Breakfast With Santa

by Pamela Browning

  “Like when I’m riding my scooter,” Mitchell added, catching Beth’s eye. His face was losing the contours of babyhood, developing planes and angles that she was sure hadn’t been there a few months ago. To watch him changing into a man little by little, day by day, was bittersweet. Both of them, she and Mitchell, were changing.

  She followed Tom, and Mitchell on the pony outside and braced herself against the fence, basking in the pleasant warmth of the midday sun.

  “Mommy, I’m riding a horse! I really am!”

  Beth put her hand over her eyes to shade them. Tom had allowed Captain, on a lead line, to pick up his pace a bit. “You look like a big boy up there on that pony,” she said.

  “I am, Mom. I’m six years old now, just like Jeremiah.”

  Tom grinned at Beth, and she smiled back. After last night, she felt comfortable with him again. The business about Nikki had receded to the back of her mind and seemed much less important. Tom had remembered Mitchell’s riding lesson, and that had gone a long way to reassure her that he was responsible and considerate. She pushed away the voice of caution that continued to nibble at her consciousness. With Tom and Mitchell getting along so well, she had no interest at this moment in pursuing something that could destroy their relationship.

  WHEN TOM WAS THROUGH with the lesson, he demonstrated how to remove the bridle and saddle, then how to rub the pony down before closing him in his stall. Mitchell hung on every word and ran to Beth after he’d fed Captain a carrot as a reward.

  “I rode a horse, Mommy. Tom, can I have another lesson soon? Can I?” He grabbed Tom’s hand as they walked back toward the parking area.

  “Sure, cowboy. How about next Saturday?”

  “Can I, Mom? Please?”

  Tom addressed Beth. “Next week you and I could saddle up Ironsides and Daisy, the mare I told you about. Mitchell would do fine on a short ride up the trail.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “Really? We’re gonna ride out like cowboys do?” Mitchell was bouncing up and down as they walked.

  “That’s right,” Tom told him, and the statement sent Mitchell into a dither of excitement. He ran over to Dallas, hugged the dog, started whirling like a dervish in the path.

  “Mitchell, slow down,” Beth cautioned. He ignored her and tore off toward the bunkhouse, slapping his hand along the slats of the picket fence as he ran. Not to be outdone, Dallas started to chase him, barking all the while.

  “Mitchell,” Beth called. “Come here.”

  He heard her and looked back, but he kept running. Tom waited for Beth to inject more firmness into her next request. But despite her apparent discomfort with Mitchell’s behavior, it was not forthcoming. After another minute or so of commotion, Divver stepped out of the bunkhouse. He spotted Mitchell and narrowed his eyes.

  Tom decided to act. He cupped his hands to his mouth and called to the boy. “Mitchell, your mother said to stop that.”

  Mitchell, unaccustomed to the sternness of Tom’s voice, halted. He turned toward Tom, his confusion clear. He stared for a moment, then switched his gaze to Beth.

  This was a pivotal moment. If Beth showed signs of wavering, Mitchell would probably continue his annoying behavior.

  Beth set her lips into a firm line. “Come over here, son, and thank Tom for the riding lesson. Shake hands with him the way I taught you.” Her tone was kind and gentle, and Mitchell responded immediately by walking purposefully to Tom and extending his hand.

  “Thanks, Tom. I really had a good time. I like Captain.”

  Tom gripped the small hand in his large one. “I’m pretty sure he likes you, too. I’ll be over to your house in a while for tacos, okay?” Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Divver dodging back into the bunkhouse.

  Mitchell grinned. “You bet. I’m going to open my presents then. We’ll have cake and ice cream afterward.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  Beth took Mitchell’s hand and smiled at Tom. “Is five-thirty okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  He sneaked a kiss from her as Mitchell was climbing into the van. “Am I spending the night?” he whispered.

  “I hope so.” She rummaged in her purse and slid his coiled belt into his hand. “You forgot this.”

  “Oops,” Tom said sheepishly. He flicked his eyes toward Mitchell, who wasn’t paying attention. “Any fallout?”

  Beth shook her head and got into the minivan. “Thanks, Tom.”

  “No problem,” he said, because there wasn’t. Mitchell had proved to be an attentive riding pupil, and Beth had stayed in the background throughout, as a parent should. Best of all, she hadn’t interfered when he’d corrected Mitchell. She’d seemed to welcome it.

  As he watched Beth drive away, he thought about how much he’d enjoyed the afternoon. Once she was out of sight, he walked into the bunkhouse. Divver glanced up from his paperwork and treated Tom to a long grin.

  “Things must be moving right along between you and Beth if you’re stealing kisses.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s great.”

  “And the kid?”

  “Nice kid,” Tom said.

  “Tom, I heard him and saw him.”

  “Mitchell, well, he’s got a few things to learn, but Beth’s working on it.”

  “You brought him to heel quickly.”

  “He needs a firm hand sometimes.”

  Divver squinted up at him in the fast-fading light. “Is everything okay with you, Tom?”

  “Sure,” he said, though if Divver had asked him the same question a week ago, he probably would have poured out his concerns.

  “Well,” Divver said, getting up and shoving the papers into a folder. “Guess I’d better get back to the house and start cooking up some burgers for Amy and me. Patty’s working tonight.”

  Tom hesitated at the door. “Divver, you’ve been married a long time.”

  “Fourteen years and counting.”

  “Is a monogamous relationship always like it is with Beth and me now? You grow apart, you pull back together, you go along for a while and everything’s fine, and then the whole process starts over again?”

  Divver clapped him on the back. “You’ve described it to a T, man. Patty and me—we’re accustomed to times that aren’t so easy. The key is that we love each other enough to ride out the difficulties.”

  Tom considered this. In the past, he’d allowed his experience with Nikki to define all women for him. Not until he met Beth did he learn that women had many facets—companion, sex partner, mother, playmate. During the long interim between Nikki and Beth, he’d never understood what women were all about or why he’d invite one into his life on a permanent basis. He’d contented himself with shallow, short-term relationships that went nowhere—but they weren’t enough anymore.

  He tucked his fingers in his belt loops and leaned against the door frame. “Thanks, Div. You’ve convinced me to ask Beth to marry me.”

  Divver stared, then broke into a wide smile. “I never thought the day would come when you’d settle down again with one woman. After Nikki, I mean.”

  “Me, neither.” Tom rubbed his jaw, studied the faraway hills through the window, then focused on Divver’s smiling face.

  “Good luck. Any idea when you’ll be popping the question?”

  Tom replied in a jovial tone. “We’re not even what you might call going steady yet.”

  “You’d better find out if she’d even entertain the notion. From what I’ve heard, her boy always comes first.”

  “You told me that.”

  “Well, good luck, Tom. Let me know how it goes.”

  After Divver stumped up the hill to his house, Tom set off toward home, feeling sure of himself and of Beth. As for Mitchell, the kid liked him. And he’d grown fond of the boy.

  One thing, though. No way could he keep calling Mitchell by his given name. A kid didn’t need a handicap like that to ruin his life. He should be called Mitch. Or something like Skip or Chip or Bud. Now
, there was a fine, masculine name. Bud.

  Tom began to run other possible nicknames through his head, but he had enough sense not to settle on any one in particular. He’d better consult Beth about it first.

  BETH HAD MADE TACOS for the birthday boy and his friends, and after they’d driven them home and Mitchell had fallen asleep, Tom and Beth made love late into the night. As he had before, he left at the first light of dawn, rolling his pickup silently down the slope to the road and turning on the engine when he was well away from the house. Tom agreed with Beth that Mitchell didn’t need to know he slept with her; this time, he made sure that he didn’t leave his belt on Beth’s bedroom floor.

  He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Beth about formalizing their relationship, whether by declaring that he wanted an exclusive arrangement, or by becoming engaged, or—well, whatever she wanted as long as they were together.

  The discussion would have such importance that he wanted to initiate it when they couldn’t be interrupted. On Sunday afternoon, he asked if he could stop by for a visit, but she’d already promised Mitchell they could go to the park. On Monday, she called to tell him that Mitchell had a cold and she was making him chicken noodle soup; she seemed distracted, but she told him she loved him.

  “I love you, too,” he said, the words sounding natural and right.

  The next day Mitchell developed an earache and had to go to the doctor. He couldn’t go to day care, so Beth had to take time off from work to stay home with him. Finally, on Thursday, Beth called to say that Mitchell was feeling much better and that on Friday night he was going to celebrate the end of his restriction by spending the night with Jeremiah.

  “Does that mean I can stay over and not have to worry about waking Mitchell?” Tom asked hopefully.

  Beth laughed. “It certainly does. Will you fix me one of your big breakfasts the next morning?”

  “Yes, honey. I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I,” she said.

  On Friday night, when Tom stayed at her house, he and Beth returned to their pre-Mitchell degree of freedom. First, they went to Zachary’s for burgers, and when they got back to her house, she lit a fire in the fireplace and popped a video into the VCR. Afterward, they lay on a blanket in front of the TV, feeding each other s’mores, which Beth hurriedly assembled from ingredients in her pantry. After making love, they nestled together before the glowing embers and fell asleep, waking intermittently to kiss and whisper endearments all through the night.

  When Beth woke up, Tom was already cooking breakfast in anticipation of what he wanted to discuss.

  Over the breakfast table, as Beth sat across from him, her hair still wet from her shower and so beautiful that his breath caught in his throat, he decided that it was now or never.

  “Beth,” he said, “we have to talk. I’ve been waiting for just the right time, and I’m not sure this is it, but I’m not willing to put it off any longer.”

  She stared at him, slowly lowering a bit of biscuit to her plate.

  “I want us to—uh, well—the term used to be going steady.” He felt suddenly abashed. “That sounds silly for two adults, but what it means is a commitment. Exclusivity. More later, if we mutually agree.”

  She gaped at him. “Like being engaged to be engaged?”

  “You could say that,” he said, gazing deep into her eyes and not sure that he understood the uncertainty reflected there. “I love you—you love me. For me, what we have together is meaningful and important. If it isn’t serious with you, you should tell me.”

  “Oh, Tom. Of course I love you, but I have a lot to consider before making a commitment. Mitchell. My work. Everything.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “There’s something else, Tom,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

  A new and unidentifiable undertone made him wary. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “Nikki,” she said softly. “Nikki Fentress.”

  The last thing he had expected, when laying the groundwork to propose to the love of his life, was to hear the name of his former girlfriend. “I’m not sure how that factors into this,” he said slowly.

  “I can’t stop thinking about it. About her predicament.” Beth’s expression was resolute, pained. Clearly, she didn’t like talking about this any more than he liked hearing it.

  He shifted uneasily, playing for time, trying to understand what bearing Nikki had on their situation. “Maybe you should tell me what you’ve heard.”

  “She was pregnant. You enlisted in the military and left her to bear the child alone.”

  Through his growing anger, he couldn’t help noticing that Beth was gripping her mug so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. She was tense, she was worried and he wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her. But overriding those feelings was another more basic one—defensiveness. In the marines, he had learned that he didn’t have to take anything from anybody. He had become as tough as he needed to be, a characteristic that had served him well. Because of his previous history, he couldn’t help but interpret this as a hostile situation.

  His answer shot back, uncensored and gruff. “Yeah, she was pregnant. I joined the marines. And yes, she bore the child alone. It’s true.” He felt his face flush and knew he couldn’t do a thing about it. He wanted nothing more than to forget about Nikki. She was the past, and what he longed for now was a life and a future and some kids with Beth.

  Who was studying him as if he were a specimen mounted on a slide. “You admit it. You left her when she was going to have a baby.”

  He pushed back his chair, unable to contain his anger now. “That’s what they say. That’s what you heard.”

  “Yes.” The word was little more than a whisper.

  He strode to the window overlooking the peaceful backyard, saw the Afghan pine that he’d bought her and that they’d planted together a few days after New Year’s. His head jerked around when he spoke. “I stayed away for fifteen years. I wonder why I came back. These Farish folks never forget anything, do they?” He bit the words off sharply, not caring that Beth’s face crumpled before his eyes.

  “Good people live here, Tom,” she said, stricken.

  He shook his head. “This place was a gossip mill before I left, and it still is. I should have stayed in the service.” He walked to the back door.

  Beth stood. Her face had taken on an unusual pallor, and her eyes pleaded with him.

  “Don’t go,” she said. “We should talk this out.”

  “Not now,” he said, unsure whether he was more furious with her or with the suffocating mores of a small town. Well, maybe his anger was for the way everyone around here always knew everyone’s business. But Beth had settled into Farish, Texas, and accepted the town’s shortcomings. She lived by its moral values and defined her life by its parameters. That made her part of the problem.

  Despite his love for her, he couldn’t stand to be confined within these walls any longer. He wanted to break free for a while, saddle up Ironsides and embark on a long ride into the hills. Consider whether his love for her meant that he’d have to accept this town for what it was.

  He slammed out of the house, Beth’s pinched face so impressed on his consciousness that he’d have a hard time focusing on the other things. Still, he kept walking, climbed into his pickup truck and drove away. His gut churned. He knew he should have gone back to Beth and taken her in his arms, but at the moment he didn’t care.

  On his way out to the ranch, he passed landmarks familiar since he was a kid: the pond in the county park, the five-way stop where the highway diverged into a bypass, the historical marker where the first settlers in this county had built their cabins, the steel girder bridge over the slow-moving river. They reminded him of all the things he loved about Farish, and the realization that his roots were so deep here only plunged him into a deeper funk.

  Even so, he kept seeing Beth’s face and recalled the love shining from her eyes when she bent to talk to Mitchell or i
nstruct him. Tom knew the same love encompassed him, and that was no small thing. He found it amazing, really, that Beth cared about him at all.

  Damn, he was tired of being alone in a world of couples and families. All he really wanted was to be with Beth and Mitchell. The only thing that counted in life, when it came right down to it, was a good woman and the chance to create something worthwhile. He didn’t want to waste his life searching for something he’d never find. He wanted to grasp this special happiness and make it his own before it was too late.

  But because he couldn’t bring himself to face Beth yet, because talking about Nikki was hard for him, he kept driving.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After Tom left, Beth cried.

  She sank on her bed and sobbed uncontrollably. Why had she confronted Tom about Nikki? That episode in his life was over and done with, she knew that. Anything that she had hoped to gain by bringing it up was lost.

  And yet she’d had to ask him. Had needed to find out why he’d left Nikki when she was pregnant with his child. Had hoped that his reaction would somehow reassure her. Perhaps he’d had good reasons for abandoning her. The last thing she’d expected was for him to fly off in a huff after criticizing the gossips here in Farish.

  A honk sounded in the driveway, and she spotted Leanne’s SUV. Mitchell was climbing out of it, pulling his overnight bag with him. She’d almost forgotten that he was due home so that they could head out of town for their overnight visit with Allen and Corinne.

  “Hi, Mom,” Mitchell said as he walked in. She bent over for a kiss, only to be confronted with a puzzled stare.

  “Your eyes are all red,” Mitchell said.

  She pretended to ignore this statement. “Did you have a good time?”

  “Uh-huh. Jeremiah’s hamster rolled around in her exercise ball all night long. Me and Jeremiah fed her lettuce for breakfast.”

  “That must have been fun,” she murmured as she trailed after Mitchell on the way to his room.

  “Yeah, and I can’t wait to see Grammy and Grampa today. I’m going to tell them about riding Captain.”

  “They’ll enjoy hearing about your lesson. How about helping me pack your things for our trip?”