Caleb's Christmas Wish

by Debra Salonen

  “Of course,” Gayle said as she ripped open another envelope. A slim piece of paper fell to the table. “My sisters and I did this for Marc’s mother last year after his father died. Addressing thank-you notes can be an arduous, time-consuming chore, and I know you have to get back to your job.”

  True, Allison thought, suddenly sorry she’d reacted so negatively to the offer of help. “This is very nice of you. I appreciate it, but I’m emotionally spent. I don’t think I could stand to look at those right now.”

  “Understood,” Gayle said. “That’s why we’re here. I know Jake was concerned about the timing, but with this many hands, it’s going fast. Right, girls?” Her friends nodded, several sniffling. “We have a system. Cash donations in one column, cards-only in another.” She extended a flowery card toward Allison. “Look at this one. A hundred dollars to the volunteer fire department’s emergency fund.”

  Just the glint off the shiny card brought tears to Allison’s eyes. “Nice,” she said, turning away. “I need to change then I’ll come back and help.”

  “No problem,” Gayle said. “By the way, I put the cats in your room. Jen’s allergic.”

  Allison didn’t know which of the women was named Jen, so she gave a wave to encompass them all then stumbled down the hall. Tears of relief filled her eyes when she dropped fully clothed on the bed. Her cats pounced in greeting.

  “Hi, kids,” she said. “I missed you. How was your day? Mine was pretty horrible. Okay, really, really horrible.” And it’s not done, a small voice reminded her.

  After dutifully petting and praising her feline friends, she heaved a sigh and rolled to her side. She sat up and loosened the top buttons on her dress. Probably terribly outdated style-wise, the belted shirtwaist was black with long sleeves—the only criteria she’d felt was truly important. But the length was a little short and the fabric too clingy.

  She’d just kicked off her pumps and removed her panty hose when a knock sounded.

  “Come in.”

  Jake popped his head around the door. “I need your help. Right away.”

  Panic made her toss the suntan colored, nude-toe nylons on the floor and dash to Caleb’s room. The NASCAR night-light was burning and the covers were turned back, but Caleb wasn’t in bed.

  “Where are you?” she called, her bare toes gripping the plush carpet.

  “In here,” a muted voice answered.

  Like the other bedrooms of the Rydell house, Caleb’s had a walk-in closet. Not as large as the one in his parents’ suite, but bigger than the bathroom in Allison’s house. She peeked inside.

  Caleb lay curled in a fetal position on the floor, facing the wall. He was dressed in the top of his two-piece flannel pajamas and a pair of Spider-Man underpants. The outfit’s bottom half was draped across Jake’s knees.

  Jake was sitting perpendicular to Caleb, his back against the wall, legs splayed in defeat. “I give up,” he said, passing her the size-four bottoms like a white flag of surrender.

  “What should I do?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. He freaks out whenever I touch him.”

  “What happened?”

  “Beats me. I thought a shower in the master bedroom would be faster than a tub bath. He was in the bathroom dressing when he suddenly went ballistic and tore past me. By the time I caught up with him he was hiding in here. He won’t let me finish dressing him and he refuses to go to bed.”

  Jake closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. He looked as tired as Allison felt. Reaching deep into her reserves, she dropped to her knees and moved on all fours toward her godson. Progress was slow given the hem of her dress, which she kept kneeling on, but when she was close enough to peer over Caleb’s shoulder, she saw that he was curled around something. At first, she thought it was a stuffed animal. Then, she recognized the bright orange object—Pam’s sweater.

  Rocking back, she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath to quell the rush of emotions that threatened to swamp her. “What is it?” a soft voice asked by her ear. He’d moved to his knees beside her.

  Jake’s presence helped Allison find the control she needed. Turning her chin slightly, she whispered, “The sweater Pam wore on Thanksgiving. Was it in the bathroom?”

  “Maybe. There were some clothes beside the hamper. I figured we’d get around to the wash this weekend.”

  “The fabric probably still has her smell.” Her voice broke with the last word. A comforting hand touched the small of her back.

  Steadying herself, Allison inched closer until she could see Caleb’s face. His eyes were open but his gaze seemed fixed, like a person in a comatose state. “Hello, sweetie,” she said. “I see you found your mommy’s sweater. It was one of her favorites. I bet she left it right where you could find it so you’d be able to hold it any time you wanted.”

  He didn’t give any indication that he heard her. “You probably don’t remember this, but when you were a little baby, you had a favorite blanket that you had to have with you before you could go to sleep at night. If your mommy and daddy forgot your blankie some place or left it home, you’d cry and cry until they brought it to you.”

  His eyes blinked.

  “Your mother said that was because you were a touching kind of person. She called you her cuddle bug. I bet she’d really like it if you took that sweater to bed with you.”

  He turned his head enough to look at her. The questioning look in his eyes made her nod. “Why not? Other kids sleep with stuffed animals. I used to sleep with a bear named Toby. I bet even Jake had a favorite toy that sometimes found its way into his bed.”

  Allison could tell the child was drained, physically and emotionally. Repositioning herself for better leverage, she carefully inched her hands under his body and lifted. She held her breath to see if he’d protest, but all he did was curl against her, as he would have in his mother’s arms.

  Her heart melted and she might have started crying again if not for the strong, helping hands at her elbows. Jake provided the muscle power to get them standing then guided her to the bright red bed.

  She leaned over and eased the child down. Caleb’s grip on the orange chenille mock turtleneck never lessened—even when his eyes closed and his breathing turned to a sweet, rhythmic flow.

  Allison’s knees buckled, but Jake was there to catch her. He pulled her back against him, and wrapped his arms around her middle. There wasn’t anything romantic about the pose. Well, there might have been had the circumstances been different. But, this was the comfort of one friend to another after a brutal day.

  “A rabbit,” he whispered in her ear. “Patchwork. My mother made it when she was young and functioning.”

  There was a bittersweet quality to his voice that made her wish things were different between them. But they weren’t.

  “A-hem.” A pointed cough came from the doorway.

  Allison’s stomach fell to her toes. She would have jumped away if Jake hadn’t tightened his hold—just for a second, then let her escape. She spun to find Gayle looking at them. Was that a gleam of speculation in her eyes or compassion?

  Before Allison could say anything, Jake put his finger to his lips and whispered, “The poor kid is finally asleep, and neither Allison nor I are doing much better. I don’t want to be rude, but…”

  Allison nudged him aside. “I’m feeling okay now that I’ve taken off my panty hose.” Forcing a smile, she said, “You can crash if you want. I saw those piles of cards and I don’t want to do anything to discourage our helpers.”

  His momentary look of bafflement was replaced by one of pure fatigue. “Okay, then. I’m going to bed.”

  Allison and Gayle walked together as far as the guest room. “I’ll be right there, Gayle. I think sweats are in order.”

  She slipped inside before Gayle could reply and leaned against the door, her heart pounding. Ridiculous as it sounded, Allison felt as giddy as she had the first time a boy kissed her. “Cats,” she said, quickly changing her clothe
s. “Your owner is crazy.”

  Cleo lay curled up on the bed. Her tail flicked in greeting. Rom was nowhere to be seen. He could be hiding, Allison thought. Or, he might have escaped while she’d been busy with Caleb.

  Oh, well, she thought, leaving the door ajar in case he came back.

  She stiffened her shoulders and went to join the others. I can do this, she repeated over and over like a mantra. For Pam.

  And she did. Two hours later, the last stamp had been applied to the last envelope. The women had gone through two bottles of chardonnay and who knew how many packets of postage stamps? Jen, a substitute letter carrier, took the pile of completed thank-you notes and promised to mail them in the morning. A precise list had been compiled of every gift and donation. A stack of checks and a thick wad of cash were in the manila envelope in Allison’s hand.

  “Call me if you need any help tomorrow.” Gayle picked up her oversized purse. She was the last to leave. After checking her cell phone for messages, she said, “You know, Ally, I think what you and Jake are doing is incredibly selfless. You’ve virtually put your lives on hold to help a child who isn’t even yours.”

  Suddenly, Allison felt an urge to hit something. Or someone. She spun toward Gayle and said, “Actually, he is ours now. Does that mean I wouldn’t sell my soul to have things back the way they were? No. But that’s not an option. This is how it is. And Jake and I are going to do what is best for Caleb.”

  Gayle looked momentarily surprised by Allison’s outburst, then she smiled and gave her a hug. “My point exactly. You’re both amazing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a day from hell and I’m ready to crash. But I’ll be right next door if you need me. ’Bye.” She picked up her coat and disappeared before Allison could apologize for overreacting.

  Emotionally drained, Allison grabbed the finished edge of the marble countertop and leaned forward until her cheek was pressed flat against the cool, smooth surface. The solid permanence of the rock comforted her. Pam had handpicked every element of her kitchen, including this unique piece. Allison closed her eyes. She could almost imagine her friend standing beside her, stroking her exposed cheek.

  “Hungry?”

  It took Allison a few seconds to realize that the voice—a masculine one—didn’t fit in the picture. She lifted her head. Jake stood in the doorway, hands braced against each jamb.

  “What?”

  “I fell asleep but woke up starved. I don’t think I ate more than two bites at the reception. How ’bout you?”

  “What are you having?”

  “Scrambled eggs.”

  Her stomach answered for her. “Okay. I might be able to muster enough energy to chew, but I know I don’t have the strength to cook.”

  His sinfully appealing grin was unlike any Allison had seen before—a mix of devil and angel. “Sit down and watch a master at work.”

  Allison’s brain had reached the point where following orders was all she could do. She drew up a stool and sat down, finally releasing her grip on the envelope.

  “How much money was donated?”

  Ally heard his question, but the smell of butter in the frying pan made her mouth water and she couldn’t answer. He cracked two eggs into the skillet then walked to where she was sitting and put his face directly in line with hers. “How much money?” he asked, emphasizing each word.

  “I can’t remember exactly. But it was quite a lot.”

  He returned to his cooking and moments later placed a plate with a mound of dry scrambled eggs—just the way she liked them—in front of her, along with a piece of toast in front. Allison raised her head. She’d practically fallen asleep with her cheek resting on her hand. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You can sleep later. I promise.”

  She silently repeated the directions in her head. “Ummm,” she mumbled between bites. “Tasty.”

  He pulled a stool around from the counter area so he could face her, then he started eating, too. “If you think my eggs are good, wait till you try my beef stroganoff.”

  There was definite humor in his voice. Allison decided she liked the sound of his voice—almost as much as she liked his touch. He had kind hands. Useful for picking up small children and holding onto when your heart was breaking.

  Her eyes filled with tears and her throat closed tight. The bite of toast in her mouth turned to sawdust, and she couldn’t chew any more. She spit the half masticated morsel into her napkin and slipped from the stool. “Bed. Gotta go now.”

  Jake must have sensed her meltdown. He was at her side before she could take a step. When she tried to protest, he linked his arm through hers. “I’ll clean up this mess in a minute. I want to talk to you and you’re obviously ready to pass out, so at least let me walk you to your door.”

  She didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, she liked the feel of his strong upper arm brushing against hers. “Talk about what?”

  “First thing tomorrow, I want to call a therapist.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “You mean besides the teeth marks on my hand? I decided I shouldn’t let my experience influence what we do. Caleb isn’t me.”

  Allison found this admission intriguing but she was too tired to ask for details. “Okay. I met a minister at the hospital the night Cordelia was admitted. He told me he works with kids. He and Caleb seemed to hit it off. His card is around here somewhere. Maybe in my jacket pocket.”

  They’d arrived at her bedroom. “Fine. Tomorrow. It’s late now. You need to sleep.”

  He opened the door, but Allison balked. “Gotta check on Caleb.”

  “I will before I go to bed.”

  That wasn’t the same. She brushed past him and walked to Caleb’s room. In the muted light, she saw the race-car bed, a child’s body hugging a bulky orange sweater, and Rom curled up near his feet like a panther on guard.

  “That’s one cool cat,” Jake said from over her shoulder.

  Allison sagged against the door. Jake’s broad hands gripped her shoulders and turned her around. “Go to bed, Allison. Before I carry you.”

  Picturing herself in Jake’s arms was an image Allison found way too tempting. Sleep, she thought. Sleep would provide the antidote for this crazy attraction. She hoped.

  Chapter 8

  The following morning, Allison awoke feeling so rested and refreshed she momentarily forgot where she was—and why. Her bedroom door, which she’d left open in case Rom got tired of watching over Caleb, was closed. Neither cat was in sight.

  She sprang out of bed and quickly showered and dressed. Her watch read ten o’clock when she finally hurried into the kitchen. The low drone of the television pulled her to the family room, after she filled a big mug with strong, black, butterscotch-scented coffee.

  “I must have overslept,” she announced.

  Jake and Caleb were sitting side-by-side on the sofa, each holding a cat. The scene was so charming Allison felt a fresh wave of tears start to build. Quickly turning around, she went in search of food. Something sweet, she decided.

  “Banana bread,” she murmured, spotting an aluminum foil-wrapped loaf that she remembered seeing a gray-haired woman—the neighbor across the street—drop off. She retrieved the tub of whipped butter from the refrigerator and was about to carve her first piece when Jake joined her. He refilled a cup from the carafe and sat down.

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked. “You looked so peaceful, Caleb and I decided not to wake you.”

  “I appreciate that, but I do have a bunch of calls to make today. Business-wise,” she added. “I haven’t been in my office for a week. Has it only been seven days?” She slathered butter across the moist brown treat. “What about you? What are your plans?”

  “Well...” he dragged out the word as if reluctant to tell her. “I didn’t realize you had a separate agenda. I called the counselor you suggested last night. His card was by the computer. Father Raymund Avila. Priest and therapist, apparently. He said he could see us
at one, so I snapped up the appointment.”

  Allison couldn’t argue with that—it had been her idea. “That will work. It’s three hours away. No problem.”

  “And I promised Caleb we’d go to a matinee afterward.”

  “Promised or bribed?”

  “Is there a difference with a four-year-old?”

  “Good point. I’ll probably pass on the movie, but you can drop me off at my office then pick me up afterward, if that works. Or we can take two cars into town, and I’ll meet you at his office.”

  She took a bite of banana bread, closing her eyes to savor the delicate blend of cinnamon and clove. “Oh, yum,” she said, chewing. “Whoever made this is a culinary goddess in my book.”

  When she opened her eyes, she caught Jake looking at her. An element of chemistry sparked between them. Undeniable, but not unavoidable, Allison decided. She buttered a second slice and turned away. “I’d better make those calls. We have to factor in travel time to Fresno.”

  She paused at the doorway and looked back. “Would you do me a favor? Call Gayle and ask if she could return all of those bake dishes and plastic containers by the back door. I have no idea where the owners live, and she did volunteer to help.”

  “No problem,” he said his tone slightly sardonic. Allison knew that asking for help wasn’t something any man relished, but Jake was a good sport. So far, he’d been conscientious, supportive and generous to a fault. She was still trying to figure out a way to pay him back for her share of the flowers.

  Money. She came back into the kitchen. Jake was still sitting where she’d left him, staring into his mug. He lifted his head to look at her. A lock of sun-kissed blond hair dipped over one eye in a puppy-dog fashion. Her heart did a pirouette. No. I won’t fall for him. I refuse.

  In as businesslike tone as possible, she said, “We need to discuss the donations. If I remember correctly, the checks and cash totaled nearly two thousand. Some were earmarked for the volunteer fire department and quite a few to the food bank, but what do we do with the rest?”