Cherishing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 3)

by Kris Jayne

  “I hope so. I don’t want to be a liability to you.”

  “Impossible.”

  She sighed. “Do you know what all I’ve done?”

  “I have your record, Shannon. I know.”

  “Do you?” A lump crawled into her throat. “I came back to Dallas at the beginning of the year just because I’d read an article about Jeff selling his business for millions of dollars. Yes, I was curious to see Olivia after all these years, but it was Kid and his plan to get money out of Jeff—that’s why I came back. And I would have gone through with some kind of scam if things hadn’t gotten out of control.”

  “I’ve heard this already.”

  “From who?”

  “Nick told me. He also told me that you tried to intervene and stop Kid.”

  “Too little, almost too late.”

  “But it wasn’t. And you’ve done everything you know how to make things up to Jeff and Taryn. You guys have a better relationship, right? Let some of this go.”

  Shannon slammed her eyes shut. Her breath skittered haltingly in and out of her chest. What if she forgot how low things could get and slid back to her old life? Her guilt and her shame kept her vigilant.

  “I can’t afford to forget.”

  “You can’t afford to let this hang over your life every day.” Her eyes popped open. Jonah pulled her against his chest. “Let’s finish our dessert and get out of here.”

  “Okay. Sorry I got so emotional. It hits me in waves.”

  He smiled. “You don’t have to apologize. Of course, you’re emotional. Things are changing. You’re pregnant. It’s fine.” He kissed her cheek again.

  “I should just quit worrying and believe you.”

  “Yes. You should.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Faced with another dinner at Jonah’s parents’ house, Shannon stormed the mall looking for something appropriate to wear to Thanksgiving. She hoped to find a couple of different outfits so every invitation wouldn’t send her into a wardrobe panic.

  The process took her nearly three hours, but she finally found two perfect ensembles through scouring the sale rack of a posh department store—a designer wrap dress in black silk jersey, a silk blouse, and a stretchy pair of knit trousers.

  Shannon hadn’t thought women wore “trousers,” but since the saleswoman kept using the term, Shannon adopted it. Those were a nod to her expanding waist. The wrap dress, the woman told her, would also fit for several months as would the flowy blouse.

  On Thanksgiving morning, Shannon drove to Taryn and Jeff’s to spend time with Olivia. They baked and decorated dozens of sugar cookies, taking advantage of Taryn’s double oven while she worked on side dishes for their turkey.

  Shannon ended up with more than enough treats to take home. Jonah insisted she didn’t need to worry about bringing anything to dinner, but showing up empty-handed didn’t feel right. Plus, Taryn had beautiful cookie tins with holiday parchment paper and ribbon. Tom and Sheila Moran might not like her, but who didn’t love cookies?

  After saying goodbye to Olivia, Shannon headed home with her cookies in pumpkin and cornucopia shapes—strangely looking forward to dinner with Jonah and his family.

  She would get to meet Jonah’s grandmother. According to him, the woman had once been a formidable matron of Dallas society, but now older and mellowed, she had become much more fun.

  Jonah picked Shannon up at two thirty, welcoming her with a warm, soft kiss. She snuggled into him, before stepping back and holding open her coat in a pose.

  “New dress?”

  Shannon grinned. “Yes. I wanted something elegant to wear to dinner. I’ve never had to dress up so much for home-cooked meals.”

  “It’s stuffy, I know.”

  “Maybe, but it’s nice. Oh, hold on.”

  Shannon ran back to the kitchen to get her two tins of cookies—one for his parents and one for Vivienne.

  “What are those?”

  “I made cookies this morning with Olivia. Some of them Olivia decorated herself. I put those in the package for Vivienne. Liv tried, but some of them are a little messy.”

  “Vivienne will love them. That’s sweet.”

  The weather had flip-flopped for the past two weeks between unseasonably warm and pleasantly cool. Today, instead of warming, the temperature dropped throughout the day.

  Once in Jonah’s car, Shannon cranked up the seat warmer, rubbing her hands together in front of the vent.

  “I can’t wait for you to see the house tonight. My parents always have the Christmas decorations up in time for Thanksgiving.”

  “Why so early?”

  “My parents adore Christmas. Some of my favorite memories are with my family at the holidays. Thanksgiving marked the true beginning of the season. After the turkey and stuffing and football, Vivienne and I would string popcorn to decorate our own tree. My grandmother popped the corn in a beautiful kettle on top of the stove. She could string it so fast. Her hands would fly, but she would slow down and let us help. It was always so much more fun than when the staff came in with the elaborate decorations for the big tree.”

  “Two trees?”

  Jonah gripped the gearshift tightly, then let go.

  “My mother thought the popcorn quaint—a word she loathed to apply to the official family tree. So she gave us the smaller tree to decorate with our silly kid stuff.”

  Jealous as Shannon was at the idea of extra Christmas trees and having a grandmother to string popcorn, she took note of how each joyous memory Jonah shared with her frayed at the edges with something snobbish.

  “I’ve been thinking about what kind of family traditions I want to start this year with Olivia. This will be our first Christmas since…you know…when she was baby. I’m definitely putting up a tree. I’ve never had one.”

  “Never?”

  “Well, not as an adult, and only a few times when I was kid. I used to hate Christmas.”

  Shannon watched the cool, damp landscape fly by through the window, grateful when Jonah didn’t ask why. He knew why. No real family. Growing up without anyone to buy you gifts while everyone else at least got something.

  “No hating on Christmas this year. This year, we’ll have the best Christmas ever.”

  Shannon laughed. “That sounds like a line out of one of those cheesy holiday movies on TV.”

  “You don’t think it’s going to be the best Christmas ever?” Jonah asked, glancing at her sideways with a smile.

  “I do. It’s just funny to declare it out loud.”

  “Saying it helps manifest it.”

  “Okay, okay. This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” Shannon replied in a monotone.

  “Pathetic.”

  “This is going to be the best Christmas ever! Yay!”

  “Better, but a tad sarcastic. I need you to believe.”

  “I do.”

  Shannon reached over the console and stroked Jonah’s knee.

  “Good.”

  Jonah and Shannon entered the circular drive that curled around the massive fountain wrapped in thick twists of garland. They got out of the car and huddled together walking up the stone steps to the front door, cookies in hand.

  Vivienne answered the door with a bright, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

  Shannon stepped over the threshold into the warmth of the Moran mansion. Sure enough, a twenty-foot spectacle of a tree filled the foyer with evergreen freshness. Gorgeous crystal ornaments and fabricated flowers in gold and silver adorned the branches. Looking closer, Shannon saw one crystal ball cut with stars, another with doves, and then a laughing Santa—each one intricately done and totally unique.

  A fire blazed in the formal living room, and as they passed under the horseshoe staircase of the massive foyer into the den, the glow of another fire on the far end of the room launched flickers of shadow like dancing ghosts. The yearning notes of Christmas jazz greeted them.

  Christmas Eve will find me, where the love light gleams.


  “Jonah,” Audrey Moran reached one hand out toward her grandson. Jonah strode toward the large chesterfield sofa in deep brown leather where his grandmother sat. Her straight gray hair was swept up into a smooth chignon, setting off striking blue-gray eyes.

  “Grandmother, it’s so good to see you. You look wonderful.” He leaned over to hug her and give her a quick kiss on her pale cheek.

  “Oh, sweetie, I look terrible. I might be old and nearly blind, but even I can see that. Introduce me to your young lady.”

  “This is my girlfriend, Shannon Clifton. Shannon, meet my grandmother, Audrey Moran.”

  “Nice to meet you Mrs. Moran.”

  Shannon started to shake the elder woman’s frail hand, knotted with arthritis, then thought better and gave it a pat. She hated to agree, but Audrey didn’t look well. Lifting her arms to hug Jonah seemed an effort.

  “Nice to meet you, too. You are lovely. I can see why my grandson is taken with you.”

  Shannon searched for irony or disdain in Audrey’s wide smile and found none.

  “Thank you.”

  “How was the drive up?”

  Jonah sat next to his grandmother on the sofa, and Shannon found a seat opposite them in one of two wingback chairs, next to Vivienne.

  “Uneventful, but the closer we got to Dallas, the darker the sky. At least, we made it in time to watch the game. Are you a football fan, Shannon?”

  “No, but I had it on this morning. Football makes good background noise.”

  “I’ve offered to take her to a game in person, but she told me not to waste the tickets since she has zero interest. It’s sad, really.” Jonah chuckled and winked at her.

  Audrey pointed to the package in Shannon’s hands. “What do you have there?”

  “Oh, my daughter and I made cookies.”

  “Daughter?”

  “Yes. She’s with my ex-husband, but I saw her this morning, and we baked.”

  Audrey grinned. “That’s wonderful. I miss baking. I used to make bushels of Christmas cookies each year and give them to friends and family. Sadly, a lot of women don’t home-make like we used to.”

  “Men are perfectly free to learn,” Vivienne opined.

  “Of course, but I still think a woman who doesn’t know her way around the kitchen has something missing in her repertoire as a lady. You know how to cook—even if you never do.”

  “I do. You taught me and Jonah both.”

  “I had to. Your mother has her talents, but the home arts aren’t among them.”

  “I’ve learned to delegate.”

  Shannon felt a hand on her shoulder. Sheila’s ears must have been burning.

  “Sorry we weren’t in here to greet you. Finishing up some last touches on dinner.”

  Shannon stifled a mocking laugh as Sheila and Tom sat on the loveseat. Miranda hurried in and set a tray of steaming cider on the coffee table. The presence of Jonah’s parents chilled the warmth Shannon felt listening to Jonah and his sister match wits with Audrey. Perhaps their frigidity is why they needed so many fireplaces.

  “Good evening, Shannon. Jonah.” The housekeeper nodded at them and then hustled back to oversee the kitchen.

  “Miranda can take those cookies from you,” Jonah reached for the cookies.

  Shannon held on to one container. “Okay. This one is for you, Vivienne. My daughter decorated these.”

  Vivienne leaned over and took the tin.

  “I’ll keep these with my purse. I can’t have anyone pilfering them. Thank you, Shannon.”

  Jonah picked up one mug of cider and settled it in his grandmother’s hands. He kept one hand on the bottom while she grasped it.

  “Do you have it?”

  “I do. I’m stronger than I look.” Audrey winked at Jonah, which made Shannon smile.

  “Something humorous, Shannon?” Sheila asked.

  “A little, I guess. She winks just like Jonah does.”

  “I suppose he does. We’ve always had our own code, Jonah, Vivienne, and I.”

  “I remember that. You and the children were always close,” Sheila admitted, fidgeting in her chair.

  Her nervousness surprised and comforted Shannon. Audrey continued to hold court with her stories about Jonah and Vivienne’s childhood—like the time he decided to make caramel popcorn and nearly set the kitchen on fire.

  “He got distracted by his video game and completely forgot it until the kitchen filled with smoke and the alarm blared.”

  “A little more supervision was in order.” Sheila censured her mother-in-law with her frown.

  “Too much supervision makes for soft children,” Audrey replied and launched into another story about her times with her grandchildren. The more she spoke, the more agitated Sheila became.

  “I think we can move to the game room. We’ll have our meal in there today. Tom insists that he not miss one minute of the Cowboys game.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The informality of having Thanksgiving dinner on a rustic, pine table in their posh recreation room didn’t preclude the use of fine china and silver.

  With the Cowboys projected to near life-size on the ten-foot screen in front of them, Shannon sipped sparkling, non-alcoholic cider from a crystal champagne flute. The rest of her dinner companions had a special French red wine selected especially for the season.

  “It’s Beaujolais nouveau. They ferment the wine for just a few weeks before bottling and release it the third Thursday in November,” Jonah explained.

  “It can’t have anything to do with Thanksgiving, right? It’s French.”

  “No, they have their own nationwide celebration around the release every year, but it matches up nicely with our biggest food day of the year.”

  “Mostly, it’s a marketing event. The wine is usually pretty ordinary in my opinion,” Vivienne added. “But it pairs decently with turkey.”

  As Jonah and Vivienne discussed the tradition, Shannon grew curious to taste the wine—not that she knew anything about wine.

  “You should taste a little,” Sheila suggested. Jonah glared at his mother. “Just a taste. For God’s sake, if that’s enough to throw her off the wagon…” His mother rolled her eyes.

  “I’m curious, I’ll admit, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” The absurdity of breaking her drinking rule while pregnant squashed her interest.

  “You’re not missing much taste-wise. It’s more the tradition of it. In fact, I think I’m going to switch to something else. I brought a nice Riesling.” Vivienne drained her glass and got up—in search of better wine.

  Tom stood as well, wandering over to the sideboard to pick over the Thanksgiving spread. As he returned to the table, he smacked Jonah on the back.

  “When should I remind you that you promised to give us an answer about your House run by today?”

  “I’m running.”

  Shannon focused on sliding cranberry sauce onto a bite of turkey with the tip of her knife. The thought of facing scrutiny in a political campaign made her swirl her fork in extra gravy. Between stress eating and the pregnancy, she’d weigh two hundred pounds by spring.

  “That was easy. I thought you might build a little suspense,” Vivienne mused.

  Jonah laughed. “No. Better to get it over with so everyone knows I don’t need any more convincing.”

  “I assume you’ve considered what this means for every aspect of your life.” Sheila directed a pointed look at Shannon.

  Jonah took Shannon’s hand in his before answering. “Yes. There are issues to manage, but that’s why you hire professionals to run your campaign.”

  An “issue?” Shannon pulled her hand away. His choices shouldn’t turn her into a problem, but she could see numerous conversations in her future where teams of “professionals” brainstormed how to fix her. Her spine stiffened.

  Jonah wanted this. He had a vision for helping people. That’s what this was about—not dreaming up new ways to make her feel inadequate.

  “
We should get together next week and start thinking about who you want on your staff. You’ll want to start fundraising right away. I’ll arrange a meeting with Lester.” Tom folded his hands and rubbed them together.

  “I want to get my ideas in order before meeting with donors. I’m not running to be Lester’s errand boy.”

  “Of course not—”

  “I’m going to run the campaign my way, Dad. When I need your advice or help, I’ll let you know.”

  Sheila jumped in. “We don’t need to talk about all of this right now. Let’s celebrate that you’ve decided to run and leave it at that.”

  * * *

  After dinner and football, everyone scattered. Vivienne and her mother flipped through the Neiman-Marcus Christmas catalog. Tom disappeared into his office while his mother rested in the den, listening to Christmas music.

  Shannon followed Jonah outside to see the lights in all their glory now that that the sun had set.

  The private stone drive stretched out in front of the Moran’s house danced with the thousands of sparkling white lights dripping from the canopy of elm trees. Shannon twisted around in wonder and saw a glimmering Santa on the roof commanding his galloping herd of reindeer. The red light of Rudolph’s nose glowed bright.

  “This is so beautiful.”

  Jonah hugged her closer. “It is. They do this every year, but it always thrills me.”

  “The lights on the trees go all the way down to the main road. How far is that?”

  “About a quarter mile.”

  The largeness of how Jonah and his family lived awed her—again. How had she wandered into this man’s life? Looking up into the blanket of lights soaring overhead like a galaxy of stars, Shannon felt dizzy. She swayed against him.

  “Are you alright?” Worry rippled his brow.

  She breathed in the cold night air and exhaled in a cloud. “I’m fine. The lights and everything, I’m…overwhelmed, I think.”

  Jonah kissed her cheek. “You don’t need to be.”

  The creak of the heavy wooden door opening made Shannon jump.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting you lovebirds.”

  Audrey Moran carefully stepped onto the front porch.