“So you’ll blackmail me to get it.”
I have to be careful here. Mary warned me not to use certain words. “There is no blackmail. I’m just doing you the courtesy of letting you know what’s coming.”
Tears track down her cheeks. “What if we could work something out?” she pleads, reaching for me.
“What are you talking about?”
“What if I agree to let you see Ben?”
“I already told you, Amanda. This isn’t blackmail.”
“But what if I let you see him anyway?” she says, starting to cry.
“I’m not letting Lester Montague get away with anything else. He’s destroyed enough lives. I’m putting an end to it.” As I pause, debating my next words, my heart begins to soften at her tears, just like it always did when we were kids. Back then, I’d have done anything to stop her crying, even take blame for things I didn’t do so she wouldn’t be punished. This is different. “But I suppose some information that isn’t directly pertinent to Lester’s crimes might be able to be left out of the packet we give the attorney general.”
She gets to her feet and rushes toward me, grabbing my hands. “Thank you, Jace.”
I’m torn between compassion and disgust. Where was her mercy for me? I want to point that out, but this isn’t about our relationship, which is damaged beyond repair. It’s about my relationship with her son.
“I want a schedule,” I say. “Guaranteed times I can see him. I’d also like to bring him to Asheville for a weekend every few months.” I pause, letting her absorb my demands. “It would give you a break, Amanda. Lord knows you must need them.”
Surprise fills her eyes as she drops my hands.
She clearly didn’t expect me to care.
“What?” I ask, my sadness returning. “You’re the one who turned your back on me. Not the other way around. I was always there to help you. Always there to help Ben. But that…” My voice breaks, and I swallow before I say, “But that meant nothing to you after my arrest. You tossed me to the curb like I was garbage.”
“You stole a car, Jace. Lester’s car! You ruined his pride and joy.”
“Exactly,” I say softly. “Lester’s car.”
She folds her hands together in front of her. “I’m sorry.”
Is she? Maybe a little, but mostly because she got caught. She doesn’t care that she broke my heart. And definitely not that she broke Dad’s. He might not have been perfect, but he always provided for us and loved us, in his gruff way, even if he never said so.
“Can I see Ben today?” I ask. “I brought him a Christmas present. I realize he might not remember me. It’s been six years.”
She starts to say something—likely no—then thinks better of it. “He remembers you. He still talks about you.”
“He does?”
“Yeah. It was hard on him when you left. I just…” Her voice cracks. “I thought it might be easier for him if you just never came back. But I was wrong.” She grabs the envelope and starts down the stairs. “Come on. I hope you’re ready to spend several hours with him, because I doubt he’ll let you out of his sight for a while.”
Mary’s going to spend the day with Aidan. It’s time for her to tell him the truth about Glenn, or the most palatable version of it, and she knows it’s going to hurt. Although she also wants to tell him that she and I are together, we agreed it would be too much. I don’t want him to worry that I’ll turn my back on him like his father did or for him to resent Mary for “stealing” his friend. We’ll get there, though, and dinner tonight will be the first step. The original plan was to have Christmas Eve dinner with Mary’s sisters, but she thinks it’ll be too much for him on top of everything else. So the three of us will be eating together, not until six, though, and it’s only a two-hour drive. I can spend a few hours here and still make it in time. “I’m good with that.”
Ben’s on the sofa watching A Christmas Story when I walk through the front door behind Amanda. My stomach flip-flops at the sight of him. He’s grown so much, but it’s still unmistakably him. He has the same sweet expression and a mop of blond hair a couple of shades lighter than mine.
The furniture’s the same stuff that Amanda had when I left, and it was at least a decade old back then. There’s an old artificial Christmas tree in the corner with ornaments I recognize from when Amanda and I were kids. A few presents are scattered under it, and a stocking with Ben’s name is taped to the wall next to the tree. The house looks more sad than festive, much like the town. Any help Lester was giving her clearly dried up when the business did.
“Ben,” she says softly as she approaches him. “I brought someone to see you. An early Christmas present.”
He turns to look at her, and my heart thuds against my rib cage. How will he react? Belatedly, I realize I probably should have let Amanda have a few days to prepare him for my visit. Too late for that now.
He bolts off the sofa and lunges for me, wrapping his arms around me as he bursts into tears. “Uncle Jace. You came back,” he chokes out. “You didn’t forget me.”
My own tears clog my throat and sting my eyes as I tighten my arms around him. “I have never, ever forgotten you.”
We spend the next few minutes like that, both of us crying as we cling to each other, and I find some relief at the guilt in Amanda’s eyes.
“Who’s hungry for lunch?” she finally asks. “I need to feed y’all before I start baking.”
“Are you eating lunch with me, Uncle Jace?” Ben asks with pleading eyes.
“Yeah, buddy. I’d love to eat lunch with you.”
We eat lunch—cheese sandwiches (Ben’s new favorite) and chips—and then I give him his gift, a pair of highly rated noise-cancelling headphones. They’re not cheap, and I suspect Amanda has struggled to replace the pair he had before I left. She gives me a grateful look, then mouths thank you. I wanted to get him something more fun too, but I wasn’t sure what he would like. It’s been six years. So I decided to wait until I know more about what he likes now.
After he tests out the headphones, we take a long walk outside, and he tells me about school and his friends and his mom and anything and everything that pops into his head. I’m overwhelmingly grateful for this time with him and his openness to spending time with me after what he surely sees as my desertion.
“Why haven’t you come to see me before, Uncle Jace?” he finally asks, and frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken this long.
“Well,” I say carefully. It would be easy to throw Amanda under the bus, but she’s still his mother and he needs her. “I went to prison, remember? I told you right before I left.”
“Yeah. I remember. But you said you were gonna send me letters.”
“I did send you letters,” I say, my anger stirring. Amanda must have kept them from him. “I guess they got lost in the mail.”
“I wrote you letters too.”
A few of his letters had trickled in up until Mom passed away. She must have sent them behind Amanda’s back.
“Well, I’m back now,” I say, forcing a smile. “And we can talk on the phone and use FaceTime.”
“Are you moving back into your house?” he asks. “Somebody’s living in it.”
“No,” I say. “I had to let it go when I went to prison. I’m living in Asheville now, but I’ll come see you, and I’d love for you to visit me too. I have a cat.”
“Mom hates cats, but I like them.”
“I know,” I say with a laugh. “That’s why you can come visit me and meet Bingo. But I have to warn you, he’s not very cuddly.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon playing a video game until I have to leave. Ben gets upset when I say that I’m going, but to my surprise, Amanda tells him he’ll see me soon. Still, he doesn’t settle until she marks our next visit on the calendar and he and I plan out what we’ll do together.
She follows me out to my truck, her mouth twisted to the side. “I’m sorry,” she says, sounding much more sincere than she d
id earlier in the gazebo. “I forgot how good you are with him.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, unsure how to respond.
She waves a hand toward me. “You look great, Jace. I shouldn’t have sent you away, but I guess it worked out for you.”
“Yeah, I suppose it did.”
She scuffs the ground with one shoe. “I’m sorry I sold your stuff. I would have sold your truck too, except I needed you to sign the title.” She grimaces. “I shouldn’t have done that, but I was desperate. I didn’t have Mom’s social security anymore after she died.”
“I got new stuff.”
“Still, it was wrong.”
I give her a tight smile. “Water under the bridge.”
“Is it?” she asks, her eyes sincere.
“Honestly? It’s gonna take some time. You hurt me, Amanda. Especially taking away Ben. But I think we can work through it. We might never be close, but I think we can be civil. For Ben’s sake.”
Her eyes turn glassy. “I’d like that.”
“Good. Me too.” Then I get in my truck and give her a wave as I pull out of her driveway. As I make the drive back to Asheville, I can’t help thinking she’s right. Things did work out for me. Mary and I would never have met if Amanda hadn’t disowned me, but it took a lot of pain to get to this place.
The thought of spending Christmas with Mary and Aidan fills my heart with equal amounts of joy and peace. I’m ready to leave the pain of my past behind and look toward my bright future. One that includes the three people I love most in the world.
Chapter Thirty
Mary
“Mom, you didn’t need to say they’re all from Santa,” Aidan says, looking at the tags on the gifts beneath the tree and shuffling his feet in anticipation. He groans and shakes a red-wrapped gift. “You even said this one for Jace is from Santa. We know that’s a lie, right, Jace?”
Eyes twinkling, Jace grins at him. “My mom did it too, buddy, right up until I was a teenager. It’s something moms do because it’s fun to believe the stories.”
Aidan mulls this over. “I won’t be a teenager for another six years, six months, and four days. That’s a really long time. You don’t have to do it for that long, Mom. I know they’re from you.”
Still, he doesn’t seem upset by the ruse. In fact, I suspect part of him is pleased that he gets to keep a piece of what was in the midst of so much change.
Yesterday wasn’t what you’d call easy.
I made Aidan his favorite snack—which is currently a slice of Mrs. Rosa’s gingerbread, cut exactly half an inch thick (someday I’ll get him to like carrot sticks, but even though he’s been eating better over the last couple of weeks, he’s still picky)—and sat him down at the kitchen table to talk about Glenn. I didn’t tell him that Jace and I sent his father away by threatening to release the file Nicole had prepared for me. (Oh God, I’m going to be disbarred, aren’t I?) Nor did I tell him that Glenn turned white in the face and then, on the way out, blamed me for never satisfying him in the bedroom. I thought Jace was going to go after him then, despite knowing about the whole Glenn trying to set us up ploy, but I tugged him back, and then Dottie emerged from the hallway to tell us Aidan was asleep. The sight of her made Glenn lose even more color. “Oh, bother,” she said, smoothing her shock of bright hair. “The effect was immediate, which was very promising, but I was hoping it would knock him out for longer. Would you drink another cup, young man? I’ll put more valerian in it this time.” He ran out then, muttering something about crazy people and poisoned tea.
No, a son didn’t need to know those things about his father. So instead, I sat Aidan down and said, as firmly as I could, that we wouldn’t be seeing Glenn anymore because our lives had taken different paths—his was in Northern Virginia and ours was here in Asheville, with Maisie and Molly and Dottie. It didn’t mean there was anything wrong with us—it only meant he was wrong for us. Aidan could still see his grandparents if he wanted, as much as he wanted, but we were done with Glenn.
I meant that, but even so, I’m going to have a long conversation with Ruth in the near future.
The whole time I talked, my voice wavering, Aidan played with his fidget spinner or zipper, his movements tight and repetitive, intensifying when he asked me what would happen if I ever decided my life needed to go down a different path—something that made me choke back sobs as I assured him I would never, ever leave him. That our paths were braided together and always would be, because I would accept nothing less.
He didn’t break down, though. He didn’t call me a liar or tell me his father had come here to be with us. He didn’t tell me he wanted to see Glenn.
At the end, he just asked, in a small voice, “What about Jace?”
“What about him, honey?”
“You said our home was with Aunt Maisie and Aunt Molly and Dottie, but you didn’t say anything about Jace.” He paused, his face scrunching up. “Dottie told me that you two are in romantic love, like Maisie and Jack and Molly and Cal. She said she read it in your auras, but I don’t think auras are a real thing, Mom. I think they’re pretend, like Santa Claus and ankylosauruses and brontosauruses living in the same timeline.”
I could have been pissed, but then again, Dottie had helped us the previous night, even if her methods were questionable. Besides, part of me thought it best for him to know the truth. There’d been too many lies, honorably intended or not, and Aidan was someone who, at his core, valued things that were straightforward.
“Yes, Aidan, I love Jace too, and I’m hoping he can be a friend to both of us. Is that okay?”
He shot me a serious look before glancing off to the side, the zipper of his sweatshirt going up and down, up and down, and up—my nerves pulling taut with it. “I don’t know if that’s a great idea, Mom. You were friends with Dad, and that didn’t work out so well. I don’t want Jace to leave, and I don’t want you to leave either.”
“Aidan,” I said through another surge of emotion, “I will never, ever leave you willingly, and I know the same is true of Jace, no matter what happens between him and me. But I hope the three of us can be friends together. That’s what I want more than anything. Your dad and me…we haven’t been friends for a long time. I think maybe he’s not the kind of person who likes to have friends.”
He was quiet for a long time, long enough that I wondered whether his mind had moved on to something else or if he’d decided he was done with our talk. But then he said, “I think that’d be okay. I like it here, Mom. I like it here better than anywhere in the world. Our gray house wasn’t a nice place.”
His words surprised me for a moment, because that house was truthfully much nicer than this one. His room was twice as big, the lighting was better, and a tree in the backyard had a limb that resembled an ankylosaurus’s tail. But he’s not really talking about the house. He might not realize it, but he’s talking about the stifling atmosphere. About the way it always felt as if the other shoe was about to drop.
Aidan spent a lot of time in his cool-down zone after that, but he emerged later in the afternoon and asked me to help him wrap his presents. And when Jace came back last night, he said, “You’re home!” and it felt like something inside of me clicked. Jace is a part of our lives, and based on what he said last night, it sounds like Ben will be too.
Reconnecting with his nephew unleashed a new peace inside Jace, something I understand well as I sit around the Christmas tree with him and Aidan, Jace wearing a red Christmas sweater Mrs. Rosa bought him at a festival and Aidan still in his dinosaur pajamas. I’m in a festive outfit because, despite all the changes I’ve made, I couldn’t bear to come out in my pajamas.
I feel content. I feel…merry. Molly would say that’s a terrible dad joke, but I do feel merry in a way I haven’t experienced since I was a kid, when Maisie and Molly and I would wake our parents at six in the morning because we were too eager to open presents to wait.
The plans for Christmas dinner have changed, something th
at would have agitated me a couple of months ago—okay, it still agitates me a little, as it starts in a matter of hours, for goodness’ sake!—and apparently Cal and his father will now be hosting it at an address they’re going to send out a half hour before the meal. (Something tells me Nicole was their inspiration.) I suspect Maisie, who was supposed to host, was recruited by Cal in his surprise Molly plan, although she hasn’t given anything away.
Molly is being strangely silent about the whole thing too, which I take to mean that she figured the whole thing out months ago and is letting Cal have his moment. I’ll bet her bags are already packed.
“Can I open them?” Aidan asks, looking from me to Jace. “I think it’s going to take a pretty long time.”
I already have a bag out for the wrapping paper, so I nod. “Do you know which one you’re going to start with?”
He takes a very long perusal, studying present after present, and Jace and I exchange a fond look. More sweetness added to my cup.
Finally, Aidan lifts up something bulky and, apparently, heavy. I neither wrapped it nor put it under there, and since there is no Santa Claus, my gaze shifts to Jace, even as Aidan says, “I want to open this one, Mom! It’s for both of us, from Jace. I’d rather open his present first, because he’s a real person.”
I whirl on Jace. “I thought we weren’t doing gifts!” He’d insisted that hiring Dennis was the greatest gift I could have given him and he didn’t want anything else. I had listened. Mostly. I helped Aidan frame the ankylosaurus painting for him. Plus, I couldn’t resist getting him a few odds and ends from “Santa.”
He smiles at me. “I never agreed to that. Are you going to open it?”
There’s something a little nervous about him, and it’s so charming that I almost kiss him, but even though Aidan knows about us, mostly, we agreed to take things slowly around him. So I settle for taking Jace’s hand and squeezing it. “Do the honors, Aidan.”
Jingle Bell Hell (Bad Luck Club) Page 33