His Mistletoe Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Lisa Fitzgerald reminded me that Tuesdays are slow, she’s perfectly capable of fixing the citation items we couldn’t get done yesterday and that I need to learn to delegate.”

  “She’s one smart lady.”

  “Like Aunt Haley?” Tyler asked the question as Haley bent to plant butterfly kisses along his cheek. He rubbed them away but grinned.

  “Yes.” Brett smiled at her, glanced at her mouth with a hint of longing, then winked. “Boys’ clothes. Front and center.”

  She took Tyler’s hand and led the way, but didn’t pretend to miss the flirtation. Her eyes and smile confirmed the shared feeling, making Brett wonder if this was truly happening.

  Hadn’t he been fairly down in the dumps just a week ago?

  And now...

  He didn’t bother finishing the thought because Todd was grabbing shirts with superhero motifs while Tyler was wriggling over a lined athletic zip-up jacket complete with Diego, the Animal Rescuer.

  “Should we try things on?” He directed the question at Haley and was glad when her look reflected his confusion.

  “I have no idea. How about if we try the first things on for size, and then just shop in the same size range?”

  “Sounds good to me.” He took the boys by the hand and headed into the changing area. “You scout things out while we get into this stuff.”

  “Tag-team approach.” She held two pairs of camouflage pants aloft. “I’m on it.”

  She’d joined them.

  Brett’s heart opened a little more having her here. Neither of them knew a thing about buying kids’ clothes or raising little boys, but together...

  The thought of together with Haley broadened his smile. Lightened his step.

  Maybe together they could make a difference in two little lives that had lost so much.

  * * *

  “We need food.” Haley surveyed the mess of bags and squatted to Tyler’s level a couple of hours later. “And you get to pick because you were such a big help with your little brother.”

  His grin made her smile.

  He longed to be cared for. Cherished. Loved. Who didn’t?

  The thought of losing both parents at such a fragile age stymied her. Lisa’s words of wisdom reminded her to live in the day, the moment. But that was easier said than done sometimes. And when she got involved in co-op business, she sometimes forgot the boys altogether.

  That couldn’t possibly be normal, could it?

  “Can we have hot dogs today?”

  “Absolutely. We’ve got some of the best hot dogs around at the Texas Hot back in Wellsville.” Brett unlocked the SUV and helped Haley stow the bags into the rear of the car. “Hey, you. Watch it.” He grabbed Todd as the three-year-old darted toward the street. “Bud, that’s dangerous. We never go into the street without a grown-up holding our hand, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Todd nodded, sincere, but he’d dashed across Brett’s small parking lot twice in the past few days. The thought of anything happening to him toughened Haley’s voice. “We’re serious, Todd.” She moved closer, but it was hard to be firm with the little guy. His eyes went wide and round. His lip quivered. His chin followed suit and his cheeks puffed, ready to storm. She stretched and kissed his cheek. “We love you, little dude. We don’t want anything to happen to you and streets are dangerous.”

  “And parking lots,” Tyler offered.

  “Exactly,” Haley confirmed. “Any place that cars go is dangerous to kids. We want you safe. Okay?”

  He nodded, but the crumpled look lingered.

  Haley turned away, ready to crumple right back, hating her role of being rough and tough when all she wanted to do was have fun with them. How did parents do this stuff? How did they cope with woebegone faces and raw emotions?

  Brett shoulder-nudged her. “You realize kids are the world’s greatest natural actors, right? And that the whole world’s a stage? And you just got played?”

  “But...”

  “No buts. Don’t let the meekness fool you. My guess is we don’t dare let down our guard where Todd is concerned. He has no sense of danger.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “My brother Ben was like that.” His face went quiet, remembering. “He’d grab hold of something and jump in, then figure out an escape route later.”

  “Whereas you have your routes preplanned and a backup exit, just in case.”

  Her words chased the stillness away. “That kept me in good stead with Uncle Sam for a long time. Plan your work. Work your plan.”

  “I can’t argue because that’s a good philosophy.” She sent a quick look to Todd. “But he breaks my heart when he does that whole lip-shudder thing. I want to make it all better.”

  “Yeah, it’s quite effective. I think they come with that preprogrammed.”

  “Which means I’m too soft,” Haley interjected.

  “Just soft enough, I’d say.” Brett grinned, tweaked her scarf and climbed into the SUV. “See you in Wellsville.”

  “I have to get back to the co-op.” Haley pulled out her phone and grimaced. “But I had fun with you guys this morning.”

  “You need to eat.”

  “Granola bar. And yogurt. Yum.”

  He scowled, but then shrugged. “Okay. I’ll take the boys over to your place later so they can be ready for bed when you close up.”

  “Thanks, Brett.”

  “None needed. See you later.”

  “Will do.” She waved and crossed the road to the parking lot. They’d had a good morning. Productive. And she’d pay Brett back for the clothing once her draft cleared her account, but he was right. The boys needed things now. Snow was predicted by the week’s end, and they had to be prepared.

  So did she.

  A snowy weekend could slow sales, so businesses had to be on top of their game every day. Lost weekend sales before Christmas could never be regained, and she’d seen that first-hand in Pennsylvania. But hard work and pre-weekend sale incentives were her mainstay for the next four weeks. Preparations made for good business, and Haley took that ethic seriously, because a bottom line in the black when all is said and done?

  That was the goal of any good business owner.

  Chapter Nine

  Brett’s cell phone buzzed him as he tucked Todd into the car seat after lunch. For kids who professed to love only chicken nuggets, the boys made short work of the famous Wellsville hot dogs. He checked Todd’s closure to make sure it clicked as he grappled the phone. “Brett Stanton.”

  “I know who you are.” A thin giggle followed the words, the hint of slur telling Brett more than he wanted to know.

  “Mom?”

  “I know who I am, too.” Again the giggle, louder this time, as if she’d said something really funny. She hadn’t. “I need a ride, son.”

  He’d figured that out the minute he heard the drawl of her words. The silly giggle. But he had the boys with him. Could he pick up his inebriated mother while the boys rode along in the backseat?

  Did he have a choice?

  “Where are you?”

  “On East. At the Leaning Post.”

  “Are you outside?”

  “Brr. No.” She said it with an exaggerated shiver. “It’s cold out there, Brett.”

  “I know.” He climbed into the driver’s seat, affixed his seat belt and finished the call before he pulled into the light midday traffic. “But I’ve got some little guys with me and I can’t bring them into the bar.”

  “Lounge,” she corrected smoothly. “Bars are unsavory places.”

  He wouldn’t quibble. There was no reasoning with her once the alcohol took hold, and the anniversary of Ben’s death loomed shortly after Christmas. She’d told him once that she couldn’t face Christ
mas without knowing she’d face that anniversary less than a week later. Therefore, she dreaded Christmas.

  “Well, the boys have to stay in the car. Can you meet me outside in five minutes, Mom? Please?”

  The “please” softened her tone. “Of course I will, dear. And thank you very much for calling.”

  He hadn’t called. She did. But something about being on the phone when drinking put her in the strangest mood, as if playing a part. Which only meant she took the drama queen mentality more to heart while drinking.

  He thrust the car into gear, moved into the traffic lane and pulled parallel with the curb outside the bar a few minutes later, hoping she’d come outside.

  She had. And she didn’t look too bad. Tweaked, but not wasted. And Brett had enough army experience to know the difference. Men and women on leave and furlough often did very interesting things. His mother was no different. “Hey, Mom.”

  He exited the car, moved around front and helped her into the passenger side. “Thank you, Brett.” She smiled down at him, and how he wished she’d smile like that when she was sober.

  She didn’t. Sober meant she had to face the world, try harder, meet her demons face-to-face. In Joanna Stanton’s mixed-up world, drunk was better.

  “You’re welcome.” He came back around the car. By the time he’d climbed into his seat, she’d noticed the boys.

  “Boys?”

  He nodded, grim, wondering if he’d done the right thing. “These are my two new friends. Mom, this is Tyler.” Brett indicated the older boy with a thrust of his chin. “And Todd.”

  She turned to look at them, two little boys, all rough and tumble, dressed in camo fleece and peaceful for the moment. “Oh.”

  Her face softened. She sighed and a tiny smile flickered from cheek to cheek as if dancing. It faded, then grew. “Oh,” she said again, her voice kind of water-soft. “Hello, boys.”

  Tyler took her reaction in stride. “Hello. Are you Brett’s mom?”

  She nodded, still staring at them. “Yes.”

  “I’m Todd.” The three-year-old was not to be outdone. He stretched forward and reached for her hand. “I’m free years old and I like to play wiff Brett’s trains. Do you?”

  His mother turned Brett’s way as if she just remembered he was in the car. “You have trains, Brett?”

  She never came to his place. She’d refused every invitation he’d extended. Therefore, he’d stopped offering. “Yes.”

  “Kids’ trains?” She seemed astounded that a grown man would have toys hanging around his home. Put that way, it sounded odd to Brett, too.

  “Model trains.”

  “Ah.” She shifted further and smiled back at the boys, a genuine smile, the kind Brett longed for all his life. “Brett always liked to play with trains.”

  He hadn’t. He’d never owned a train. He swallowed a sigh and said, “You might be thinking of Ben. I never had trains. Maybe he did.”

  “Ben’s gone.”

  Brett’s heart twisted. Drinking slurred more than her tongue. It melded memories out of place, out of time. “I meant when he was little.”

  “There was hardly money for food, much less trains.” She began to look upset. Misgiving grew in Brett’s chest. She didn’t like to be wrong when she was drinking. Or corrected. Or reminded. The three conditions made discussions fairly easy and mundane as long as the topic remained inane.

  Brett continued to drive, wishing the miles away. He shouldn’t have picked her up in her condition, not with the boys in the car. He should have—

  “My name is Joanna.” She’d turned again, and something in her voice, the tilt of her head, caught Brett by surprise. “Joanna Stanton. What’s yours?”

  “Tyler.” Tyler didn’t seem to think it was odd that Brett had already introduced them. He reached out and grasped the fingers she extended. “Tyler Jennings.”

  “And you, sir?” She held out a very polite hand to Todd. He giggled before stretching forward. “I’m still Todd.” He burst out laughing as if she was the funniest thing he’d ever seen or heard, and Brett knew a moment of ultimate fear.

  Would she misconstrue his childish antics and think he was laughing at her?

  Brett hoped not. Drinking heightened her anxiety and depression and it didn’t take much to tip her over the edge into mania. How he wished...

  But wishing was of little use. He’d wished before, praying she’d stop drinking. Just be a mom. It hadn’t happened until three years after he’d gone into the army, and then she’d started drinking again three years before he retired. Once Ben died.

  Obviously three was not his good luck number.

  Joanna took no offense, an answer to Brett’s prayer. “Of course you are,” she exclaimed. She smiled at Todd’s little face, and Brett sensed a glimmer of the mother he knew as a small child. Kind. Sweet. Loving.

  He missed her.

  He pulled into the parking lot of her complex, circled around to her apartment building, then parked. He started to climb out, but she waved him back in. “Don’t leave those boys,” she chastised. She held up a set of keys, almost as if she was sober. “I can let myself in.”

  She could, but Brett had always thought it right to walk a lady to the door. This lady happened to be his mother, but it was still the right thing to do. He started to ignore her advice, but she hurried forward, thwarting him. “Stay there. Take care of those precious boys. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” he said, wondering what she meant. She never called him unless she needed a ride. Her car had been seized two years before, but that was a good thing, Brett decided. His mother didn’t have the sense to not drink and drive, so losing the car back to the bank was a blessing in disguise. She couldn’t crash a car she didn’t have. He watched her as she applied her key and let herself into the first level of the building. When she made it into her apartment, she came to the front window and waved.

  And while she waved, she smiled. She looked almost...happy. Invigorated.

  Todd waved back, his round cheeks rose-red from the wind and chill. Tyler offered a meeker variety, but his eyes sparkled with something that hadn’t been there minutes before. It struck Brett like a ton of bricks as he drove away.

  They liked his mother. They connected.

  And in some way, they seemed good for her. As if their presence made her push to be more normal.

  Brett had been fooled in the past. When it came to his mother, he was the doubting disciple, a true Thomas. He’d been let down too many times to put much credence in a ten-minute ride.

  And yet...

  Something in her face. Her gaze. The way she rested her look on those boys, as if they meant something. Something good and pure and holy.

  It was a look Brett had longed for growing up. A look that disappeared after his father had left and the drinking began. A look that meant someone cared about him.

  Most likely he’d imagined it.

  “I like her.” Todd yawned around the words, his sleepy eyes drifting closed. “She’s nice, Bwett. Like you.”

  Tyler put a finger to his lips, warning Brett that Todd was falling asleep. And if the look on Tyler’s face meant anything, Brett figured he’d snuggle up alongside the big red dog and doze off, too. Brett intended to use the quiet time to make some phone calls and figure out how to get the legal and medical technicalities straightened out for Haley. He saw the worry in her face. He understood the lack of time. But a part of him wished she could sit back and relax a little. Enjoy this blessed time with the boys.

  If helping her resulted in less worry and more time for the kids, Brett was more than willing to expend the effort.

  “Brett?”

  LuAnn’s cheerful voice hailed him from the storefront as he climbed out of the car a few minutes later. He put a finger to his lips
, then pointed into the SUV.

  She smiled her understanding when Tyler jumped down from the passenger side. “Ah. Passengers.”

  Brett bundled Todd into his arms, trying not to jostle him too much. “LuAnn, can you?” He nodded toward the bungalow.

  “I can indeed!” She bustled across the driveway separating his house from the corner store and plied a key from the ring she kept in her pocket. She pushed the door open.

  Derringer met them, tail wagging, tongue lolling, about as much effort as the old boy had expended in the past year.

  The boys, Brett realized. Their invigorating effect was working on him and the dog.

  LuAnn echoed his thoughts. “He’s got a new lease on life, having these boys around, Brett. He’s always loved kids. Why, just look at him!”

  The trusty dog lapped Tyler’s face with a big, wet tongue before he eased out the door and into the yard for a quick walk around.

  “Can I go out with Derringer?” Tyler asked.

  “Not right now.” Brett whispered the answer, loath to wake Todd. “Let me put—”

  “I’ll take him out with me,” LuAnn insisted. “We’ll keep an eye on Derringer together.”

  “Thanks.” Tyler grinned up at her and Brett’s heart moved once more. Tyler didn’t smile a lot, and when he did, the look was sheltered. Hesitant.

  Not now. As he walked back outside with LuAnn, the rain didn’t seem to bother him or the dog. They seemed content to get wet together.

  * * *

  Eight thirty-five.

  The old country clock cemented Haley’s growing load of guilt as she locked up the co-op.

  Brett had cared for the boys all day. He’d shopped with them, fed them, given them naps and rushed Todd to the bathroom most likely.

  And he did it all with nothing in it for him.

  Haley had never met a man like Brett. Giving. Trusting. Funny. Solid.

  Her father was the anti-Brett. Weak. Self-absorbed. An excuse maker with multiple families in as many states. Her stepfather was a successful businessman in Olean, New York, but an appearances-only kind of guy. That made him a perfect fit for her mother.