The Giving Season

by Rebecca Brock

  “Thank God I checked her background,” Ann said, casually crossing her legs and sprawling back on the couch. “To think that you’ve allowed this woman so much access to our children—”

  “That’s enough, Ann.” A muscle jumped in Michael’s jaw as he looked at his ex-wife. “I want you out of my house. Now.”

  Ann shrugged. “Whatever, Michael—dig your own grave.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Ann’s smug smile widened. “Look at the situation, babe. The farm’s losing money. You’re living with a bimbo who probably killed her own aunt. My children are being exposed to all manner of depravity and sin.” She laughed quietly. “Tell me what judge wouldn’t award full custody to me.”

  “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “You’ve done it to yourself,” Ann said coldly.

  “But we’re not doing anything wrong.” Jessy looked to the lawyer, hoping to see some kind of empathy there. He stared impassively back at her. “Ann, there’s got to be some other way to handle this.”

  “No, there isn’t.” Ann kept her eyes on Michael. “I’ll take the kids and you know it. I’ll move them to Chicago and you’ll never

  see them. Unless—”

  “Unless what?”

  Ann slowly smiled, but her eyes were cold. “You know what you need to do, Michael. You know my terms.”

  “I think it’s time for you to leave,” Michael said quietly. “You’re not welcome here. Either of you.”

  Ann grabbed her purse and stood, focusing her anger not at Michael, but squarely on Jessy. She took her time as she walked across the room, never looking away from Jessy’s eyes. Jessy thought she had never seen such anger, such frustration.

  “You don’t belong here,” Ann said finally, her voice low and seething with rage. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to delude yourself that Michael has any feelings for you, but I can assure you that he doesn’t. A man will say just about anything when he’s desperate to get laid.”

  “That’s not the way it is,” Jessy said quietly.

  “Sure, it isn’t,” Ann smirked, looking Jessy up and down. “So tell me, Jessy—have you slept with him yet? Frankly, I’d be surprised if Michael was able to get it up for a fat cow like you, but hey—when you’re desperate, just about anything will do, won’t it? He’s settling for you, honey. And you’re taking advantage of it.”

  Jessy shook her head slightly, the faintest trace of a sad smile on her lips. For the first time in her life, words did not hurt her. And for the first time, she knew exactly what to say.

  “Ann,” Jessy said softly, with no trace of anger, no hint of rage. “You’re pathetic.”

  Ann’s mouth closed with a snap. Glancing quickly to Michael and seeing no support there, she stormed past them. She stopped at the door and turned to face them again. Nothing was said, but Jessy could read the look in her eyes. It wasn’t over. It wasn’t over because Ann hadn’t decided that it was over.

  Ann turned to Michael, her blue eyes ice cold. “And I will still be here tonight to take the kids to the recital. I still have the right to do that, at least.”

  Then she was gone. And for the first time since stepping into the house and seeing Ann’s sneering face, Jessy could breathe again.

  Hours later, the shock of Ann’s ultimatum had still not worn off.

  Lyssa had kept the kids upstairs, busying them by helping them wrap Christmas presents, while Michael had tiptoed carefully around Jessy, so solicitous and concerned that she finally had to ask him to leave her be for a while. She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want his questions. She just wanted to be alone, to be allowed to sort everything out in her mind. It was bad enough that Ann could even imply that she’d ever try to hurt Aunt Amelia—she couldn’t bear the thought that anyone could actually think she was capable of doing such a thing.

  Yet Ann had easily, almost eagerly, lied about it.

  What if Michael chose to believe her?

  And what if the rest of Ann’s words were true? What if Michael was settling for her? Now that he’d told her he loved her, the entire relationship had changed. Now that they’d crossed that boundary the stakes had been raised to impossible heights. Now there was no distancing herself. Now she could be hurt more than she’d ever imagined possible.

  Ann had picked up the kids for the school recital at six o’clock, saying absolutely nothing to either Michael or Jessy. The kids had noticed the tension, of course, and remained quiet and timid. Jessy had tried to be cheerful, telling Libby how pretty she looked in her dress and how she’d knock ’em dead with her singing, but Libby had only responded with the faintest of smiles, as if she were afraid to anger her mother if she were friendly with Jessy.

  It had been awkward and painful and horrible, and it was a preview of the rest of their lives, if Ann had her way.

  Michael stepped into the living room, as if her thoughts had somehow summoned him. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed, muffled tones ringing out the quarter-hour. Fifteen after ten. Everyone else in the house had long since gone to bed. Ann, once again, was late bringing the kids home.

  “Why did she do it?” Jessy whispered, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. The dance of light had comforted her, alone in the amber-tinted darkness.

  “Fear. Jealousy.” Michael kept his voice low, soothing, as he sat beside her on the couch. Jessy remained cocooned in the couch corner, a pillow under her head, her eyes fixed on the fire. “You threatened her, so she did what she thought she had to do.”

  Jessy slowly sat up, turning to face Michael fully. “Are you defending her?”

  “No,” Michael said quietly. “What she did—what she’s done—is inexcusable. But it is understandable. She never knew what she had with me and the kids until she saw you taking her place.”

  “I’m not taking Ann’s place. I could never—”

  “I don’t mean it that way. No one thinks you’re trying to do that.” Michael took Jessy’s hand, holding it loosely in his. “She saw that I could be happy with someone that wasn’t her. She saw that the kids could be happy. And it hurt her.”

  Jessy turned her attention back to the fire. “I heard what she said to you last night,” she said softly. She didn’t dare look at him, didn’t dare try to gauge his reaction. “I saw you kissing her.”

  Michael said nothing for a moment. Jessy slipped her hand out of his. Suddenly she felt very cold, very alone.

  “I know you loved her,” she continued, voice little more than a whisper. “I know you probably still do—a little. Even after all this.”

  “Jessy, why does it always have to come back to that?”

  “Because I don’t think I can do this, Michael.” Jessy finally turned her gaze back to his again. “I can’t compete with her, even if it’s all in my mind. I look at you now and all I can see is the way you looked when you kissed her.”

  “And how was that?”

  “Like you belonged together,” Jessy said simply. “You both looked like you belonged with each other.”

  Michael silently studied her, his gaze lingering on her face so long that she began to feel intensely self-conscious. She knew better than to think she could explain her feelings to him. She didn’t know if she could explain them.

  “And what about us?” Michael finally asked. “Don’t you think we belong together?”

  Jessy looked back to the fire. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you want to happen here, Jess?” Michael smiled humorlessly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Neither do I.”

  They sat in silence, gazing at the crackling fire, listening to the sound of the wind whistling through the eaves, the soft tap of snow against the windows. The grandfather clock chimed midnight.

  “It’s Christmas Eve,” Michael said quietly. “Are you still going to leave after Christmas?”

  Jessy didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

  “You know you don�
��t have to go.”

  She managed a slow nod.

  “You know I want you to stay.”

  “Yes,” she managed to whisper.

  “You know that I love you.”

  Jessy turned her head slightly, not looking directly at Michael. “I know.”

  Michael said nothing for a few moments. The quiet that enveloped them felt thick, suffocating. All the things that both of them wanted to say, needed to say—neither of them could find the courage to speak aloud.

  “Mind if I stay up with you for a little longer?” Michael asked softly, his voice a rough rasp.

  Jessy leaned back on the couch, shaking her head as she cast a quick glance in his direction. “I don’t mind,” she said quietly.

  In silence, they sat on opposite ends of the couch, watching the fire pop and spark. When the phone rang, it startled both of them. Michael sighed as he leaned forward to grab the cordless receiver.

  “Ann probably wants to keep the kids tonight,” he said as he pressed the TALK button. “Hello?”

  Jessy couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but it was clear from Michael’s reaction that it was not good news. He lost his color immediately, eyes widening as he sat up straight and gripped the phone tightly.

  “Well is she okay?” A long, horrible pause. “What do you mean you don’t know? Why aren’t you with her?”

  Michael rubbed at his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. Jessy gently touched his forearm and he covered her hand with his.

  “Okay—where are you? Which hospital?” He listened for a moment. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  He turned off the phone, already on his feet and heading for the door. Jessy was right on his heels.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Jessy hated hospitals. She hated the smell of disinfectant. The sound of muted announcements. The painful brightness of the lights. She’d spent so much time in hospitals when her aunt was dying that at one point she felt like she’d never be able to leave, that she’d spend eternity in those brightly lit corridors, tortured by the moans of the dying.

  All that came back to her now as she followed Michael into the emergency room. He’d nearly crashed them into a tree on his way there, skidding on the icy roads. He’d driven with his jaw clenched and his hands tight on the wheel. Jessy could only imagine what was going through his mind. As scared as she was for the kids, his fear must have been a million times worse.

  They half-ran into the waiting room, where they found Ann sitting with Ben and Marie. All three looked like they’d been put through the wringer, their eyes red and cheeks still wet with tears. When Ann saw Michael, she shot to her feet and threw herself against him.

  “Oh, God—Michael!” She began sobbing again, which started Ben and Marie crying once more. Jessy went to them, gathering them both on her lap. She tried not to look at Michael and Ann.

  “What happened, Ann?” Michael gently held Ann by the shoulders and pushed her back. “How’s Libby?”

  “I didn’t know she was allergic—“

  Jessy’s head snapped up. “You let her have shellfish?”

  Ann didn’t look away from Michael. “We went out to eat after the recital. She ordered some kind of salad—I didn’t know!”

  “She’s been allergic to shellfish since she was three,” Michael said, stepping away from Ann. “You should have known that.”

  Ann was speechless for a moment. “But—I didn’t know—”

  Michael’s eyes were hard as he stared at her. “But you should have.”

  He turned away from Ann and looked at Jessy. “I’m going to try to find Libby. Would you watch—”

  Jessy was nodding and gesturing for him to go before he could finish the sentence. “Go. Go. We’re fine.”

  He hurried away and Ann collapsed in a plastic chair across from Jessy. She kept her head down, one hand rubbing at her brows. She looked utterly miserable. Helpless in the face of Libby’s illness. Despite everything, Jessy felt a stab of pity for her.

  “I think your mom needs a hug,” she whispered to Ben and Marie.

  Still sniffling, they slid off Jessy’s lap and went to Ann, who began to sob as she gathered them in her arms. Her eyes met Jessy’s and, for the first time since she’d met her, Jessy saw no malice or hatred in them.

  Just sadness. Deep, overwhelming sadness.

  It was well after midnight by the time Libby was released from the ER. She had gone into anaphylactic shock after taking one bite of the seafood salad Ann had allowed her to order. She had her medi-pen with her, but couldn’t tell Ann what she needed to do. And Ann hadn’t had a clue. If not for the quick reaction of a nurse at a nearby table, Libby might have died.

  No one wanted to think about that.

  They trailed out of the ER, exhausted but grateful to be leaving. Michael wheeled Libby out to the car as Ann carried Ben and Jessy carried Marie. The kids were asleep. Libby, still pale and weak, could barely keep her eyes open.

  Michael hadn’t spoken to Ann since arriving at the hospital, and as he loaded the kids into the passenger seats of the truck, he maintained his silence. Jessy could feel anger nearly pulsing off him in waves. Ann must have sensed it too, because she said very little to anyone but the kids. She kept her eyes downcast most of the night, as if ashamed to look at anyone.

  Jessy knew that Ann blamed herself. And she sensed that Michael blamed her, as well. It wouldn’t do any good to tell either of them that it had just been a very unfortunate accident, and that no one was to blame for anything. Jessy didn’t think logic would penetrate Ann’s guilt, anyway.

  Ann handed Ben to Michael and stepped back as he helped the boy into the truck and fastened his seatbelt.

  “Please call me—let me know how Libby’s feeling.” Ann’s voice had an unfamiliar pleading tone.

  Michael nodded, still silent as he brushed past Libby and opened the driver’s door. Jessy said nothing as she opened the passenger door and climbed into the truck. Ann looked as if she had a million things she wanted to say, but Michael had already dismissed her, slamming the door as he settled in behind the wheel.

  They backed out of the parking space, leaving Ann standing alone in the snow and slush. Even in the dimness of the parking lot, Jessy could see the shine of tears on Ann’s cheeks.

  They worked in perfect unison as they put the kids to bed—slipping off shoes, tugging on pajamas. Ben and Marie slept through it all, totally exhausted. Jessy kept a close eye on Michael, hoping that his fear would ease up and allow him to at least smile again, but his face remained locked in that grimace, as if he were expecting the worst.

  Libby was still awake when they checked in on her. She looked slightly better than earlier, but her eyes were dark-ringed and her cheeks too pale.

  “Hey squirt.” Michael managed a smile as he sat on the edge of Libby’s bed and took her hand. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay, I guess.” Libby looked over to Jessy, who hovered in the doorway, unsure if she could enter. “You can come in, too.”

  Jessy joined them, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed. Michael reached out and smoothed Libby’s hair down, gazing at her for a few moments before speaking again. Jessy knew he was remembering the night so many years ago that they’d almost lost her.

  “I hear you were great at the recital,” he said. His voice sounded gruff, as if he were trying to control his emotions. “Wish I could have been there.”

  “It was boring, except for my parts.” Libby smiled slightly. “I should have known better, huh?”

  “About eating seafood? Oh, yeah,” Michael chuckled and nodded. “Why’d you order that anyway?”

  “I thought maybe I wasn’t allergic anymore. A kid at school used to be allergic to peanuts when he was little, and now he can eat them without getting sick. I thought I’d be okay, too.”

  “Next time you wonder anything like that, let me know first, okay?”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  Michael touseled
her hair. “It’s okay, Libs.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “Never.”

  Libby hesitated a moment. “What about Mom.”

  “Your mom—” Michael’s voice trailed away. “No, I’m not mad at her, either. I’m just glad you’re okay. And that you’re home.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Okay—I think it’s time for you to hit the hay.” Michael leaned forward and gave Libby a kiss on the forehead. “Goodnight, troublemaker.”

  “G’night, Dad.”

  Jessy rose as Michael stood and followed him to the door.

  “Hey, Jessy—?”

  As Michael left the room, Jessy turned to face Libby. “Yes, sweetie?”

  “I just wanted you to know—I’m okay with you liking my dad.”

  Jessy smiled. “Thank you, Libby.”

  “Good night, Jessy.” Libby smiled as she turned onto her side, cuddling into her pillow as Jessy turned off the light and closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar. She turned to the hallway and nearly ran into Michael.

  “What—“

  He was kissing her before she could even think to finish the sentence, and Jessy could feel every bit of fear and anger and tension and stress leaving his body as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. The kiss felt almost desperate, but she returned it with every bit of her soul.

  When it was over, he raised his head slightly to look into her eyes and she could see that the old Michael was back. His eyes shone almost mischievously as he gazed at her.

  “Thank you,” he said after a moment.

  “For what? Kissing you?” Jessy grinned. “Not a problem. Trust me.”

  “No. Thank you for being here tonight.”

  “Again—not a problem.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Remember that unfinished business—?” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, her throat.

  “Mmm-hmm—” Jessy felt absolutely limp beneath his kisses, unable to do anything but close her eyes and just feel. “I think it’s time to finish it.”