by Lynn Patrick
“Shh, it’s okay, honey,” she said assuringly, stroking his hair. “Whatever it is will be all right.”
“It won’t!” he protested, his words muffled by her comforting breast. “Nothing’s ever gonna be okay again and it’s my fault.”
“What is?”
“I tried to be responsible, but I couldn’t get them back together. I tried real hard, even when Mom said I couldn’t. I didn’t believe her ’cause everyone always says I’m real smart and I can do anything I want. But nothing worked like it was supposed to.”
His grandmother sat on one of the steps and pulled him down next to her. “That explanation was pretty jumbled, but I think I understand,” she said softly, pushing his hair off his forehead.
“I tried to get Mom to come back to New York, but she doesn’t want us anymore. She said she and Dad weren’t right for each other. They got married too young so they didn’t even know it for lots of years. She said she loved me and Gretta, but I don’t think so,” he said, trying to control a sob. “Why else would she leave us?”
“She does love you, Hank, you’ve got to believe that. Your mother just never had a chance to grow up before she married. But she finally gave herself that chance when she decided to see if she could make it on her own. I think she’ll be happier now. She let your father have custody of you and Gretta because she wanted the best for you, not because she didn’t love you.”
Hank sobbed harder. “But Dad’s gonna hate me when he figures out Melissa’s gone ’cause of me. I did really bad things, Gran.”
“I know you did, Hank.”
“Do you hate me?”
“Of course not. I love you and so does your father.”
“He won’t. He loves Melissa and he’s miserable without her. He doesn’t even laugh or anything anymore. Gretta cried last night ’cause I read her a bedtime story and she said she wanted Melissa to do it. And I was glad when she was gone, but I—I don’t h-hate her. She knows lots about computers and robots,” Hank choked out. Louise knew it was as close as he’d come to saying he, too, missed Melissa. She gave him an encouraging squeeze and he told her, “I heard what you said—I know it’s my fault. I’m sorry, Gran.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Hank. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
Hank hung his head and Louise could tell he dreaded another scene like this one. Sniffling, he told her, “I can’t tell Dad. Can you do it for me? Please, Gran?”
Louise lifted his chin and looked into the dark eyes so like those of her son. “Honey, sometimes I think your father’s wrong when he expects you to be so responsible, but this time we both know it’s up to you to do the right thing.”
Gulping hard, Hank nodded. “I just gotta figure out how to fix things.”
Because he really was extremely smart like everyone said, Louise was sure it wouldn’t take long for Hank to figure out exactly what he had to do.
Chapter Eleven
“And so the knight made a bargain with the dragon and the monster agreed not to bother the kingdom anymore. Needless to say, everyone was very happy. See the smiles on their faces?” Melissa wound up her library storytelling session by showing the attentive group of children the final colorful pictures in the large illustrated book.
“That’s it—the whole story?” asked Michael, a rather sophisticated boy of eight or nine. “It wasn’t very interesting.”
“I liked it,” said a small red-haired girl.
“Maybe you’ll be more interested by my story next week, Michael,” Melissa suggested. “I plan to tell a different kind each time. Does anyone have questions about ‘The Dragon and the Knight,’ or something they’d like to say?” As she led the ensuing discussion, her eyes were suddenly drawn by a movement near some shelves nearby. Had she seen a face peek out and then disappear? Was there a shy child lurking over there?
“What happened to the princess?” the red-haired girl asked, pointing to another picture in the book Melissa held.
Melissa started to answer when, to her amazement, she saw Hank shuffle out from behind the shelving units, leading Gretta by the hand. Eyes downcast, the boy looked very uncomfortable. Not knowing exactly what to do, Melissa repressed her thrill of emotion and merely waved hello to them. What were Rafe’s kids doing here?
“So what happened to the princess?” The little girl asked again.
“Hmm?” Trying to focus on what the child was saying, Melissa saw Hank and Gretta stop to watch and listen a short distance away. Glancing at the book in her hands, she was struck with sudden inspiration, deciding to embellish the knight and dragon story with a few personalized details of her own.
“What happened to her, Miss Ryan?”
“Well, Brenda,” she explained carefully, “the princess waited for the knight, who was also a prince, to get through making his bargain with the dragon. The prince was her one true love, and because of that naughty green monster, the prince and princess had been separated and brokenhearted for a long time.”
“Aw, that’s sad,” remarked Brenda.
“Yuk!” said Michael.
“But eventually the prince and princess got back together. And their love was so beautiful it lit up the kingdom, illuminating everything and everyone. Even the dragon was happier. There’s something we can learn from this story—everyone benefits from real love.”
Melissa looked directly at Gretta and Hank. The little girl smiled brightly at her, but Rafe’s son only looked sheepish and kept a tight hold on his sister’s hand. Did they realize she’d added details to the story just for them?
“Oh, boy!” exclaimed Brenda. “Did the prince and princess get married?”
“I’m sure they did.”
Michael took the book from Melissa to look at it. “There aren’t any pictures in here to show stuff like that happening.
“No, there aren’t. And you won’t find my entire story in the text of this book either. The chapter about the prince and princess is…in another volume.”
“Well, it’s too mushy for me!” declared Michael, rising from the table to walk away. “There’s probably way too much huggin’ and kissin’! I’m gonna go look at the superhero comic books.”
After Melissa had dismissed the group, passing out a number of books, Hank and Gretta approached her.
“Hello, Melissa,” said Hank, trying to adopt a solemn look to cover up his obvious embarrassment.
“Hi, Melissa!” Gretta cried. “I liked your story. I like kissing and stuff. Hank, let go of my hand. I want to hug her!”
Melissa felt tears form in her eyes as she clutched the child in a close embrace. She’d missed Gretta, especially the loving child she’d first known.
“We haven’t seen you in a long time,” said the little girl, looking up at her eagerly. “I missed you. I’m sorry about the mushrooms. They weren’t really poison, you know.”
“I know. I’ve missed you too,” Melissa said while gazing curiously at Hank over Gretta’s head. The boy blinked rapidly, then quickly stared down at the floor, rubbing one foot awkwardly against the other. The expression she’d caught in his eyes before he’d looked away had not seemed unfriendly. Could he be here to make amends? she wondered hopefully.
“Can’t you come and see us again?” asked Gretta.
Melissa didn’t know what to say. The children’s appearance had been so sudden. Before she could formulate some kind of answer, Hank broke in.
“Um, you aren’t married or anything yet, are you?” he asked in all seriousness, his face turning a brighter red.
Melissa tried not to smile. If Hank was trying to make up, she didn’t want to make it too difficult for him. “No, I’m not married yet, Hank.”
“Um, good. Then can you come over to our place for dinner tomorrow night?”
“It’s a celebration!” exclaimed Gretta, jumping up and down by Melissa’s side. “For Christmas!”
“Christmas? In March?”
“It’s special,” said Hank, finally managing to
look his father’s girlfriend in the face, his sincere dark eyes reminding her of Rafe. “We’re having a dinner with Dad and Gran since we didn’t get to celebrate together on the real Christmas Day this year.”
“We’re havin’ turkey and mashed potatoes and everything. Will you come, Melissa? Will you?” Gretta pleaded.
“What does your father say about this?” asked Melissa, still cautious despite her rising excitement. “Maybe I should call him first.”
“No!” Hank said hurriedly. “Everyone expects you already. And Dad can’t talk right now. He’s got laryngitis or something.”
“Lip-eye-tus!” Gretta cried.
Hank gave his sister a dirty look. “Yeah. He’s got that too. His lips are all swollen up.”
“Good heavens!” said Melissa. What a tale! Why weren’t they telling the truth? Were the kids trying to surprise their father? What would he do if she showed up on his doorstep? Would he take her in his arms and say he loved her like before? Her heart beat faster at the thought.
“Dad’s diseases aren’t serious,” Hank assured her. “And he’ll be able to eat by tomorrow night. Will you come? The dinner’s at eight o’clock.”
“You’re sure I’ll be welcome?” Melissa asked, referring as much to the son’s attitude toward her as to his father’s.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” said Hank, averting his eyes. Obviously dealing with another bout of discomfort, he thrust his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “Um, Melissa,” he began. “Everybody’s…sorry if you’re mad about anything.”
She smiled, realizing Hank was ashamed and sincerely trying to apologize for his former behavior and tricks. At the moment this was probably as close as he could get to being totally honest with her. She didn’t want to drive him away by being more direct, so she assured him, “If everybody’s truly sorry, I forgive them for…anything.”
“You do?” Hank was openly relieved. Facing Melissa’s bright smile, he even managed a lopsided grin.
“And I’ll be happy to come to dinner tomorrow,” she said. “At eight o’clock, right? We can all have a good time.”
“I have some new software you can look at,” Hank offered.
“Sounds like fun.” Then, wondering if he would pull away, Melissa reached out to give the boy a hug. She was more than gratified when he shyly hugged her in return.
After Hank and Gretta left, Melissa wandered around the children’s reading section, hardly knowing what she was doing. It really happened. Rafe’s kids had come to fetch her back to their home—and to their father? She’d thought about calling Rafe ever since their last meeting at Haldan-Northrop, giving various excuses to herself for not getting in touch with him. Now, with Hank’s apology, the biggest obstacle to their relationship looked like it could resolve itself. The children wanted to accept her. What had happened to change them? Had Rafe talked to them? Had his attitude toward her changed?
Feeling anticipation one moment and anxiety the next, Melissa walked through the maze of the library’s shelving stacks, her mind whirling with questions. Did she have the courage to face Rafe? What would she say? What would he do? Could she forgive him, even if he didn’t apologize? Stopping by the reading table, she picked up the knight and dragon fairy tale she’d read and embroidered on that day. Would her own romance have a similar happy ending?
“Yea!” Gretta yelled bounding up the steps after Hank.
Relaxing in his favorite chair and reading a magazine, Rafe looked up and smiled at the noise his children made as they ran up the stairs to their rooms. They were so excited about the celebration tonight, a belated, traditional Christmas dinner to take place on the untraditional night of March 22. Both kids had been buzzing about it for days.
He was still amazed Hank had approached him with the notion. He’d been further surprised when his son had assured him that he and Gretta didn’t expect any more presents from him. He’d said they only wanted to have a good time with their Dad and Gran, making up for missing Christmas Day together. What a mature, unselfish idea from a kid.
Could the heart-to-heart talks Rafe had had with his son be having their effect? Hank had listened carefully when his father had talked openly about the divorce and how both parents would continue to love their children. The boy had seemed to understand when Rafe explained that he and Nicole were likely to form other love relationships, possibly even remarry, and that neither parent would choose a new spouse who didn’t accept their kids.
He’d then added that Gretta and Hank had to be accepting too. The boy had said nothing to that statement, but had acted as though he were feeling guilty. Would guilt be enough punishment for what his son had done? Rafe wondered, now able to admit the truth. Planning to work up to more concrete talks, Rafe was trying his best to straighten the boy out.
Putting down his magazine, he listened to Louise bustle around in the kitchen and he inhaled the delightful aroma of roasting turkey. He was looking forward to the evening except for one thing—Melissa wouldn’t be there to celebrate with them. And, despite his son’s involvement in the matter, Rafe knew it was his own fault. He’d thought about calling her or dropping by her apartment many times in the past week, but had never found the nerve. Would she forgive him for the way he’d behaved toward her? For accusing her of unfairly criticizing his children when they’d played tricks on her? For telling her she was immature?
Rafe sighed. Even at the time, he’d known he was wrong. He just wouldn’t admit it, not even to Louise when she’d confronted him. He’d been the one who’d been immature, thinking only he could understand his children and the pain they’d all gone through because of the divorce. He’d been selfish too. He should have opened up and listened to Melissa long ago. In spite of his outward distrust of her lifestyle, he’d always sensed she was a warm, giving, and trustworthy person.
But he’d been too embarrassed to approach her since he’d seen her at Haldan-Northrop the week before. Later he’d known he’d overreacted. He was positive Melissa and her skinny pal were only friends. But had she really thought she and Rafe could just be friends? That was impossible, considering how he felt about her. He was ready to say he was sorry now. In fact, he was ready to tell her this minute!
And wouldn’t you know the kids would want their dinner tonight, the very time he’d found the courage for an apologetic trek over to Melissa’s place? Luckily, the dinner wouldn’t last all night. He could go over later. Anxiously, Rafe checked his watch and saw it was seven-thirty. Trying not to think about Melissa and get impatient, he rose from the chair and went to the kitchen to see how the dinner was proceeding. On the way he almost collided with Hank, who’d come running back down the stairs.
“We aren’t ready to eat yet, Gran,” his son said as Louise took a huge roasting pan out of the oven.
“The turkey will dry out if it cooks any longer.”
“Aw. Can’t we wait for another half hour? That’s not so long.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” Rafe asked, wondering at Hank’s unusual behavior.
“Yeah. I just think we should eat at eight o’clock.” Hank examined his digital watch. “That’s only twenty-two more minutes and six seconds away.” The boy paused, furrowing his brow. “Don’t you think we could digest the food better if we wait? Otherwise, Gretta might get a stomachache.”
Rafe exchanged curious looks with Louise. Why was the boy being so adamant about time, to the point of manufacturing silly excuses? Yet, there was a coiled expectancy about Hank, as if his son were excited, that made Rafe keep quiet.
Louise merely shrugged, commenting, “I guess it won’t hurt to wait a few minutes. Why don’t we put the bird on a platter and you can start carving? I’ll dish up the rest of the food. When we’re ready to sit it should be about eight o’clock anyway. Hank, you can finish setting the table in the other room with the cloth napkins and the crystal. We might as well be formal.”
Slicing white meat from the turkey and carefully removing the drumsticks, Rafe watched Hank go
about his task. The boy worked diligently, all the while repeatedly checking his watch. When he was finished with the table Hank paced nervously from room to room. Once the kid even went down to the studio, returning with a disgruntled expression on his face.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Rafe. “Are you expecting Santa Claus in March?”
The boy looked startled. “Uh, no Dad. I feel like wandering around, that’s all.”
“Hank has a lot of energy, Rafe,” said Louise. Did she have a knowing expression on her face? Was she in cahoots with Hank and were they planning a surprise?
At eight o’clock the family seated themselves and Rafe began passing around the heaping plates of food. Red and green candles burned in the middle of the table, surrounded by small evergreen branches, Christmas ornaments, and a few sprigs of real mistletoe Louise had managed to find somewhere.
“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Rafe said, holding his wineglass aloft for a toast. “Drink up your soda, kids. You’re the ones who wanted this celebration.”
Both Gretta and Hank complied, although the little girl was quiet and the boy definitely acted glum. Rafe was about to ask them what was wrong when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” Hank cried, almost knocking his plate off the table as he bolted from his chair.
“I’m gonna help!” shouted Gretta, running after him.
“What in the world are they up to?” Louise asked, echoing her son’s unspoken question.
“I’ll go see. Maybe they’re having something delivered,” he said, pushing back his chair.
It was obviously time for the surprise. Grinning to himself as he went to the stairway to peer down, Rafe heard excited whispers below. When he stuck his head farther over the railing, he saw Gretta doing a little dance around a vision in white who glowed almost luminescently in the partial dark of the stairwell. Then he suddenly heard a familiar, tinkling laugh.
He should have recognized her by that sound. Or by the way she glided toward him, lightly ascending the staircase, dressed in an antique beaded dress with wide bell-like sleeves.