by Emily March
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
She decided to change the subject. “So, how about you? What is Santa Claus doing on New Year’s Eve?”
“My night is a little more exciting, but not much. I’m meeting my sister and brother-in-law at a local pub. I’m told the proprietor is breaking out a new microbrew in honor of the holiday.”
“That sounds lovely,” Jenna said, her tone wistful. “Are you close to your sister?”
“Lori and I are friends, which based on our beginnings says a lot. We fought like angry cassowaries when we first met. We were teenagers.”
“Cassowaries? What’s that?”
“Huge bird. Think ostrich, only bigger. They have razor claws and spikes on their wings. Nasty fighters when provoked.”
“Tell me about your sister. I take it yours is a blended family?”
“Not in the traditional sense. Both my sister and brother are my parents’ biological children. My dad adopted me after I was orphaned as a tyke. Mom officially adopted me after she and Dad married, but I was all but grown by then. Lori and I had some serious sibling rivalry to work through before we became friends.”
“It’s no wonder you and Reilly hit it off. You have a lot in common.”
“He has an evil sister?”
Jenna laughed. “No. It’s just the two of us. I adopted him after his mother died.”
Following a moment of silence, he spoke in a quiet, but warm tone. “Tell me about it.”
Unexpectedly, tears sprang to Jenna’s eyes. “His mom was a troubled young woman. Too young. A runaway. I met her through some volunteer work I did. She was . . . lost.”
Jenna’s throat closed up. She rarely spoke of Marsha Rocheleau. The events that brought Reilly into her life still left her emotions raw.
“And Reilly’s father?”
“He was the reason she was a runaway.” Jenna sighed heavily. “It’s an ugly story, but the bottom line is Reilly’s mother gave him to me, the monster who fathered him signed away his parental rights, and I’m blessed to be Reilly’s mom.”
“Sounds like he’s a pretty lucky little boy too.”
“That’s my goal. I want Reilly to grow up believing he’s the luckiest boy in the world. I may not pull it off, but I’m going to try.”
“It’s a worthy goal. So, let me ask you a question. Hold on a minute, if you don’t mind.”
Jenna heard what sounded like footsteps on a staircase. Next she heard a door open and a screen door creak. They both banged shut.
“Whoa, it’s cold outside tonight, but I needed to move. So, back to my question. Say you hit a home run in the parenting department. Reilly grows up happy and healthy, and he has a great life. That security you’ve given him has made him strong and independent. He decides to move half a world away, so your visits will be cut in half at best. You’ll probably be crushed, won’t you?”
“Probably, yes.”
“How do you deal with it? What could Reilly do to make it easier for you?”
Jenna’s heart did a little dip. “This trip you’re going on tomorrow. It’s more than a vacation, isn’t it? You’re moving.”
“Yeah. I’m going home.”
“To Australia?” she guessed.
“How did you know? I’m told my accent has softened a lot and most people peg me as Irish.”
“Your vocabulary is a hint, but mainly it’s the way you shared the Great Barrier Reef with Reilly. It’s obvious you’ve spent a considerable amount of time there.”
“Ah. Yes, I have. I grew up diving the reef.” He told her about his role in his father’s tour boat business. “We came to the States when I was sixteen. I loved the mountains, but I missed the sea. The Caribbean was my compromise. It’s a long flight, but it’s manageable for visits with the family. Then Danielle blew into my life changed everything.”
Frowning, Jenna put the clues together. “The hurricane.”
“Sank my boats. Damaged my home. It’s the second storm in three years. I’m done with it. I’m not rebuilding in the Caribbean again. I’m going home, and it’s going to break my mother’s heart, make my brother and sister cry, and give my dad a tick. Any suggestions on how to soften the blow?”
Jenna sipped her wine, and then gave him her best advice. “Be honest with them, but let them be honest with you in return. Acknowledge and respect their emotions.”
“In other words, be a man and stand there and take it.”
“Maybe bring some cotton to protect your eardrums.” He sighed. “Too bad I’m not really Santa. I could live where I want, then hop onto my sleigh and have Rudolph and friends zoom me to Eternity Springs for dinner once a week.”
“Eternity Springs? You mentioned that to Reilly. That’s your little mountain town?”
“Yes. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere, home to less than two thousand people—and that’s after a growth spurt the past few years. It’s a beautiful place and I do love to visit. Eternity Springs is a safe harbor, but I need a rolling deck beneath my feet.”
Jenna rose and walked to the bedroom that served as Reilly’s playroom, where the lighted globe she’d given him for his birthday last spring sat on top of a bookshelf. She sent it spinning with her index finger, watching the blue oceans and colorful continents roll by. She stopped it on Australia.
“Something tells me your parents won’t be as surprised as you fear.”
He sighed again, then said, “You know what? That’s a worry for tomorrow. It occurs to me that I’ve neglected my Santa Claus duty this evening. Want to hear what Reilly and I discussed this afternoon?”
“Of course.”
“Well, he’s planning a birthday present campaign.”
“What?” Jenna sent the globe spinning once more.
“He’s hardly played with all of his Christmas presents yet. And his birthday isn’t until March.”
“Apparently he’s going to need every minute to convince you to approve his request.”
Jenna couldn’t imagine what . . . oh. Of course. “That boy,” she groaned. “Let me guess. He wants a puppy.”
“Got it in one.”
“We can’t have a dog. Never mind that he’s too young to be responsible for a dog or that my plate is already overflowing as it is. His babysitter doesn’t like dogs, so that’s the end of the argument right there.”
“He thinks he can change Mrs. White’s mind. He’s believing.”
Jenna closed her eyes and groaned again. “I swear, I’ve heard that word more since Christmas than in the entire previous year. Thanks, Santa.”
He chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
She hesitated a moment, then added, “Actually, I do want to tell you again how much I appreciate all that you’ve done for my son in the past week. I don’t know that you understand what an impact you’ve had on our lives.”
“I’m glad I could help, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s been a two way street. Who knew I had so much to learn about caves?” As Jenna laughed softly, he added, “This has been the best holiday I’ve had in years. I’m going to miss talking to Reilly and to you too, Reilly’s Mom.”
She traced the outline of Australia with her finger. “You still want him to call you tomorrow at noon?”
“I do. He’s going to love my special goodbye message.”
“Just promise me you won’t make him any promises that include a dog.”
“Santa’s honor. I . . . oh, wow. I just saw a shooting star.”
“I’m jealous. I’ve never seen a shooting star. Eternity Springs sounds like a really cool place.”
“Cold. Bitter cold this time of year, but the homes are warm and welcoming, as are the people who live here.”
Jenna’s eyes filled with tears. “That sounds so lovely. If it were my home, I doubt I’d ever leave. Well, speaking of leaving, I’d better let you go so that you get some of that microbrew before it’s all gone. One last time . . . thank you for your kindness to my son. May yo
u have fair winds and following seas in this New Year, Santa. Goodbye.”
“Good—wait. One more thing. Can I ask you a personal question?”
My name. He’s finally going to ask my name. Should I tell him? “Okay.”
“What color is your hair?”
“My hair!” Surprised, she blurted out. “Auburn. I’m a redhead.”
“I knew it,” he replied, satisfaction in his tone. “Goodbye, Reilly’s Mom. I wish you and your boy nothing but peace, joy, and happiness in the New Year. And, no pizza.”
The line disconnected.
Jenna sent the globe spinning once again, the writing on its surface blurred by both motion and the tears flooding her eyes. It was ridiculous, really, for her heart to tug with such loss. She’d spoken to the man four whole times!
But he’d been kind. He’d been funny and entertaining and . . . that accent. He’d been a fantasy. An escape.
After the past four months, she’d needed an escape. And Reilly . . . he’d been so sweet to Reilly.
Jenna gave the globe one final spin, and then retraced her steps to the family room. She topped off her glass of wine, searched through her DVD collection for Carol Burnett, and then settled in to work on that New Year’s non-resolution of hers.
She was laughing at Tim Conway playing a dentist when Reilly came downstairs. “Mom?”
“Reilly, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I’m hungry. Can I have a banana?”
Bananas were the boy’s favorite middle-of-the-night snack. “Sure, buddy. Help yourself.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She heard his Thomas the Train slippers scuff against the kitchen floor and the fruit bowl slide across the granite counter top. A moment later, he spoke with a mouth full of fruit. “Mom, can I watch TV with you?”
She opened her mouth to repeat her ordinary “No,” but reconsidered. It was a holiday, after all, and not too long until the ball dropped in Times Square. Except, she hadn’t watched it in years. Was the broadcast family friendly? Guess he could watch Carol Burnett with her. She could pay attention to the clock and switch it over a few minutes before eleven their time.
“Yes, you can. This one time since it’s a holiday. C’mere, little man.”
He was halfway across the room when the noise began. Loud hammering. Alarmed, Jenna set down her wine and started to rise.
The next few seconds were a firestorm of fear and confusion. Bang. Wham. Light flashes. Sound booms. For a moment, Jenna was stunned into inaction.
Men shouted. “We’re in, we’re in. Clear!”
Reilly screamed, “Mommy!”
Men with guns poured into the room. Ran right over Reilly. Jenna lunged for her son.
“Halt! Halt! On the ground! On the ground! Now!”
A little boy’s scream of pain reverberated across the air and terror gripped Jenna.
“Now! On the ground! Show your hands!”
“Get the boy. Get the boy.”
“Mom-my!” Reilly wailed. “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
“Reilly!”
Footsteps thundered down the hall, up the stairs. Sirens approached. Jenna’s heart pounded.
“Separate your feet. Hands on your back.”
“Clear! Clear!”
“Reilly!” Oh God, oh God, oh God.
“Be quiet. Don’t move.”
“Don’t shoot! Please, don’t shoot. My son . . .” Whop, whop, whop, whop. Bwee bip bip bwee!
“Who else is here?” A knee pressed at her back. Her arms jerked. Cold metal slid against her wrists. Handcuffs snapped.
“Got one in custody. Who else is here?”
Jenna trembled, her teeth clattered. Fear was a copper taste in her mouth. “No one. No one. It’s just me. Me and my son.” Oh God. “Reilly. Where’s my boy?”
“Any weapons in here?”
“No.”
“What’s your name, lady?”
“Jenna.” Her heart pounded. “Jenna Stockton. Doctor Jenna Stockton.”
“We’re clear upstairs.”
“Clear downstairs.”
Faintly, she heard Reilly crying and his panicked voice call, “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
Rage welled up inside Jenna. Reilly! She wanted to yell and scream and pull a Wonder Woman and burst out of the handcuffs. Common sense made her remain still and silent until the activity around her calmed down.
The crystal ball had long since dropped in Times Square before the situation was finally sorted out. The 911 operator had received a call from a child who claimed his mother had just shot and killed his father and sister. He said she was searching the house for him and he was hiding.
“It’s called swatting, Dr. Stockton,” the team leader explained once all had been sorted out. “Prank calls on steroids. That said, it is seldom done as a random act like the prank calls I used to make when I was in elementary school. ‘Hey, lady, is your refrigerator running? Better go catch it.’ These calls take a level of sophistication in that often, the callers know how to shield the origin of the call. Bottom line is someone has something against you.”
No, Jenna told herself as she thought about the SWAT team leader’s comment while she waited in the emergency room for her son’s broken arm to be set. The fact that someone had something against her was not the bottom line.
Reilly was.
The scum-sucking rat bastard had gone too far this time. Police had pointed guns at Reilly. Six-year-old Reilly. They’d pointed guns at him and knocked him over and broken his arm.
Six years old and he’d had eight police officers pointing a gun at him because he was near the front door. Six years old and frightened so badly that he wet himself when the stun grenade went off and he thought he was being kidnapped. Six years old and trampled and broken and carried screaming away from her.
He clung to her like a toddler on their way home. This could scar him for life.
The crazy excuse for a human who had targeted her for some unknown reason had gone too far tonight.
Reilly had been traumatized. Reilly could have died. That was the bottom line.
So Jenna intended to make sure something like what happened tonight would never, ever happen again.
Devin hadn’t been this nervous since his first skydiving jump, but all in all, telling his parents about his move had gone about as well as could be expected. His mother had teared up, but she never allowed the tears to fall. His sister had bubbled and smoked like a volcano threatening to blow, but his brother-in-law managed to calm her down. His dad hadn’t been surprised, which had surprised Devin.
Michael . . . ah, hell . . . Michael had broken his heart. Michael cried every time Devin left following a visit.
He cried every time the family came to visit Devin. The little boy’s tears always broke Devin’s heart, so this wasn’t really anything knew. Michael was too young to understand how much farther Cairns was from Bella Vitae Isle, but he was bright enough to realize that the reactions of his family meant he wasn’t going to like it.
Michael’s tears stabbed Devin’s heart like nothing else. So after the morning family meeting and with three hours remaining before he needed to leave for the airport, Devin took his brother sledding. They had a great time, and as a result, Devin failed to watch the time closely.
At the end of one particularly laughter-filled run, he glanced at his watch. Eleven minutes past eleven? Oh, crap. Had he missed hearing Reilly’s call? That would be so uncool for this, their final exchange.
Devin fished in his pocket for the burner phone and checked the display. No, no calls yet, thank goodness. “Hey, squirt,” he called to his brother. “It’s time for a hot chocolate break.”
“Hurrah!” Hot chocolate was one of Michael’s favorite things.
Their mother had packed a thermos of hot chocolate, plastic cups, marshmallows, and Devin’s favorite brand of trail mix. They sat on a picnic bench out of the wind and dug in. Michael chattered away about his scheduled return to preschoo
l at Gingerbread House the following day and the gifts that his friends had received for Christmas. Devin was happy that sledding had managed to distract the boy from his sadness. Oh, he’d blubber up again when Devin left, but at that point, Devin wouldn’t be around to watch.
Devin checked the burner phone once again. Eleven twenty-seven. Scowling, he double-checked the reception. Four bars . . . plenty of connectivity. The ringer was on. No missed calls.
Maybe he’d misunderstood. Maybe Reilly’s Mom had meant noon Mountain Time.
That had to be it. He should have listened closer. That’s what he got for spending his time fantasizing instead of paying attention. “You about finished with your snack, squirt? We have time for one more run.”
“I think two more, Dev.”
“All right. Two more fast ones. No dillydallying at the top.” In the end, they had time for three more runs.
Noon Mountain Time came and went without a phone call. Devin told himself to be patient while he showered, dressed, and finished packing. He kept the burner phone close during lunch, but saying goodbye to his family distracted him for a time after that.
“Sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?” Cam asked as Devin tossed his duffle into the backseat of his Jeep. His blurry-eyed mother and whimpering little brother watched from the front window.
“I have to return the rental car, Dad.”
“Mom and I can do it. It’ll give us an excuse to drive to Gunnison for Mexican food.”
“Thanks for the offer, but you know Michael would want to tag along. I don’t know that I have the energy for another round of goodbyes.”
“You’re right. Well . . . you be careful, son. We’ll see you in June.” Cam extended his hand for a handshake, then wrapped his arms around his son in a hard hug. “Fair winds and following seas.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Devin managed without choking up. Barely.
Fair winds and following seas. It was Cam’s traditional farewell. But as Devin took the highway north out of Eternity Springs, his thoughts returned to the other person who recently had offered him the sailor’s wish. Why hadn’t they phoned?
On another day, he’d have already placed a call to Reilly, but Devin had put a lot of thought into this final contact between them. It was well choreographed to ensure that Reilly’s Santa calls ended on the right note. Devin didn’t want to screw that up. So he waited. And fretted, especially during that forty-five minute stretch of road with no cell connection.