We Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

by Brenda Novak

  “He really shouldn’t ride on your grass, either. It makes ruts.”

  “I realize it’s probably not a good thing, but we don’t have much of a lawn right now, anyway.” Alex was only young for a short time. And there were no other children in the neighborhood for him to play with. What were a few ruts compared to the enjoyment he got out of biking? The lawn had had more than its share of ruts and weeds before they moved in. “It’s pretty dry and brown,” she said.

  “It wouldn’t be if you threw a little seed out there every once in a while.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.” She slid closer to the door and blessed privacy.

  “I’ve got seed in my shed. If you like, I can toss some on today.”

  This surprised Jaclyn, even though ever since he’d fixed Alex’s bike, Mr. Alder had been almost kind at times. “I’d be grateful. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble.”

  She paused when he didn’t turn away, wondering if there was something else. Did he want to return her plate from the lasagna she’d sent a few days ago? The basket from the cookies? Or was he hoping for some little goody for dinner tonight?

  “You’ve been busy trimming your roses, I see,” she said, trying to make polite conversation, instead of hurrying inside and closing the door as she wanted to do.

  “There’s a certain way to prune a rosebush. You have to know what you’re doing.”

  “I bet that’s true. They’ll look nice come spring, I’m sure.”

  “I can show you how to prune your roses, if you like.”

  “That would be nice. Maybe on a Saturday when it warms up a little?” She glanced above her at the gray sky and wondered if it was going to rain later.

  “Saturday’s as good a day as any,” he said.

  “Okay, well, I’d better go in. I have to be to work in an hour. Have a nice day, Mr. Alder.” This time she got the door open and had nearly stepped across the threshold, when he called her name again.

  “Jaclyn?”

  “Yes?” she asked, turning back.

  “I don’t know if it’s anything important,” he said, watching her closely, “but some man came snoopin’ around your place ’bout an hour ago.”

  “Some man?”

  “An older gentleman, ’bout sixty. Drove a Lincoln Towncar.”

  Burt! Jaclyn hadn’t heard from him since Alex’s game on Friday. She’d assumed he had cooled off and let the matter of Cole drop. But what if he hadn’t? Why had he driven all the way from Feld on a Monday morning without letting her or the children know he was coming? “Are you sure it was a Lincoln Towncar?” she asked.

  “Sure as I’m standing here.”

  “What color?”

  “Silver.”

  It was Burt. It had to be. He was the only sixtyish man she knew who drove a silver Towncar. “What did he do?”

  “Knocked on the door. When no one answered, he looked in the windows, then went around to the back.”

  “Did you see what he did there?”

  “No. I walked over just as he was coming to the front again. I told him you were gone and asked if he wanted to leave a message with me, but he said that wouldn’t be necessary.”

  “And then he left?”

  “No, he asked me a few things first.”

  Jaclyn resisted putting a hand to her stomach to massage the knot of tension she felt growing there. “What did he want to know?”

  “If you ever entertain men at your place.”

  Briefly, Jaclyn squeezed her eyes shut and willed away the anger that flooded her at the audacity of her ex-father-in-law. He’d gone to her neighbors and asked them about her? God, that rankled.

  “And?”

  “And I told him you were a dedicated mother. That you rarely entertain anyone and never throw wild parties or stay out late.”

  “You did?” Jaclyn couldn’t keep the amazement out of her voice. Mr. Alder hadn’t been happy about having her as a neighbor. What had motivated him to come to her defense? “Did he ask about anything else?”

  “Just a black Lincoln Navigator.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That I’d already told him what kind of person you are. For anything beyond that, he’d have to ask you.”

  “Really?” At that moment, Jaclyn could have kissed Mr. Alder’s lined forehead. He might not have taken to having a divorcee with three children living next door at first, but he seemed to be warming to the idea. At any rate, he took to strangers even less.

  “And I told him if he comes nosing around here again, I’d call the police.”

  Jaclyn couldn’t believe it. Burt must have been fuming when he left. “What did he do then?”

  “He got in his car and drove away.”

  Grateful for Mr. Alder’s stand, Jaclyn smiled despite her renewed worry and anger. “I appreciate your support, Mr. Alder. That man is my ex-father-in-law, and I think he’s trying to take the kids away from me again. He tried once before, but he could never get anything against me. I guess he’s trying to see if he can dig up something now that I’ve spent a year on my own.”

  “Well, he can try and take your kids all he wants, but he’s not going to manage it. You’re a good mother,” Mr. Alder stated matter-of-factly, just the way he stated everything. “I’ve got your lasagna plate, by the way. I’ll bring it by later tonight.”

  “Fine. Thanks,” Jaclyn added, but her mind was a million miles away from food or dishes or anything so mundane. Burt was snooping around, asking questions, a sure sign he was on the rampage again. Just when she was pulling her life together, she was going to have to turn her attention to fighting her ex-in-laws one more time. What a mess!

  Instead of going in the front door, Jaclyn walked around the side and into the backyard, retracing the steps Burt had to have taken to reach her back door. What, exactly, had he been looking for? Some sign that Cole was living with her? That Cole sometimes stayed overnight? No doubt Burt would have loved nothing more than to find her home unlocked so he could search her bedroom in hopes of finding some condoms or men’s underwear.

  She thought of her overtaxed bank account and all she’d already been through, and wondered how she was going to summon the strength and the money to finance yet another defense. Somehow she’d do what she had to do. She’d pay her attorney in small installments, sign away the next ten years of her working life, borrow what money she could—whatever it took. Terry and Burt wouldn’t take her kids away unless it was over her dead body.

  The yard looked normal enough—just grass and a few shrubs enclosed by a wooden fence. There was a small screened-in porch off the back of the house, but she didn’t own any patio furniture, so it usually contained nothing but her stationary bicycle, a toy box for the girls, and Alex’s scooter and in-line skates. Today, however, there was something more. Poking out from under the worn welcome mat at the back door was a manila envelope.

  Jaclyn’s hands shook as she retrieved it. She didn’t want any more trouble. She just wanted to be left in peace.

  Tearing open the flap, she pulled out the document inside, then wished she’d waited until she was in the kitchen and had someplace to sit down. Burt was making good on his threats. He was suing her again for custody of the kids. But there was something else in the envelope, something she hadn’t expected—a list of women all claiming they’d had an affair with Cole Perrini.

  WHAT WAS IT ABOUT HOLIDAYS? First her birthday and now Thanksgiving.

  Jaclyn pushed the channel changer on the remote and halfheartedly watched the news, MTV and an old sitcom. The kids were with Terry in Feld—he’d finally deigned to come for them. And while she was happy that they were seeing their father again, she’d let them go reluctantly. This past week, while she’d been dodging Cole’s calls and pretending to be too busy to see him, her kids had been her mainstay, her only friends, her only support. Now that they were gone, she felt bereft and alone and far weaker than she deemed safe.
/>
  Call him.

  No! Just in case the temptation proved too great, Jaclyn crossed the room and returned the cordless phone to its cradle, just to get it out of her lap. Then she went to the kitchen and stared into the refrigerator. She wasn’t exactly hungry. She’d had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich a little earlier—there wasn’t any point in making a big Thanksgiving dinner with Mr. Alder visiting his eldest son for the day and the kids gone until Sunday—but she was bored and seeking solace in something.

  Disappointed to find that the foil-covered plate, which had stored the lemon squares she’d made the day before, was empty, Jaclyn settled for a bag of chocolate chips. Carrying them back to the living room, she sank onto the couch and tried to drown her sorrows in chocolate while once again searching for a program on television that interested her.

  Nothing, she decided twenty minutes later. There was nothing on she wanted to watch. Nothing she wanted to do. Except to see Cole. She wanted him so badly that she thought she might go crazy if the impulse to call him didn’t stop shooting from her brain to her arm every few seconds.

  To bolster her resistance, Jaclyn threw away the empty chocolate-chip bag, went to her bedroom and retrieved the envelope Burt had left at her door. Then she looked down the list of Cole’s lovers again. There were thirteen. She’d counted them the day she’d received it. Thirteen women who’d written and signed a short paragraph detailing the nature of their intimacy with Cole when he was married to Rochelle. Twelve more than he’d admitted to her. Twelve in nine months! Certainly that had to beat even Terry’s record!

  If it was true…But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Jaclyn didn’t know what to believe, didn’t need the second-guessing and pain of getting involved with someone who had a bad track record. The statements looked legitimate, so believable, especially when she remembered what Cole used to be like—wild and reckless and definitely a favorite with the ladies.

  Damn Burt Wentworth, Jaclyn thought, shaking her head. Just when she’d been feeling some hope again, just when she’d been trying to trust love again, he had to plant seeds of doubt.

  The doorbell rang, and Jaclyn started in surprise and dropped the list on her bed. It was Cole. She knew it instantly, before she even left her bedroom. He hadn’t called since last night, when Alex had told him she was too busy to come to the phone, but it was too much to hope that he’d go through the weekend without some attempt to reach her. He probably wanted to know what was wrong, why she was shutting him out. And she didn’t want to go into it. She’d been through enough of that kind of hell already, with Terry.

  “Here we go again,” she muttered, summoning the courage to answer the door.

  Sure enough, Jaclyn could see Cole through her peephole. He was standing on her porch in a pair of faded blue jeans and an oversize sweatshirt, holding something in his hand.

  For a moment she considered pretending she wasn’t home, but her car was in the drive. Swinging the door open, she offered him a tentative smile.

  “Hi, Cole.”

  He didn’t return the smile. He studied her, his jaw set. “Can I come in?”

  Jaclyn stepped out of the way, and he moved past her.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, turning to face her as she closed the door.

  She couldn’t quite meet his eyes when she turned herself. “What do you mean?”

  “You took your test on Monday and never called to tell me how it went. I tried to call you on Tuesday at work. The woman there took a message, but you never returned it. Then I talked to Alex last night, and again you never called me back.”

  Jaclyn didn’t respond.

  “Did the kids say something about the time they spent with me last Sunday that upset you?” he prompted.

  “No.” Actually the opposite had occurred. The children had loved their time with Cole and had talked of little else since then. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I appreciate you baby-sitting. I should have thanked you earlier, but—”

  “I didn’t do it for the thanks,” he said. “I wanted to help you.”

  Jaclyn crossed her arms, suddenly feeling chilled despite the sweater she was wearing. “And you did. The test went well.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  He stabbed a hand through his hair. “Nothing, I guess. I don’t want you to say anything you don’t feel, but if you’re asking what I’d like to hear, I’d like to hear that you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you. God, Jackie, I’m crazy about you. I sit home at night and think about you, remember your birthday, want to be with you. Do you know what I’d give to make love to you again? Anything! Yet you won’t even return my calls.”

  What could she say? I’m confused? I don’t know if you’ve been lying to me? I’m afraid to take the chance?

  “Burt sent me something. I got it on Monday,” she said, when Cole didn’t speak and seemed determined to hear an answer from her first.

  “What is it?”

  “He’s suing for custody, of course.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? If that’s all it is, I can fix it. We’ll get a good lawyer. I know someone who can help us.”

  He said he could fix it, just like that—easily, confidently. He’d used the word us. Jaclyn wanted to grab hold of the support he offered like a drowning man longs for breath, but she wouldn’t let herself. Trusting left her too vulnerable.

  Remember that night outside Maxine’s? It’s better not to trust, not to lean on someone else.

  “If I can afford him,” she said. “Otherwise, I’ll have to find someone who will take payments.”

  “Money isn’t the issue. I’ll help you, babe.” He stepped toward her, as though he’d take her in his arms, but she moved away.

  “Cole, I…” Briefly she closed her eyes, then tried again. “Burt sent something else with the court papers.”

  Cole’s face darkened, the gravity of her tone no doubt giving him some inkling that what Burt had sent wasn’t good. “What?”

  Without answering, Jaclyn returned to her bedroom and retrieved the list of women and their sickening, accusing words. She didn’t want to show it to Cole. She wanted to burn it and pretend she’d never seen it. But she’d spent her first three years with Terry in denial, and to do that again was stupid. Whether it caused her pleasure or pain, she had to face the truth head-on.

  When she returned, she handed the paper to Cole, then watched his reaction as he read. At first his eyebrows knitted together in what looked like confusion; then they lifted high, almost to his hairline in—what? Surprise? Guilt? Outrage?

  Finally he looked at her. “I don’t know these women,” he said.

  The hope that had smoldered deep inside Jaclyn threatened to burst into flame, but she tempered her reaction with the memory of how many times Terry had proved her a fool for believing him. “We went to high school with some of them,” she said.

  “Maybe I’d remember them if I saw them again,” he said, “but I didn’t have sex with any of these women.”

  Silence fell between them, during which Jaclyn tried to read Cole’s eyes. She wished she could see inside his heart and mind so she’d know what to believe. She loved him. She wanted to trust him and forget the past. But what if she was wrong—again?

  He watched her for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was low. “I haven’t been a saint, Jackie. I’ve slept with my share of women, and I’m certainly not proud of the number. But I didn’t sleep with anyone else when I was married, except the one I told you about.”

  Jaclyn didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She was so torn, so confused. Were Burt and thirteen women lying? Or was it Cole? Burt had a reason to make her believe one thing. But Cole had his own reasons for wanting her to believe another.

  Cole waited several seconds, his eyes pleading for some sign that she believed him. But when she didn’t say anything, made no move, he set the paper she’d shown him on the coffee table and
put the small blue velvet box he’d been carrying on top of it. “If you don’t believe me now, you never will, Jackie. And we can’t base a relationship on that,” he said.

  Hesitating for only a second, as though he wished there was something more he could say, something he could do to convince her, he kissed her softly on the temple and left.

  Jaclyn stared at the little box on the coffee table, the clock ticking on the wall the only sound. Cole had brought her something. Jewelry?

  Sitting on the couch, Jaclyn picked up the box, still holding her breath against the pain she’d felt the moment Cole had walked out the door, and opened the lid. It was a gold locket. Inside she found a picture of her children.

  Tears filled Jaclyn’s eyes as she glanced from the locket to the list of women. Burt had caused this. Burt had purposely undermined her trust because he knew he could. He knew where she was most vulnerable. He’d lived with her, heard the arguments, witnessed her pain.

  After clasping the chain of the locket around her neck, Jaclyn grabbed the list and tore it into shreds. She wouldn’t let Burt win. She wouldn’t allow him to hurt her anymore or cost her the one man she loved more than any other. She might be an utter and complete fool, but she had to go with her heart, or she knew, this time, it would break and never heal.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  COLE COULDN’T GO HOME. Not after what had just happened with Jackie. He knew he’d be too alone, too miserable. Besides, Andrew and Chad were in town for the holidays. He wanted to see them as often as possible before they headed back to school. So he got on the freeway and drove to Rick’s, where he and his four brothers had spent the day eating the turkey dinner they’d purchased hot and ready-made from the grocery store.

  Trying not to think about Jackie, telling himself he’d deal with that painful issue later, Cole wound his way through the neighborhood where Rick lived. But when he arrived at his brother’s place, all vehicles were gone but Rick’s Pathfinder and a Monte Carlo he didn’t recognize.

  Where were Chad, Andrew and Brian? And who was this?