“So the princess and her dragon escaped,” Michael said. “They ran into the huge forest that surrounded the castle, and even though the princess was afraid of the evil ogre, she was very brave. She kept going until one night a storm made her take shelter.”
Startled by the story’s suddenly all too familiar turn, Jessy looked at Michael. Ben and Marie’s heads were nestled against his chest, and as he raised his gaze to hers, she felt a sudden flood of sadness. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay with Michael and his children more than anything in the world.
But she couldn’t. This was exactly the reason why she had to go. She couldn’t take this away from Michael and his kids.
“Then what happened?” Marie murmured sleepily.
“Well—” Michael kept gazing at Jessy, never looking away as he spoke. “The princess met a lonely old man who had room in his cottage. She was afraid to stop running, just in case the evil ogre found her, but she was so very tired and lonely that she decided to wait out the storm with the old man.”
Ben raised his head. “But was the old man really the evil ogre in disguise and she had to karate chop his neck?”
Michael laughed as he shook his head. “No—but that was what the princess was afraid of. She was afraid that everyone was like the evil ogre—and so she was afraid to trust anyone.”
“Except for Al,” Marie said and smiled.
“Al?” Michael asked. “Who’s Al?”
“The baby dragon.”
“Ah.” Michael pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and continued the story. “So the princess stayed with the old man for a few days, and when the storm finally passed, he told her that he knew of an enchanted land where she could hide from the ogre and live without being afraid. It took some talking into, but the princess finally agreed to go—but only for a few days. She would stay until the full moon, but then she had to leave.”
“Or she’d turn into a pumpkin!” Ben said and giggled.
Laughing, Michael kissed the top of Ben’s head. “That’s another story, Benny-boy.”
“So what happened?” Marie asked, then yawned ferociously. “Did she go with him?”
“Yes, she did,” Michael said softly, looking to Jessy again. “And she found that she was very happy in that enchanted place. The old man became her very best friend in the whole world, and she never wanted to leave.”
“Was she in love with him?” Marie asked quietly.
Michael hesitated, half-smiling at Jessy. “Maybe—but the princess didn’t believe in true love. Even though she had bushels and bushels of love to give, she didn’t believe that anyone could love her.”
Jessy shifted uncomfortably. “Michael—”
“But the old man did,” Marie said. “He fell in love with the princess because she was beautiful and nice and kind.”
“And when the evil ogre tried to kidnap the princess,” Ben added, “the old man turned into a monster!”
“No, silly,” Marie shook her head impatiently. “The princess kissed the old man and he turned into a prince.”
Ben pouted. “I like monsters better than that old mushy stuff.”
Michael laughed, giving them both kisses, and then smiled to Jessy again. She could hardly bear to see the tenderness, the affection, in his eyes. It made her all too aware of what she was leaving behind.
“How does the story end, Daddy?” Marie asked, tilting her head back to look up to Michael. “Do they live happily ever after and have lots of babies and stuff?”
“Lots of babies?” Michael’s smile curled in surprise. “Where did you get that?”
Marie smiled. “I dunno. Do they?”
Michael took a deep breath and slowly released it, looking from Marie to Jessy again. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, raising his brows questioningly to Jessy. “Do they?”
Jessy felt her heart catch between beats. Don’t do this to me, she thought, closing her eyes so the kids wouldn’t see her sudden tears. She swallowed hard, unable to speak without betraying herself.
Michael, thankfully, let it go.
“Okay, guys,” he said, smiling again. “Let’s finish the story tomorrow night.”
“Will you tell the story tomorrow, Jessy?” Ben asked, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “Tell us about your pet dinosaur?”
Jessy managed a wan smile. Who knew where she’d be tomorrow night at this time? “We’ll see, Ben.”
Ben frowned, sensing her sadness, but before he could speak, Michael gave him a squeeze. “Jump back in bed, Benny-boy, and I’ll tuck you in.”
“Sing us a song, Daddy,” Marie said, smiling up to Michael in a way that Jessy knew he would not be able to resist. “Please!”
Michael studied Jessy for a moment, trying to read her thoughts, all too aware of the pain in her eyes. He hated hurting her like this, but it was the only way he could make her want to stay. Until she believed him when he said there was no reason for her to go, he would have to show her everything she would miss.
Even though seeing her struggle to hide her tears tore him up inside.
“Okay,” Michael finally said, managing to smile back at Marie. “If Ben will get the guitar—”
Ben was off his lap in an instant, darting across the room to the closet. He returned with the guitar and Michael crawled to the foot of the bed, leaving Marie and Ben to curl up beside Jessy. She hesitated only a fraction of an instant before slipping her arms around them, resting her cheek against Marie’s soft curls.
Michael strummed the guitar, then sang “Do-Re-Mi” in a purposely awful voice. Ben and Marie laughed as he cracked and yodeled and chortled. Jessy smiled faintly, but despite his best efforts, that terrible sadness remained in her eyes.
“Frank taught me how to play, but he only knew three chords.” Michael demonstrated quickly and smiled. “Musical genius doesn’t exactly run in the family.”
“Sing like Jiminy Cricket, Daddy!” Ben shouted.
“Yeah,” Marie said, shifting so she could look up to Jessy. “Daddy sings the wish song real pretty.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that—” Michael lowered his head in playful ‘aw-shucks’ shyness. He looked up to Jessy and winked, then began strumming the guitar again, the random notes suddenly familiar. It was the same song he had hummed for her on that first night together, when her fever had risen so frighteningly high and he’d soothed her fears.
It was the song Jessy had always associated with one of her best memories of being a little girl—the first time she had gone to the movies with her parents. She had been fascinated by the story of the little wooden boy who became real, and the Jiminy Cricket song, “When You Wish Upon A Star,” had been her favorite song in the world.
Michael began to sing softly, his voice a pleasant tenor, sweetly hopeful and plaintive all at once as he sang of dreams coming true. He kept his gaze on Jessy, singing only to her.
And suddenly it was almost too much to bear. With Ben and Marie cuddled against her so close, she felt warm and safe, even loved. They were falling asleep against her, their heads nestled into her shoulders, lulled by the softness of Michael’s voice as he sang. She stroked their silky hair, closing her eyes for a moment as she felt the steady rise and fall of their breathing, as their warmth seeped into her and made her realize what she had been missing for so long.
She’d realized a long time ago that she would more than likely never have children, even though she had longed for someone to love and protect ever since she was a young girl. As the years passed and she grew to understand reality and her place in the world, she understood that the likelihood of her ever becoming a mother grew slimmer with each passing year. She wanted the entire package— loving husband included—and could not settle for anything less.
But now, with Ben and Marie and Libby, she felt as if fate had decided to play a cruel joke on her. The kids trusted her, loved her with that open, boundless love that only children could give. Being here, with Michael and his family, was everythi
ng she had ever wanted—but it was only an illusion. Despite her feelings for the children, even her feelings for Michael, she knew that she was only filling in for Ann. This was Ann’s family, not hers.
Michael’s song faded into silence. For a moment, Jessy kept her eyes closed, listening to the howl of the wind just outside the window, the soft tapping of snow against the glass. She had never felt so warm, so safe, in her life. She realized at that moment that she had to try to remember every last little detail, right down to the scent of baby shampoo in Marie and Ben’s hair. She knew that this sense of security, of absolute rightness with the world, would probably never come to her again, except in memories. They would be all that remained.
“They’re asleep,” Michael said softly.
Jessy opened her eyes, blinking back her tears as she tried a half-smile. “So are my arms.”
Michael said nothing as he put down the guitar and gently picked Ben up, tucking him carefully into his own bed. He pulled the bright dinosaur sheets and blanket up to the boy’s chin, pausing a moment to lightly touch Ben’s cheek and kiss his forehead.
Something inside Jessy twisted. She hadn’t known she could hurt any more than she’d already hurt.
Michael came back to Marie’s bed and lifted her from Jessy’s arm. Jessy stood and pulled down the covers as he eased Marie back against the pillows. Jessy helped him tuck her in and Michael looked up to her with a smile.
“Thanks,” he whispered. “Two’s better than one when it comes to this.”
Jessy managed a half-hearted smile as Michael leaned over and kissed Marie’s brow. Marie stirred, eyes fluttering as her gaze found Jessy.
“Jessy—” she murmured sleepily.
Jessy knelt beside the bed, smiling as she brushed a few curls from Marie’s eyes. “Right here, sweetie.”
“Do you want to know what I want for Christmas?”
Jessy glanced to Michael, then back to Marie again. “I’d like to know, honey. What do you want for Christmas?”
Marie slowly smiled, eyes already closing again as she struggled to stay awake. “I want you to stay forever and ever and be our other mommy.”
Jessy felt as if a sledgehammer had slammed into her stomach. She recovered swiftly, smiling again as she kissed Marie’s cheek.
“Well, sweetie—” she began, voice shaky.
“Why don’t you ask Santa Claus about it in your letter,” Michael said quietly, flashing a quick smile to Jessy as he leaned in to give Marie another kiss. “Now go to sleep, jellybean.”
“G’night, Daddy,” Marie whispered, turning onto her side as she gave into sleep again. “’Night, Jessy.”
Jessy smiled sadly and touched Marie’s cheek, brushing the hair away from her eyes. Then she slowly rose, keeping her gaze averted from Michael’s. She took a deep breath, then managed to look at him again.
And before he could speak, she turned away, hurrying out of the room without looking back.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Michael took the stairs two at a time as he raced after Jessy. Lyssa was curled up on the couch in the living room, her nose buried in a romance novel.
Michael turned, ready to search the kitchen, when Lyssa spoke.
“If you’re looking for Jessy,” she said mildly, not raising her gaze from her book, “she grabbed her coat and went outside.”
“She what?” Michael was already opening the coat closet and dragging out a heavy parka. “It’s freezing out there. Why didn’t you stop her?”
Lyssa shrugged and finally looked up, hooking a finger into her novel to save her place. “I figured you had something to work out with her.” She arched an eyebrow. “Or something to tell her.”
“Like what?” Michael grunted as he tugged on a pair of scuffed cowboy boots.
“I think you know what.” Lyssa opened her novel again and settled into it. “Big smart guy like you should’ve figured that out ages ago.”
With a faint shake of his head Michael shrugged into a denim jacket, scowling as he hurried to the door. At least Jessy couldn’t have gotten very far, although the thought of her wandering around lost in the night gave him a sick feeling deep in his gut. He stepped onto the front porch and a gust of icy wind sucked his breath away as he struggled to pull his gloves on over his already aching hands. Scanning the front yard, he saw nothing but moonlight sparkling on the unmarred crust of snow. No footprints.
Then he heard it. A slow, creaking sound. Faint but steady.
Frowning, Michael followed the sound, turning the corner of the wraparound porch to find Jessy sitting in the bench swing, bathed in the glow of the multi-colored Christmas lights lining the porch railings. She huddled in her heavy coat, almost disappearing within its folds, her face and head covered by a blue crocheted scarf.
For a moment she looked like a lost child, alone and terribly lonely.
Michael slowly walked towards her, his hands shoved into his pockets, his chin dipped low into his coat collar. Silvery snow dusted the porch, swirling in random breezes.
“Mind some company?” he asked, sitting beside her on the swing and hissing involuntarily at the feel of icy wood. Jessy glanced over to him, and even in the dim light of the Christmas bulbs he could see that her cheeks and eyes were wet. “You okay?”
“Peachy,” she muttered, lowering her head again.
“Want to talk about it?”
Jessy said nothing for a moment as she swung her gaze back to him. Finally she looked away, staring out at the flat expanse of snow that surrounded the house.
“That was a rotten thing for you to do,” she said softly.
“I know.”
“You know this is what I have to do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.” Jessy finally looked at him again, struggling to control the strange swell of anger and fear and grief that threatened to overwhelm her. “Ann—“
“Is just something we’re going to have to deal with,” Michael said quietly. “You can’t hide behind that excuse anymore.”
Jessy said nothing for a moment, sighing instead. She sniffed, clearing the tears from her throat, and looked down at her gloved hands, clasped tightly in her lap.
“Okay,” she said finally, looking up to him once again. “You’re right. No more excuses.”
Michael took her hand, lacing her fingers with his. “What are you afraid of, Jessy?”
She gazed at him for a moment, and even in the shadowy moonlight Michael could see the raw pain in her eyes. But when she spoke her voice was surprisingly calm, with only the faintest hint of tears.
“I’m afraid—” She hesitated for a moment, shaking her head. “I don’t know how to explain it to myself, much less to you.”
Michael said nothing, waiting for her to continue. For just a moment Jessy almost wished that they were arguing again. At least when they fought she could wrap herself in self-righteous anger and distance herself from him. Now, talking like this, she felt uncomfortably vulnerable. She knew she would tell Michael the truth about her feelings, felt the urge to say it rising within her like a bubble. Ever since that first night together in the motel, she had known it would come to this. Now all she had to do was find the courage to say it—and the strength to accept whatever the repercussions might be.
“I’m afraid—of losing you,” she finally said, voice so soft it was almost carried away by the wind. “All of you.”
“Go on,” Michael whispered.
Jessy took a deep breath and sighed. “When my family died—I lost everything in the world that I loved. I never wanted to go through that kind of pain again, ever. So I kept to myself, and I kept telling myself that it was okay to be alone, that I was doing myself a favor because if I didn’t let anyone get too close, then I wouldn’t have to deal with losing anyone again.”
Michael gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “But now?”
Jessy smiled sadly, shaking her head. “Now everything’s changed. I—” she hesitated a moment, swallowi
ng back tears. “I can’t go back to being alone anymore.”
Jessy’s voice faded away as she gazed at him a moment longer, as if trying to will him into understanding. Then, unexpectedly, she rose and walked away from him, hurrying down the snowy steps. Michael quickly followed, catching up with her easily as she trudged through the snow.
“Michael, I need to think—” Jessy didn’t look over to him, keeping her eyes focused directly ahead of her.
“And I’m supposed to let you wander around the farm by yourself?”
Jessy stopped so abruptly that Michael didn’t realize it until he was several steps ahead of her.
“I can’t do this, Michael. I can’t.” Jessy’s voice was as soft as the whisper of the falling snow. “I want to stay. I really do. But—”
“But you can’t,” Michael said softly, walking back to her. “Why, Jess? Just tell me why.”
“I don’t know—” The hopeless frustration in her voice, the utter bewilderment, broke Michael’s heart all over again. She raised her gaze to him again, her eyes wet with tears. “I wish I did—but I don’t. I just know that I can’t stay here.”
Michael moved to wrap his arms around her, meaning to offer comfort, but Jessy pulled away from him.
“No,” she whispered. “Please—don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Would you please take me to town now?”
“You’re actually going?”
Jessy glanced up, barely meeting his eyes. “I need to go now. While I still can.”
And with that, she walked away.
Ten minutes later, Jessy was in the Bronco. Seatbelt fastened. Eyes staring straight ahead. Totally silent.
Michael purposely kept his thoughts to himself, giving both of them time to settle their emotions down to a dull roar. He’d never felt so helpless and frustrated and angry in his entire life—not even during the divorce from Ann. This—this was beyond all his experience with women. He knew Jessy wanted to stay with him and his family. He knew she had feelings for him, just as he had feelings for her. If she’d just give it a chance—
But then again, why should she? What had he done to prove how he felt to her? He’d kissed her, yes, but he hadn’t found the courage to tell her that he was falling in love with her. He hadn’t found the nerve to tell her that he wanted, more than anything in the world, for her to stay with him and his family forever. Somehow, for some reason, he’d expected her to just know, to be able to read his thoughts through his actions and know that he cared deeply for her. It had never occurred to him that Jessy’s upbringing had been worlds away from his, that she had not had the privilege of being raised in a family that had the luxury of taking each other’s love for granted.
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