“Granny,” said Jimmy Joe, “this is Mirabella.”
“Yes…yes…it’s nice to meet you.” She peered intently up at Mirabella, who felt her hand clutched in a grip of surprising strength. Then Granny Calhoun announced to nobody in particular, “She’s a lot prettier than she looks on TV.”
My family… Jimmy Joe watched them assemble around the table, squabbling and bickering and bossing one another as they always did and always would, and felt the familiar feeling that always came over him when he’d just gotten home after being gone awhile. A sense of thankfulness for them all, a rueful acceptance that they weren’t perfect, and acknowleg-ment that he loved them in spite of-maybe even because of-that.
He wanted to look at Mirabella and smile at her with his eyes in a way that said, Yes, I know, but they’re part of me. A big part. And a big part of what I brought you here to see. So what about it? Do you think…?
But he couldn’t look at her then, too afraid of what he might see.
They all took their places-Mirabella, with Amy in her carrier at her feet, at the end closest to the living room in case, she was told, she needed to get up and tend to the baby during dinner. Jimmy Joe was down at the other end-miles away, it seemed-at the head of the table, with Granny Calhoun and the two children on one side and Betty and Jess on the other. The food-roast chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy, and boiled greens and corn bread-all smelled delicious, even to a semi vegetarian like Mirabella, but she didn’t know if the twinges she felt in her stomach were hunger pangs or butterflies.
On her right, Jimmy Joe’s mother held out her hand. After a moment’s uncertainty, Mirabella placed hers into it. Then she noticed that everybody was joining hands all around the table, so she looked over to her left and sure enough, there was Jess holding out her hand, too. Oh, God, she thought, not even aware of the propriety of that as everybody bowed their heads for the blessing.
She felt cold, suddenly. Lost and alienated. Not unusual, surely, for somebody thrust abruptly and unexpectedly into the bosom of a strange family. But this was Jimmy Joe’s family. He’d brought her here in the hopes that she might want to become a part of it, too. Could she? Maybe she wanted to. But how would she ever make it work, when everything was so…different?
She felt so…lonely.
Then, while Sammi June did the honors in a singsong, recitative voice, Jimmy Joe suddenly lifted his head and looked down the length of the table at Mirabella and smiled his sweet, special smile. And she felt a strange stirring, like the rustling of the wind through the pine trees outside…
Later, when supper was finished and they’d collected J.J. and everybody had said all their goodbyes and y’all-come-backs and they’d gone on home, Jimmy Joe got J.J. settled down and then went looking for Mirabella. He found her out on his front porch, wearing his Levi’s jacket and hugging herself against the cold, just standing and listening to the sounds of the night.
He went to her cautiously, not knowing quite what to make of her stillness. He felt calm and confident now, as he mostly did when he was here in his own place, but wired and restless, too, in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. With J.J. all tucked in for the night in his bedroom upstairs, and Amy Jo sound asleep again in her carrier, suddenly it was just the two of them-him and Mirabella, alone in the quiet of the night for the first time since that Christmas, more than three weeks ago. It seemed like a whole lot longer-another time, another place.
“Chilly out here,” he said.
And she nodded and murmured, “Yes.”
And then after a moment she went on, drawing a deep, quick breath, “I like it, though. It feels so crisp…so fresh. Reminds me of when I was growing up. We lived in the desert, then. I don’t think we ever had snow, but it could get cold, and I remember the sky being like this, so black and clear and full of stars.”
Hope filled his throat. He coughed and said, “Yeah, it’s real nice in the summertime.” He made a little gesture toward the two rocking chairs he kept there, side by side. “Sometimes I like to sit out here in the evenings and watch the night come in-you know, the air feels soft on your skin and the honeysuckle smells so sweet, and the fireflies twinkle on and off in the trees…”
“I’ve never seen fireflies,” said Mirabella wistfully. And then he could hear a smile in her voice as she added, “Except at Disneyland-fake ones.”
“I’ve seen those. They look awful darn close to the real thing.” He went and sat in one of the rockers, and after a moment, she took the other. “If you sit here long enough,” he said after a while, “the whippoorwill’ll start to sing, somewhere out there in the trees. Just sings his little ol’ heart out.”
“I’ve never heard a whippoorwill.” Her voice sounded far away. “What do they sound like?” She caught her breath and flicked him a quick, delighted smile when he cleared his throat, pursed his lips and whistled the three-note song. Then she turned her head away again, but not before he saw her smile go soft and wry. “I remember…you told me about the whippoorwill. The night Amy was born.”
Warmth rose in his cheeks, and he laughed. “I’m kind of surprised you remembered that.”
“Oh, I remember everything about that night.” She sounded wistful again. Almost sad, he thought. “I remember you held me, and you told me it was like making love. And then…”
“And then, you told me…”
“I’d never made love before.”
“I didn’t believe you,” he said softly.
She gave a dry snort of irony. “You didn’t-I couldn’t believe I’d said it. It’s not something I go around telling people, ordinarily.”
“I didn’t believe you,” he said again in a muffled voice, talking to the boards between his feet. “How could I? There you were, havin’ a baby.”
“And then…” Her breath sighed and the rocker creaked softly as she leaned back. “I told you I’d been artificially inseminated.”
His short, dry laugh was an echo of hers. “Then I believed you. I figured nobody would make up somethin’ like that.”
“You were so shocked.” Her voice was gentle; not accusing, just stating a fact. “I know it…changed things. Between us. The way you felt about me.” He shifted uncomfortably, wishing he could deny it, knowing he owed her the truth. Knowing she wouldn’t let him deny it, even if he’d tried to. Her eyes were steady on him now, the light from the living-room windows shining in them like moonlight on water. “I know it did, Jimmy Joe. I felt it. What I couldn’t understand was why?”
He looked at her for a long time without answering, trying to pick apart the knots of feeling inside him. He was discovering that knowing something in your gut was one thing; trying to reason it out so you could explain it was something else. Finally he shook his head and began, “I never meant to judge-”
“But you did.”
He looked down at his clasped hands. “Yes, I guess I did, for a while.” He paused, then went on in a voice he kept low to hide the intensity of the emotions inside him. “I know what it’s like, you know, raising a child all alone-I’ve been doin’ it for eight years, now. And dammit all-I can’t help it if I have strong feelings about a kid needin’ two parents. Me, I know I’m one of the lucky ones, because of Mama and Jess bein’ so close by, so even when I’m gone I know J.J.’s always got somebody around to love him and care for him. But I’ve seen what happens to kids, left alone with the TV or some computer for a baby-sitter.”
He left the rocking chair, propelled by the tension he couldn’t keep to himself any longer, paced to the railing and stopped. Leaning his hands on it, he stared into the darkness and said quietly, “I know things happen to people they can’t help, and when they do they’ve got no choice but to make the best of things. But I thought, for somebody to do that to a child on purpose, that it was kind of…” He looked over at her, hating to say it to her now, because of the way he felt about her, but knowing it was best to get it said and over with right up front, too. So he took a breath and
murmured, “Selfish.”
She sat hunched forward in the chair, rocking it slightly, making faint creaking sounds, not saying anything. He watched the way her hair shone warm in the light, like polished cherry-wood, and thought again of the nursery rhyme about the robin.
“Selfish…” She whispered it, then shook her head and said slowly, “And yet, you brought me here.”
His feelings burned inside him like fire. He wanted so much for her to understand. “But that’s just it,” he said with gravel in his throat. “I know you’re not selfish.”
“No-maybe I am selfish.” She left the chair rocking, empty, and came to the railing, her chin lifted in that uppity way she had. And he caught his breath, filled with a sudden burst of pride and delight in her, so it was all he could do to keep himself from bursting out in smiles and dragging her into his arms then and there.
“I wanted to be a mother,” she said, roused and angry. “That’s pretty selfish, I know. And I had a good job, plenty of money, a really nice home, and all this love and warmth and security-everything a child could want or need, right? Except for one thing-oops. no father! Bummer. But then I thought, so what? The important thing is the love, not who it comes from, or how many. I know lots of kids with two parents who’d be a helluva lot better off with one-or none at all, if you want to know the truth. So I thought, I’ve got enough love for two people, and I knew I’d make one terrific parent, so I decided to do it. I planned to try it this way first, and if that didn’t work, I’d adopt. But it did work. And if you want me to say I’m sorry I did it-wett, I’m not.”
He listened to the angry rhythm of her breathing and felt his own pulses quicken in response, and his body heat with a passion to match hers, although he knew it was a different kind. He meant to change that as soon as he could. He didn’t move toward her, though, but said in a slow, soft drawl, “Well, Marybell, like I said, I know you’re not selfish. And I won’t say you’re wrong about anything you just said, especially the part about the love bein’ what’s important, and you bein’ a terrific mama. Which I guess just leaves me with one question.” He turned his head to look at her. “Why? Why did you have to do it this way? I mean, look at you-you’re smart, funny, warm, a whole lotta fun to argue with, and probably the most beautiful, the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life!”
Her breath caught, and surprise flashed like summer lightning in her eyes. His own heart stumbled, then began to pound like answering thunder. He whirled away from her, not trusting himself so near her, heat pumping through his body. Struggling with it, searching for a way to say it without being crude, he finally burst out with, “Woman, there must have been men fallin’ over themselves to be the father of your child!”
Behind him, she laughed softly and unevenly, as if someone had taken her by the shoulders and shaken her. “Maybe so. But not the right one.” Silence pulsed between them.
Then she said in her brisk, businesslike Mirabella voice, “I guess you want to know how come I’m a virgin at thirty-eight. Well, like I said, I didn’t exactly plan it that way. My problem has always been, you see, that I don’t look anything like who I really am. I told you what I was like as a child. Well, there was a poem I remember-it was about this little girl who was a tomboy on the outside, but inside she was something completely different. That was me. It still is. When I was fat and homely, I kept waiting for some little boy to see how funny and smart and generous I was.
“By the time I got prettier, I’d developed this enormous chip on my shoulder. So now I looked like this cute, sexy little airhead, when actually I was an angry, resentful witch. And…I I kept waiting for some guy to see how funny and smart and generous I was in spite of all that.”
Remembering the thought that had come to him way back in that truck-stop diner in New Mexico, Jimmy Joe wanted to burst out with, ‘I would have! Me!“ It took all the patience and good manners he had in him not to interrupt her.
“Guess what? Nobody ever did. Oh, I had crushes, of course-always on somebody who didn’t have a clue. Guys who were attracted to me because of my looks-which was pretty much all of them-got turned off as soon as they found out who I really was. They just weren’t expecting somebody who looks like I do to have a brain, I guess. They thought they’d be getting this adorable little someone they could dominate and control, and when they found out I was bossy and independent and headstrong and just as capable as they were-if not more so-boy, did they back off in a hurry.
“So…” She gulped, and suddenly there were tears in her voice. She lowered it to a whisper and went on, hurrying now, determined to get it all said. “I kept waiting for some guy to come along who would see how smart and funny and generous, and headstrong and independent and capable I was, and love me anyway. And no one ever did. I could have settled for just…someone, I suppose, but I’ve never been much good at compromising.” She stopped there for a short huff of dry laughter, then finished in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. “For me it was the right man, or none at all. Eventually, I realized that the right man wasn’t going to come along in time, and if I was going to have a child, I’d have to do it without one. So I did.”
“Maybe,” Jimmy Joe said hoarsely, “you just gave up too soon.”
Chapter 16
“I’m gon‘ be rollin’ into home ‘bout twelve, one, tonight. My wife’s gon’ be lyin‘ in bed a-waitin’ for me.”
I-40-Texas
“Oh…Jimmy Joe.”
He turned to her then, all primed and ready to take her in his arms, but when he saw the way she was looking at him he froze, a terrible fear prickling his skin. Her eyes were huge and dark with tears; he could see them glistening, too, on her cheeks.
“Don’t you see?” she said, her voice so gentle and sad it just about broke his heart. “You don’t know who I really am, either, any more than they did. You don’t know me-how could you? You’ve only seen me…what-when I was in labor. Weak and helpless and scared to death and vulnerable. And now with Amy, when I’m such a soppy, sentimental fool. That’s not me. I’m not at all like that!”
He would have reached for her right then, pulled her into his arms and murmured reassurances into her mouth, but she put up both hands to ward him off, and continued in a rapid, breathless voice.
“I’m an impossible person to live with. I’m moody, and I really need my privacy, my own space. I’d organize you to death-I’m frighteningly efficient. And a compulsive planner. I always have my Christmas shopping done-and everything wrapped-by mid-October. I’m bossy and argumentative, and I always have to be right. I stick notes on things, and underline in magazines. I…I’m a health nut. I don’t eat red meat. And I really do hate country music!”
He studied her as she wound down through the laundry list of her shortcomings, saying nothing to derail her. But as he listened and watched her, he felt the fear slowly leave him, and the quiet joy of certainty come to take its place. He knew he could have kissed her then, and in a very short time thereafter had her in his bed. But it wasn’t about that. It never had been. It was more important than that. There was a lot more at stake here than a few passion-filled hours. This was about the rest of his life. Except for the issue of her virginity, he couldn’t see how taking her to bed was going to solve anything important.
He didn’t think arguing with her was going to solve anything, either. He thought about it-about finally making his pitch like a traveling salesman and telling her all the ways he’d figured out that she could have a life with him here in Georgia and still do the things she liked to do out there in L.A.; how she could start her own business, if she wanted to, and go to Atlanta for shopping and concerts and plays, or to Athens, even to the university.
But he knew this wasn’t the right time for that, either. She was right about a couple of things-she did dearly love to argue, and she did hate being wrong. At the moment she was on a roll, and he had an idea if he tried to argue with her she would just dig her heels in and get stubborn about it, more than ever determin
ed to prove she was right.
“Reminds me of one of the great movie lines of all time,” he drawled, when he saw she’d finally run down. He paused, shrugged, and delivered it: ‘“Oh, well…nobody’s perfect.’”
She blinked, then let go a misty gust of laughter. He saw a look of confusion flash like a bird shadow across her face.
“Gettin’ cold out,” he said gently. “Gettin’ late. Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll show you to your room.”
He put his hand on her back to guide her through the door he was holding open for her, and felt her tremble. He almost lost it then, all his resolve and patience and self-control. Okay, he thought, so maybe making love to her wouldn’t solve anything important between them, but it sure as heck would take care of her trembling, not to mention the hunger that was burning up his insides.
He was starting to worry about that, too. If things kept building up in him the way they were, he was afraid that when he finally did make love to her, he might have trouble being as gentle with her as he knew he was going to need to be. This whole thing, in fact, was turning out to be a lot more complicated and difficult than he’d thought it would be. It was going to take just about all the patience and self-discipline he had in him to get it to work out right. But he never doubted that it would. Or that she was worth it.
I really hate this, thought Mirabella. Here she was, all primed to have it out with him once and for all, and he’d left her flat, with nobody to fight with. Now she felt frustrated, and a little foolish.
Also confused. She didn’t understand him. She’d seen the way he’d looked at her, the way his eyes had seemed to glow with some deep, inner fire. Everywhere they’d touched her she’d felt hot-as if the sun itself was burning her naked skin. And yet at the same time, she shivered. Chemistry, she thought, then scoffed at herself. Chemistry, hell Call it what it is, girl. It’s just plain old desire.
One Christmas Knight Page 24