A Mother's Claim

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Even if, I don’t know, I killed somebody or started taking drugs or...?” He ran out of ideas.

  Suddenly she was smiling as if she meant it. “Even if. I might be mad at you, but that’s different.”

  His nose was running now. He lifted his hem again but then caught her eye. “Um, I guess I should...”

  She actually laughed. “Paper towels are on the counter.”

  He jumped up and grabbed one, blowing his nose. He was crying like a baby, but he didn’t care. He felt great! He hadn’t ruined everything after all.

  After he threw the wadded paper towel in the trash, he said, “I could make tacos tomorrow night again. If...if you’d come to dinner.”

  Mom looked startled, and then her eyes went unfocused for a weird minute. Finally, she blinked and he knew she was seeing him again. “Thank you for the invitation, Christian. I think...I’d like that. If your uncle doesn’t mind.” Momentarily, she sounded stern. “If he does, you need to let me know. I’d rather have honesty than any more pretense.”

  “We weren’t ever pretending.”

  She nodded slightly, not as if she totally believed him, but as if she needed to think about it, the way she’d said.

  He never did eat any cookies, and as he rode his bike home, he suddenly realized he was starved.

  * * *

  DANA WAS COMING to dinner.

  Too jumpy to sit down, Nolan prowled the living room, with an occasional detour to the kitchen to check on Christian’s preparations.

  She was coming to dinner. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea. What did it mean? Had she forgiven him? And Christian? Or did she just want a civil setting for a painful conversation?

  She’d been so sure he was lying to her, but she had agreed to have dinner here, anyway. Nolan shook his head in bewilderment.

  This time when he passed the front window, he saw headlights. A car turning into the driveway. It had to be her.

  “Dana’s here!” he called.

  Christian replied; Nolan didn’t take in what he said. He moved away from the window so she wouldn’t think he was pathetic.

  The doorbell sent a jolt through him. When he let her in, she smiled at him, a little cautiously, but any kind of smile surprised him.

  “Dana.”

  “I brought dessert.” She thrust a dish at him. “Blackberry cobbler.”

  His stomach growled, probably because he hadn’t eaten much in two days. Dana laughed and went with him to the kitchen.

  Christian turned from the stove. He’d already grated the cheese and it looked like he’d just dumped the chicken strips into hot oil. They exchanged shy greetings that still left Nolan without a clue.

  “Would you like some wine, or...?” he asked.

  “Not right now, thank you.”

  “Shall we go sit down in the living room?”

  Her fingers curled tight, then straightened. So she was nervous. “Thank you.”

  They were all being polite, when she’d spent enough time here it felt as if she belonged.

  She surprised him again by sitting at what he’d come to think of as “her” end of the sofa instead of choosing a chair well distant from him. Tucking one foot under her, she faced him at the other end. The middle cushion felt as wide as the Columbia River.

  “I have something to say.”

  God. Here it came. “All right,” he said warily.

  “I need to apologize for overreacting.” Dana shook her head when he opened his mouth. “I didn’t like what I heard, or the expressions on your faces. You were celebrating because you’d put something over on Craig.”

  She was right. That was how juvenile they’d been. Christian had an excuse; Nolan didn’t.

  “Christian...upset me,” she continued, her gaze unwavering. “It meant a lot that he’d started to call me Mom. Hearing him revert to Dana the minute he got what he wanted...” She gave her head a little shake. “But I was hurt most of all by the idea that you’d befriended me from the beginning to get me on your side. Even worse was thinking you’d set out to use my attraction to you to cement my support.”

  “I didn’t.” He couldn’t let her keep thinking—

  “Yesterday I asked Christian to be completely honest with me. I’m asking the same of you. I can handle the truth. Later—” she gave an awkward shrug “—it would be much worse.”

  That she even felt she had to ask was killing him. Voice raw, he said, “Dana, what I told you yesterday was true. Every word. I swear.”

  Her eyes searched his in a way that left him feeling emotionally naked.

  “Hey. Dinner’s ready,” Christian announced from the archway.

  Nolan jerked. Dana’s pupils shrank, then dilated. The timing couldn’t be worse. But he stood and said, “Smells good.”

  Dana forced a smile and rose, too.

  Dinner took an eternity. Nolan made himself eat even though his stomach kept spasming. Christian was proud of his cooking and excited that Dana had agreed to come. She smiled and chatted with Christian, at least pretending interest in what Jason or Ryan or Dieter said and which of his new video games had been awesome.

  When they had all finished, Christian said eagerly, “We have ice cream to put on top of the cobbler, right, Uncle Nolan?”

  He smiled. “We do, but can we wait for a bit? I’m pretty full.”

  Christian opened his mouth to complain, met Nolan’s eyes and said, “Sure. Dieter said to call. So...” He eased out of the kitchen and then thumped his way upstairs, displaying unexpected understanding.

  Nolan looked at the dirty dishes on the table and saw that Dana was doing the same. Then she giggled. “I think I’ve volunteered for KP a few too many times.”

  Nolan laughed, too. “You’re not cleaning the kitchen tonight. Let me get the coffee started.”

  She did clear the table while he poured coffee and got out creamer. They both sat down again and looked at each other, neither reaching for their cups.

  “Sunday,” she whispered, “was worse than when I realized Craig was seeing another woman. Worse than when he told me he wanted a divorce.” Her fingers twisted together. The pain in her eyes gutted Nolan. “When I thought it was all a lie... The way you touched me and looked at me and—”

  He shoved back his chair and circled the table, pulling her to her feet. He wanted to haul her into his arms and never let her go, but he had to make her believe him first. “These two days, knowing what you thought—” he swallowed with difficulty “—that you might never forgive me... These were the worst days of my life.”

  It was the truth. He’d been an idiot not to have recognized what he felt until he’d screwed up and lost her. He had no defense.

  “Please,” he managed, hearing how broken his voice was. “I love you, Dana.”

  Again she looked deep. When she let out a cry and threw her arms around his neck, it felt as if his heart had just burst open. Messy, painful, exhilarating.

  She pressed her lips to his. There was no finesse. Their teeth clanked together; he tasted blood from her lip or his, he didn’t know. Finally, finally, he got it right, deepening the kiss, gripping her butt to lift her, exultation more powerful than any physical hunger.

  They spun in a circle, kissing until they had to come up for air, then diving back in again. “I need you,” he managed to say at one point. And she whispered the words he craved.

  “I love you.”

  They thumped into a wall. He wanted to tear off her jeans, unfasten his and bury himself inside her. It still wasn’t all physical. What he felt was more primitive than that. His hips rocked and she moaned.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  A part of his brain knew what that sound meant. The rest of him didn’t care. He somehow squeezed a hand between them to cup her bre
ast.

  “Love you,” he said gutturally.

  “Can we have cobbler now?”

  The cheerful voice calling down the stairs had the effect of a cattle prod. Nolan groaned, tore his mouth from Dana’s and whispered, “Can we ditch him?”

  “He’ll be in the kitchen any second.”

  Nolan said something obscene, but he also retreated a few inches, not letting go of her.

  “Oh, there you are.” This time the voice came from right behind him. “Are you kissing?”

  Nolan started to laugh.

  “What’s funny about that?” Christian asked indignantly.

  Nolan couldn’t quit laughing.

  Dana punched him. “We were kissing.”

  “Oh. You mean you’re not mad anymore?”

  She succumbed, too. Hooting and giggling, they clung to each other like a couple of drunks staggering out of a tavern.

  “I guess I should go away, huh?”

  At the tentative, possibly offended question, Nolan shook his head and turned. “Hey. Come here.”

  Christian took a slow step, then another. Nolan held out an arm and pulled this boy he loved so much into an embrace shared by all three of them. “We don’t want you to go away,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Even if privacy can be hard to come by for parents.”

  “Parents?” Christian’s head came up, his hope as naked and vulnerable as anything Nolan had ever seen in Dana’s eyes. “You mean...?”

  “I do mean.” He hadn’t asked, but all he had to do was look at her to know what her answer would be. “Cobbler sounds good to me,” he heard himself say, ushering Dana back to the table.

  Once they’d eaten... Christian was a big boy. He’d be okay home alone for a couple of hours.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from CHRISTMAS WITH CARLIE by Julianna Morris.

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  Christmas with Carlie

  by Julianna Morris

  PROLOGUE

  “MR. FORRESTER?”

  Luke jerked, realizing he’d been staring into space, thinking about Erika again.

  “Yes, Tilly?” he asked, shaking his head to clear it.

  “I’ve made all the holiday arrangements you requested, but I wish you’d reconsider.”

  Her face was tense and she only called him Mr. Forrester when she was annoyed. Tilly Robinson had been with him since soon after he’d started his business and often acted more like a mother hen than an executive assistant. Most recently she had been encouraging him to take his daughters away for Christmas. Maybe she was right. Beth and Annie were hurting over their mother’s death and no words seemed to comfort them.

  Hell, he didn’t understand.

  He’d never expected to fall in love with a soldier, but he hadn’t been able to ask Erika to give up something she’d believed in, even after their twin daughters were born. Her father and grandfather had served in the army and she’d prepared her whole life to follow in their footsteps. The night he’d proposed, Erika had reminded him that it couldn’t always be someone else’s husband or wife or daughter who served.

  The sound of a throat clearing made Luke realize his thoughts had drifted yet again. He looked into Tilly’s determined eyes. “Why are you so sure that going away is the right idea? Even the grief therapists I’ve consulted can’t agree.”

  “I’m not sure, but hanging around Austin hasn’t done you much good,” she replied bluntly. “How long has it been since you got a full night’s sleep?”

  Longer than he could remember.

  If he slept, he dreamed about his wife, especially their last vacation. The twins had been five and Erika had managed to get leave from her unit in the Middle East. She’d met them in Italy. They’d spent two weeks with the girls, exploring Tuscany. Three months later, an army notification team had shown up, regretfully informing him that his wife had died in the line of duty.

  Telling Annie and Beth had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. The look on their faces had haunted him ever since. It was as if they’d retreated into themselves and he didn’t know how to bring them back.

  “I’ve never slept that much, Tilly, you know that. And it’s Beth and Annie that matter.” Luke tossed his pen onto the desk. “Do you have a place in mind for your great plan?”

  “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

  His first thought was the large villa he’d rented for the family in Tuscany. The twins had enjoyed the indoor pool and the villa had come fully staffed. He shook his head. What was he thinking? Italy was the last place they’d seen Erika. It would simply remind them that she wasn’t there.

  “Maybe the Caribbean,” he mused.

  “Absolutely not,” Tilly told him sharply. “That’s where you went that time Erika’s leave was revoked. And don’t suggest the French château you went to three years ago, either. You should go somewhere completely new. Take a look at this.” She slapped a paper down on his desk.

  It was a printout from the website of a place called Poppy Gold Inns on the West Coast.

  “California?”

  Tilly’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing wrong with California. As a matter of fact, General Pierson’s aide recommended Poppy Gold the last time we spoke. I’m sure I can clear your appointment and meeting schedule for the next month.”

  “A month?” he repeated. “How did we go from getting out of town for Christmas to a whole month?”

  “It has to be long enough to do some good. Better yet, stay a week or two into the New Year. They have a fully equipped business center, so you’d be able to handle anything urgent that comes up.”

  “Let me take a look.”

  Luke turned to his computer and pulled up the website for Poppy Gold Inns, where the holidays—both Thanksgiving and Christmas—were the main theme. According to the description, the entire historic district of a town in the California Gold Country had been converted to a group of bed-and-breakfast inns. In the pictures, Poppy Gold Inns was a quaint Victorian village, decorated to the nines with holly, evergreen and red velvet bows.

  “I don’t see any snow,” he said, “so it obviously wouldn’t be a white Christmas.”

  Tilly snorted. “When was the last time we had a white Christmas in Austin, Texas? Down here, it’s Santa Claus in a cowboy hat, driving a stagecoach. Stop procr
astinating. I’ve checked and one of the houses is available.”

  “You’ve already checked? Let me guess—you’ve already reserved it, too.”

  “Of course. I didn’t want anyone else to take it while you were dragging your feet. It needed a referral from General Pierson’s office, so the clock was ticking.”

  Luke’s jaw tightened. Maybe a change would be best for the girls.

  For him, too.

  “All right, clear my calendar from the last week of November through the first week of January,” he told her. “We’ll take the jet and leave the day after Thanksgiving.”

  Tilly pursed her lips. “What about your parents? They planned to be in Austin until the twenty-fifth.”

  Luke loved his mother and father, but they could be something of a trial. Craig and Heather Forrester both had generous trust funds, but when he was a kid, they’d always spent their annual allowance within nine or ten months. He’d hated the way they lived off their wealthier friends the rest of the year. Luke’s grandparents on both sides had given up on them before his sister, Nicole, was born, being people who heartily disapproved of a frivolous lifestyle. He barely remembered them.

  “Get my parents invited to an embassy dinner in Washington. They’ll regretfully call off their trip to Austin.”

  Craig and Heather’s latest goal was getting appointed to a diplomatic post. They were effortlessly charming, so it was possible, but he doubted they understood that being in the diplomatic corps required actual effort. Work wasn’t a concept they grasped well.

  “Which embassy?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just find one that’s having a party. I’ll ask my sister if she wants to come with us to California.”

  “You’ll also need a tutor for the girls so they don’t get behind in school.” Tilly made a note on her pad. “Anything else?”

  “Not right now, but I hope this bed-and-breakfast place has decent plumbing.”

  Tilly looked smug. “If they don’t, you can fire me.”