Kids by Christmas

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Lurking inside his dark living room, watching Sophia do a pirouette on the wet lawn before she and Suzanne disappeared into their house, he faced the fact that they were doing just fine without him.

  And he’d never felt lonelier, despite all his solitary years.

  Why it hit him so hard that night, he couldn’t have said. All he knew was he sat in his chair in the dark living room without bothering to turn on a television he wouldn’t watch anyway, and thought, You stupid SOB. You had it all, and you threw it away.

  It was too little, too late, but he rested his elbows on his knees, bent his head and tried to figure out what had been going on in his head. He was a man who was happy planting bulbs and waiting months for them to send their first green shoots above the soil. He’d spent days sanding Sophia’s dresser, watching the grain emerge, never once wanting to hurry, call it good enough and slap on stain.

  Then, the first time in his life he’d really fallen in love, and he’d had no patience at all. Knowing Suzanne was wary of men, knowing why, had he really expected her to fling herself into his arms that day and cry, “Yes! Yes! I love you.”

  Were those few words that important anyway, compared to what he could have?

  Frowning, bothered by where he was going with this, Tom realized that, almost from the minute he’d kissed Suzanne, he’d felt…edgy.

  He’d spent weeks proving to Suzanne what a good guy he was, how different from her ex, then he’d resented being called nice. Instead of flexing his muscles to impress the girl, he’d played indispensable family man. Then he’d hated the idea that she wanted him because he would be a reliable breadwinner and responsible, affectionate father. Every step of the way, he’d tried to avoid scaring her. He’d been careful not to come on too strong, to keep their kisses gentle, careful never to imply that he would rather spend time alone with her. Then, when she saw him as advertised, he’d panicked.

  He sat up straight and thought with dawning surprise, Panic. Yeah, that was it. He’d been scared. Scared she didn’t love him. Scared that what was happening between them wasn’t as good as it felt. He didn’t believe in anything that good.

  Aloud, to his empty house, Tom said, “I was looking for an out.”

  He was a coward, he thought in shock. In love with her, and sure that someday, no matter what, she wouldn’t love him. So he’d make her tell him now that she didn’t, when he thought he could still walk away.

  And walk he had, which was why he’d been reduced to stealing glimpses of the family that could have been his.

  So you’re scared. And this, he cocked his head, as if to listen to the silence, yeah, this is so much better than what you remember when you were a kid.

  Big question: did he have the guts to risk really getting hurt?

  SUZANNE HAD HELPED SOPHIA PUT her favorite photo of her mother in the white ceramic frame she’d chosen, but they never had sat down to go through all the pictures. It seemed they were always too busy. Dinner, homework, housecleaning, bill paying. Start all over.

  After dinner Friday night, with Jack not home, Suzanne said, “I’d love to look at all your pictures if you want to show them to me.”

  Sophia, who had been trying to decide aloud which videos to rent tomorrow for the big sleepover, said, “Really? You mean, now?”

  “Sure, now. But only if you want to.”

  “Okay.”

  Sophia went and got the shoe box from her closet and set it on the kitchen table. They sat down side-by-side, and she started pulling out pictures.

  “They’re not in order. See? This is my kindergarten picture.” She frowned. “Or maybe first grade.”

  Delighted, Suzanne took it. Sophia had been a formidable-looking little girl even then, with a gap-toothed smile that didn’t appear altogether happy. Somebody had no doubt urged her to smile, so she’d done it, but she hadn’t wanted to. Her eyes had been as vivid then, her dark hair done inexpertly in two pigtails that stuck out.

  “You were so cute.”

  “It was hard to talk. That made me mad.”

  Of course it had. Poor Sophia, always combative, even as a little girl.

  There were other grade-school pictures, both of her and of Jack. Most of the snapshots that included their mother had been taken when the kids were smaller, before the multiple sclerosis had stolen her ability to hold up her own head.

  It was true that Jack looked more like her than Sophia did. She had a timid gaze, as if she didn’t expect very much out of life. That made Suzanne unbearably sad, because she hadn’t gotten much. Worse, she’d had to see how little she could give to her children.

  Even further back, a few included their father. There was one, snapped on a beach outing, that Suzanne held for a long time. He had Sophia, perhaps three, on his shoulders. With his head tipped back, he was laughing up at her and her down at him. Her fingers, still plump, gripped handfuls of his hair. His eyes blazed as blue as hers, and his hair was as dark. More importantly, he radiated a defiance, a daredevil quality, that his daughter had gotten in spades.

  Could he have swung her onto his shoulders and met her laugh with one of his own if he hadn’t loved her at all?

  “Sometimes I wish I remembered him,” Sophia said, “but then I’m glad I don’t. ’Cause he didn’t want us anyway.”

  “Do you know, I’m trying to be furious, because he hurt you. But mostly, I feel awfully sorry for him.”

  Sophia tilted her face up. “Really?”

  “Think of everything he’s missed in your lives. Everything he will miss. Doesn’t that seem a little sad to you?”

  “I don’t know if we’re that great.”

  Suzanne’s heart came close to breaking. Fiercely, she said, “Not that great? You two are fabulous. You’re wonderful, funny, smart, loving kids. You’re going to be the next Lindsay Lohan, remember? How’s that not great?”

  Her shoulders straightened. “Yeah, if I get real rich and famous, he’ll be sorry, won’t he?”

  Suzanne gave her a squeeze and a kiss that hit the vicinity of her ear. “I think that someday he’ll be sorry no matter what you end up doing.”

  “Oh.” Sophia gave a watery sniff. “Jack asked me if he thought Mom would mind if he called you Mom, too.”

  Now her eyes burned. “What did you say?”

  “I said I thought it would be okay. Because…well, you pretty much are mom now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I am. But I don’t actually mind whatever you want to call me.”

  “Dummy.”

  She laughed and gave her daughter a gentle shake. “Okay, not anything.”

  Sophia giggled. “How about Mom Two?”

  Suzanne wrinkled her nose.

  “Mom S.? ’Cause that’s what teachers do in class, you know. We have two Chads this year, so one is Chad B. and one is Chad O.”

  “Not, bad, but a little awkward.”

  “I’ll think of something,” Sophia said with a decisive nod. Then she turned her clear, all-seeing eyes on Suzanne. “How come you’re not smooching Tom anymore?”

  “I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Course I noticed. I’m not stupid.”

  “I never thought you were.” She hesitated. “We’re both supposed to be thinking. Deciding whether we really love each other.”

  Sophia’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “’Cause… He has this moony look every time he sees you, and you always start smiling the minute you see him. Even if I don’t see him, I know he’s there ’cause it’s like a light switch.”

  “Really?” She sounded pathetic, asking for reassurance from a ten-year-old.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “I knew I was happy when Tom was with us.”

  “Well, duh. Why were you happy?”

  “Because…” Not because he was nice. She knew lots of nice people. She thought she’d even dated a few of them. Ben Whatever His Name Was, the contractor who’d flirt
ed with her every time he’d come into the escrow office until he’d finally asked her out. He’d told her about his big family, a divorce he hadn’t wanted and how much he missed his kids, about the house he wanted to build. And she’d felt…zip. She hadn’t blinked on, as if someone had flipped a light switch.

  “Because…” she tried again. Not because Tom would be a great father, although she could never love anyone who wouldn’t be. But she could be a single parent, and a good one. She really believed that, or she never would have applied to adopt, never would have had the courage to bring Sophia and Jack home. And they were doing just fine, weren’t they, whether Tom was here or not.

  And, no, she hadn’t been happy just because she was attracted to him. Because she’d glowed the day at the grocery store as much as she did when he took her in his arms.

  “I guess,” she said, feeling like an idiot, “because I was falling in love with him.”

  “Well, duh,” Sophia said again. As if it were settled, she began to put her photos back in the shoe box. “I should put these in the album, shouldn’t I?”

  “It’s fun to do.”

  “Can I see your mom and dad now?”

  When Suzanne got out her photo album, Sophia flipped through exclaiming how Gary looked exactly like their father, and Suzanne exactly like their mom. “Wow,” she kept saying.

  Then they watched a movie together, Sophia leaning against Suzanne on the sofa and giggling and snatching handfuls of the popcorn they’d made even after Suzanne told her it was going to make her sick.

  Just like that, Suzanne remembered her dream.

  Her, sitting on the sofa. A little girl who leaned against her trustingly. Knitting lessons. Giggles.

  She had thought she needed to let the dream go for a more difficult yet satisfying reality.

  How funny, she thought with wonder, that she’d ended up with both.

  This was all she’d ever wanted. Except now…now she wanted more. Tom wandering into the living room, shaking his head over the chick movie they were watching, teasing them, maybe going out to the garage to work on a project. And she would be content with Sophia’s company, knowing that later she’d have Tom’s, too. In bed, he would take her in his arms, and they would join with elemental joy and love.

  Why, she wondered, aching, hadn’t she seen what a ten-year-old had so easily she had to say, Well, duh?

  Had the pause been too long now, once and forever, or could she still say, “I love you”?

  SUNDAY, JACK KNOCKED on Tom’s door to ask if they could have a bike-riding lesson. He chattered the whole time they opened the garage door and wheeled the bike out.

  “I went to a birthday party Friday night. It was a sleepover,” he confided, “only I didn’t stay. Suzanne came and got me right when Zane’s mom had everyone roll out their sleeping bags.”

  “That was smart.”

  “Only, guess what? I didn’t wet my bed after I got home. So I guess I coulda stayed.” He marveled at the idea. “A couple of the other guys had to go home, too, though. So maybe they wet the bed, too.”

  “Or maybe they’re scared to be away from their moms and dads all night.”

  “Yeah! Maybe.”

  From the moment Jack slung his leg over the bike and began to pedal, Tom had a feeling this was going to be the day.

  “You’re doing great!” he encouraged. “That’s it, that’s it. Can you feel how you’re balancing?”

  “Yeah!” Jack yelled.

  Running behind, Tom eased his hand up. Jack kept going.

  “I’m going to let go, but I’ll be right behind you.”

  The boy let out a huff of determination. “Okay.”

  Tom let go altogether and straightened. Jack pedaled on, straight and true.

  “I’m doing it!” he crowed. “Look at me!”

  “That’s great. Okay, we’re to the end of the block. Turn gently. Turn… No, not so sharp.” He winced as Jack crashed down.

  But he untangled himself and sprang to his feet. “I did it! I did it!”

  “Yeah, you did.” Tom couldn’t stop grinning as they gave each other high fives. “But we’ve got to work on those turns.”

  “Can we show Suzanne?”

  “We sure can. Why don’t you ride back?”

  Jack righted the bike and climbed back on. Tom held back and let him wobble for a moment, pedal harder and take off down the street. He even managed to stop at his own driveway and put his feet down before he could fall. Then he dropped the bike and tore up to the house.

  Suzanne and Sophia both came out to see. In jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair covered with a bandanna, Suzanne had a smudge of dust on her cheek that Tom ached to wipe off.

  “Okay,” Tom murmured to the boy. “Aim toward the far side of the street.” He pointed. “Then turn the handlebars real slowly. Make a gentle, wide turn. You can do it.”

  Jack sucked in a breath. “Watch,” he ordered everybody.

  Tom stayed behind.

  Jack not only pedaled to the end of the block, he turned like an expert and coasted back with a huge grin on his face. “I’m doing it! I’m doing it!”

  Sophia rolled her eyes, but said, “Cool,” to her brother.

  Suzanne enveloped Jack in a gigantic hug. “You’re amazing.” Then she turned her radiant smile on Tom. “And you’re an amazing teacher. Thank you so much.”

  “Yeah. Thanks!” Jack agreed. “Can I keep riding?”

  “Just so you know to look really carefully before you start out,” she cautioned. “And get to the side of the street if a car comes by.”

  “I know all that. Tom told me.” He hopped on, looked with exaggerated care each way, then took off.

  Watching him, Suzanne said, “Wow. I guess if you get it, you get it.”

  “And never forget it,” Tom agreed.

  “That’s true. I haven’t been on a bike in…oh, years, but I could ride one without giving it a second thought.”

  “Can Tom come to dinner tonight?” Sophia asked.

  He opened his mouth to politely decline, but Suzanne looked at him, her expression open and friendly. “Will you? I’m making spaghetti. We’d love to have you.”

  God. He saw suddenly that, if she wouldn’t accept his apologies, he was going to have to move. He couldn’t stay here on the fringes of their lives. The day Suzanne brought home another man, it would rip his heart out.

  “Thanks.” His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “That would be great.”

  “Wonderful. Say, five-thirty? I’d better get back in. I’ve got Sophia helping with housework today.” But first she cheered when Jack rode by, still grinning.

  Five-thirty. He went back in and thought, What in hell am I going to do until then?

  He ended up going grocery shopping, but was sorry he’d chosen Fred Meyer when every aisle made him think about Suzanne. He stopped by the used furniture store up on Highway 99 and found a great bookcase for Jack’s room, only three shelves high but wide and deep. It needed refinishing, but it was solid. Maybe maple. He bought it, hoping Suzanne wouldn’t think he was overstepping.

  He changed clothes before he went over to their house at five-thirty on the nose. Sophia answered the door.

  “Momess said to come back to the kitchen.”

  He raised his brows.

  “I’m trying it out. She’s, like, Mom with the initial S for Suzanne. You know?”

  “Ah. Mom S. Gotcha.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Well, it has a ring to it.”

  “I can’t think of anything else.”

  “Hmm.” He ran a hand over his chin. “What’s Mom in French. Maman? Chauvin is French, you know.”

  “That might be cool. Maman.” She tried it out. “Maybe.”

  The phone rang, and she wheeled, calling, “I’ll get it! It’s probably for me.”

  His brows were up again when he walked into the kitchen. “It’s probably for her?”

  Laughing, Suzann
e turned from the stove. “We’ve had big changes this week. Both kids now have best friends. The way they both go for the phone reminds me of short-track speed skating at the Olympics. They thunder down the hall, and whoever cuts the corner sharpest gets to the phone first. I’m afraid to answer it. I might go down.”

  His laugh felt good. “Anything I can do?”

  Draining spaghetti at the sink, she said, “Um… Will you check the garlic bread in the oven?”

  Both kids chattered at dinner, with every other word Zane this or Heather that. Heather’s mom had said it was okay if Sophia spent the night next weekend. Jack was going home with Zane tomorrow after school to play. Heather thought it would be cool to learn to knit. Zane had Rollerblades. Could Jack please, please get some?

  Suzanne presided with her usual grace and warmth, refereeing when they squabbled, handing out praise and quiet reminders that they not interrupt. All the time she made sure Tom felt included. By the third time she said, “I’ll bet Tom could tell you…”, he felt wise and important.

  When they finished eating, Suzanne said, “Why don’t we have dessert later? Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked him.

  “Later is good.” Sophia jumped up. “Come on, Jack. Let’s go play that game you got.”

  “That game? Oh. Yeah. We can go play it,” he agreed, and they hurriedly carried their dishes to the sink and left the kitchen.

  Tom stared after them. “What’s that about?”

  Also carrying dishes, Suzanne turned, cheeks pink. “Well, actually, you’ve been had. I made them promise to go away after dinner and not come back until I called them.”

  “Really.” His heart thudded. “Because?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, too.”

  She set down the dishes next to the sink. “Let’s forget the mess and go sit in the living room. I can clean up later.”

  In the living room she sat primly on the edge of the sofa, her fingers laced as if to keep her hands still. Her cheeks were brighter red now, but she met his gaze squarely when he sat beside her.

  “I guess I’ll just jump right in. Maybe you won’t want to stay for dessert then, but…”