The Secret Christmas Child

by Lee Tobin McClain

“Whatever they were arguing about,” Hannah continued, “it didn’t just upset Reese, it upset your brother, Jacob. He came over to talk to you, but then Reese got there first. Jacob heard everything you were talking about, and it looked like he got even more upset. You might want to talk to him.”

  “Okay. Thanks for telling me.” They were in the ladies’ room now, and Gabby put Izzy down onto the changing table and did a quick diaper change without looking at Hannah.

  Why didn’t the woman leave so Gabby could cry?

  Hannah cleared her throat. “I mean, really upset him. You might want to find him sooner rather than later. Do you want me to hold the baby?”

  She looked so doubtful that Gabby almost smiled. “It’s okay, I can take her with, but thanks.” She wondered what Reese and Marla had been talking about. Was Jacob upset because they’d been trashing Gabby or talking in a mean way about Izzy’s parentage?

  She thanked Hannah again as she left the bathroom, then started searching the church halls. Just as well that she had something to do, someone to take care of, so she didn’t have to go over and over the things Reese had said to her.

  The church was quieting down now; most people had gone home. Back in the fellowship hall where the show and reception had taken place, she could hear murmuring voices, the sound of dishes clinking and chairs being stacked. People were cleaning up.

  She turned a corner and there was Jacob by the coatrack, shrugging into his coat. His lips were pressed in a tight line and the freckles stood out on his pale face. “Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

  She expected him to deny his feelings like most fifteen-year-old boys would. Instead, he faced her, eyes blazing. “Reese said our family is a bunch of liars.”

  Her heart lurched and she reached out to touch Jacob’s arm. “I know it hurts to be accused like that, but he wasn’t talking about you. He was talking about me.”

  Jacob shook his head. “Don’t cover it over. We’re losers. You, me and Mom, at least.”

  “Jacob—”

  But he shook off her arm and spun away.

  “You can walk home, but nowhere else,” she called after him as he ran out of the church.

  Gabby pulled Izzy close and sank down onto a chair beside the door. She’d handled all of this terribly, and now Jacob, too, was being hurt by it. In trying to protect Reese and his family from the truth about Brock, she’d hurt others who didn’t deserve it.

  She needed to find Reese and talk with him, but her heart sank at the impossibility of making him understand. She shouldn’t give in to the shame that kept wanting to wash over her. In her head, she knew the fault lay with Brock and not with her, that her mistake of trusting him didn’t mean she deserved what had happened. But her strength and belief in herself were so shaky. A scornful look and angry words from Reese had swept them away.

  Reese. His fury felt worse than anyone else’s ever could, because she’d felt so close to him. She’d started to let him into her heart.

  A mistake she couldn’t make again.

  Izzy against her shoulder, she bowed her head and prayed for discernment and wisdom and the right action to take next.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Reese was in his car, driving too fast and without a destination. He wanted to get away from the idea of Gabby being with his cousin, but the images in his mind were inescapable.

  He’d seen them together with his own eyes, or at least, a picture of them on social media, and Gabby had admitted it was accurate, though she’d explained it away. She’d lied, though, saying she didn’t even like Brock, had never liked him, found him mean.

  Not too mean to give yourself to and conceive a child with. If Brock hadn’t had an accident, would he and Gabby be married by now? What had they been arguing about at that party on the night of Brock’s accident? Had Gabby broken the news that she was expecting?

  If she’d been carrying Reese’s child, nothing would have given him greater joy. No matter what the circumstances.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. Even though, on some level, he’d been fool enough to think about raising a child with her. Something about being around her and the boys, seeing how well she handled them, had planted that seed in his head.

  He shook his head but the thoughts wouldn’t quiet. He pushed harder on the accelerator and the tires spun on the icy road.

  He forced himself to slow down. He had to be responsible, to stay safe. The boys needed him, even if Gabby didn’t.

  His phone buzzed on the seat beside him and he ignored it, but as soon as the call cut off it started buzzing again.

  Was it Gabby?

  He hated himself for hoping it was.

  The car skidded a little again. Clearly he couldn’t drive away from his troubles. He found a safe place to turn around, the empty parking lot of a little machine shop, and grabbed his phone.

  Was it Gabby?

  She wouldn’t dare. If she called him, he’d block her number.

  But it wasn’t Gabby’s number, and the disappointment that slumped his shoulders made him angry. It was his cousin, Paige, and she could wait.

  But the call came again, and he sighed and clicked into the call. “Hey, Paige, what’s up?”

  “You’ve got to get over here to the house,” she said.

  “Paige, I can’t—”

  “It’s an emergency. Mom and Dad are going off the rails.” She said something to someone, and there was shouting in the background. “Hurry,” she said, and ended the call.

  His aunt and uncle going off the rails about this or that was nothing new. But it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do. For better or worse, his aunt and uncle and Paige were his family, and he’d moved back here in part to be there for them. He put the car into gear, tamped down all the hurt and anger inside him and drove back toward town.

  * * *

  Gabby clicked out of her phone call and quickly recounted to Nana what Paige had told her.

  “Go, go, I’ll take care of the baby.” Nana took Izzy in her arms and waved Gabby toward the door. “Go help your brother.” She sat down heavily in her old recliner and rocked, clicking her tongue at Izzy, whose cries grew quieter.

  “I don’t like leaving you alone here when you’re so tired.” And sick. And old looking. Nana’s face seemed to sag, and she let out a racking cough, turning her face away from Izzy.

  The news that Jacob was in trouble had hit her harder than she was letting on, and Gabby was torn. Which one needed her help more?

  She sent a quick text to Hannah, who instantly agreed to come over and sit with Nana until Gabby could get back.

  “You’d better go.” Nana’s eyes watered a little, which shocked Gabby, because she’d seen Nana cry only once or twice. “I’d go myself, but I can’t drive at night. I need for you to take care of this.”

  “I will.” Even though the Markowskis’ mansion was the last place on earth she wanted to be.

  Oh, Jacob, what have you done?

  When she pulled up in front of the house, the harassed-looking police officer looked relieved. “Are you his legal guardian?”

  “I’m his sister.” She walked over to Jacob, in handcuffs beside the officer, and put her arm around his shoulder. “What did he do that you have to restrain him like this? He’s a juvenile.”

  “He tried to run away from us, ma’am.” The officer turned to the Markowskis, who were standing shoulder to shoulder on the front walk of their home, faces drawn tight. “Since it’s cold out and the perpetrator is a juvenile and restrained, we might be more comfortable if I take everyone’s statements inside.”

  The last thing Gabby wanted was to walk into the Markowski home, where she hadn’t been since a couple of short visits when she was a teenager. She still thought of it as Brock’s home.

  But Jacob was shivering, and so was Mrs. Markowski, despite her fur-co
llared coat.

  “Come in, Mom, Dad! It’s freezing out here!” Only then did Gabby realize that Paige was standing on the porch behind her parents, arms wrapped around herself, shivering.

  Mr. Markowski put a hand on each of his wife’s shoulders and turned her around. “Come on, Catherine. We’ll sit in the living room and give our statements. And you—” he pointed at Paige “—you don’t need to be here. You go to your room.”

  “He needs an advocate!” Paige protested. “He didn’t really do anything and you’re making it sound like he’s a criminal!”

  Relief washed over Gabby. If Paige didn’t think whatever Jacob had done was serious, it probably wasn’t.

  “I’d rather not have either of those two in my home.” Mrs. Markowski waved a dismissive hand at Jacob and Gabby, as if they were dirt.

  Gabby squeezed Jacob’s shoulder tighter and they followed the police officer inside.

  They bypassed the elegant living room and trooped into the den, where Gabby sat down beside Jacob on the sofa when directed to do so by Mrs. Markowski. Mr. and Mrs. Markowski sat in a pair of leather chairs, and the police officer took out his tablet and sat on the ottoman. The Markowskis gave their indignant statements—they’d come home from church to discover their expensive lawn decorations knocked over and Jacob in the process of ripping down the lights from their bushes, lights that had taken their gardener hours to put up.

  Gabby stayed close to Jacob. “When it’s your turn, tell the truth,” she said quietly.

  “She’s coaching him!” Mrs. Markowski objected.

  The police officer ran a hand over his face. “Let’s just get the basic facts down for now,” he said. “Young man, let me hear what happened from you. And your sister’s right—tell the truth.”

  Jacob tonelessly described what he’d done, refusing to give a reason for it, and Gabby looked around the room to avoid the Markowskis’ mean, accusatory eyes.

  When she saw the built-in bookshelf, her heart rate increased along with her breathing.

  It was everything Brock. His football jersey, framed. A shelf full of trophies. Worst of all, his senior picture, enlarged and lit with a small lamp beneath the frame.

  He seemed to be sneering down at her. She could almost hear his voice: “You’re worthless. No one will believe you. You’re trash like your mother, your whole family.”

  All the things he’d said before and during the assault seemed to ring in her ears, things she’d pushed out of her consciousness. A wave of nausea washed through her, and she hunched over, arms wrapped around herself.

  Here she was in Brock’s fancy living room, listening to her brother admit to committing a crime.

  Breathe. You can live through this, she reminded herself. You’ve lived through something much harder. Breathe.

  It can’t get any worse.

  She drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, drew in another. The nausea started to recede.

  Then the door opened and Reese walked in.

  * * *

  Reese looked at the tableau before him and felt like turning right around and walking back into the night. Why hadn’t he kept driving?

  Did he really have to deal with Gabby again tonight?

  But the ashamed, miserable look in Jacob’s eyes, the slump of the boy’s shoulders, told him that, yes, he had to stay. Had to stay right here in his cousin’s house with the woman who’d chosen his cousin over him, and conceived a child with him.

  He had to stay because he remembered being just like Jacob, thought of as a criminal, assumed to be the bad guy.

  “What’s going on?” he asked wearily, avoiding Gabby’s eyes.

  His aunt and uncle chimed in with descriptions of the boy’s horrible crime of defacing their expensive Christmas decorations.

  The police officer stood. “I think we have all the information,” he said, cutting off the rant. “It’s up to you whether to press charges.”

  “Don’t press charges,” Reese said automatically. “I’m sure Jacob can do something to pay for the damage.”

  “Yes, of course. We can pay for the damage, and Jacob will work until he’s repaid the money,” Gabby said. There was only a slight tremor in her voice, and Reese figured he knew why: there went her Christmas funds.

  But he didn’t need to be feeling sorry for her, not after the betrayer she’d shown herself to be.

  “We most certainly are pressing charges,” Aunt Catherine said.

  Reese looked at his uncle and saw a little more reason there. “Does it have to be decided tonight? Why don’t you wait and sleep on it. I can help put the decorations back up.”

  “Not much going to happen between now and Christmas,” the officer contributed. “I can release him to his sister’s care, but that makes you, ma’am, responsible for keeping him out of trouble until we can get this sorted out.”

  “He’ll stay out of trouble.” She nudged Jacob. “Do you have anything you want to say to the Markowskis?”

  Reese wanted to warn her that Jacob was in no mind-set to apologize—again, speaking from experience—but to his surprise, Jacob lifted his chin. “I’m sorry I messed up your decorations. I’ll pay you back.”

  “Good man,” Reese said, still not looking at Gabby.

  “He’ll lie to get what he wants,” Uncle Clive said.

  “You’re free to go, ma’am,” the officer said. “We’ll be in touch right after the twenty-fifth.”

  “Thank you.” She turned and led Jacob out.

  The look she gave Reese as she passed was pure misery. But it didn’t move him, no way.

  He wasn’t surprised his uncle thought Jacob was a liar. The whole family were liars. He stepped back and didn’t speak as they walked out the door.

  * * *

  Gabby didn’t have the heart to lecture Jacob on the way home. She was too busy trying not to weep.

  Being in the Markowski home and seeing the pictures of Brock—a memorial set up to him, as if he’d been some kind of hero—made her almost physically ill. But it also brought home the fact that the whole family wanted and needed to believe the best of their lost son. Understandable, and what harm did it do, when Brock wasn’t alive to assault any other women?

  They pulled up outside Nana’s house, and Gabby turned off the car and sat. Jacob didn’t make a move to go in, either.

  As the big sister, she ought to have wise words. But what came out was “You okay?”

  He turned his head to look at her. “Sure.”

  The single word was obviously untrue. “Tough being from a family known for bad things, isn’t it? Kind of makes you want to live up to the rumors.”

  “Yeah.” He looked sideways at her. “Who’s Izzy’s father, really?”

  Gabby closed her eyes. “I can’t say.”

  “Sure.” He shrugged, opened the car door and headed through the biting snowfall toward the house.

  Her arms and legs felt too heavy to move, but she forced them to. Nana was inside with Izzy, and she had to be tired. Gabby couldn’t ignore her responsibilities.

  When she got inside, though, Izzy was asleep in her crib in Gabby’s room. Nana was ushering Jacob into his room, talking to him in a low voice, and Hannah had apparently gone home. So Gabby was free to go to bed herself.

  She did, and then the tears came.

  No way could she work with Reese anymore, so she was out of a job. She didn’t want to get Jacob in even more trouble by involving his father, asking him for money. That meant she had to front Jacob the money to pay back the Markowskis, so there went any money she could’ve spent to make a nice Christmas for Izzy, as well as for Nana and Jacob.

  She heard Nana walk slowly down the hall to her bedroom, coughing, the same horrible cough she’d had when Gabby had first arrived. So she was back to where she’d been.

  Gabby hadn’t do
ne any good at all since she’d arrived. She’d only made things worse. She looked at Izzy sleeping in her crib and, for once, let herself remember dark days before and right after she’d been born. The misery of the pregnancy, all alone, dodging people’s questions. Giving birth in a clinic without anyone there to hold her hand, not having a clue as to how she was going to manage.

  If it hadn’t been for a wonderful Christian halfway house, she could very well have ended up on the streets.

  Only when there was a light tap on the door did Gabby realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  “May I come in, dear?” Nana asked.

  She grabbed for tissues. “Just a minute.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose and went to the door, but the sight of her grandmother’s kind, concerned face made the tears come again. “I’m sorry,” she said, not wanting to add more stress to Nana’s worries. Jacob’s problems were enough to contend with. “Just an emotional day. I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course you will, dear,” Nana said. “But sometimes, it helps to talk about what’s bothering you. That’s what I’m here for.”

  Gabby felt a great longing to share with Nana what had happened all those years ago. To confide in someone who wasn’t a trained counselor but a family member who cared about her. To share the pain and humiliation and be reassured that she was still all right, still loved.

  “What is it, honey?” Nana took her hand and sat down beside her on the bed.

  “Oh, Nana.” She sighed. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I do want to know. What’s bothering you so much? Jacob got in a little trouble, but we’ll manage it.”

  “It’s not that.”

  Nana lifted an eyebrow and watched her steadily.

  “Do you remember...” she began, then faltered.

  “Remember what?”

  “Do you remember, after Reese left...I went to a party?”

  Nana frowned. “You went to a lot of parties over the years.”

  “This one was with...with Brock.” She swallowed.