"I think most women will, too, Suzanne."
Their eyes met.
"But you have to allow yourself to embrace this new source of your magic. You have two choices. You can be afraid of this moment in your life, or you can embrace it and see where it takes you. I don't know if Doug McKay and his girls are right for you. But it does seem to be the contradiction of everything you try to provide to other women, if you deny yourself this unexpected gift."
Suzanne took the boards home with her that night, surreptitiously, because she didn't want Jimmy to know that his words had affected her so deeply. She simply wanted some time alone with them, and her thoughts.
Propping them up on her dresser, she put on fluffy pajamas, made herself a cup of hot tea, and got into bed. A new project always excited her; it brought an extra thrill of discovery. Jimmy was right: Doug's children, and the joy of being with Doug, had inhabited her thoughts and brought her something beautiful to create.
She could wildly and freely embrace this moment - or she could let her misgivings guard her heart and keep it safe.
Having felt partially responsible for the well-being of her siblings, she well knew the value of playing safe.
CHAPTER SIX
Doug knew the minute Suzanne drove away from his house that she had felt everything he had when they kissed. He also sensed her hesitation and eventual withdrawal. The kiss had surprised him probably as much as it did her. There was hidden passion smoldering behind their tentative exploration. He'd been shocked to feel all that he had.
He had dated since his wife died, without much enthusiasm and more in the vein of convincing himself he was still alive, somewhere beyond his grieving heart.
"You know," he said to a picture of Martha, in a silver frame beside his easy chair where her smile reminded him of how much happiness they'd shared, "you and I shared the same dreams."
He saw the joy in her eyes as she hugged the three girls. They were sitting on the steps on a warm summer day. The girls had been smaller then, and more dolled up than they dressed themselves now. Martha had loved putting dresses and ribbons on her daughters. "We wanted our girls to have everything. Friends. Parties. Ribbons in every color. College educations. Dance lessons. The only thing we weren't counting on was them not having you."
Tears sprang into his eyes. "I never counted on not having you."
He thought he saw sympathy in her smile. His heart contracted into a tight fist of sadness. "I've met a woman who is nothing like you, but she's wonderful, too. You would like her." His chest tightened painfully as he put the picture back on the shelf and sank back into the chair. "She would like you. You would know at once that the girls would be safe growing up with her as a shepherd of their well-being."
His eyes closed as he leaned his head back. "It's not that I'm looking to replace you," he said softly. "I'm not looking for a mother figure for the girls. I wasn't looking at all - and to find it when I least expected it takes me by surprise. The problem is, we're a package she doesn't want."
Silence met his words. Of course, he hadn't expected an answer. The facts could not be changed. Christmas or not, he had to tell his heart that falling in love with Suzanne was not the right prescription - for her.
While he was asleep, Doug dreamed of fairies that flew sitting on thermometers, and angels that sat in the cup of his stethoscope having a tea party. The angels were discussing how to make him feel better, and were especially interested in stitching up his broken heart. The human heart, as he well knew, was a sturdy muscle. But the heart inside his dream-body was made of fabric and filled with confetti. So, the fairies and angels busied themselves stitching the torn fabric and replacing the silver-and-gold confetti stuffing.
And when they were finished, he felt so much better that he knew he and the girls were going to be all right. The first thing he saw when he awoke was the picture of Martha, and she was still smiling, as if she somehow knew he was healed.
Three days later, a scratching at the back of Suzanne's throat brought her eyes open from a groggy sleep; at the same time she realized her throat was sore and her nose clogged.
"Argh," she groaned, rolling over to put her face into the pillow. That was worse, so she sat up, smashing the pillow into better support for her upright position.
Her reclining position brought the two art boards into view, which she'd never taken back to the office. Suzanne squinted at them, still not certain if she was comfortable with the new direction her creativity seemed to be taking. She'd never designed anything like these particular renderings before; Jimmy was right. It was as if she'd changed her focus without even realizing it, yet the change was fresh and inviting. This year's scarf had been a wonderful success; instinctively, she knew these designs would be, too. And the proceeds could be donated to the same breast cancer research fund she'd donated to this year. But she didn't want to do another scarf.
She just didn't know what else she could do. But these designs were special, she decided, eyeing them before snatching up a tissue and sneezing into it. "Argh," she repeated. Picking up the hone at her bedside, she called her office. Jimmy answered on the second ring.
"Jimmy, it's Suzanne."
"Sickly Suzanne, it sounds like."
"I am." She coughed, then said, "I'll be in the office in two hours."
"Please don't do that on my behalf. There's nothing here I can't take care of, and I don't want to catch your grunge if possible. It is Christmas, you know."
"I won't kiss you."
"Just having the germs around is more risk than I need. Thanks, but stay home."
She sighed. "Maybe I will. Call me if I get any important calls, or if - "
"Suzanne, the office has run without you on occasion," he interrupted. "You're gone more than you're in during the Christmas season anyway."
It was true. Vendor visits and luncheons, as well as merchandising in various stores, ate up a great deal of her time during the biggest retail season of the year.
"Oops, gotta go, the other line is ringing. I'll check in with you later," he said, hanging up the phone.
"And that's that," she said to herself. "I'll just have to have a working day at home." Getting out her sketch pad and colored pencils, she began playing with colors for her new designs, all the while thinking of Edie, Fran and Kimmie's hair, the color of their eyes, and their laughter, without even realizing that she was finding inspiration where she'd least expected it.
At noon, Suzanne stopped working, giving her work a critical eye before getting up to go into the bathroom. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail. Pulling on fuzzy slippers, she padded into the kitchen to make herself yet another cup of hot tea.
The knocking on the door startled her. It could be Jimmy, bringing her a delivery of material or a contract. Diane might stop by if she'd called the office and found out she was at home. "Who is it?"
"Doug," she heard, and as her heart leaped inside her, Suzanne realized that was the answer she'd least expected - and yet most wanted.
But she looked like heck. "What are you doing here?" she called through the door.
"Making a house call."
A reluctant smile came to her lips. "How did you know I was at home?''
"I called the office and Jimmy said you needed the services of a good physician. I decided I'd better stop by on my lunch break."
She rolled her eyes. "I can't let you in, Doctor."
"Why not? My services are cheap. And I brought wonton soup. My mother said it made her feel better."
"I don't want you to see me like this," Suzanne confessed, her tone reluctant yet laughing.
Silence met that confession. Then he said, "I could leave the soup outside the door."
She brightened. "Would you? I'm just vain enough to take you up on that offer."
"Sure. Why not? I'm leaving it now, I'm setting it down, can you hear the bag rustling? Okay, you can grab it if you open the door."
Smiling,
she asked, "You're not really leaving it, are you?"
"I truly feel that it's in your best interests to let me examine you."
She really, really did not want him to see her without makeup on, with a runny nose, a raspy voice. But in the spirit of good sportswomanship, she opened the door. "Hello, Doctor."
He came in, setting a white sack on the counter. "I am the only doctor in the city who makes house calls with wonton soup." Coming close to her, he said, "Hm. I know what's wrong with you."
Her breath caught as he took her chin between his fingers, pretending to inspect her.
"You do?"
"Yes. I've been thinking about it a lot, and I've made my diagnosis. You need someone to take care of you."
"For a cold?"
Steering her toward the sofa, he sat her down, then pulled her legs up so that she reclined. He put a sofa pillow under her head and a blanket over her. Retrieving the sack, he grabbed a spoon from the drawer and brought out a white foam cup of wonton soup. "I'm going to feed you."
"I can do it myself," she said, starting to sit up.
"Yes, yes, I know." Gently, he pushed her back into a reclining position. "You are independent, a thoroughly amazing goddess of a woman. But in thinking about you - " he sent her a glance " - and me and the girls I realized that you have a lot to offer us, and yet, we don't have much to offer you."
"That's not - "
"Shh," he said, placing a spoonful of broth against her lips so that she had to drink it. "And then I realized, you took care of your brother and sister, and you were very responsible. Now, you seem to think you'd be responsible for me and my girls. The thing is, that's not exactly what I want from you." He kissed her lips lightly, to illustrate his meaning.
"You're going to get sick," she protested.
"I'm a doctor. I'll get over it. What I'm trying to tell you is that you don't have to be responsible for us, Suzanne. I want to take care of you and hold you and walk with you." He put the soup down, and put one hand lightly against her cheek as he sat on the sofa beside her. "There's some things you'd be great for where my daughters are concerned, and yet, I'm not looking for a replacement mother. I'm not trying to shift my kids onto you."
"I never thought that," she protested. "I just - "
"You are a special woman, and I'd like to spend my every waking moment getting to know you better. And I'd like to spend my sleeping ones holding you in my arms."
"Oh, Doug." Her eyes filled with sentimental tears. "That's so sweet. I do care about you, and your girls. I just never - "
"I know. And I didn't, either." He fed her some more wonton soup, and she let him take care of her. "But I've never been one to look a miracle in the mouth. In my profession, I've learned to be grateful for the miracles I'm sent."
She stared up into his eyes, admiring his strength and compassion. "You're getting to me.
He smiled. "And it would be unfair of me to take advantage of a sickly woman. They say that sometimes patients fall in love with their doctor when healed by them."
"Oh, do they?" she asked, smiling. "Is that your prescription?"
"Actually, no. I want you to be completely sure when you think about me, and my girls, that I don't have you under any kind of hypnotic doctor spell." Once more, he lightly brushed her lips with his. "Call me when you're well, Suzanne. If you don't call me, I'll accept that your being with us was kindness on your part, to my mother and my family when we were having a rough period. We appreciate you, but we don't need you coming to our rescue. What I want is something more than that, and what I'm willing to give you is also something more than wonton soup."
He got up, his smile half on his face, and yet angled, too, as if he hated to leave her. "I'm going now, but think about what I said."
"I will," she answered. Watching him, her heart somehow felt as if it were leaving with him.
"My mother," he said, hesitating at the door, "decided that she wouldn't wait until Christmas to open her gift from me. She said that life was too short to wait, but I think she was looking for a pick-me-up after being ill. She said the scarf was enchanting, but when she discovered you'd designed it, she said that..." He choked up, his gaze leaving her for a split second. "She said that she'd fallen for Martha when she met her the first time, and that to her surprise, she'd felt the same way when she met you. And I said, 'Funny thing, I've been thinking that myself.'"
"Oh, Doug," Suzanne murmured.
"How could I fall for this Scroogelike woman who doesn't have Christmas spirit, and who doesn't want kids, I asked myself. But there's so much beauty in you, Suzanne, that my heart, well, my heart has healed in some miraculous way. You've done that for me. Physicians can heal themselves of many things, but the soul takes a different kind of wellness. Which is what I want to offer you, too. I don't think you've ever leaned on anyone, or ever let anyone take care of you, because you got used to being the one in charge. But I'm suggesting that what I can offer you is a two-way street. I've fallen in love with you when I never expected to, yet I know you weren't looking for love, either. I'll let you make the next move. So call me, if you decide that you need me, the way I want to be part of your life."
Then he closed the door. Suzanne's eyes widened. Doug had pared her worried emotions down to the core that concerned her most: he wasn't looking for her to only raise his family. What he'd said was what she needed most to hear.
He wanted her for her.
He was trying to give to her, yet she knew that he and his daughters already had given to her, in ways he couldn't possibly know about. She thought about the art boards with the happy, dancing girls and the swirling flurries and without further thought, she leaped from the sofa and raced to the door. Jerking it open, she was scooped right up into a hug in Doug's arms.
"God, I was hoping you would do that," he said hoarsely against her hair. "I was praying you'd do that."
She laughed as he kissed her lips, her throat, her hair as he twirled her around in a circle. "And if I hadn't?"
Gently, he cradled her in his arms to carry her back inside the apartment. “Christmas is a time for miracles, and I just had to believe that you knew I'd fallen in love with you."
"I've fallen in love with you, too," she said, as he set her down on the sofa again. "And your girls," she added, thinking about the circle of joyful womanhood she'd sketched when she hadn't even realized her own life was beginning to blossom. "Thank you for your precious gift to me."
Melting into a kiss, they wrapped themselves in each other's arms, celebrating the unexpected and beautiful miracle of finding true love.
A HEARTBEAT AWAY
Judy Christenberry
Dear Reader,
Christmas is such a special time. Lots of hustle and bustle. However, those aren't the things that we remember, but rather the love and giving of Christmas.
It's been a tradition in our family to buy a special ornament each year, and as we decorate the tree, those ornaments of Christmases past bring back fond memories.
In my story, "Heartbeat Away", Tom Blake has warm recollections of his family life, but his girlfriend, Claire Goodman, doesn't, and Tom helps her through that. She has to forgive herself before she can move forward.
Family doesn't necessarily have to mean biological family. In my family, adoption brought twin baby boys to my brother and his wife. So Claire and Tom's intention to adopt twins has wonderful memories for me.
I hope Christmas is a magical time for you. Reach out to create special memories with those around you. May the love and magic of Christmas touch you this year, as it does Claire and Tom.
Merry Christmas,
Judy Christenberry
A HEARTBEAT AWAY
CHAPTER ONE
Claire Goodman leaned against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut, promising herself she could do this.
It would take a lot of courage. Heck! Who was she kidding? It would take a lot of acting. And she was lousy at acting.
"Claire! What are you doin
g here?"
Claire's eyes popped open and she found herself facing Diane Blake.
"I—I've come to see Tom," she muttered.
"Well, of course, you have, silly. I mean what are you doing out in the hall? Oh, you know Whitney Davis, don't you?" She nudged the pregnant teenager next to her.
Claire smiled at the young woman. She had a lot of sympathy for Whitney, a sixteen-year-old almost eight months pregnant with twins and trying to make up her mind about her future.
"Of course. Is everything all right?" she asked.
"Sure," Whitney said, looking at Diane, as if for confirmation. "Mr. Blake is taking care of everything."
Tom Blake, Diane's brother and Claire's...friend, was a family lawyer, handling estates, divorces, adoptions, anything that affected a family's life. Which was why she never connected him with his father, a well-known corporate lawyer with great influence and social power. Father and son did not travel in the same circles.
"Great. He's very good at what he does," she said, perfectly ready to praise him. That was her problem. She thought he was wonderful.
"Well," Diane said with a smile, "don't let us keep you. Go right on in. My brother would run us off if he thought we were delaying your arrival."
Claire's stomach began churning. "I'm sure you're wrong, Diane."
"And I'm sure I'm not. Come along, Whitney, we don't want to hold up true love." With a laugh and a wave, she led the teenager away, leaving Claire alone in the hall outside Tom's office.
True love? No, Diane was wrong. She was attracted to Tom. Who wouldn't be? He was charming, smart, warm, gregarious. Successful. What was not to love? His kisses were— Oh, lordy, she'd better stop.
Realizing if she didn't go in now and do what she had to do, she might never be able to. And she'd made up her mind. She was going to break up with Tom Blake!
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