James took a trip to Burlington early the next morning to investigate the original land options for the new Getalot store. He liked traveling—driving with the music on full blast—and today’s jaunt provided the perfect opportunity to pick up Christmas gifts for the family along the way.
Like most guys, he hated shopping. Unless it involved cars or electronics. But the Church Street Marketplace in downtown Burlington made the retail experience fun, offering wonderful cafes and a diverse selection of stores and wares. Even in winter, James loved the feel of the open-air mall and the architecture of the area’s historic buildings. During the summers, eateries set out tables on the sidewalk and street entertainers performed, while lush trees provided shade as well as beauty.
He found a sweater for his brother, a nifty combination spaghetti measure and trivet for his sister, a personalized cutting board for his parents and a hand-painted silk scarf for Lily. As for Duncan, he’d known exactly what to buy his nephew the first time he’d seen him at the Village Green.
Marcus was a different story.
James tracked through several stores, hoping for inspiration. He finally settled on a round wooden puzzle, a globe of the world and a toy car. James figured Marcus would like spinning the wheels, at least. Making the world go around, too.
He wanted to find something extra special for April, the perfect gift, but nothing leapt out at him. As he searched, he listened to Pete the Cat Saves Christmas on his phone using his Bluetooth headset.
He’d found a video of it on YouTube. The story even had a song. He could see why his mother picked it for him to present. The poem was very much like A Visit from St. Nicholas. He could use all his performing talents—play the guitar, recite and sing. By the time he left the Marketplace, he had the piece committed to memory.
From Burlington, he headed east to Montpelier, again taking note of the commercial land available for development. Satisfied he’d fully explored the alternatives, he reversed direction and drove back to Carol Falls, thankful he didn’t need to stay overnight in a hotel, after all.
He checked his watch. The staff at Billy Boy’s should be there by now, getting ready for their afternoon opening. He called and asked to speak to Heather. He wished he could take back the night he’d spent with her, but life didn’t work that way, and he couldn’t avoid her indefinitely. When he learned she hadn’t come in for her shift yet, he left his name and number with a request for a return call.
Errands done, he drove to his brother’s house. James admired the Arts and Crafts design and the long porch that stretched across the front of the home. Maybe he’d build one like it for April in the spring.
He knocked and heard heels bounding across the floor. The front door flew open and Duncan appeared, Garret standing right behind him.
“Uncle Jimmy!”
“Hey, Jimbo. What’s shakin’?”
“Thought I’d give Santa a hand this year and deliver a few gifts ahead of time.”
Garret gestured for him to enter. James stomped the snow off his boots before stepping inside. He dropped his voice. “Is it okay if I give Dunc his present now? I won’t be here for Christmas and I want to make sure it’s the right fit.”
“Not staying for the big day? Mom will be disappointed.”
“She already is.” James squatted down to Duncan’s level. “I’ve got some things in the trunk of my car. Can you help me bring them in?”
“Sure thing, Uncle Jimmy.”
He waited while Duncan put on his coat and boots. They walked the length of the driveway together, James heading to the back of his Porsche. When he popped the trunk, Dunc’s face lit up. The boy’s unwrapped gifts were front and center—a kid’s-sized guitar, along with a case, strap, picks, a capo, extra strings, a tuner and a Beatles T-shirt.
“Do you like ‘em?”
“Holy cow! Is that all for me?”
“You bet.” Uncles were allowed to spoil their nephews. The excitement on Duncan’s face made James feel like a million bucks and proved the old adage. It was better to give than to receive.
The little guy held up his arms for a hug. “Will you teach me how to play?”
“We can have a lesson now, if you’re not busy.” He helped the boy carry in the gifts, Dunc insisting on hauling the guitar himself.
“Dad, look what Uncle Jimmy gave me. And he’s going to teach me a song right now.”
“That’s wonderful.” Garret pulled James to one side. “Mind if I leave the two of you on your own? I’d love to have some alone time with Lily. Take her out for an early dinner.”
Great idea. One James should replicate. He thought about asking April on a date, but couldn’t imagine she’d trust anyone to look after Marcus in her absence. “Sure. Go ahead. Enjoy yourselves.”
Garret leveled his gaze, the way he did when he got serious. James braced himself for a reprimand.
“I’m glad you stopped by, Jimmy. Because I wanted to thank you—in person—for taking over the skiing lesson the other day.”
James hadn’t expected that. “I figured I owed you one after I ruined dinner.”
“It was my fault, too. Mom’s right. We should be considerate of one another’s feelings. And opinions. Particularly at Christmas.” Garret clapped him on the back. This time, there was no stiffness. “Remember, no matter what, you’ll always be my brother.”
James could only nod. He was too choked up to speak. He hoped Garret remembered his promise when the Getalot store moved into town.
After his brother left, James showed Duncan how to tune his new instrument and play a few simple chords. There was lots of eye contact, lots of smiles, and no tantrums. Just a happy, normal kid.
No. Not normal. Typical. From his research, James knew parents of autistic children preferred that word. After all, what’s normal?
Two hours later, Garret was back and Duncan could play the riff from Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust as well as John Deacon, the song’s composer and bass guitarist. James said his good-byes and headed out, feeling like a rock star, too.
April could barely keep the frustration out of her voice. It wasn’t her son’s fault he was unresponsive to the day’s lessons. She was the leader. She was supposed to be the one helping him, and the fact that she wasn’t made her more exasperated.
So she gave him paper and crayons and let him draw his favorite shape—circles, of course—while she sought refuge in her pottery, the familiar feel of the wet clay between her fingers.
Even that was a disaster. The set of Christmas mugs she’d made didn’t match. No two were the same height, and one had cracked when she fired it in the kiln. Unfortunately, these were the cups she planned to donate to the Baby Holly Fundraising Raffle.
All she could do was try again. Maybe with a different project. A large one, perhaps. Wedging the clay, waking it up and kneading out the air bubbles, would help her take out some of her aggravations.
She sliced off a fist-sized piece of clay from a larger brick and slammed it onto her work table. That felt so good, she hurled another chunk on top of it, where it landed with a satisfying bang.
April loaded all the defeats of the past days when she slammed down the third lump. The Picnic Fiasco! The Christmas Tree Calamity! The Tobogganing Debacle!
She remembered Jimmy’s hurt over each with the fourth.
Before hurling the fifth, she thought about him walking to his car that morning, his packed bags in his hands. He’d said he’d come back, once he took care of some business.
Would he? After everything she and Marcus had put him through?
In the short time he’d stayed with her, she’d gotten used to having Jimmy around again. Even now, she could smell his cologne, feel his lingering energy. She enjoyed hearing him hum or whistle while he worked—always making music. The silence today had been a small taste of what it would be like when he left.
Permanently.
Muscles sore, she heaved a final piece of clay. It wasn’t until she felt Jimmy’s arms around her that she knew he’d come in. And that she was crying, his shirt soaking up her tears.
He stepped away, his eyes searching her face. “Are you okay? I saw the lights on in here and...”
“I’m just...throwing the clay.”
He didn’t laugh at her pun, but made a quip of his own. “With that pitch, you should be playing for the Mets.”
“I had a little pottery mishap earlier,” she explained, disclosing half the truth. “It’s nothing.”
“Must be something to get this reaction. You’re shaking.”
April wondered if he’d reach out to her again, hold her. Before he could, Marcus stepped in between them and gave her a hug. Tears welled up again. Happy ones this time.
“You see? Your son’s worried about you, too.”
She shook her head. “It’s more than that. He’s giving me a deep compression hug.” April closed her eyes and savored the moment. “He’s made a connection. I was unhappy and he’s trying to make me feel better. It’s the biggest emotional breakthrough we’ve had.”
As quickly as the hug began, it stopped. Marcus looked up at the two adults and then whipped around behind Jimmy and pushed him closer to her.
“What’s he doing now?”
Marcus clutched one of Jimmy’s hands and positioned it on April’s hip. He ran to the other side and did the same.
“I think he realizes he’s too small to give me the kind of hug I need. He wants you to do it.”
“He doesn’t need to ask me twice.”
Once again, she found herself in Jimmy’s arms, held tight against him. It brought back all the memories, all the longings. She felt like one of those jigsaw pieces in her classroom, finally reunited with its mate.
Snug together. Perfectly aligned.
Marcus pressed against the backs of her legs, holding her too. She stood there sandwiched between her two favorite boys.
Make that three boys. Bandit rubbed up against her shins, his tail patting her as if to say, ‘There, there.’
When the last of her sobs ebbed, Jimmy led her over to the table with the crayons. He sat beside her, his arm draped across her shoulders. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Much better.”
“I hope you know, I’m here for you April. I want to help you and Marcus in any way I can.” Jimmy gazed at her son, watching as the boy went back to drawing circles. “How long has he been getting therapy? From what I’ve heard, early intervention is important.”
“Unfortunately, Marcus didn’t receive it.” A reality which broke her heart. “Before I adopted him, his therapy was sporadic at best.”
“Why is that?”
“He was shuffled between families for years. While I was teaching, our paths kept crossing. I’d see him for a while, make some progress and then he’d be gone, sent to live with different people.”
New tears formed in her eyes. She blinked and turned away so Jimmy wouldn’t see them. “When he came to me this last time, I decided to give him a real home. My heart just went out to him because he reminded me so much of...”
You.
But she couldn’t admit that to Jimmy. Like Marcus, he’d seemed apart from the world. Adrift, anchorless. And in her son’s hazel eyes, she’d seen her childhood sweetheart all over again, and his desperate need to belong. She couldn’t have turned Marcus away, no matter what. It would have broken her heart.
“Myself,” she said, instead.
“Well...while I’m here, let me do what I can for both of you.”
That was the key phrase. While he was here. He didn’t plan on sticking around. And she’d already become too attached to him. Was already falling in love.
All over again.
James kept his expression neutral but, on the inside, he was smiling. Marcus had wanted him to hug April. Had insisted on it, by pushing them together.
It was a small step in getting Marcus to accept him, but James felt lighter, happier and, even though it was premature, he felt hope for the future.
A future with April.
He started making plans. If Stephen chose April’s land for the Getalot store, they could all stay right here while James supervised the building. If the new outlet ended up elsewhere, April and Marcus could come with him, and stay in a hotel near the site.
James frowned. That last option sounded great for him but terrible for everyone else. Marcus wouldn’t have any place to play and the poor kid would be uprooted again. Plus, April would have to abandon her school idea.
“Why don’t I start by helping you clean up that clay?” James asked, trying to think of a plan that didn’t involve the three of them living in two different locations. He held out his hand to April and she took it, hers small and fragile in his. That simple touch made his chest swell with pure joy.
“Marcus?” As usual, the boy ignored him. James glanced over the child’s shoulder and froze. He blinked, unbelieving. He turned to April and registered her expression, likely a mirror image of his own—eyes big, mouth open in surprise.
On the table in front of Marcus lay a drawing of an angel, looking exactly like the one James made in the snow.
April let out an excited, high-pitched squeak, her eyes sparkling. She wrapped her arms around her son and gave him a kiss. “Good drawing, Marcus. Good angel.”
“Hey, don’t I get a kiss? I was the model for the picture, after all,” James joked.
“Okay. But only one.”
He didn’t think she’d take the bait. Now that she had...
She drew closer, her mouth en route to his cheek. At the last minute, he turned his head, so their lips met.
Hers were soft, warm, sweet. He could have stayed like that for the next hour, tasting her, drinking her in. But a moment later, his cell phone jangled. The alarm he’d set to remind himself of his mother’s rehearsal.
He pulled the device from his pocket to turn it off and get back to kissing, but there was a call coming through. Thinking it might be Stephen on the other end, James answered, prepared to ditch the guy ASAP.
“I need to see you.” It was a woman’s voice. One he didn’t recognize.
“Who is this?”
“Heather. Heather Connolly.”
Parts of him shriveled at the sound of her name. “Okay. When and where?”
“Now. At the bar.”
He could only assume she meant Billy Boy’s. “Fine. I’m leaving right away.” He hung up and shoved the phone into his pocket.
“When will you be back?” April dipped her head. “Sorry. None of my business.”
“Of course, it’s your business.” He slipped a finger under her chin to raise it. He hovered there, looking at her lips, pink and moist. If he stopped to kiss her now, he’d never quit. “Let me take care of this and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll see you later then.”
“Later,” he promised, and forced himself to walk out the door.
She couldn’t believe they’d kissed.
It had been everything she’d remembered. Better. But not all that she’d wanted. That would involve him making a trip to her bedroom later in the night.
Which would be a mistake.
They weren’t those people anymore. And there was nothing holding Jimmy to Carol Falls. However long he planned on staying, it wouldn’t be enough time. Not for April. If she let things get out of hand, she’d end up nursing a bruised heart, if not a broken one.
So what the heck had he been thinking, kissing her like that? Getting her all worked up and hopeful?
Darn him, anyhow.
His phone had interrupted them just in time. Now hers was ringing. You’d think she was running a Santa Hotline with the calling frenzy. Her heart leapt when she saw the name ‘Frost’ on the screen, and then she realized it wasn’t Jimmy’s name, but Sylvia’s.
His mother.
April hadn’t talked to the woman for years, and was hesitant to do so now. Jimmy’s mom had always been pleasant, but so well-spoken, so perfectly put together all the time, that April had felt a little intimidated by her.
“Hello, Mrs. Frost.”
There was a slight pause on the other end, during which April could hear piano music and murmurs of conversation in the background.
“Goodness, April. How did you know it was me? Oh, yes. Your phone would have told you. These little gadgets are amazing, aren’t they?” Another music-filled break.
“I hope you don’t mind me calling. I got your number from Mrs. Hoadley. I hear you’re taking a shift selling raffle tickets at the recital. It’ll be lovely to see you again. Maybe we can go for coffee together one day soon.”
April was sure Mrs. Frost hadn’t called to invite her for a jolt of caffeine. And wouldn’t that meeting be interesting? How many women had coffee with their ex-mother-in-law? When there were no grandchildren involved?
“That would be nice, Mrs. Frost.”
“Please, call me Sylvia.”
“All right...Sylvia. Is there something I can do for you?” Stop seeing your son, for instance?
“Actually, I’m looking for Jimmy. We’re having a rehearsal for the Winter Recital and he’s going to give a reading.”
Ah, so that’s what he’d run off to do. Odd that he’d said nothing about it.
April explained that Jimmy was on his way and probably hadn’t picked up his phone because he was driving.
“Oh, good. I was worried he’d forgotten.”
Which was totally like Jimmy, at least, in the old days, and one of the reasons her parents didn’t like her choice for a boyfriend. They’d dubbed him Mr. Unreliable, mostly for his habit of skipping classes, and cautioned April to protect her heart. To stay aloof.
Still good advice considering Jimmy would skip town before the weekend was through. Hoping a man with wanderlust would settle down was foolhardy at best. She’d be better off pinning her hopes to more predictable outcomes. Like winning the lottery.
No matter how attractive Jimmy was, no matter how much she felt that old pull, she wasn’t prepared to gamble away her heart.