by Kris Jayne
“Snobby. I know. I’ve met them.”
She wanted to believe that Jonah thought his parents might embarrass him, but the first thing out of his mouth had been about her. He didn’t think that she could fit in with their fancy, high-class life. In shielding her from their criticism, he also shielded himself.
“I’ll pick you up at six thirty on Friday.”
“Thank you. What should I wear?”
“Something nice, but nothing too fancy. A dress or a pair of pants and a nice blouse.”
Shannon hoped she had something. Dating Jonah required a lot of hair and wardrobe.
“I’ll be ready.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
To Shannon, the staircase in the center of the Morans’ foyer looked like it ascended to Heaven. She hadn’t known the enclave of Dallas where they lived even existed.
She passed through this area of the city and seen large, expensive homes with stately trees lining the main thoroughfares. What she’d never seen before were the side streets snaking away from the main roads, home to mansions set on sweeping estates. Jonah wound them through trees to an other-worldly neighborhood with houses that the words “massive” and “gigantic” didn’t do justice.
“Mansion” even seemed like an understatement for the three-story museum of a home in front of her.
The two-story high dome rimmed with scrolled crown molding so captivated her, she didn’t notice the housekeeper talking to her and standing there with her arm out.
“Miss Shannon, may I take your coat?”
“Oh, sorry.” She slipped the wool pea coat off her shoulders and tugged on the hem of her sweater to make sure it stayed in place.
Wanting to be comfortable, she’d chosen to wear a tunic-length wool sweater in cornflower blue over slim, black ponte knit pants that she sometimes wore at work. The pants stretched to fit snugly across her midsection. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to wear them. Jonah insisted that she looked perfect.
“No problem, miss.”
Jonah guided her under the arch of the stairs to an expansive living room. Shannon clenched her teeth just to keep her jaw from dropping.
A bank of windows ran the length of the wall opposite them. The view centered on a towering, thick-trunked oak.
“That tree is amazing.”
“It is. It’s older than the house. The original owners designed this entire side of the property around that tree,” Vivienne informed Shannon. She and her mother sat on a brown leather sofa, drinking champagne cocktails.
Shannon smiled, grateful to see another friendly face.
“Join us, dear.” Jonah’s mother patted the space next to her. “Miranda, let’s get Shannon something to drink. What would you like?”
“I’ll take a club soda with lots of lime if you have it.”
“We do,” Miranda responded before striding away, presumably toward the kitchen.
Shannon dropped Jonah’s hand and did as Sheila asked, surprised at the firmness of their couch. The tufted leather had little give. Shannon sat stiffly, trying to get comfortable.
Sheila smiled at her. “That’s a beautiful color on you. It brings out your eyes.”
Shannon glanced down at her outfit and plucked a tiny pill from the front of her sweater. “Thank you.”
“Where’s Dad?” Jonah walked over and sat next to Shannon.
“Your father had to take a phone call. He’ll join us when we sit for dinner. Now, Shannon, I didn’t have a chance to talk with you much at the charity ball. Tell me, were you raised in Dallas?”
Shannon swallowed twice before answering. “In the area. I finished high school in Richardson.”
She called Mineola her home since that’s where she lived with the aunt who took care of her as a young child. Her aunt had many of the same problems as her mother—drugs and questionable boyfriends—which landed Shannon in foster care.
At one point, she briefly went back to live with her aunt, who’d moved to Richardson, but after she went to jail, the state placed Shannon in foster care again. Shannon met Jeff in high school while living in the northeast Dallas suburb with her last foster family. After graduation, she bounced back and forth between the Dallas area and Mineola until her shotgun wedding to Jeff.
“And college?”
“I didn’t finish. I took some classes at the community college,” Shannon put forward, folding her hands in front of her as if shielding herself from the line of questioning.
Truthfully, Shannon only took two classes one semester early in her pregnancy. Jeff’s mother, Nora, paid for her school. “If you get some education and some skills, you’ll be able to work once Olivia is old enough for daycare. It’s important to have some independence.”
At the time, Shannon thought Nora was pushy and elitist—as if you weren’t worth anything if you didn’t have a college degree. What a fool she’d been to turn her nose up at being offered a path to self-sufficiency.
If she had gone to school then and gotten even a two-year degree, she would be in a different place today. At a minimum, school would have replaced depression and drugs as her primary pastime.
“She’s saving up now to go back,” Jonah interjected.
“I presume for interior design since you’re working with my daughter.”
“Yes. There’s a degree program at the community college. Vivienne knows the director there and said it’s as decent a choice as the art school. Not to mention much cheaper.”
Discussing money gave Shannon a slight headache. Sheila might take it the wrong way.
“You know I’d help you,” Jonah assured her.
Shannon gently dismissed his offer. “I know. I’m already saving up.”
“Maybe you should take him up on it.”
Shannon and Jonah’s foreheads lifted simultaneously in surprise at Sheila’s agreement.
“You’ll want to have some measure of independence…” Jonah’s mother trailed off, leaving the, “when you and Jonah fail miserably,” unsaid.
“I’m independent now,” Shannon replied. Maybe that wouldn’t last long once she had the baby, but his mother had no way of knowing the bind she put herself in—again.
Sheila answered her retort with a smug, patronizing smile and stood up. “I think it’s time for dinner.”
Shannon followed Jonah and the Moran women to the dining room.
Floor to ceiling windows framed the room. Atop the heavy, dark wood of the long dining table sat bone china, polished silver, and multiple vases of flowers lined up down the center. Like everything else in the house, the decor was impressive and beautiful in every detail.
Clearly, Sheila Moran demanded perfection—from the linens and curtains to her dinner companions. Attempting to pass anything less by the woman was fruitless. Oddly, rather than feeling despair over the impossibility of being accepted, Shannon feared for the child in her womb. What a daunting task to grow up a Moran.
* * *
Jonah didn’t know whether to celebrate the superficial politeness in his mother’s demeanor or yell at her later for its disapproving undercurrent. He’d asked her to behave. Technically, she was.
Shannon handled her well enough. Her pride in herself stimulated the same feeling in him. At least, her mother hadn’t intimidated her. Most of his girlfriends had moments of stumbling and trembling in his mother’s presence—especially on his mother’s home turf. Maybe not living the high-society life mitigated the fear Shannon might have felt.
His father meandered into the dining room a few minutes after everyone else sat down.
“I need to talk with you after dinner.”
“About what?”
“A new business opportunity.”
“Leave it for Monday, then. I want to show Shannon the grounds.”
“You can start with the tree outside. Is that where you got your scar?”
Jonah smiled. “Yes. That’s also where I had a tree house growing up.”
“Is it still there?” Shannon craned
her neck to see the tree through the dining room window.
Sheila interjected. “No. We tore it down when he was a teenager. My son enjoyed taking various young ladies up there. We had to remove it before he caused a scandal.”
“They made more of that than there was. I took one girl up there, and she was a good, properly chaste sixteen-year-old. Unfortunately for me.”
Shannon chuckled and gave her head a shake. “Teenage boys. Always pushing their luck.”
He had when he touched Erin Forte’s knee. She ran straight home and told her parents Jonah had tried to “ruin” her. The grandiose language for his teenage fumbling still make him laugh. Eventually, Jonah did “ruin” Erin, or perhaps by that time, some other guy had beaten Jonah to it. He didn’t know.
Vivienne piped in. “I hated that thing getting torn down. I used to go up there and read all those comic books Mom told me I shouldn’t read.”
“Why a girl would want to read all of those dark, violent stories is beyond me.”
“I think that’s why people read them. I used to read comic books sometimes,” Shannon admitted. “I had a high school boyfriend who loved them.”
Vivienne raised her eyebrows. “I still have a collection. Did you have a favorite?”
“Not really. I liked Daredevil and the X-Men. Those are the only ones I can remember reading. I kind of lost interest once the boyfriend went bye-bye.”
Jonah tried to imagine Shannon in high school, carrying a book bag and chasing boys. He knew she dated Jeff as a teenager, which still made no sense to him. Shannon and Jeff had to be one of the odder couples in history.
“You graduated high school in Richardon, you said?” Sheila inquired.
“Yes.”
“Does your family still live there?”
His mother already knew the answers to these questions. Didn’t his father share his muckraking report with her? Jonah started to intervene in the line of questioning, but Miranda picked that time to come in with the first course of salad with blueberries and goat cheese. Jonah thanked God he didn’t see soup bowls. The distraction also gave Shannon time to formulate an answer.
“Umm, my last foster family still lives there, I think. We’ve lost touch.”
“How long were you in foster care?”
“Off and on my entire childhood. More on than off.”
“Do you not have any contact with your family?”
“Mom, I don’t know why we have to get into this at dinner.”
“I’m curious about how Shannon grew up.”
Shannon lifted her chin. “In foster care. My mother lost custody of me before I can remember. I never knew my father. I lived with my mom’s sister briefly—around junior high—but then the state removed me and put me back in foster care. I don’t have any family except my daughter.”
“And your ex-husbands,” Tom noted.
“Dad.” The edge in Jonah’s voice could have sawed the table in half.
“Yes. My ex-husbands.”
“There are a lot of people who grow up without family,” Vivienne advised. “I did some volunteer work with an LGBT group a few weeks ago. There are lots of kids who get tossed out of their homes for being gay.”
Jonah glanced at his sister, not believing she voluntarily brought up gay issues at dinner. She darted her eyes back to him and then focused on their father.
Tom, predictably, took the bait, veering the conversation away from Shannon. “Well, that’s not the same thing at all. Those kids have families, they just choose their lifestyle over having a home to live in.”
“These kids don’t choose to live on the street. Their parents choose their religion and beliefs or whatever over their children. It’s appalling.”
“You have to maintain some values in your home.”
“If I had come out as a teenager, I might have been on the street myself?”
Sheila objected, her eyes flashing with anger. “No. You wouldn’t have. I would never have thrown my child to the wolves—no matter what our opinions about your…sexuality, and neither would your father. I wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that I would have kicked you out of the house.” Tom’s tone shifted toward conciliatory.
“Then, Vivienne is lucky,” Shannon observed.
“I suppose I am.” Vivienne took a swallow of wine. “This salad is delicious. Don’t you think? I don’t always like fruit with greens. It can be too sweet.”
Jonah suppressed a smile at the conversation’s banal turn and joined in. “The vinaigrette cuts the sweetness nicely. I think that’s the key: make sure your dressing isn’t too sweet.”
“I like the goat cheese, too. It’s very creamy,” Shannon added. “We serve a salad like this at the restaurant—only with strawberries and a lemony vinaigrette.”
“I’ll have to try that the next time I come in.”
“We should go there for dinner one night. Check it out,” Vivienne suggested.
Sheila mentioned one of her favorite new restaurants, which kept the tone civil for the rest of dinner.
By the time Miranda brought coffee and dessert, Jonah’s anxiety dissipated. Shannon chatted happily with Vivienne and his mother about fashion. Jonah’s father cornered him with a sidebar on business.
He and Shannon had survived—thanks in large part to his sister. He’d have to send her flowers or buy her a car, maybe an island. Once again, he owed her.
Chapter Thirty
A weekend away would give Jonah a chance to refocus on his relationship with Shannon. He hoped. The mounting pressure from his parents kept distorting his view of reality. What mattered wasn’t the money. What mattered was the baby—his baby—growing inside her.
A shock of excitement went through him. He didn’t care that he and Shannon hadn’t planned on getting pregnant. For the first time, Jonah’s life had a purpose.
He glanced over at her. Her long, curled lashes fanned on her cheek. The swell of her breast as she drew in a deep, sleep-induced breath stirred him. His father was wrong. He didn’t have a hero complex. He wanted her, and he cared for her.
The plane touched down in Portland, shaking Shannon awake. She extended her arms and yawned.
“That was quick,” she said.
Jonah chuckled. “I suppose, if you sleep the entire time.”
Shannon sighed. “I can’t help it. I get so sleepy.”
Jonah touched a finger to her chin and dropped a kiss on her lips. “I know. It’s cute.”
She rolled her eyes. “You flatter me.”
“Nope. I’m telling the truth. Objectively, you are getting more adorable by the day,” he pledged.
“How long a drive to the house?”
“About an hour, but it’s a nice drive. You’ll see. The views in Willamette Valley will amaze you.”
Shannon’s eyes brightened. “I’m excited. This is my first trip outside of Texas, Oklahoma, or Louisiana.”
“We’ll have to take a few more trips. Maybe do something international before the baby is born.”
She twisted her hands together. “Is that a good idea? What if something happens?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I need a doctor or something?”
Jonah laughed. “Most places on the planet, they still have doctors and hospitals. Europe, for example, has great healthcare. Besides, we have a few months before you’re far enough along to worry about that.”
“Oh, okay. I don’t know, and it makes me nervous. I don’t even have a passport.”
“We’ll fix that when you get back,” Jonah promised and gave her another peck.
Jonah collected their luggage and shepherded Shannon to the rental car. An hour after they landed, they began their hour-long trek toward Mt. Hood.
* * *
Shannon dozed off until she heard the crunch of gravel under the tires as Jonah pulled off the main highway down a narrow, thickly forested road. The path wound its way under a canopy of trees befo
re Jonah came around a curve into a clearing. He parked and jumped out, coming around to open the door for her.
“This is it,” he proclaimed.
The simple grandeur of the house fit neatly in a pocket carved out of the forest. The interior and exterior were constructed of honeyed oak, from the broad frames on the doors and windows to the long planks of the hardwood floors. Immediately upon walking through the front door, she could see across the great room through a two-story bank of oak-framed windows to the babble of the Sandy River trickling down from the slopes of Mt. Hood. Aspens and evergreens towered over the house in every direction.
Jonah had this beautiful place as only one of several homes. That’s how her child would grow up. Somehow, as much of a screw up as she’d been, Shannon thought, she stumbled into having two successful men to father her children. She hoped.
She beat back any idea that the baby might belong to Aaron instead of Jonah. That couldn’t happen. Life couldn’t be that unfair. Could it? She had turned things around.
The sound of the water rushing over smooth river boulders washed away her wayward thoughts. Jonah wanted her baby. Their baby. He wanted to make a life with her.
“Do you love it?” Jonah asked, his eyes wide with expectation.
“I do.” Shannon grinned. “I don’t know why you don’t live here full-time.”
Jonah laughed. “The business and everything else is in Dallas. I bought this place to get away. I’m not sure it would have the same charm if I lived here and had to do business at the kitchen table.”
“The view is certainly better,” she observed.
Jonah gazed out the window. “True enough.”
Shannon walked up beside him and hooked her arm in his. “What are we going to do this afternoon?”
“I thought we might hit the store and get some provisions. And then take a walk around the property. There’s a path along the river’s edge, and we can circle back down the road. Then, we can drive into town for dinner. Tomorrow, I’ll cook for you.”
“I can cook. Let me,” Shannon urged.
“Fine. You cook for me.”