by Janice Lynn
Joss was his.
His son who looked at him and saw a stranger.
A stranger who had been arguing with his mother.
Trace took a deep breath.
Today was going to be difficult because he wanted to take the boy and hug him, to have him hug him back, to have his little hands against his cheek the way he was touching Chrissie.
It wasn’t going to happen.
Not without patience.
Trace had learned a lot about patience during his time overseas, but this might be the hardest thing he’d ever done. Plus, he only had limited time before he’d be gone.
A very limited time.
“Joss,” Chrissie said in a soft tone. “This is Mommy’s friend.”
At her introduction, Trace’s jaw worked. Had she thought he was kidding when he said she’d tell the truth?
He’d lost enough time with Joss.
He wouldn’t lose more, nor would he have his kid thinking he was just one of Mommy’s friends.
* * *
Chrissie felt Joss’s fingers tangle into her hair, while he continued to stare at Trace. The finger tangling was something he frequently did when overly tired or nervous.
She’d never had any non-related man to their house, so how tightly her son’s legs dug into her waist didn’t surprise her. He definitely had his reservations about waking up to her arguing with a stranger.
A stranger who desperately didn’t want to be a stranger.
Trace’s restraint showed in every sinew of his body, which probably didn’t reassure Joss.
Her stomach twisted much tighter than Joss’s fingers in her hair.
Trace wanted her to tell Joss that he was his father.
She had to tell him, but how did one tell a child that he was looking at a father he didn’t know he had?
“Chrissie.” Trace stressed her name.
She walked over closer to Trace, causing Joss to cling tighter. No doubt her own nerves were affecting his comfort level, too, but there was nothing she could do about that. No way were her nerves going to settle.
“Joss...” she did her best to keep her voice calm, reassuring, but her insides felt completely the opposite “...Trace is a very special person who is going to stay with us for a while. Can you say hello?”
Her son made a grunting sound and turned his head away from Trace, burying his face against her chest.
Trace’s expression was taut, his normally tan skin pale, his eyes watery and desperate for recognition.
Her heart ached with misery for him. She couldn’t imagine seeing her child for the first time and him rejecting her when all she wanted to do was love him.
The look in Trace’s eyes said he did want to love their son and how she handled the next few minutes would make a major impact on how Joss responded to Trace.
“Joss, do you remember our stories about daddies?” She leaned back, trying to maneuver Joss to where she could see his face, but he burrowed down farther against her chest. “Well, Trace is your daddy. Isn’t that wonderful?”
That got Joss’s attention and he mumbled something against her chest that she couldn’t make out.
“What was that, baby?”
But whatever Joss had said was lost and he apparently wasn’t repeating. Just as well because she thought he had said he didn’t want a daddy.
She glanced up at Trace and gave a weak smile, then tried again. “Joss, do you think you could show Trace...um...your daddy your trains? He really likes trains and I bet he’d love to see yours.”
“You have trains?” Trace tried, his voice overly eager. “Your mom is right. I love trains.”
“Do you like Thomas?” Joss mumbled, still not looking up from his hunkered-against-her position.
Trace looked at her for help.
“Joss, if you’ll go show Trace...um...your daddy, your trains, I’ll cook us some breakfast. I can make those smiley-face pancakes you like.” She tried to keep her voice normal, level, not as if she’d just introduced her son to his father.
But Joss wasn’t having any of it.
Trains weren’t going to distract him from the fact that there was a strange man in their house and his mommy was full of over-the-top tension.
“Do your trains make noise?” Trace asked, not giving up.
“Can you tell your daddy what your trains say?”
With a shy glance toward Trace, then a return to burying his face into her neck, Joss shook his head. He wasn’t an overly shy child, typically, but no doubt the surprise of an unexpected houseguest and the fact they’d been arguing hadn’t set the right tone. Trace should have gotten a hotel, let her talk to Joss and ease him into the idea of having a daddy.
Or maybe she should have just told Joss about his dad from the beginning. Or vice versa.
“Can I show him your trains?” she asked, hoping to help break the ice, but Joss shook his head.
“Pancakes.”
“Okay,” she agreed with her son’s one-word response, then glanced at Trace. “Trace, why don’t you help me cook breakfast? Joss can help, too. He’s a really great helper.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHRISSIE WASN’T SURE what was running through Joss’s head, but he’d not let her out of his sight all day. He didn’t have the opportunity to meet many strangers, but she’d not realized quite how clingy he was. Maybe it was that he’d met Trace in such an unusual way within their home and their raised voices had possibly awakened him. Regardless, her son had been superclingy and had wanted to be held more than he had since he’d first learned to walk.
Not that she didn’t normally love the opportunity to hold her usually energetic three-year-old fireball, but Joss’s clinginess was over exaggerated and breaking her heart for Trace.
They’d stayed in, played trains, watched one of Joss’s favorite cartoon movies, and then gone for a walk around her neighborhood, while pushing him in his stroller. She’d made them grilled cheese sandwiches and cut fresh fruit for their lunch. To her surprise Trace had cleaned the kitchen while she’d colored with Joss. When he’d joined them, Joss had given him a suspicious look, but had shared a crayon and one of his books.
She’d tried to sneak away to start a load of laundry, a never-ending job, but Joss followed her into the tiny room off the kitchen where the washer and dryer were located and stayed with her until she’d finished.
She’d cooked dinner, given Joss a bath, read a half-dozen stories, and eventually he’d gone to sleep.
Trace had been right there all day, but Joss hadn’t warmed to him despite his great efforts.
It bothered Chrissie a great deal.
Partly because Joss had never responded to anyone in such a guarded way. But mostly, because she knew her son treating his father as a stranger was her fault.
Because she hadn’t included him in Joss’s life.
She could make a thousand excuses, some of them valid, some of them less so. No excuse changed the truth. It was her fault Joss didn’t know and love Trace.
She couldn’t make her son warm up to his father, but she could do her best to make sure he didn’t pick up on bad vibes from her.
Easier said than done.
She’d fought vibes all day.
Nervous vibes.
Scared-about-her-future vibes.
Attracted-to-a-man-she-was-pretty-sure-hated-her vibes.
How could he not?
She couldn’t blame him. Wouldn’t she hate someone who had kept such a precious miracle from her?
But how could she have known Trace would want to know Joss?
Duh. That one was easy. She could have known if she’d told him, given him the opportunity to make the choice of whether or not he wanted to be a part of their son’s lif
e.
She hadn’t.
“I don’t know how you get anything done,” Trace said when they got back into the living room after Joss was settled in.
“Some days are easier than others,” she admitted. “I’m sorry he was standoffish. He’ll get used to you and warm up.”
“I know,” Trace said, but the emotion in his voice gave truth to how affected he’d been. “It’s not as if I expected him to start calling me Daddy today.”
But the crackle in his voice said he had hoped for it.
What had she done? she wondered, her heart doing a little crackling of its own. How could she ever make up for depriving Trace of the first years of their son’s life?
“I’m going to go for a run,” he announced.
Surprised by his sudden announcement and disappearance out of her front door, Chrissie stared at the now empty room with a heavy heart.
A heavy heart because she was confused by the emotions battling for dominance within her. Especially the great sense of loss she felt that Trace was no longer in her home.
She did a few of the chores she usually did on her days off work, then showered. When a sweaty Trace came back into the house, she was sitting on the sofa, feet tucked beneath her, reading a book.
That she felt relieved he’d returned made no sense. Of course he’d returned. His SUV was parked in her driveway. Had she thought he’d keep running all the way to Atlanta?
“You okay if I shower now?” His gaze didn’t quite meet hers.
“That’s fine.”
He paused before heading out of the living room. “I’ll grab my bag out of your bedroom and take the sofa tonight.”
More guilt hit her.
“I don’t mind sleeping with Joss again,” she offered.
He shook his head. “Nah, I think it would be best if you get back to your normal routine as much as possible.”
Maybe he was right.
He turned to go and the need to say something more burned inside her.
“I’m sorry, Trace.”
If not for the slightest pause in his step she’d have thought he didn’t hear her. But his steps had paused, then resumed without his acknowledging her apology.
Chrissie let out a long sigh.
What a mess she’d made.
* * *
Three days had passed since Trace’s arrival and Chrissie would return to work the following morning. They’d decided to go to the aquarium on her last day off before she pulled another five twelve-hour shifts in a row.
Although Trace had been with them almost non-stop over the past three days, Joss hadn’t warmed to him.
Typically, Joss was a people person and a natural-born charmer, like his father, but with Trace he was standoffish and almost cruel in how he refused to interact.
For the most part, Trace remained patient and just kept trying, but his frustration was palpable.
Maybe that was what Joss sensed that kept him from interacting with or freely smiling at Trace.
“I’m excited to see the penguins, Joss,” Trace said as he attempted to get Joss out of his car seat. To no avail. Joss stubbornly insisted upon Chrissie unbuckling him and holding his hand as he jumped from the car onto the hot pavement.
Once on the pavement, he ignored Trace’s outstretched hand and kept a death grip on Chrissie’s.
Trace’s look her way was full of pure disgust.
This was her fault, his eyes said. She’d done this.
Guilt filled her. She deserved his scorn.
Then again, who would have thought Joss would react so negatively? Because her son’s reaction to his father was beyond anything she could have imagined from her sweet little boy.
Joss intentionally tried to exclude Trace more often than not. Just as he was currently doing, ignoring Trace and tugging on her hand.
“Can I get in the water?”
Ahead of them there was a small artsy-looking fountain just below a warped rainbow-shaped bridge walkway where several children were splashing.
“Maybe after we see the penguins,” she told him with a gentle tone. “Your daddy is excited to see them. Do you think he’ll like the manta rays, too?”
Joss loved the aquarium and especially the exhibit where visitors could reach into the water and “pet” manta rays that passed by. She’d bought them an annual pass earlier in the year and, though they’d been several times, his fascination with the aquatic life had never waned.
Until today.
“I don’t want to see the manta rays.” Joss’s lower lip hung low. “I want to play in the water.”
Good grief. Trace probably thought Joss was a spoiled brat. Hopefully he’d take into account that the child had just had his entire world turned upside down with meeting his father.
Still, she didn’t want to encourage his behavior.
“After we go inside to show your daddy the penguins,” she repeated with what she hoped was the right combination of gentleness and sternness. “If you be good.”
Joss’s gaze, so similar to Trace’s, took on a steely stubbornness. “He can go by himself. We don’t want him here.”
Trace winced.
Chrissie let out a frustrated sigh. “Of course we want your daddy here. We want to show him the penguins and let him pet the manta rays.”
Joss gave her a look that said she could verbalize whatever she wanted, but he wasn’t buying it.
Trace didn’t look as if he was either.
Then again, as much as Trace was trying, maybe he was trying too hard, and scowling too much when he failed. Maybe that was why Joss wouldn’t relax.
Or maybe her smart little three-year-old was still picking up on his mother’s nervousness.
Trace bought his ticket, then they waited in line to enter the aquarium. Within a few minutes they were riding the long escalator up to the top.
“Do you think the otters will be playing today?” she asked Joss, hoping to distract him out of his sour mood.
The little boy’s eyes lit with interest, but then he seemed to recall that he wasn’t happy with his mother or life in general.
Frustrated with Joss’s behavior but afraid she’d just make things worse by scolding him, plus knowing it couldn’t be easy on him to have unexpectedly had Trace move in with them three days ago, Chrissie turned to Trace. She’d caused this tension. It was up to her to break the ice.
“These cute little otters live at the top of the aquarium. Sometimes when we visit, they are sleeping and sometimes they are playing.” She injected as much perkiness as she could muster. “We like when they are playing, don’t we, Joss?”
Joss didn’t answer.
Chrissie kept right on talking as if all were wonderful. Not that she felt wonderful. Not that Trace looked as if he was having a good time. Certainly, Joss seemed determined not to enjoy himself.
Fine. She could do this. She’d dealt with worse situations. At least, she thought she had, even if she couldn’t think of any.
The otters were playing and that went a long way to lightening Joss’s mood. When one swam near the thick glass wall that allowed seeing his underwater antics, Joss’s eyes grew big.
“Look,” he exclaimed, pointing excitedly.
“I think he likes you,” Chrissie praised when the otter seemed to be checking Joss out as much as the little boy was checking out him.
“He probably recognizes me from when I came before.”
“Maybe so.” She turned to Trace. “Cute, huh?”
His gaze met hers and something flickered that put an entirely different nervous energy in her belly.
“Adorable,” he said, bending to Joss’s level to eye the otter next to their son.
After watching the otters for a while longer, they slo
wly made their way through the different exhibits.
They hung out in the butterfly area for a while. A large monarch landed on Trace’s finger.
“Look,” Trace breathed in an excited whisper, as if he was afraid if he made too much noise the butterfly would take flight.
“It’s beautiful,” Chrissie said.
The butterfly seemed to have taken up residence on Trace’s finger, not minding one bit when Trace knelt and offered the butterfly to Joss.
The boy regarded the butterfly with longing. “Do you think he’ll fly off if I hold him?”
“Only one way to find out.” Trace gently transferred the butterfly to Joss’s stretched-out finger.
Chrissie held her breath during the transfer, praying the butterfly cooperated, and amazingly it did, resting on Joss’s finger while he did his best to keep his hand still.
A proud Joss looked up at her and grinned. “Take my picture.”
Heart melting, Chrissie got out her cell phone and snapped a couple of shots of Joss holding the butterfly. Trace stood to the side watching.
“Step in behind Joss so I can get your picture with him and the butterfly,” she suggested, elated when Trace complied. A little dazed, too, at the thought she was about to take a photo of her son with his father.
With shaky hands, she snapped several pictures of a smiling Joss holding a butterfly and a smiling Trace standing behind him with his hand on Joss’s shoulder. No matter what happened, she’d treasure the photos and believed someday Joss would, too.
Sharing his butterfly must have won Trace more than a few brownie points because Joss lost his scowl for the rest of the morning. He still wouldn’t hold Trace’s hand but at least he was showing some of his normal enthusiasm for the trip and had become talkative, telling Trace about the different exhibits.
“I don’t see the alligator,” Trace said, scratching his head and pretending not to see the alligator that was beneath the water in a river exhibit.
“Right there.” Joss pointed against the glass in the direction the alligator rested.
Trace bent down to Joss’s level. “Where?”
“Right there.” Joss tapped the thick clear wall separating the viewing area from the exhibit. “You have to see him. He’s huge.”