April woke, squinting at the morning sun, her head full of cotton.
Sleep deprivation was the name of the game when it came to parenting Marcus. How he functioned on so little rest was a mystery to her. Whenever he slept, she did too, with one eye open and an ear cocked to his room. With his inability to recognize danger, a shard of glass might seem like a fun toy, while a plush bunny could invoke cries of fear.
Truth be told, something else had caused her restless night—Jimmy’s crack about hugging Marcus. It proved he hadn’t read the pamphlets. Yes, she knew he’d been busy. She got that. And appreciated all the work he’d done for her. But how long did it take to read a brochure? Ten minutes? Moral support went a long way, and he’d seemed interested in learning more about autism, about cheering on her efforts. Had that only been lip service?
She threw on a coral top and a pair of brown jeans, while Bandit did figure eights around her ankles. The cat followed her down the hall where they both listened at her son’s door, hearing the noises he made. Not language but sounds, at least. When she’d first met him in her classroom, he was either silent or screaming. Nothing in between.
April entered Marcus’ room, and he made eye contact, filling her heart with so much love she thought it might burst. He kicked off his covers, his feet on top of the blankets. She lifted one foot, pressed her lips against the instep and blew. The giggles she got in return were worth the extra hours of sleep she’d missed. She lived for these moments.
“Shall we go downstairs, my darling? Get some breakfast?”
She selected an outfit for him. Expecting him to decide what to wear on his own would take hours. Too many choices overwhelmed him.
April could relate. She’d experienced her own brand of existential angst regarding fashion before she’d simplified her wardrobe for the move back to Carol Falls. She currently had three rules for each garment in her closet—it had to fit, it had to match with at least four other pieces she owned and it had to wash up nicely. No ironing involved.
As she led Marcus down the stairs, the aroma of coffee wafted past her nose, a spicy Christmas blend she’d purchased especially for the season. At the bottom step, she headed for the kitchen but Marcus pulled the other way, stopping to gawk out the living room window. A shock in itself. He never bothered much with windows, or whatever was on the other side of them.
Curious, she walked over and saw the thing that drew his attention—the Christmas tree. The pine was still on the porch outside but now its branches shimmered with decorations—gold and red balls, tin stars, a humungous heart ornament and, from the very top, a beautiful angel smiled down at them. Marcus pointed at the tree, his eyes wide. Amazingly, Jimmy had turned something that disturbed her son into an object that inspired awe.
She and Marcus ran to the kitchen to find the man behind it all and discovered another surprise. The floor was finished, the new vinyl tiles installed and the table set for the first meal of the day. Jimmy must have worked into the wee hours of the night, or rose early that morning to complete the job.
This was better than Christmas.
A flood of excitement spread through her tired limbs. Her fingers trembled with anticipation. With the improvement, she visualized others. She could knock down the wall separating the kitchen and dining room and put in a larger table to accommodate more children. And paint! She imagined the cabinets a perky lemon-lime, the doors and the trim a fern green, and accents of orchid and sweet pea to make it all pop. The boarding school took shape in her mind in a way it never had before. Thanks to Jimmy.
She forgave him on the spot.
The man was a godsend. Not to mention, easy on the eyes. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up falling in love with him all over again. Considering his presence already put her off balance, falling would be an easy next step.
Marcus inspected the new tiles, traipsing over every row. Apparently satisfied, he plunked himself down at the table. She gave him his usual orange and a few choice leftovers from the picnic, before knocking on Jimmy’s door. But there was no answer. She poured a cup of coffee, locking the scent into her lungs. And that first sip? Pure ambrosia. April consumed half the mug before registering the sound of running water—Jimmy showering in the downstairs bathroom.
That made her salivate more so than the coffee.
She’d never seen him naked. Bare-chested, yes. He often went shirtless that summer when he’d helped out on her grandfather’s maple syrup farm. The work arrangement effectively separated Jimmy and his brother and, since April’s grandfather sold most of his raw product to the Frosts, it served to keep the business in the family.
Chores done, she and Jimmy would find a secluded spot to kiss and cuddle, April skimming her hands over Jimmy’s tanned skin. A few times, they’d gone off on their bikes, cycling the distance to the nearby waterfall, the source for the town’s name and the river that ran through it. They’d dance in the fall’s spray, kissing the droplets off each other’s cheeks.
He’d never pressured her to do more.
She knew some boys who’d tell a girl anything to score a homerun. One of her classmates, Tiffany Morse, gave in, sacrificing her virginity, her reputation and her diploma. Poor Tiff dropped out of school at fifteen when she could no longer hide her baby bump under bulky sweaters.
As far as April knew, the father of the child never accepted responsibility. So unlike Jimmy. He’d always been a gentleman and wanted to get married before starting a family. He’d loved and respected her, and that’s why he’d been willing to wait.
She knew it hadn’t been easy for him. Naive as she’d been in the ways of lovemaking, it would have been impossible to ignore the physical proof of how much he’d wanted her. The fact he’d denied himself made her feel both desired and cherished. Their hands may have wandered, but their bodies remained clothed.
At least below the waist.
Now, she fantasized about what he’d look like coming out of the shower, the water dripping from his hair, his skin wet. She might have been a good girl in high school, but now that she was a woman—a woman with a very attractive boarder—it didn’t hurt to daydream a little.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the shower shut off, didn’t hear the bathroom door open. The next thing she knew, Jimmy stood in the hallway, still damp from the water’s spray and holding a tiny towel around his waist.
“Sorry. I didn’t know you were awake.”
Dear Lord, help her. The guy should have been Scottish, the way he could fill out his makeshift kilt. Were men supposed to have such shapely legs—muscular and toned? Could she be arrested for ogling? Distracted by his closeness and the sudden rush of awareness that engulfed her, she spilled coffee all over her new kitchen floor.
“Let me help you wipe that up.”
Was there any chance he’d use that teensy towel?
Bad idea. April forced herself to focus. “You’d better get dressed.” Quickly. Please. Before I jump you. “I’ll have this cleaned in a jiff.” Bandit was already doing his part, lapping it up.
Jimmy grinned and disappeared behind his bedroom door.
She grabbed a wad of paper towel. First, she wiped away the sweat that had popped up between her breasts and then mopped the floor, admiring Jimmy’s handiwork. He’d done a great job. At the rate he was going, he’d have her whole house renovated in a week, a notion that left her jutting out her bottom lip in a pout.
If she devised extra projects, would it entice him to stick around?
Before she could think of any, she heard an unfamiliar sound—a light tittering, followed by a true guffaw. She turned to find Marcus laughing, really laughing, like he’d heard a terrific joke.
“What is it, sweetie? What’s so funny?”
She followed his line of vision to the pantry door. When she opened it, she saw exactly what had him in stitches. She’d accidentally put the hot coffee pot on one of the shelves.
April had to laugh, too. A laugh filled with joy. Marcus had found humor in the moment—a huge breakthrough for him. It justified the expensive treatments and all the extra work she’d done with him in the classroom. She couldn’t have been more thrilled.
She ran to Jimmy’s room, burning to tell him the good news. Hand up, ready to knock, she froze. How could she explain the coffee pot incident without confessing the reason behind it?
That seeing him half-naked made her lose her mind.
James dressed on a high. Although he hadn’t meant for April to catch him running around in a towel, he was sure she’d been checking him out. And he’d never been quite so happy for a woman to give him the once-over.
Was she as attracted to him as he was to her?
He loved the way she sighed to herself when she was thinking, loved her gentle nature. Her feistiness, too. She was a champion for her boy, and James admired that kind of passion.
Yet...
He knew Marcus had social issues but, more than anything, it bothered James that the kid ignored him. It made him feel as insignificant as he had during his own childhood. Maybe that’s why he’d landed in trouble back then.
Nothing serious. Not compared with some of the antics teens got involved in these days. He was never into drugs. Never stole. Never destroyed property. He’d gotten into a few fist fights, defending himself when other boys called him stupid. Even though he suspected what they’d said was a fair assessment.
More than suspected. He’d hit them because they’d spoken the truth. He was stupid. Other kids easily stood up in front of the class and read aloud. James couldn’t. He’d start to sweat and his stomach would churn, while the words in front of him swirled.
Would any child he fathered wind up with the same problem? Would Holly?
It was time to find out.
He’d received a call from the UPS Store in Stowe that his parcel had arrived. When he purchased the online DNA kit, he’d watched a video that showed how to do the cheek swabs. He’d need one for himself and one for the baby. And, unless he wanted everyone in his family to know about his indiscretion, he’d have to find some time alone with Holly to obtain the sample.
If he were her father, he would, of course, take responsibility. But he prayed, with all his heart, he wasn’t.
There was something about Heather. Something that wasn’t quite right. Sharing a baby with her wasn’t going to be easy. While having a child with April...
That seemed like a dream come true.
By the time Jimmy made his ‘clothed’ appearance, April had Marcus bundled up and ready for some outdoor fun.
“Want to join us?” she asked, admiring how Jimmy’s long-sleeved tee hugged his shoulders. Fully dressed he was still a danger to her senses. Not only because of his good looks. She loved the way he smelled, even without cologne. Just the hint of bar soap on his skin was enough to make her pulse jump. And his hair, still damp from the shower, was thick, shiny and oh, so touchable.
She stroked Bandit’s back instead, his fur warm from sunning himself on the living room’s window ledge. “How about you, kitty-cat? Are you coming with us?”
His mewed response sounded very much like a ‘No’. He yawned, put his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
Jimmy threw on his winter wear and accompanied her and Marcus outside. As they passed the tree on the porch, Jimmy dragged it a foot closer to the door, catching her son’s attention. His expression wavered between interest and wonder.
“What’s with the tree, Jimmy? Looks great, by the way. Marcus thinks so, too.”
“I figure if I can get him used to it, while inching it closer every day, I can eventually move it back inside the house.”
A solid plan. “Good idea.”
“Oh, and I get what you were doing yesterday with the tantrum—using a deep compression hug as a comfort, while preventing him from hurting himself.”
So he’d read the pamphlets. He understood. “You deserve a hug for that. And for all the work you’ve done.” She slipped her arms around his waist.
It started as a simple thanks. It didn’t stay that way. Not once he returned her embrace. She’d almost forgotten how perfectly they fit together—her head resting on his chest, her body molding to his.
“Sorry I questioned you,” he said, his voice husky. “It wasn’t my place.”
She wished it was. That they could be partners again. As friends, as parents, as lovers. Did he feel the same? Yearn to rekindle what they’d felt for one another in the old days?
“I wrote to you, Jimmy. After my parents separated us. Didn’t you get my letter?”
His body tensed. “I didn’t read it, no.” He pulled away, holding her at arm’s length. “What did you write?”
Did it matter now? If he hadn’t received the note that meant he hadn’t rejected her. They were starting over with a clean slate.
“It’s not important anymore. I’m just glad you’re here.”
With Marcus holding one of her hands and Jimmy grasping the other, they trundled around to the side of the house to where she stored her son’s outside playthings.
“Want to build a fort? Or an igloo?” she asked her boys.
Jimmy dug through the snow and found the buried rope of Marcus’ toboggan. “How ’bout a ride? We can use this on that hill out back.”
She encouraged Marcus to have a seat on the sled. Jimmy pulled it along behind him, while she walked at his side, hand in hand again. “Marcus hasn’t actually made it down the hill. He jumps off every time.”
“Why don’t you ride with him then?” Jimmy suggested. “I’ll wait for you at the bottom.”
April agreed and, once they had the sled in position, she sat down behind her son. When Jimmy was in place, he blew on his bare hands and then waved, urging her on. April dug her heels into the snow and inched forward, bit by bit until the sled was at the apex of the slope. With a final push, the toboggan began its downward descent.
The wind whipped her cheeks, and the snow flew over her in a wave, sneaking past her collar and sending tingles down her back. Her laughter echoed through the maple trees, as they whisked by. It felt wonderful to act silly, to be a kid again.
Too soon, the ride slowed and came to a stop. April hopped off the toboggan and scooted around to the front of it so she could gauge her son’s reaction.
“Did you like that, Marcus?” The boy responded with a cautious smile. “I think he did.”
“Let’s try it again then, shall we?”
Together they walked back up the hill, Jimmy pulling Marcus on the sled. Once they reached the top, Jimmy brought the ride to its starting point and gestured to it, bowing slightly, as an old-fashioned courtier might.
“Your ride awaits you, mademoiselle.”
“Why don’t you go this time?”
Jimmy shot a glance at Marcus. “Will that be okay?”
“We’ll find out. Besides, I want to take a photo as he’s coming down the hill. Give me a moment to explain it to him.”
She helped her son off the toboggan and invited Jimmy to sit. “Marcus will need some time to get used to you there. He’s got touching issues. Especially with people he doesn’t know very well.”
“What can I do to help?”
“As little as possible, actually. Just stay quiet and still and give him his space. Hopefully, he’ll see everything’s okay and choose to join you.” April pulled her cell phone from her coat pocket and showed it to her son. “Mommy wants to take a picture of you on the sled with Jimmy. I’ll be right at the bottom of the hill waiting for you.”
Marcus was a visual kind of kid and used to her taking photos. In fact, on good days, he could be a bit of a ham in front of the camera. She snapped a few shots of Jimmy alone on the toboggan. With any luck, it would motivate her son to join in.
She high-stepped it through the snowdrifts, glancing back several times along the way to check how Marcus was coping. He watched her, his face tight. He circled the sled, looking at it, and Jimmy, and then at her.
At least he wasn’t screaming.
April waited at the bottom of the hill. She hit the zoom on her camera app and framed her picture. Now, all she needed was for her subject to cooperate.
He walked around the sled again, and then stared at the leafless trees. April was about to give up when Marcus stepped into the front of the toboggan and sat down. He didn’t appear terribly happy, but at least he was onboard.
Jimmy looked uncomfortable, too—his extra height folded on the short sled, his knees up by his shoulders, ready to jump off at any moment should her son protest.
Poor guy. She’d given him an impossible task. How the heck was he supposed to keep his distance from Marcus on a toboggan?
For both their sakes, April didn’t dawdle. “Ready,” she hollered.
Jimmy shuffled forward until the sled shot over the edge of the rise. Marcus’s mouth opened. He didn’t seem afraid. Mostly surprised.
April kept her index finger busy snapping shots. It appeared as if they were going faster—maybe from the compacted snow of the previous run, maybe from Jimmy’s extra weight.
“Watch out,” he called.
April looked over the phone to find them headed straight for her. She was about to leap out of their path when Jimmy leaned to one side, steering away from her, and then he bailed. He rolled once and ended up flat on his back, while Marcus and his toboggan came to a graceful stop at her side.
April couldn’t help but laugh at the vision of Jimmy splayed out on the ground.
“I don’t know what you think is so funny about a man making an angel,” he said, with a grin. He pushed his legs out and swept his arms through the snow.
“Nice cover story.” She reached around to grab the toboggan rope and found the ride empty. Marcus stood a few feet away from Jimmy. Watching.
April held her breath. Was her son forming a connection? Noticing Jimmy for the first time?
Neither adult said a word. Jimmy slowed his movements and, with care, stood and stepped away from his creation. They watched together, in awe, as Marcus bent down, touched the outline in the snow and then gazed up at the man who’d made the angel.
Jimmy beamed, looking as happy as April had ever seen him. As happy as when they’d said their wedding vows. At last, Marcus had acknowledged him, had actually made eye contact. Another huge advance.
A second later, her son picked up a twig. And another. He plunked his rear down in the snow and lined up the sticks, ignoring Jimmy and the angel, as if they didn’t exist.
Had she imagined the connection? Wanted it so badly she’d heaped more meaning on the moment than actually existed? If so, it was clear Jimmy had been fooled, too. The man looked like someone had slapped him, and a second memory from their wedding day flooded back to April. The arrival of her parents and their threats against him.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a sob. She was used to the two-steps-forward-one-step-back dance she and Marcus engaged in every day.
Jimmy wasn’t.
Her heart broke for him. And for herself. Because, for a minute there, the three of them had felt like...
A family.
Now, they were the furthest thing from it.
Nothing like a little destruction to work out one’s frustrations.
Although James didn’t relish the dirty job of knocking down the bathroom ceiling, it would help him let off steam. Not that he was angry. More disheartened. He really thought he’d made some headway with Marcus. Sorrier still, he’d lied to April about the letter. Lied by omission.
Time for a little down and dusty with seventy-year-old plaster.
He’d already opened the outside window and laid a heavy sheet of plastic over the bathroom floor and fixtures. As well, he’d created a plastic wall in the adjoining hall to act as a protective barrier for the rest of the house. He wore long sleeves, long pants, gloves and a hat that covered his ears. Donning his respirator and goggles, he figured he looked like an underwater sea diver, minus the oxygen tank and fins.
First, he scored the joint where the ceiling met the walls with a utility knife, making a clean cut. Next, he went at the plaster, ripping away the loose bits and then tackling the rest of the ceiling with a pry bar and sheer determination, until he was down to the wooden laths.
It took him twice as long to clean up as it had to tear down. Fortunately, he’d found an old wheelbarrow in the tool shed, which made hauling out the debris much easier. Apart from a trip to the dump, he was done for the day. At least on his house repairs.
Washed, changed and bundled up, James trudged across April’s snow-covered property, snapping photos and taking videos of the place to send to Stephen Harker. Despite its neglect, the sugarbush was in good shape. It was a pity to cut it down for a parking lot, but sacrifices had to be made in the name of progress.
James wandered over to the special tree where he and April had spent most of their time and traced the letters he’d carved into the bark so long ago—J. F. & A. R., with a big heart surrounding them.
Maybe he’d ask if they could leave that one tree standing. He took a photo of it on his cell phone, to be on the safe side. When his device rang, he stole a glimpse at the caller ID.
“Hi, Stephen. I was about to email you some pictures.”
“I’ll watch for them. Gotta say, James, I’m impressed with the new location you’ve suggested. Any idea what this woman wants for a price?”
“I’m working on that now, getting appraisals from similar farms in the area.”
“Good. How about public opinion? What do the townfolk of Maple Falls think of a having a Getalot store in their area?”
“It’s Carol Falls, sir. And the feelings are mixed.” James switched the phone to his left hand, shoving the right one in his coat pocket to warm it.
“Same old, same old. Get me some figures, son.”
Stephen ended the call as James reached the house. With the roof patched and the front porch jury-rigged, the exterior was as presentable as it was going to get for now.
Hopefully, it would be enough to win April a good price, if she chose to sell it along with the land. If not, he’d given her a hand starting the school of her dreams, and that went a long way to lift his spirits.
After his trip to the dump in April’s van and a fast jaunt to Stowe to pick up his package, James, still wearing his work clothes, drove to meet his mom. No point showing up in a suit, if his mother wanted him to hang garland. But, as he walked up the steps of White Pine Ridge High, he wished he’d worn something better, to give his ego a boost after what happened with Marcus. Or hadn’t happened, as the case turned out to be.
Though James stood well over six feet, seeing the arches of his old school made him feel as small and insignificant as when he’d first entered its halls so many years ago. He forced himself to step into the cavernous entryway, his footfalls echoing on the well-trodden tiles. The place even smelled the same—like paper, wooden pencils and teen sweat.
Or was that him?
He headed for the auditorium, the sound of muted voices growing louder as he approached. Probably a whole decorating committee was on hand.
James stopped as he reached the open door, surprised at the number of people he saw. He’d clearly walked into a rehearsal. Chairs were set up for an audience, a mix of adults and kids scattered in the seats. At least two dozen children were on stage. Those in the first row sat on the floor, the middle row stood, and the back row balanced on a long, low bench for height, so that everyone could be seen.
“Let’s take it from the top, please. Big smiles, everyone.”
A piano intro played. The kids launched into a rendition of Jingle Bells. Some sang out with gusto. A few had that deer-in-headlights expression and half-heartedly joined in the chorus. A couple of children on either end of the first row shook bells, more or less to the beat of the music.
Very cute.
As James scanned the group, he saw his nephew, Duncan. About the same time as Dunc saw him. The boy waved and made a move to dive off the stage and run to James, but an adult supervisor motioned him back in place.
Someone squeezed in behind James and it was only then he realized he was blocking the door. He excused himself and stepped to one side, out of the way. Immediately, he felt a hand on his arm.
“Thanks for coming, Jimmy,” his mom whispered.
“What’s going on here?”
“It’s been a while since the town had a Winter Recital. Mrs. Hoadley approached me and we decided to organize one. There’ll be music, recitations, a couple of skits...”
James remembered his Grade Nine teacher and her encouraging hugs. She sat at the piano, plucking away at the keys—a stocky woman with round glasses, soft curls and energy to burn.
“Sounds great.”
“I knew you’d like the idea. You always had an artistic flair. That’s why...” His mother bit her lip, looking shy and hopeful at the same time. “That’s why I’d like you to participate.”
Oh, man. It took every ounce of nerve he’d had to step foot in the school. Now she wanted him to perform in it?
“Look, Ma. I’m kinda...” Busy was the next word on his tongue. But she gazed up at him with those big eyes of hers, the ones he found hard to refuse. Maybe it would be good for him to contribute. Other than sports, he hadn’t really participated at school. This would be a way of overcoming his demons, to put them to rest, once and for all.
“You want me to sing something? Accompany someone on the guitar?”
“No.” She placed a book in his hand. “I want you to do a reading.”
His stomach felt like it was on the wrong end of a bungee cord, and plunging fast.
“You did such a terrific job reading to Duncan the other night. Children love Pete the Cat Saves Christmas, and it’s so similar to A Visit from St. Nicholas. Both the kids and their parents will get a huge kick out of it.”
James stared at the cover, a cartoon cat in a Santa hat popping out of a chimney.
“Mom, I...”
How could he tell her? How could he admit to her something he hadn’t told anyone else? That he denied to himself?
“Please say yes, Jimmy. I want to show you off to the town.”
Show him off? More likely, he’d show himself up if he stood on the stage and sputtered.
Maybe the story was available as a talking book. He was good at memorization. If he heard it a few times, he’d have the piece down pat.
“Oh...did your friend find you?” his mother asked.
“My friend?”
“Garret’s seen an old car at the farm a couple of times in the past few days. He thought the driver looked like Heather Connolly.”
Damn. He’d hoped to send the DNA test off and have the results back before dealing with her again.
“Yeah, she found me. Thanks.”
A smattering of applause followed the last chorus of Jingle Bells. Mrs. Hoadley grabbed the microphone and spoke over the PA system. “Sylvia...after the children take their bow, do you want them to go to the Green Room or sit out front?”
“I’ll be right there,” James’ mother called back. “Sorry, Jimmy. I’ve got to go. Next rehearsal is tomorrow night. Show’s on Friday. We’ll set up the podium for you with a microphone, so you can whisper or put on whatever funny voice you want and it will all carry. You’re going to be brilliant.”
She kissed his cheek and trotted off, leaving him with the book in his hand and his heart in his mouth. He turned and wandered back down the hall, a piano solo of I’ll be Home for Christmas pursuing him.
That damn song was following him everywhere.