To a Macallister Born

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “Don’t bother turning on the tears,” Jack said. “They won’t work this time. I’m leaving, Jennifer. I’m leaving this house, this town.”

  He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, struggling to regain control of his emotions. He looked at Jennifer again, and when he spoke his voice was a hoarse whisper. “Damn it. Why couldn’t you have been real?”

  Jack snatched up his jacket from where he’d tossed it onto the chair and strode to the door.

  “Jack,” Jennifer said, tears echoing in her voice.

  He stopped, his back to her, one hand gripping the doorknob.

  “I am real,” Jennifer said. “I know that I didn’t set out to get pregnant, despite what you believe. I know that my love for you is genuine. None of that matters to you now, but I’ll seek solace in those truths. I won’t keep you from being a part of your child’s life if you choose to be, but I will not accept one penny from you. I have to think of Joey, too. Would you meet him after school tomorrow and walk him home, say a proper goodbye? Don’t break his heart, too, by just disappearing from his world.”

  “Yeah, I’ll walk him home tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. You won’t have to see me again. Just leave Joey on the porch after you bring him home. I’m back on the evening shift at the hotel starting tomorrow, but I imagine you’ll be gone by the time you might join Andrea and Brandon and the aunts for dinner.” Another sob caught in Jennifer’s throat. “Goodbye, Jack.”

  Jack’s hand on the doorknob began to tremble and he muttered an earthy expletive. He yanked open the door and left the house, slamming the door closed behind him.

  Jennifer gave way to her tears, allowing them to flow freely down her face and along her neck. The distance to the sofa was too far to walk, would require more energy than she possessed.

  She sank to her knees on the floor, wrapped her arms around herself and wept from the very depths of her soul as her heart shattered into a million pieces.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “No!” Joey burst into tears and flung his arms around Jack’s neck. “I don’t want you to leave, Jack. Please don’t go away. I don’t want to have to give you back the way I do Uncle Brandon and Uncle Ben. No, no, no.”

  Jack rose from his hunkered position on the sidewalk leading to the porch of Jennifer’s house. He lifted Joey into his arms as he straightened, holding him tightly.

  As Joey buried his face in the crook of Jack’s neck and cried, a knot tightened in Jack’s gut and an achy sensation burned his throat. “Don’t cry, sport,” Jack said, his voice husky. “You knew I would be going to California before Christmas. I have a lot of miles to drive.”

  “You don’t have to go,” Joey said, his voice muffled. “You can draw pictures of houses here. You can stay with me and my mommy, Jack. You can. We could be a real family, just like Sammy has, and you could kiss my mom so we could get a baby, and—”

  “Joey, stop it,” Jack said.

  This bundle in his arms was tearing him apart, Jack thought miserably. He’d known this farewell was going to be rough but, oh, man…He was exhausted, had hardly slept the night before as he’d replayed that final scene with Jennifer over and over in his mind. He was emotionally drained, sliced and diced, and now Joey was pouring salt in his raw wounds.

  “Come on, partner,” Jack said. “Don’t cry.”

  “I have to cry ’cause I’m sad,” Joey said, then sniffled.

  Jack set the little boy on his feet and pried his arms free. “Okay, you’re right,” Jack said. “There’s nothing wrong with crying when you’re sad. But that doesn’t mean that the tears will change how things are. I really do have to go, Joey.”

  Joey swiped his nose across the sleeve of his jacket, then glared at Jack. “No, you don’t,” Joey said. “You want to leave, that’s what. You like me and my mom, but you don’t love us, ’cause if you did you’d stay with us. I love you, Jack, and my mom does, too. I know she does, ’cause she smiles at you all the time with the special smile that makes her eyes happy. How come you don’t love us back?”

  “I…” Jack started, then stopped speaking and shook his head. He did love Joey, as much as any man could love his own son. And Jennifer? He loved the woman he’d believed she was before her duplicity came to light. “Go into the house, Joey. It’s cold out here.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Go on. I’ll never forget you, sport. You’ll always be my buddy.”

  Joey stomped toward the house, his unhappiness emphasized by every heavy step he took. Jack watched until Joey had gone inside and slammed the door, then turned and walked slowly away, his heart aching.

  I love you, Jack, and my mom does, too…smiles at you all the time with the special smile that makes her eyes happy.

  I trusted you, Jack, believed in you and, equally important, I believed that you trusted me.

  We could be a family, just like Sammy has.

  I won’t keep you from being a part of your child’s life if you choose to be, but I will not accept one penny from you.

  I don’t want to have to give you back the way I do Uncle Brandon and Uncle Ben.

  I know that I didn’t set out to get pregnant, despite what you believe. I know that my love for you is genuine.

  Jack stopped and pressed his fingers to his temples.

  How long would he be tormented by Jennifer and Joey’s words?

  How long would he hear their voices, and see both of them so vividly in his mind?

  How did a man forget a little boy who had captured his heart?

  How did he live with the pain of being betrayed by the only woman he had ever loved?

  Jack sighed and started off again, finally arriving at Hamilton House. When he entered the lobby of the hotel, he saw Andrea standing by the huge, decorated Christmas tree by the front windows. He quickened his step, not wanting to engage in a conversation with her—or anyone, for that matter.

  “Jack?” Andrea said.

  Damn, he thought, halting in his tracks. “Hi,” he said quietly as he turned to face her.

  Andrea came over to where Jack stood and frowned as she studied his face. “What’s wrong?” she said finally. “You look like you just lost your best friend.”

  “Got it in one,” Jack said, attempting to produce a smile, but failing miserably. “Two of them, in fact.” He paused. “Listen, I’m heading out, leaving for California as soon as I get packed. I have a Christmas present for Joey in my room, and I was wondering if you would give it to him for me?”

  “Why can’t you do it yourself?” Andrea said.

  “Because I’ve already said goodbye to him.”

  “I didn’t realize that you were planning on leaving so soon, Jack. I mean, I thought that you and Jennifer were…” Andrea’s voice trailed off.

  “Yeah, well, things aren’t always what they appear to be, are they?” he said, an edge to his voice. “To be more precise, people aren’t always who they present themselves to be.”

  Andrea narrowed her eyes. “Are you referring to Jennifer?”

  “Never mind,” Jack said wearily. “There’s nothing to be gained by rehashing the whole thing. I made a mistake. End of story.”

  “Yo, MacAllister,” Brandon called. He crossed the lobby to join Jack and Andrea. “What’s happening?”

  “Jack is leaving this afternoon,” Andrea said.

  “You are?” Brandon said. “Why?”

  “Because he’s convinced he made a mistake by falling love with Jennifer,” Andrea said.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Jack said. “I never said that I was in love with Jennifer.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Andrea said, “how dumb do you think we all are? Any idiot who sees you two together would know you love each other.”

  “I could even tell,” Brandon said. “And I have a tendency to be a tad slow on the uptake about these things. The way Jennifer looks at you, smiles at you, Jack? Oh, yeah, she loves you—and, I will add, you love her.”

  “Just d
rop it, okay?” Jack said. “Don’t go there. It’s complicated and…Bottom line? It’s over.”

  “Because Jennifer wasn’t who she presented herself to be?” Andrea said.

  “Yes!” Jack said, none too quietly. “I have to go pack.”

  “Don’t—you—move,” Andrea said.

  “Uh-oh,” Brandon said. “You’re really in for it now, buddy.”

  Andrea pointed to a grouping of chairs in the lobby. “Sit, Mr. MacAllister.”

  “Hell,” Jack said, then strode to one of the chairs and slouched at the edge of it. He unbuttoned his jacket and glared at Andrea and Brandon as they sat down opposite him. “Where’s the bare lightbulb?”

  “It can be arranged,” Andrea said. “All right, give me one example of how Jennifer isn’t who she presented herself to be.”

  Jack leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Try this on for size. Do you know that Jennifer plans to sell her house?”

  “Yes,” Andrea said, nodding. “She gave the listing to Deborah, who hasn’t had time to put up a sign on Jennifer’s lawn because there was a family emergency. Deborah is back now, though.”

  “Oh,” Jack said. “Yeah, well, I bet Jennifer didn’t happen to mention where she intends to live once her house is sold.”

  “I’ll take that bet,” Brandon said. “Jennifer told Deborah she wanted a town house for her and Joey so the outside maintenance would be taken care of.”

  “Oh,” Jack said, frowning. “She said that?”

  “Yes, Jack, she did,” Andrea said, staring at him intently. “And if she said it, then it’s true. Jennifer places a tremendous amount of importance on honesty.”

  “Right,” Jack said dryly, leaning back in the chair again.

  “Jack, let me tell you something,” Andrea said. “I confronted Jennifer on Thanksgiving, asked her if she was in love with you. She said she was falling in love with you, but wasn’t planning on telling you because she was afraid you’d leave Prescott earlier than scheduled. She wanted to share every possible moment she could with you. Jennifer knew that you’d leave before Christmas, but she was willing to run the risk of having her heart broken. She allowed herself to be totally vulnerable because of how much she loved you. She assured me that she would handle it just fine when you left, but I’ve been so worried that she wouldn’t…”

  Jack’s gaze was riveted on Andrea, and his heart thundered, echoing in his ears.

  “Oh, Jack, don’t you see?” Andrea said gently. “Jennifer’s love for you is so real, so pure and honest, that her own potential heartache was unimportant compared to what she was sharing with you. Jennifer wasn’t who she presented herself to be? She isn’t capable of being anyone other than herself. She just doesn’t know how.”

  Jack drew Andrea’s softly spoken words deep within himself, then waited for the cacophony of voices, bringing the doubts, the evidence of betrayal, the pain.

  But they didn’t come.

  The cold chill within him was replaced by an incredible warmth, a soothing touch of peace and understanding that caressed his mind. Though it had taken some very special friends to knock some sense into him, in his heart and soul he knew the truth about Jennifer. And the error of his ways.

  “Dear God,” he said, his voice husky with emotion, “what have I done? I accused Jennifer of—I was so sure that she had—My fears created by my past had a louder voice than the truth of Jennifer’s love for me and…I’ve lost…I’ve lost the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

  “That’s what I thought once myself,” Brandon said quietly, “but I was wrong. Women in love are incredible creatures, Jack.” Brandon got to his feet, then extended one hand toward Andrea to assist her from the chair. “You blew it?” Brandon said. “Then fix it, buddy.”

  “Go to her, Jack,” Andrea said. “Give Jennifer a chance to forgive you.”

  Jennifer threw back the blankets on the bed with a disgusted click of her tongue. She shoved her feet into her Big Bird slippers and left the bedroom, unable to sleep and refusing to lie there and toss and turn for another moment.

  Four-thirty in the morning, she thought, entering the living room, and she’d only had snatches of sleep. She couldn’t go on like this. She was consumed by images of Jack, memories of Jack. His smile. His touch. His masculine aroma and rumbly chuckle. His beautiful chocolate fudge sauce eyes. His—

  “Jennifer, shut up, please,” she said aloud.

  After her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she wandered over to the Christmas tree, then her glance fell on the drapes covering the remainder of the windows not filled by the tree.

  Look at the sidewalk, Jennifer, she told herself. See that it’s empty. Jack isn’t there. He’ll never be there again. He’s gone…forever.

  Jennifer brushed aside the curtain, then gasped at the same moment she felt her heart begin to beat a rapid tattoo.

  Jack was standing on the sidewalk! There he was, in the same spot she’d first seen him so many weeks ago. Jack was there.

  He was hunched against the cold, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. It was snowing lightly, and the street lamp cast an eerie glow in the snow-filled darkness.

  Jennifer dropped the curtain and pressed trembling hands to her cheeks. Get a grip, she told herself. There was no way on earth that Jack Mac-Allister was really standing on that sidewalk at four-thirty in the morning in the freezing cold. Her imagination and heartfelt desire to see Jack had conjured up an image of him that wasn’t real. Jack was in California, no doubt sleeping soundly after the long drive to the coast.

  “Rest, Jennifer, you need rest,” she said. “You’re slipping over the edge.”

  She turned from the drapes, then hesitated.

  All right, she thought. Just one more teeny, tiny peek to prove to herself that she was once again in control. Jack was not standing on that sidewalk. And after that nonsense was settled, she was going back to bed.

  She moved close to the curtains and opened them just enough to peer out with one eye. “Oh, dear heaven,” she whispered, “he’s still there.”

  Her breath caught as the ghostly figure of Jack pulled one hand from his pocket, waved, then pointed toward the front door of the house.

  As though her head did not belong to her, it nodded in agreement, and the mirage on the sidewalk started toward the house.

  Jennifer dropped the edge of the curtain and smoothed her nightshirt neatly over her hips. Poor Joey, poor new little baby, she thought rather hysterically. Their mother is a cuckoo.

  Jennifer snapped on a lamp, then went to the front door and unlocked and opened it. The next instant she slapped both hands over her mouth to stifle a scream.

  Filling the doorway was an enormous furry brown teddy bear wearing a suit and tie.

  “May I come in? Please?” the bear said. “I’m frozen solid.”

  Jennifer heard a funny-sounding giggle, then realized it had come from her. “Well, certainly,” she said, stepping back. “Never let it be said that I allowed a bear to freeze to death on my front porch.”

  The bear entered the room, and Jennifer closed the door.

  As she turned, she saw Jack set the bear on the floor, then straighten and smile at her. “Hi,” he said.

  “If you think that I intend to carry on a conversation with a figment of my imagination,” Jennifer said with an indignant sniff, “you’re crazy. Correct that. I am crazy and I’ve had enough of this malar-key. I’m going back to bed. Goodbye.”

  “Jennifer, wait,” Jack said, raising one hand. “You’re not imagining that I’m here. I’m real.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you be standing on my sidewalk, transforming yourself into a six-foot Popsicle at four-thirty in the morning?”

  “Actually,” Jack said, “I’ve been out there since about three o’clock. I couldn’t sleep, needed to see and talk to you the minute you woke up so…” Jack shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time but, damn, I’m cold.”

 
; Jennifer reached out tentatively with one finger and poked Jack in the chest. “Merciful saints,” she said, her eyes widening, “you are real.”

  “Could I start a fire in the hearth so I can defrost?”

  “Go for it,” Jennifer said, then looked at the bear. “I suppose that bear is really here, too.”

  “Yep.”

  Jack went to the fireplace and began the process of making a fire. Jennifer studied the huge bear for a long moment, shook her head slightly, then followed Jack across the room and sank onto the sofa.

  As the flames began to crackle in the hearth, Jack closed the screen and turned to look at Jennifer, all traces of his smile gone.

  “I had to see you, Jennifer,” he said quietly. “Talk to you. I’ve come here to tell you how much I love you and to beg your forgiveness for what I did. I said some lousy things to you, hurt you terribly, which is something I had vowed never to do. I was wrong, so damn wrong, and I’m more sorry than I’ll ever be able to express to you in words.”

  Jennifer sank back against the sofa cushion, her gaze fixed on Jack.

  “I was so determined,” Jack went on, “that you put your past to rest, be free of your ghosts, that I wasn’t aware that I hadn’t finished dealing with my own. When I found out that you planned to sell this house, then discovered that you were pregnant, I was flung back in time—couldn’t see, or think, beyond the memories of all the women who had duped me.”

  “But I—”

  “But you,” Jack interrupted, “are not like any of those women. You’re open, and honest, and exactly who you present yourself to be. I know…now…that you didn’t set out to trap me into marriage by getting pregnant. I know now that your decision to sell this house wasn’t part of a secret agenda, a master plan of deception. You put the pain of your past behind you—and I have finally done the same. Oh, Jennifer, I love you so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, with Joey, with our baby you’re now carrying, and three or four more little MacAllisters.”