Once Upon a Thanksgiving (PTA Moms Book 1)

by Holly Jacobs

  He waited, watching her.

  Samantha didn't know what to say. "Harry, you're not listening. Stan's very troubled by our being friends. What would happen to him if whatever we have is more than that?"

  "What about you, Sami?" It was the second time he'd used her old nickname. "What about how you feel?"

  "Maybe there's more than friendship for me, too. After that kiss—" which still had her feeling rather breathless "—I'd be a fool to deny it. And I'd want to explore my feelings further, if there weren't so many strikes against us. I don't want to be a short-term, rebound relationship for you. And I don't think that's what you want for me."

  "Samantha, what we're feeling is special."

  "And I'd take a chance on it if it were just me, just us. But I can't risk my kids. They're confused enough already. That's evident in Stan's graffiti."

  "He'd adjust," Harry insisted.

  "You won't be here long enough for that to happen. And even if you were, we couldn't be sure he'd ever come to terms with us being in a relationship. From what you've said, you never managed it with your stepfather."

  "I did." There wasn't much heat in Harry's protest.

  "Liar," Samantha said gently. "You told me yourself that both of your parents wanted you to live with them. They felt you were old enough to decide, and rather than choosing one of them you stayed with your grandparents."

  "Because I didn't want to start another new school."

  Samantha gave Harry a look that he could be dishonest with himself, but she knew better. "Because you were afraid you wouldn't fit into either of your parents' new families. I don't want that for my son."

  "Even if it means sacrificing your own happiness?"

  "Even then." She took a step, closing the distance she'd placed between them, and kissed his cheek. "Harry, I'd rather let you go now when it's all so new and, if you're honest, undefined. I'd rather call our friendship quits now, when we're not sure what, if anything more, we could become."

  "It will hurt, Samantha."

  "Yes, it will. But like a bandage, it's better to rip it off now and get it over with."

  "You're sure?"

  She hesitated. She wasn't sure. Wasn't sure at all, but she nodded. "Yes, it's for the best. You'll be keeping Stan after school?" she asked, all business.

  "Yes."

  "Then, I'll. . ." She started to say, I'll talk to you soon, but she wouldn't. She was cutting off everything but their school ties, and they both knew it. So she settled for, "I'll see you around."

  He nodded.

  She felt his eyes on her as she walked through the door. She shut it behind her as quickly as possible. She was doing the right thing. The only sane and sensible thing.

  She was sure.

  At least, she was mostly sure.

  THE REST OF THE DAY was a haze of keeping busy. Samantha ran her errands, then hit the kitchen and baked. She didn't bother sucking in her stomach, or looking for a silver lining as she made chocolate chip cookies, a chocolate cake and even put a loaf of bread out to rise. She started a stew and put it in the oven, as well.

  She was going to throw that stupid book out.

  She still had more than an hour before the kids would be home, so she cleaned the house, top to bottom, retrieving Legos, action figures and Barbies from under the couch, and a small catnip ball that Grunge had disdained and buried between the cushions.

  Relieved when she glanced at the clock and saw the kids would be home at any minute. They often walked the six blocks on nice days, and today was a beautiful day. Cold enough to remind everyone in Erie that winter was on the horizon.

  She put away the vacuum, and was waiting in the foyer as the younger three kids ran across the porch and flung open the door.

  "Mom, Stan had to stay after," Seton screamed, by way of greeting.

  "Yes, I know. He won't be long."

  "What'd he do now?" Shane asked, throwing his coat and bookbag into the corner, and kicking off his shoes with such precise aim they landed on top of them. "Carrie said he was playing with matches."

  "No. No matches."

  Seton asked, "So what did he do?" He had a particular gleam of big-brother-idol-worship in his eye.

  "Let's not worry about Stan. Stella, how was your day?"

  Stella had come in quietly and shut the door. She'd then taken off her shoes and lined them neatly on the mat against the wall. At her mother's question, she opened her bookbag and retrieved her take-home folder. "We had an old lady called Nana Vancy—that’s a funny name—come in and talk about all the dogs that need homes. And Mom, you said you'd think about us gettin' a dog. We have a big house and a dog would fit in really good."

  "Oh, honey." Samantha had said she'd think about a dog, but now she wasn't sure if she could cope with one more thing without collapsing.

  "Come on, Mom. They're having an open house tonight from the Human S'ciety—"

  "Humane Society," Shane corrected her.

  "Yeah, them," Stella agreed. "They're open late. We could go look, at least."

  "Yeah. Come on, Mom," her brothers chorused. "We'd just look."

  "Please?" all three said in unison.

  Samantha melted. "I'll think about it. But first, homework."

  She meant to think. . .and say no. Although after a very sullen Stan came home and did his homework without complaint, then ate quietly as the other three continued their just-visit-the-shelter campaign, Samantha caught Stan looking up with something akin to hope in his eyes. So she found herself saying, "Okay." The kids got up and ran out of the dining room—she presumed to get ready to go. "Just to look," she called after them.

  "Are you all right?" she asked Stan. "You didn't say much at dinner."

  "I'm sorry about today," he repeated. "I apologized to Mr. Remington again, too."

  "I guess that's all I can ask for. Everyone makes mistakes, Stan. You've fixed it and apologized. We're good. Now come on, we're visiting that shelter."

  He smiled then, the smallest upturn of his lips, but Samantha felt a bit lighter because of it.

  They all piled into the van and headed to the Humane Society, the dinner dishes still unwashed in the sink.

  "Mommy, I bet there'll be tons of kids from school here," Stella chirped merrily.

  But there was only one other car in the parking lot when they arrived. Samantha felt as if she had the word sucker tattooed on her forehead.

  "Now remember, we're just looking," Samantha warned. Not that anyone was listening. The kids were already out of the car and heading into the building.

  Samantha followed the kids, who'd started through the pens of animals. Her heart always broke a little as she looked at the faces of the animals who were dejected and barely noticed as they passed. Some wagged their tails hopefully; some played coy, shooting well-timed looks at the kids.

  This was a mistake. Samantha knew it the minute she reached the end of an aisle and found all four kids standing in front of a cage.

  "Mommy," was all Stella said.

  Samantha was pretty sure why this dog was relegated to the back. It seemed defeated, as if it knew that no one was going to adopt anything as odd-looking as it was.

  Okay, odd was a generous word.

  Ugly was more accurate.

  If an old English mastiff, with its big droopy eyes and jowls, along with a copious drooling problem, mated with a kinky-haired poodle, this dog would be their child. The dog had tight black and brown curls all over its body, including its wobbly jowls. One eye was ringed, as if a bull's-eye marked the depressed dog.

  Add to that it was ninety pounds at least. Obviously, its depression hadn't damaged its appetite.

  "That's the one, Mom," Stella hollered. "That's our dog. Her name is Marmalade. Grunge is going to love her. And she'll love Grunge."

  Samantha doubted the validity of the statements. Grunge didn't like anyone, particularly a hundredish-pound dog. She said, "Kids, we were only looking. Remember?" Still, she knew it was hopeless as all fou
r sets of eyes turned to her with the same longing the dog had.

  "She's big enough that we won't hurt her if we trip on her," Seton said.

  "And she doesn't look like we could scare her," Shane assured her.

  To be honest, the dog appeared as if she was so low that nothing, not even Samantha's brood, could put her off.

  "Could we visit with her?" Shane asked. "They've got a visiting room."

  Samantha meant to say no.

  She meant to say, "We're not getting a dog."

  She meant to remind them again that the cat would not be happy.

  Which is why it was a mystery when the word yes flashed in her mind instead.

  The Society volunteer who'd settled them in the visiting room, then brought Marmalade, said, "What she lacks in physical beauty, she makes up for with a sparkling personality. I've hated that no one's even taken a second look at her."

  Samantha watched her kids give the dog a second, then a third look. Stella hugged the monster, while the boys petted her, and talked excitedly about how they'd take her for walks.

  Marmalade tried to maintain her depression. The dog made a valiant effort to remain aloof. Yet the kids didn't seem to notice and gradually, Marmalade warmed to them, her long tail started to wag, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Her huge tongue started to loll out the side of her mouth as she gave the kids a big dog grin. Then, she gave up and dropped all pretense of keeping her distance, and started licking whatever child was closest.

  "Gross," they all hollered, but their faces were masks of delight. Even Stan's.

  "Mom," Shane said. "She's a really nice dog." He didn't ask, but she could see the question in his eyes. He'd fallen in love. Head-over-heels, hopelessly in love with the dog.

  "Can we keep her?" Stella asked in a small voice. "I've got twelve dollars at home to help pay."

  "I've got fifteen," Shane added.

  Pretty soon they were all discussing what money they had available, and how much Marmalade and all her doggie requirements might cost them.

  "If it's not enough," Stan said as he turned to her, obviously ready to make a deal. "Mom, you can keep our allowances until we pay it off. If we can get her." There was a look in his eyes that said he wanted the dog every bit as much as his siblings, but he didn't think she'd agree.

  Four sets of eyes pleaded.

  As if knowing her fate was being decided, Marmalade walked over to Samantha, sniffed her once, then sat down with a thud and stared at her.

  Samantha didn't bother to quibble. She didn't try to extract promises that the kids would walk the dog or scoop up dog poop. And looking at Marmalade, there was bound to be dog poop.

  Samantha smiled at her kids, and simply said, "Yes."

  It was one of those perfect mom moments. The kids were bouncing out of their skins with excitement. And Marmalade bounced right along with them, which was a sight to behold.

  As Samantha filled in all the forms, and watched the kids play with the dog, she wished she had the power to make them that happy every day. She listened to their laughter and knew this should be enough. Knowing her kids were happy had to be enough.

  She glanced at Stan, who hadn't done much smiling lately. He was grinning, exactly like his siblings.

  He caught her looking at him and smiled back at her.

  Yes, she'd make this enough.

  Maybe someday the kids would be ready to allow a new man into their lives, but they weren't now, or at least Stan wasn't.

  She thought about Harry leaving in a few weeks. She did the math in her head. Just thirty-three days.

  Maybe it would be easier when he did move and was totally out of reach.

  Maybe.

  But she doubted it.

  Chapter Eight

  Friday couldn't come soon enough for Samantha. She had all four kids in the car, which she parked a block from Erie Elementary. She'd agreed to bring them to the basketball game only after they promised to watch Stella.

  "Now, if there are any problems, I'll hear about it," Samantha warned as they entered the noisy gym. Immediately, she spotted Heidi selling snacks at the PTA table.

  "Hi, Heidi."

  "Hey, Samantha. Are you here to work the table?" There was hope in her eyes.

  "Sorry," she apologized. "I'd love to, but I'm on my way to the committee meeting for the Thanksgiving Pageant."

  "How's that going?" Heidi asked as she took two quarters from second-grader Izzy Rizzo in exchange for a chocolate bar.

  Heidi was one of those wonder-moms who did absolutely everything. Normally, nothing seemed to phase her, but tonight, at the snack stand, she looked worn out and frazzled.

  "Everything's fine," Samantha assured her, even though it was a huge lie. "Is everything okay with you?"

  Heidi hesitated.

  "Heidi?" Samantha asked. She and Heidi were friendly. Not as close as Heidi was with Michelle, but they'd chatted now and again at school functions. "If you need something. . ." She left the sentence hanging.

  Samantha thought Heidi was going to open up about something, but then the PTA president shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

  "Okay. If you change—"

  Heidi interrupted her. "You worry about the committee. That's a huge weight off of my shoulders. I'll get the rest."

  Samantha nodded. "Anyway, I'll be just down the hall."

  "No problem. I'll keep an eye on the kids."

  Feeling better, she focused on how anxious she was to unload on Michelle and Carly. As she walked she could just imagine them poor-babying her over Harry. She could almost hear them as they tripped over one another trying to comfort her.

  After discussing Harry at length, Samantha would turn to her actual PTA news, and she'd drop her bombshell. Michelle and Carly would both, once again, commiserate, and both, of course, offer assistance to pull the Thanksgiving Pageant together.

  And Samantha was sure she would need all the help she could get.

  It had all seemed so simple at that first PTA meeting.

  A Thanksgiving Pageant with a teacher who'd done that kind of thing dozens of times. Samantha had even sat through three of Mrs. Tarbot's third-grade pageants starring Stan, Seton and Shane. She knew how competent and organized the woman was. How could she have suspected then what a fiasco this would turn into?

  At first, all seemed well. Mrs. Tarbot was running rehearsals, and had most of the costumes at hand. Samantha had promised to show up at a few of the rehearsals so she'd know the play and could prompt the kids who forgot their lines on the day of the performance. And she'd said she'd come in a couple mornings to help fit last year's costumes to this year's class. Stella was beside herself with excitement, anxious to hear what role she'd landed.

  Yes, everything was going well.

  Then. . .

  No, she wasn't going to think about it now, she would wait and tell Michelle and Carly and be soothed by their comfort.

  She almost sprinted into the meeting room with a box of chocolate-covered strawberries and wept with relief to see that Michelle and Carly were both at the table already.

  "You'll never guess what happened this week," she said without preamble as she set down the strawberries and took off her coat.

  "That's what I said when I came in." Carly sounded depressed.

  "Me, too," Michelle echoed, sounding agitated, which was totally at odds with her normally placid demeanor. "We waited for you before we started spilling."

  "You guys start, then I'll tell you my news." Samantha took a strawberry to soothe her own anxiousness as she waited.

  Carly took one, as well. "Michelle first."

  "It's Brandon," Michelle blurted. "He wants to find his father."

  Samantha knew that Michelle was raising her nephew, who was in Seton's class. She'd assumed the boy's father had passed away along with Michelle's sister. But obviously, that wasn't the case.

  "You don't know where his father is?" Carly asked.

  "I don't know who his father is, much l
ess where he is. That's the problem. What if I help Brandon find the man, and he's—" she hesitated "—he's not the kind of man you'd want in a young boy's life? I met some of my sister Tara's boyfriends, and believe me, there's a very good possibility that's the case. What if we find him and he hurts Brandon? Not physically. I'd never let that happen. But what if he tells him he doesn't want him? Or what if. . ." Her voice dropped to hardly more than a whisper. "What if he does want him and. . .full custody?"

  "Oh, Michelle." Samantha patted her friend's hand.

  "Brandon came to live with me right after I graduated college. I'm embarrassed to admit that part of me hoped someone else would claim him. My mom. His father. I was young and didn't know the first thing about raising a boy. Now, he's my life. My sister made a lot of mistakes, and I couldn't do anything to stop her. But Brandon was her greatest achievement and she trusted him to me. How could I possibly let him go? He needs me. And I need him. Maybe that's selfish, but I don't know who I'd be if I wasn't Brandon's aunt. "

  Carly leaned over and hugged Michelle. "No matter what happens, you'll always be his aunt. He'll always love you."

  "How can I take that risk? How can I help him find someone neither of us knows, when there's the chance that I'll lose Brandon to him?"

  Samantha understood completely, but she also knew seventh-grade boys, and wasn't sure Brandon would accept a flat-out no from his aunt as an answer. "What did you tell him?"

  "I told him we'd wait. When he's eighteen I'll do everything in my power to help him find his father."

  "How'd he take that?" Carly asked.

  "He was furious. He's still hardly talking to me. And Bran and I don't fight like that. I don't know how to handle it. . .to handle him."

  Samantha ached for Michelle. Even though Phillip hadn't seen much of the kids right after their divorce, he was back now and steadier than he'd been in years. She knew that having him in the kids' lives was good for all of them.

  Yet she could understand Michelle's concern that Brandon's father might not be such a positive influence. "He knows you love him and he'll come around," she promised. "We've had our own hurdles at my house, but the kids know I love them, and that's why they always get over being mad. So will Brandon."