Kids by Christmas

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “See, the pirates left behind the chest with their gold,” she said, holding it up. “And these other pirates won’t give it back. So they have to fight for it. Plus, there’s a skeleton. We’re making him like a ghost. He’s going to scare everybody.”

  “I see. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Dinner should be ready in half an hour or so.”

  All three heads came up then. “Can we open presents after dinner?” Sophia asked.

  “I’ll leave that up to Michael’s mom and dad. It’s their house.”

  “I’m sure they’ll let us,” he assured his new friends. “I’ll tell Dad he’s gotta let us.”

  Laughing, Suzanne went back downstairs. None of the men noticed her coming, and she paused for a moment with one hand on the bannister to see…well, whether Tom needed rescuing even if the kids didn’t.

  In interests and temperament, they were an odd conglomeration, these men. Julian St. John, Carrie’s adoptive father, was a dignified and highly respected cardiac surgeon, nearing retirement. Mark Kincaid was a former homicide detective and now private investigator. His father had been a police officer, too, and with both men it showed in their rugged builds and stance. Suzanne’s brother Gary, looked like the biker he was with his shaggy hair, but he was also a highly successful coffee entrepreneur. And then Tom, a former Army Ranger, now Boeing planner. She was glad to see him looking comfortable and nodding with the others at something Carrie’s adoptive dad was saying.

  Tom stood beside Mark, Carrie’s husband, and Suzanne realized that even though they didn’t actually look alike, there was something similar about them. They were both big men, broad-shouldered and somehow tough, but it was more than that. A way of standing, perhaps, a sense that neither was completely relaxed. Maybe a cop and a soldier weren’t that different?

  The doorbell rang. Who was missing? Suzanne wondered, mentally counting noses.

  “Must be Gwen,” Mark said, separating himself from the group, and Suzanne remembered that his partner at the P.I. agency had been invited today as well.

  Both Tom and Mark saw Suzanne as they turned toward the door. Tom’s brows rose in a silent question—How are the kids doing?—and she smiled and gave a thumbs-up. She felt a funny little lump in her chest when he gave a pleased nod. That exchange had felt so natural, as if they really were a couple and used to communicating without words.

  “Let me introduce you to Gwen,” Mark said.

  His partner proved to be a tall, gorgeous woman with short auburn hair and a mannish directness about her. Even her handshake was firm.

  “Suzanne. Good to meet you. Mark was right, you do look like Carrie.”

  “She looks like me. I was around first,” she said, smiling.

  “Yeah, goes without saying. We big sisters have to stand up for ourselves.”

  They both laughed.

  “Isn’t your family local?”

  “No, my parents retired to Houston of all places and my sister is married with umpteen kids in a Detroit suburb. I usually fly back, but this year two of them have chicken pox, which I haven’t had. Seemed like staying away was the better part of valor.”

  “Coward,” Mark taunted.

  “Have you had chicken pox?”

  “Ruined my sixth birthday party.”

  “And I don’t want it to ruin my thirty-fifth.” She appraised the men in the living room. “Thanks for having me, everyone.”

  Mark made introductions, then escorted her to the kitchen for round two.

  Clearly alarmed by the talk of weddings and florists and photographers, Gwen edged toward the kitchen door as soon as manners allowed. A woman who’d succeeded as a cop and then P.I., she must feel more comfortable with men.

  Not more than a minute after she’d rejoined the men in the living room, Suzanne heard them all laugh and felt a tiny pang of something that was horribly uncomfortable. Would Tom be attracted to Gwen? He was one of the few men who topped her near six feet, and with his years in Army special operations, he and she would have quite a bit in common.

  Suzanne was saved from a ridiculous attack of jealousy by Carrie’s announcement that it was time to carry food to the table. Suzanne took rolls that had been heating in the microwave, put them in a basket on the table and then went to call the kids down. Everyone gathered, and she was amazed to see that somehow her sister and brother-in-law had lengthened their table and found enough chairs for everyone to eat together. No segregated adult and children’s tables in this home.

  “She’s going to be so beautiful in a few years,” Carrie murmured in Suzanne’s ear when Sophia and the two boys reappeared. “Those eyes.”

  “You ought to see how fiercely she can stare out of them,” Suzanne said with a small laugh. “And yes, it’s occurred to me that boys are going to be after her in no time. I mean, she’s already…” She hesitated.

  “Voluptuous? Or on her way to being? Yep. Chain her in her bedroom now.”

  Suzanne grimaced at her sister. “Oh, thanks.”

  Sophia and Jack hung back shyly until Michael, supremely confident, said, “You can sit with me. Okay?”

  They both flashed glances at Suzanne, who smiled and nodded, choosing a seat herself at their end of the table, across from Mark’s dad who’d chosen to sit near his grandson. She was surprised and pleased when Tom moved around the table as if it was a given that he would sit beside her.

  “Sorry to abandon you,” she murmured.

  He lifted his brows in seeming surprise. “I’ve enjoyed myself.”

  Once they were all seated, Carrie shushed everybody. “This is a special occasion, and I’m going to ask everybody to hold hands while we give thanks for this chance for our entire family, past and present, to be together.”

  Just like that, Suzanne’s vision was blurred by tears. This was an extraordinary gathering—beginning with the three siblings reunited after having lost each other for twenty-six years, and one of the sets of adoptive parents, plus a new husband, a fiancée, and now Suzanne’s children who would also be Chauvins.

  She took Sophia’s smaller hand in hers, gave a quick squeeze, and felt her other hand in turn be engulfed in Tom’s large, reassuring grip.

  “We all know this gathering would never have been possible were it not for Suzanne’s determination, persistence and love,” Carrie continued, smiling down the table at her sister. “She made a vow to reunite us, and she did. It’s thanks to her that we not only found each other, but I found Mark and Gary found Rebecca. Two more families within the family, and another in the making now that Sophia and Jack have joined us. We’ve lost nothing—” she turned the smile to her adoptive parents “—and gained so much. I feel blessed today.”

  There were murmurs from around the table, although Suzanne couldn’t make out faces. Tom’s hand tightened, as though he too was moved by Carrie’s quiet words, and Suzanne was grateful for the strength of his grip.

  Carrie then said a more conventional if still heartfelt grace, and they all finished with “Amen.”

  Suzanne was sorry to let go of her new daughter’s hand, and of Tom’s. She dried tears with her napkin and hid new ones behind it, aware that Tom had laid his hand on her back and rubbed gently even as he asked Dr. St. John a question as if to deflect attention from her.

  When she finally took a deep breath and laid her napkin on her lap, Tom smiled at her. “You have quite a family here.”

  “I do, don’t I?”

  “I’d say you’re lucky, but luck doesn’t have much to do with it. Carrie’s right. You wouldn’t be together today if not for you.”

  Her eyes filled, and she sniffed. “You’re making me cry again.”

  He laughed, patted her back and removed his hand. Somehow that laugh, a low, sympathetic rumble, restored her poise, and she was able to accept the plate of sliced turkey that Sophia passed to her.

  She participated in conversation during dinner, but later couldn’t have repeated a word of it. She kept looking at faces—Gary’s, relaxed and
amused, a glint in his dark eyes when his gaze turned to Rebecca; Carrie’s, so like her own and yet reflecting a personality so different; the pride on Carrie’s adoptive mother’s. A smile here, a private glance there, a laugh, a way Gary and Carrie both had of turning their heads in response to a question.

  With sudden, throat-tightening emotion, Suzanne thought of her parents. Can you see us? she asked them. We’re back together, the way we always should have been. And you must have done something right, because we love each other despite the years apart. We fit. Oh, if you can’t see us, I wish you could. Gary looks so much like you, Dad. You’d be proud of the man he’s become. And Mom, I only hope I can make Jack and Sophia feel as loved as I felt.

  “You okay?” Tom murmured in her ear, voice rich with concern.

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes. I’m just happy.”

  “As you should be. Although, you might want to know that a rather large portion of Jack’s dinner is making its way under the table since Michael slipped away to open a door. I’d swear that he had company when he came back.”

  She turned her head to see Jack palm a clump of the hated broccoli and ease his hand down to his lap and then to his side.

  Did Daisy like broccoli? Or, after dinner, would they find a discarded heap under the table if they lifted the cloth and peeked? A bubble of laughter caught in her throat, and she leaned closer to Tom.

  “That would be Daisy, the world’s sweetest and most spoiled mongrel.”

  “He’s going to want a dog more than ever now,” Tom observed.

  He was, wasn’t he? One more thing to think about.

  Everyone moved to the living room to open presents. They’d all exchanged separately within their smaller family units, but still it took ages, with them oohing and aahing over each others’ gifts as they were opened.

  It seemed everyone had brought Jack and Sophia gifts as well as Michael, including Carrie’s adoptive parents, Mark’s dad and Rebecca’s mom. Even Gwen Mayer had brought small presents for each child. Most were fun things, but Carrie’s mother gave both kids gorgeous, expensive parkas, and Rebecca’s mother gave them winter boots.

  “You did tell me sizes,” Carrie whispered, “and I passed them on. I hope everything fits.”

  Toward the end, Gary slipped Suzanne an envelope. “This is to help you out. No argument this time.” He moved away before she could open it.

  When she did, she stared, stunned, at the check included in the card. The zeros on it blurred and persisted in moving around, but she finally understood that her brother had just given her ten thousand dollars.

  Mouth hanging open, she turned her head to seek him out, but the moment their eyes met, he shook his head even though a smile played around his mouth.

  Darn it, she wanted to cry again. She’d bought so much for the kids, and they still needed so much. Of course, Rebecca had undoubtedly known the state they’d be in; she had helped place many children from similar circumstances.

  And Gary had offered before, while he’d been staying with Suzanne earlier in the fall. She’d turned him down, hurting his feelings, she knew, but through Rebecca she’d sent him the message that she’d accept help if he offered again. The truth was, he could afford to give checks of this size. She still teased him by calling him a coffee “mogul,” but it was true. After running away from home at sixteen, he’d worked as a mechanic until someone had asked him to build them a coffee roaster. Ultimately, he’d gone into business with one coffee shop in Santa Fe. At last count, he owned twelve or thirteen, she thought, in New Mexico and now Arizona. And he sold his roast in distinctive packaging to major grocery chains. He owned a beautiful home in Santa Fe, but otherwise his wants had been few. As he’d put it, shrugging carelessly, “The money’s just piling up.”

  And he, of all of them, knew what it felt like to be in the foster system, to be viewed and rejected by prospective adoptive parents, to go to a new home, full of hope. His placement had been unhappy. His adoptive mother had left when he was a young teen, never even writing or calling, and his adoptive father had been abusive.

  He hadn’t said much, because Gary never did, but Suzanne knew he saw the symbolism in her willingness to take Sophia and Jack so they could stay together. She was doing it partly for him, even though it was too late, and he wanted to help make it work.

  She couldn’t say no to this check. She’d spend it on the kids, and be grateful.

  Thank you, she mouthed to him, and he grinned and dipped his head.

  Leaving the wrapping paper in heaps in the living room, everyone accepted coffee, tea or milk, handfuls of cookies or servings of pie. Conversations were quiet, contented; Daisy wandered despite Mark’s rolled eyes and collected offerings and scratches under her silky chin. Tom stayed close to Suzanne now.

  Eventually, the kids bundled up in their new coats and gathered their hoard. Suzanne accepted packages of leftover turkey and trimmings, empty and washed pie pans and cookie plates, and she hugged everyone and tearfully thanked them.

  “Merry Christmas!” followed them out into the crisp night, made bright by stars and by the lights on every house up and down the street.

  Jack heaved a happy sigh. “That was the best Christmas ever!”

  Suzanne felt the same, and Tom, laden with a Navajo rug Gary and Rebecca had given her and a rather large, remote-controlled car that someone had given Jack, said quietly, “It just might have been.”

  But Sophia stayed silent, and Suzanne felt apprehension stir. Although any child would enjoy the deluge of presents, she had to be thinking about her mother, mourning the loss of what had been, and wondering whether Suzanne would really want to keep her forever. They had a long road to travel, she knew they did, but they’d made a good beginning, hadn’t they? What was it Tom had said Christmas was? A day for miraculous beginnings?

  Taking a deep breath of sharp, wintry air, she thought, I won’t let worry ruin today. How could she? Not when she’d dreamed about this exact Christmas since she was six years old, and had seen her brother and sister taken away.

  Since she’d become an adult, part of that dream had always been a man beside her. Her chest heavy with the emotions of the day, she was glad that today it was Tom.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHRISTMAS NIGHT, SUZANNE turned out the lights and started down the hall to bed. She was just passing Sophia’s closed door when she heard a stifled sound from behind it. She tensed. The kids had gone to bed together—in Jack’s room.

  But another soft gasp came, and another. No, not a gasp. A sob. Sophia must have slipped away as soon as her brother had fallen asleep, and was now crying in her own bed.

  Suzanne hesitated. Should she respect Sophia’s privacy? She had a right to mourn her mother. In fact, it was healthy for her to do so. Suzanne had sensed this coming.

  But there was no way she could keep walking down the hall, brush her teeth and go to bed, leaving her ten-year-old adoptive-daughter-to-be sobbing her heart out alone.

  Without second-guessing herself, Suzanne knocked lightly. When there was no answer, she opened the door. “Sophia?” she murmured. “Honey, are you okay?”

  “Go away!” came a fierce whisper from the bed.

  Standing in the half-open doorway, the light streaming around her, Suzanne said softly, “Sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to when you feel sad. Especially when you’re missing someone. It’s easier to remember out loud. That person—your mom—seems more real and less like somebody you’ve only imagined.”

  She paused, and when there was no response, took that as encouragement. She made her way into the dark room, stopping beside the bed. “All of this is lots easier for Jack, isn’t it? Did it make you mad today, because he seemed so happy? As if he didn’t remember your mom at all?”

  “Yes!” This acknowledgment bubbled with the anger so readily apparent whenever Sophia lashed out at her brother.

  Suzanne sat on the edge of the bed, making no attempt to touch the girl. “
He’s struggling in his own way, you know. His bed-wetting…”

  “He did that even when Mom was alive.” Her voice was choked.

  “But you both knew she was slipping away, didn’t you? That must have been terrifying.”

  Silence.

  “And his being afraid to go to bed alone…”

  “He’s just scared of the dark!”

  “That’s right. But he doesn’t feel safe, because he know’s the world isn’t completely safe. You and he will know that forever.”

  “Because you do?”

  Suzanne nodded, then wasn’t sure Sophia could see her. “Yes. It…has an effect. It makes you afraid to take risks sometimes, and other times to cling when you should let go.” Would a child her age understand what Suzanne was talking about? she wondered. “Like me. I stayed married too long to a man who didn’t treat me very well because…oh, I guess because the known was less scary than the unknown.”

  “So we’re gonna be sad forever?”

  She let herself laugh a little. “No, of course not. Haven’t you been happy some of the time since your mom died? Maybe even last night, and today?”

  “I shouldn’t have been!” Sophia wailed. “Mom just died!”

  “Oh, honey.” This time, Suzanne did reach out, laying her hand on the bed-covered lump that was a grief-stricken child. “I know she’d want…”

  The lump lurched and flipped away from her touch. “It’s your fault!”

  Suzanne froze, hand outstretched. “What?”

  Voice laced with venom, Sophia cried, “You’re trying to make us forget her, aren’t you? Like…like she never was. Suddenly you’re our mom. Only you’re not!”

  She felt as if her rib cage were being crushed. Her hand fell to her side. “You think that’s why I gave you presents? To make you forget your mother?”

  “Mommy couldn’t buy us stuff, or make nice meals! But just ’cause you can doesn’t make you better.”

  It was all Suzanne could do to squeeze out words. “I never thought I was better.”