Caleb's Christmas Wish

by Debra Salonen

  “Go to bed, Ally,” he ordered. “I’ll straighten up after I finish.”

  Although tempted, she wasn’t the type to leave a job half-done. Nor did she waste time fantasizing about things that couldn’t be. “I’m just about finished. Maybe I need another sip of that yummy liqueur you brought. What’s it called again?”

  “Tuaca. One of my Italian friends introduced me to it. I thought it would be nice after dinner.” He rose gracefully and filled two tiny glasses that were sitting beside a slim bottle on the nearby counter. “Do you think Pam will forgive me for buying lasagna with meat filling? There were no vegetarian ones left.”

  Allison stretched out her legs, resting her back against the sofa. She pulled a throw pillow from the couch and tucked it under her bottom. “Pam wouldn’t care. She introduced vegetarian dishes into the family’s diet because she thought her behind was too big.” Rubbing her belly, Allison said, “Personally, I think Papa Joe’s makes the best pasta I’ve ever tasted.” Looking upward, she added, “No offense, Pam. Yours was good, but this was to die for.” A second later, she slapped her hands to her burning cheeks. “Well, that was a stupid thing to say.”

  Jake handed her a glass then dropped to a squat in front of her. He waited to make a toast. “To Pam. She might not have made the best lasagna in the world, but she knew how to pick friends—loyal, generous and devoted.”

  Allison’s cheeks turned hotter. “I can’t.”

  He leaned closer. “It’s true. Drink.”

  She took a sip. The sweet, nutty-tasting liquid warmed her mouth and throat as she swallowed. She lifted the remaining portion. “And to Kenny, for choosing a godfather who knows his liquor.”

  Jake’s wry hoot sent a shiver of awareness through her. With a rumbling chuckle, he polished off the gulp. “Okay, enough mutual admiration. Let’s finish this.”

  Allison reached behind her to set the glass on the end table, then swept the last of the trash into a plastic bag and carried it to the kitchen. She crossed wrap presents off her list. When she returned to the family room, Jake was kneeling beside the bike. “Ta-da. All done.”

  She held out her hand to help him rise and they stood side-by-side admiring his masterpiece. “Wow,” Allison said. “I’m actually starting to feel like Santa Claus.”

  Jake’s chin turned her way. “But you look like a sleepy elf.”

  “An elf who’s stiff and grouchy, with a cold butt, but, hey, it’s Christmas Eve—pass the Tuaca.”

  He wiped his hands on his jeans. “How about a cup of my special cocoa instead? It’ll help you sleep and no headache in the morning.”

  Allison couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll take the bike into the living room.” She stopped. “Or, should I hide it in the garage?”

  Jake paused with his hand on the refrigerator door handle. “It’s pretty cold tonight. Let’s keep it in the house. Maybe just tuck it behind the chair or something. Do you have a ribbon for it?”

  “Yes. In fact, I bought a special one. Thanks for reminding me.”

  Allison parked the bike in a strategic spot near the tree but slightly hidden by the rocking chair before walking to the linen closet where she’d stashed a red felt bow that fit perfectly between the handle bars. She affixed it with tape then stepped back to eye the bike critically. Would Pam and Kenny approve?

  Trust your instincts, Ally, she heard a voice say. Pam’s voice.

  Allison squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Pam, I’m so sorry I’m here and you’re not. This isn’t right.

  But it’s the way it is, girlfriend.

  “Here you go,” a masculine voice said. “Liquid comfort.”

  Allison spun around. Jake stood by the fireplace, a Christmas mug in each hand. The gas flames behind the glass doors danced with quiet grace. Allison moved closer to the heat and accepted the cup, which she noticed included a candy cane stir stick. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. You look sad. Thinking about Pam and Kenny?”

  Instead of answering, she lifted the mug to her lips. The smooth, rich drink tasted like a melted candy bar with a hint of peppermint. The flavor was so decadent she almost moaned with pleasure. “This has twelve million calories, doesn’t it?”

  “Not on Christmas Eve,” he said with a wink.

  She took another sip. “I feel better already. Are you sure there isn’t any alcohol in it?”

  “Chocolate soothes and comforts all by itself. You’ve been on edge all night. Does this have to do with Caleb asking us to be his parents?”

  Allison wanted to deny his observation but couldn’t. “Do you think he noticed? I tried to be upbeat during dinner and the movie.” They’d watched It’s A Wonderful Life until Caleb fell asleep.

  “No. You were great. I’m sure he didn’t sense anything out of the norm, but I could tell you were preoccupied. I assumed that was the cause.”

  Allison sat down on Pam’s red leather sofa. Jake joined her, sitting close enough that they could speak softly. “I expected him to bring up the subject in the car. But he didn’t.”

  Allison hid her frown in her cup. “He will, though. And we should have some kind of answer prepared. But I’m too tired to discuss it tonight.”

  “I know you are. Unfortunately we won’t have much privacy tomorrow. Cordelia will be here.”

  “If her doctor okays it. She didn’t look too hot today.”

  Jake nodded. “The nurse told me they’re worried about pneumonia. Apparently, she has some lung damage. Did she smoke at one time?”

  “For years and years. Pam made her quit before Cordelia moved here. She didn’t want Caleb exposed to second-hand smoke.”

  “Well, even if she doesn’t come, the day will be hectic. I’m sure these new toys will occupy Caleb for a while, but eventually, he’s going to repeat his question. What do we tell him?”

  She settled back against the cushion. The subtle lighting from the tree, the outside decorations and the fireplace gave the room a romantic feeling. Too bad we’re just... She didn’t finish the thought. “Unless you were serious about pushing for sole custody, I say we stick to our plan.”

  Jake set his cup on the coffee table then turned sideways, his knee touching her leg. “Plans change. But I’m not thinking of Caleb at the moment. I’m thinking about you and me.”

  Allison felt a flutter in her chest. “Jake, given our proximity and day-to-day contact, it’s normal to feel a certain attraction toward each other, but we can’t trust—”

  He cut off her sentence with a kiss. A kiss that demanded her full attention. His tongue didn’t ask for permission, it simply took. His hand cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer. Their chests touched.

  Her empty mug tumbled to the carpet. The wide, rolled arms of the sofa provided a backrest when they eased into a reclined position. He was heavy against her, but in a comfortable way. Her limbs craved warmth, the kind only Jake’s body heat could provide. Too long without a loving touch, she wanted it all. Now. Here. Fast.

  Jake rose up on one arm and looked down at her. His lips were slick from her lip gloss. He wore a bemused look. “It must be after midnight because my Christmas wish just came true.”

  His tone was teasing but heartfelt. His words were the wake-up call she needed. “Jake, we can’t do this. It isn’t fair—to Caleb.”

  He hesitated a moment as if trying to understand her meaning. “You’re right. He might wake up.” A second later his moccasins were flat on the floor. “Let’s go to my room. Or yours.”

  Once free of his weight, Allison sat up and drew her knees to her chest. “I meant that we can’t do this, period.”

  His brows furrowed. “Why? We’re consenting adults. Both single.”

  “Not exactly. We have a child.”

  “And how does our making love hurt him?”

  Allison stifled a groan. She was positive she’d regret what she was about to say for the rest of her life. But better her regret, than Caleb’s. Or Jake’s. “Jake, I’ve never been
the kind of woman who can handle casual sex. I know that about myself. If we made love, it would be admitting to myself that I love you. And I can’t do that. Not when I know you’re going to leave as soon as Cordelia moves back.”

  He drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Ally, nothing is written in stone. But if you’re asking me to commit to something long-term...well, I’m not sure I can do that.”

  Allison heard something new—and—raw in his tone. She’d never seen this side of him. Self-doubt. Fear.

  He sat forward, feet flat, shoulders hunched. “Affairs of the heart and I don’t mix, Ally. I’ve come close twice. In the end, I failed to commit both times.”

  “You left two women at the altar?”

  He shook his head. “It never got that close, but I almost had a china pattern with my name on it once.”

  His attempt at humor didn’t affect her. She scooted closer and put her hand on his back. “Pam never told me.”

  “Both happened when I lived in New York. Kenny knew, but I asked him not to talk about it.”

  “Well, I think we should. You know about my failed marriage.”

  He flopped backward into the cushions. “Can’t we just agree that when it comes to long-term relationships, I have a miserable track record?”

  “I think Kenny would have disagreed with you,” she said. “And I know Caleb would.”

  He started to reply, but she added, “And your clients. People who trust you with their retirement, their dreams.”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “That’s just money. I have a knack for numbers. Buying and selling stocks is a game to me, and I like to win, but when it comes to the intangible...” He let out a long, deep sigh.

  “Does it have something to do with your childhood? You told me about your mother, and Kenny mentioned once that you had a rough time growing up. That you’d spent time in an orphanage.”

  He snorted. “Nothing quite so Dickensian. After my mother left, my dad managed to keep things together for a while, then he lost his job and started drinking full time. Eventually the state got involved.”

  “Are your parents still alive?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me about Phillip.”

  He made an offhand motion. “I already told you, he died when I was fourteen. We’d been in the system for a couple of years. I had a new, court-appointed advocate. A gung-ho college type who had big plans to get the two Westin brothers reunited with an adoptive family. It almost happened, but then Phillip got sick.

  “He’d always been small for his age. He caught every cold that went around. I figure our mother’s smoking and drinking the whole time she was pregnant was to blame. But he was a feisty little runt. And he never let things get him down—even when he was sick.”

  Allison could tell this was painful for him, so she moved closer and put a hand on his shoulder. The muscles beneath her fingers were bunched. She massaged the kinks. “What happened?”

  “The family who was interested in us backed out because they said their insurance couldn’t handle the health risk. I was really, really pissed off. Not for my sake, but because I knew Phillip had been counting on us being together. He said his foster mother had it in for him.”

  Allison massaged a little harder. “Did he get sick?”

  “A cold turned to bronchitis. By the time his foster mother took him to the doctor, it was pneumonia. My caseworker drove me to the hospital to see him. Phillip had a plastic tent around him. He was so drugged up, he didn’t even know me.”

  He grabbed her hand and held it tight between them. Looking straight into her soul, he said, “Our father was there. In the hallway. He told me that Phillip was going to die and it was my fault.”

  “Yours?” Allison cried. “You were just a boy. How could that be?”

  “Apparently, the family felt guilty about turning us down and was reconsidering until I got in a fight at the group home. A kid I’d been having trouble with from the very beginning said something about my faggot brother, and I went ballistic. I broke his nose. Naturally, a mark went on my record. The people decided a sick kid and a violent one was definitely more than they could handle.”

  Allison heaved a sigh. “That was unfortunate, but your reaction was understandable. You weren’t to blame for their decision. It sounds to me like they were looking for an excuse. Where was their compassion? Didn’t anyone care about what you were going through?”

  His snicker was anything but humorous. “Apparently not. Phillip passed away a few weeks later. On Christmas Eve. The night attendant at the home woke me up early just so he could give me the news.”

  Jake would never forget the look on the sadistic bastard’s face when he said, “Hey, loser, your pissant brother is dead. Merry Christmas.”

  At fourteen, Jake had mastered the stone cold stare. He never gave the man the satisfaction of seeing his heart break into little pieces. Instead, Jake got out of bed and went to the bathroom. But he didn’t cry. He waited until he was sure he was alone then punched his hand through the drywall in the linen closet. Afterward, he rearranged the stacks of towels to keep anyone from seeing it. His knuckles bled, but blood was a common sight in this group home. Nobody asked.

  “To be honest,” he told Allison, “I knew Phillip was going to die, and I didn’t blame him. Life pretty much sucked. Our mom was history. Our dad was a loser. And society was made up of a bunch of psychopaths and pedophiles. He didn’t have a chance.”

  She sighed. “Turn around. I wasn’t finished massaging your shoulders.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  She looked hurt. “Why?”

  “Because your touch makes me want things you told me can never happen. I appreciate the comfort, but it’s damn hard to be friends—” he emphasized the word so she’d get his meaning “—when you want to—”

  He didn’t have a chance to finish the sentence. She kissed him. Her taste was sweeter than the chocolate bar he’d melted into the cocoa. Her lips were soft and warm and her arms a balm to the pain he’d just recalled. Jake was always melancholy this time of year. The bitterness and futility he’d felt in his youth came back to him no matter where he was—St. Barts or Switzerland. Or even California.

  But those feelings were pushed aside like a curtain parting when Allison put her hand under his shirt. “Do you know what I want for Christmas?” she asked, rubbing her nose along his jaw.

  “What?”

  “Us. To be together. Tonight.”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t want you to make love to me because you feel p—”

  She put her hand over his mouth. “Say the word, and Santa will definitely not bring you any presents. This isn’t about pity. It’s about honesty. Do you remember at the wake when you said you’d learned at a young age to show people the image they wanted to see?”

  Jake nodded, the tightness in his throat preventing him from speaking.

  “This is what I needed to see. The real you behind the façade.”

  “The damaged little kid?”

  “The survivor who never gave up.”

  He might have argued, but it was late and her lips were sweet. And some gifts were best opened on Christmas Eve.

  Allison stretched, slowly coming into awareness. The messy sheets of her bed were a clear reminder of her impulsiveness. Her naked body and satisfied feeling further proof that she’d spent the night in Jake’s arms, making love to the man she’d vowed not to fall for.

  How did this happen?

  She knew what Pam would have said: “You’re a sucker for vulnerability. Look at your cats. Perfect example. One was chewed up and limping when you found her, and the other hissed at you for six months before you tamed him enough to get him to the vet. You insisted that beneath that angry bluff was a desperately lonely soul.”

  Maybe Pam was right. Jake’s story of his childhood leveled the playing field in a way she couldn’t explain. She’d grown up safe and provided for, but there were times when sh
e’d felt overlooked. Could that explain why she identified so strongly with the lost little boy Jake had been? She didn’t have an answer, but she did know one thing—just as she’d predicted, making love with Jake had sealed her fate. She loved him. Period.

  Her foot inched to the left, looking for the warmth of his body. Her eyes popped open. He wasn’t there.

  “Jake?” she called softly, sitting up.

  Chilly air poured under the down quilt.

  He didn’t answer, but the door leading to the hall was open. The soft, colorful glow of Christmas lights was visible. Lights they’d turned off before coming to bed.

  She found her robe and slippers and quickly dressed. Did he have regrets? She had to know.

  His back was to her as she approached. He appeared to be hanging ornaments on the tree, but whatever he was putting up was so small she couldn’t make it out clearly.

  “Jake?”

  He spun around. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said apologetically.

  “You didn’t. I missed you and figured it was almost morning, but it’s still dark outside. What are you doing?”

  “Penance.”

  Penance? “For making love?”

  “No,” he said, his tone tender. “That was a gift. This is about Phillip.”

  Allison walked to his side and looked at what was in his palm. “Jacks?” she asked, hesitantly touching one. Seven or eight were jumbled together, their tiny points interconnected like some kind of science project. Threaded into the mixture were loops of yarn—the kind she’d seen in Pam’s sewing basket.

  Jake took a deep breath. “When the attendant came to tell me Phillip was dead, I was mad. Furious. But I couldn’t let him see that. So I took the dumb gift I’d bought for my brother—” He presented his open hand in a way that made the little objects sparkle. “And tied pieces of thread that I pulled from the hem of my jacket and hung them on the artificial tree at the group home.”