each other. But would Caden have grown to like sports more had Damon been around?
Or was that idea rooted in sexism?

  Damon’s little brother Lucas, as well as his other brothers, Leo and Shawn, hadn’t pursued athletics to the same degree Damon had. As far as she’d gathered from social media, Leo and Shawn had followed in their parents’ footsteps and had gone into law. Would Caden have been influenced by his uncles the way he was so much like his aunt? Or would his father have had more of an influence? Unless none of it mattered as much as behavioral genetics.

  There she was falling back on science again and coming up with nothing. Kids were an enigma. Surely having his dad around would have changed things one way or another. Maybe her nephew would have gotten the puppy he never had. Vera had avoided having pets because of the added work and expense. Zuri fell along the same lines. Would having had a dog made a difference in terms of his confidence and social skills? Had they deprived him of a nonjudgmental, loyal friend? She remembered Damon and his brothers had a dog when they were kids. Damon had never needed help with confidence. Or at least he didn’t seem to.

  She thought about how different Damon was after his years as a SEAL and living on his own. The man had changed. He was actually organized and neat. He came off as more humble than he used to be. Reliable, too, judging from his heading the Turtleback Beach Ocean Rescue and Beach Patrol. But that didn’t necessarily translate into being a good father. She didn’t trust Damon not to drop the ball and disappear from his son’s life when things got tough. It would be more than a grieving child could handle.

  Caden was a wonderful kid. Vera had been a good mother and role model. She shouldn’t wonder about how a different life would have changed him. Life was unpredictable at best and changes affected everyone. For better or for worse.

  “You lied to me. You and Mom. All those times I asked and no one told me. All lies.”

  “I’m so sorry, Caden. Sometimes parents and family members don’t make the right decisions. All we can do is make the best decisions we can at the time. Your mom loved you more than anything in the world. So do I. We never wanted to hurt you.”

  He turned his back again.

  “I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about anything. I just want to go home.”

  “We can’t leave yet. Damon—your dad—wants a chance to get to know you.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to know him. I thought I did, but not if it means you might leave me here. You say you won’t, but you’ve lied before. And I’m old enough to know he can probably take me away from you ’cause he’s my dad. I don’t want to be here. I want to be close to Mom.”

  She understood he meant that he wanted to remain near his mother’s grave. Close enough to visit as often as he wanted. He was trying to hang on. It wasn’t fair. A child being forced to think and plan their future on where their parent’s grave lay. Her chest ached and her eyes burned. She fought the urge to sniff because she didn’t want him questioning her strength and ability to be there for him. She needed to be the strong one. His rock. His guiding lighthouse, like the one that anchored the town.

  “Listen to me, Caden. I will always be in your life. I’m not leaving you.”

  A tree outside their window rustled its branches against the pane and the sound of the ocean grew louder as the wind picked up again. Caden sniffled and pulled his covers up over his head.

  “Mom said the same thing to me once. She lied about that, too.”

  * * *

  THE MORNING SUN struck Caden’s eyelids when he rolled over in bed. He yanked the covers over his face, then flipped his pillow over his head. He didn’t want to see the light of day. He didn’t want to see anyone, especially not his aunt or da—that...that man. Damon, as his aunt called him? Mr. Woods? Dad? The word stung his brain and he squeezed his eyes tighter and fisted his hair. Life sucked. It made no sense. It wasn’t worth it. Why did people bother?

  A gull screeched as it flew past the bedroom window. It didn’t sound free and joyful like the sound of gulls on the beach yesterday, when he was tossing driftwood to Duck. Or maybe it was all about perception and positive versus negative thinking and all that crap his therapist kept talking about. There wasn’t anything positive about having your mother die and then finding out she’d lied to you your entire life. Kept the worst kind of secret from you.

  He just wanted to soar like that seabird and scream at the top of his lungs while pulling his hair...but it would freak his aunt out. Plus, it would make everyone come running to check on him and the last thing he wanted was attention. He wanted everyone to leave him the heck alone. Maybe staying underwater like a fish, where human voices would be muffled, until some bird swooped down and swallowed him whole, would be better. He had waited in bed, still as prey, until he heard his aunt head downstairs for breakfast fifteen minutes ago. He could smell coffee and bacon wafting through the vents. His stomach growled.

  He surfaced from the suffocating covers and took a deep breath. You lied, Mom. How could you? I hate you for doing this to me. I hate you for leaving...for lying. For not getting better. No. No, he didn’t hate her. He used the corner of his sheet to dry his face. He missed her. He loved her so much it hurt. Guilt cramped his entire chest. He was an awful person. How could he be angry at his mom? She’d done everything for him. He knew she had loved him. She was the best mother he could have had. Which is why he was an ungrateful, terrible example of a human being. But he was so confused. Life felt like it had been turned inside out and Aunt Zuri, who had sworn she’d make everything okay, had kept the truth from him, too. He had no one left to trust.

  The softness of Duck’s fur between his fingers and her soulful eyes came back to him, but he brushed away the memory. She wasn’t his dog. He wasn’t the one she was loyal to.

  He threw off the covers and sat up. Did his...father...know before yesterday or did he just find out, too? He didn’t act like he knew when they first met on the beach. Had he been lied to, as well? Or what if he knew all these years but didn’t want to have anything to do with him? Was Aunt Zuri forcing him into their lives? Or was she being honest when she said his mom had kept her from saying anything and now that his mom was gone, she wanted to make things right. But that made his mom the bad guy and every time that notion pounded at his brain it came with gnawing guilt. He couldn’t help but wonder if his mom would have ever told him. Did his grandparents know?

  He got out of bed and went to the restroom, not because he wanted to face the world but because nature was calling. He half intended to crawl back under the sheets and he could have ignored his hunger pangs forever—well, maybe not forever—but Sara’s warm laughter filled the halls of the house. An odd, bubbly feeling swirled in his stomach that had nothing to do with needing breakfast. It was the same feeling that had him fumbling for words last night at the firepit. The sound of her voice seemed to magically erase the gloom and replace all the dark places in his mind with light. She was cool. Chill. Pretty. He kind of liked the way the firelight made her red hair brighter. She was a good listener and he’d needed someone to listen.

  He had mentioned his mom passing, but nothing about the whole vacation trick revolving around a father he’d never heard a word about until that day. He had wanted to. Sara came off as less judgy than the kids at his school up north. But she knew folks in Turtleback and, surely, she knew Mr. Woods and probably liked him. Just like with the dog, Sara’s loyalties probably lay with his father and the other town residents...not some geeky new kid she’d only known a few hours. Still, he couldn’t help but want to see her again. She was the only person his age he’d met around here. And he really liked the way she smiled at him.

  He rummaged through his small suitcase and quickly tucked a clip-on reading light and book three of his favorite thriller series under his pillow so that his aunt wouldn’t see it. He’d only just discovered the series this past year and it was incredible, but he was afraid his aunt would freak out if she knew he was reading something geared for grown-ups. It wasn’t like
there was anything nasty in it. That would be gross. But it was seriously suspenseful. The kind of story that got his heart pumping and made him feel like he could do all of those things the star of the series could do, fighting evil and saving innocents. Standing up to bullies.

  He wasn’t that strong in real life. He knew that. In fact, he hated gym class because being around all the athletic kids made him feel small and inept. But he could pretend when he was reading. He could escape and see himself as someone others would look up to. Maybe he’d finish the book tonight after his aunt fell asleep.

  He changed into clean jeans and a green pullover sweater. His mom liked him in green and used to always say that this sweater looked good against his darker complexion. Plus, it worked for the holiday season and all...but he was more interested in looking good right now. He stood in front of the mirror that hung over a three-drawer wooden dresser on the wall adjacent to the bathroom. You look like him. You look like your dad. The realization hit him like a wave crashing on shore. He’d always thought that his complexion and curly hair had come from his maternal grandparents’ Jordanian and Mexican heritages, and obviously that was part of him, but not all. He had decided that someday he’d do one of those genetic tests to see if he could find out more about his dad’s side—in fact he had almost asked for one for his last birthday but decided not to stress his mom out at the time—but now he knew.

  He took a deep breath and the pressure in his chest felt good...like he was being pumped with relief and pride and a sense of belonging. It felt like he’d somehow never been able to stand up for himself because a sneering voice in his head kept telling him that he didn’t even know who he was. He’d had classmates ask if he was Black before and he’d hated giving the same answer every time. That he didn’t know. But now he did. He had another proud history to add to all his grandma and grandpa had taught him about their side of the family. He mattered. He somehow felt a little stronger. Sort of...complete. If his aunt had never brought him here, he would have never known he was part African American. He didn’t want to stay in the Outer Banks, but at least now he knew who his father was, where he was...and that he was alive.