12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart (36 page)

T
he closer to
the shoreline Annette got, the more the softer black Kona sand shifted beneath her shoes. Not caring about being polite or proper, she leaned over and slid her foot out of one sandal, then the other. This was Hawaii after all, Hang Loose country.

In a pair of well-worn deck shoes, Michael Becker fell in step beside her, seemingly unconcerned with the sand. "In the months we've lived here, I'm still surprised to step outside and not see bright white sand."

Southern California had plenty of shoreline, but nothing she'd describe as bright or white. Except maybe Carmel. "Where did you used to live?"

"Florida. Key Biscayne."

"Aah. Land of the Eastern Retiree. How do they refer to it? … Oh, yeah. Southern Brooklyn."

Michael chuckled. "Some places do feel more like New York than Florida."

"Do you miss it?"

"Not really." Studying the horizon, he let a lazy smile appear. "Maybe a good Cuban sandwich. Or a conch fritter."

"Conch fritter. Didn't realize they were that easy to find north of the Florida Keys."

"Oh, yeah. They're all over south Florida, but the best are found in Key West.”

"You get to Key West often?"

"It was a favorite vacation spot. No tedious plane rides for Brian but the feel of a distant trip." He turned to glance at her and smiled. "As long as you like the bohemian tourist feel."

"There is that." She liked his smile but got the impression he didn't do it often.

"Which part is most appealing? Bohemia or wall-to-wall tourists?"

She weaved close enough to the water for the foamy edges to wash over her toes. "Can I vote for conch fritters?"

"Absolutely." His gaze settled on some distant point. "What happened to Adam's father?"

The familiar sense of loss pricked her chest. Though less forcefully now. The often-asked question no longer carried the emotional impact of even a few short months ago. "A plane crash." From the corner of her eye she thought she saw Mike wince.

"I know the words don't help, but I am sorry for your loss." He slipped his hands into his pockets. "They say it gets easier."

"It's been almost two years. I'm still waiting."

He nodded.

She knew there wasn't much he could say. And she certainly didn't want this to turn into a pity party. "I'd like to hear what Brian has to say about today. Will you call me and let me know?"

"I will, but I can do better than that. Wednesday is pizza night. We eat at Carlo's. Why don't you and Adam join us for dinner?"

An unexpected jolt of raw excitement took her by surprise. "I'll check with Adam and Bethany."

Michael slowed his pace. "Bethany?"

"My daughter. Who, if I'm not mistaken, is going to explain to me in dramatic detail why having dinner with her younger brother and his new friend is not the way she wants to spend her evening."

"Oh, well. I certainly—"

"No, no. Hear me out." She raised her hand at him. "The excruciatingly long dissertation will most likely be followed by a surprisingly brief outline of appropriate plans for her that will undoubtedly not include her mother or her brother."

From the confused expression on Michael's face, Annette was willing to bet the guy didn't have any sisters.

"Too much information?" she asked.

"No. Sorry. I'd always thought it would have been nice if Karen and I had had more children, but now"—a sly smile teased at one side of his mouth—"maybe Mother Nature knew better."

"Maybe I'm as guilty as my daughter of overdramatization. I can't imagine life without her. She's a really great young woman."

"I'm sure she is." Michael nodded, lifted his wrist and, glancing off to his left, then his right, he turned. "We should start back. I didn't realize how far we'd walked."

Annette wasn't completely sure where they were, but she couldn't see his house anymore. "Wow. Good plan." She remained on the side by the water's edge. It had been a while since she'd taken the time to walk the shore. Too long.

"Have you always lived in Hawaii?" Michael asked.

"Almost two years. This is an easier place to raise a family than L.A."

"That's what I thought." He hefted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Not about L.A., but easier than the Miami area."

"How's it working out for you?"

Michael smiled down at her. "Better now."

And darned if that twinge of raw excitement didn't stir again. Was he flirting with her? Or was she reading too much into the single comment? After all, who wouldn't be better living in Kona?
Of course
. That was it. Life was simply better in Hawaii. Besides, if he were flirting, what the heck would she do about it?

K
eeping
his hands in his pockets was the only way Mike could think of to stop from reaching out and touching Annette. The urge to hold her hand and kick through the waves with her was growing stronger with every step. When the words "plane crash" had slipped from her lips, the only thing he could think of was pulling her against him and cocooning her in his arms to keep her safe from any more hurt. Not that he could protect her or anyone else from the challenges life dished out. He'd tried that, and it hadn't worked out so well. So he shoved his hands into his pockets and kept them there.

The truth of the matter was he didn't come close to understanding what was going on at the moment. Quite frankly he didn't trust himself. Was he attracted to Annette Deluca because she was a beautiful, smart, funny, sensitive woman? Or was he just infatuated with the only person who had stepped up to protect and help his son in ways he couldn’t? He might have been able to carve out an hour or so of time to evaluate his son's circumstances, but there was no way he could make lunchtime at school part of his everyday routine. And he certainly wouldn't have infused himself into Eddie the bully's space.

He swallowed a laugh. This woman might have been physically petite, but she was proving to be a real pistol. Which made him want to get to know her better. Much better. Not that he could get too close. He honestly didn't think he was up to a relationship, and, even if by some strange chance he were, Annette had lost her husband less than two years ago. From the way her gaze softened with every mention of Mr. Annette Deluca, he'd be willing to bet a year's salary that she was a woman who had been very much in love with her husband. The lucky bastard.

"My neighbor, Liz, owns a boutique in town. Her daughter is a year ahead of Brian, so it was pretty convenient for her to pick up both kids. She's been terrific about Brian's idiosyncrasies. Without fail Liz picks up both kids at exactly the same time every day. We lead a very routine life. On Wednesdays we leave for dinner at exactly five thirty. I park in the far corner of the lot, where I can always find a space quickly. The manager figured out, after only a few weeks, that Brian was a creature of habit, and now he reserves the same table for us."

"That's very nice of him."

He nodded. "I'd hoped life in a smaller, more relaxed town would be easier for us, but I never anticipated just how friendly everyone would be. It's been an unexpected blessing." Finding a support circle to match what his wife had developed in Florida had been a major concern for him and one of the biggest negatives to this entire move. Now he felt rather foolish for ever having worried. "If you don't mind, it will be easier on Brian if you would meet us at the restaurant."

Nodding, she gave him a sweet smile. Not a polite one but sincere reassurance. "That will be just fine."

Just ahead he could see the cluster of houses, announcing their return. A small part of him wished they could ignore his house and keep walking. "And here we are."

Single file they turned into his yard, then into his house. Neither said a word, an easy silence nestling around them. At the front door he faced Annette, his hands still safely in his pockets. "Thank you again."

"My pleasure. Really."

Having a purpose, he dared to bring his right hand out in the open and reached for the doorknob. Stepping aside, he held open the door. "See you tonight."

"Five thirty." Still smiling, she wiggled her fingers in a cute good-bye wave.

He kept an eye on her until her car backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the road. Five thirty couldn't come fast enough.

B
illy Everrett looked
up from behind his desk at the dive shop. "Annette. What a nice surprise." He pushed to his feet.

"Don't get up on my account." She gestured for him to retake his seat. "I was on my way home and had an idea I wanted to follow through with you."

"Shoot." Despite her waving him off, Billy remained standing until she'd taken a seat. She didn't know if it was his military training or Maile Everrett's upbringing, but Billy never ceased to amaze her. The same could be said for Nick, Doug, and the other fellows she'd met through the dive shop. Maybe the answer wasn't one or the other but a little of both.

"I've recently come to know a young autistic boy."

"The one you spoke to Emily about?"

Annette nodded. "Word sure gets around fast."

"It's a small island." Billy smiled. "And you got my sister thinking too."

"I did?"

He bobbed his head. "Yes, but let's see what you have on your mind first."

"I know you guys work with wounded warriors. Do special group dives, efforts to help with PTSD, and other issues."

Billy nodded again.

"Do you think you could develop some sort of program for autistic kids?"

The way Billy's eyes widened, she had a feeling whatever she'd said hadn't been a good idea.

"I don't know enough about it, but I'm not sure thirty feet underwater is a good place to find out if it's a bad idea." Leaning over his desk, he folded his hands. "Maybe something in the dive pool might work though. I'd have to do some research. And talk to my sister."

"Fair enough." She hoped something could be done. Adam loved anything to do with the water, and sharing that with Brian could be another bridge for the young man. "What did Emily have to say?"

"Not very much. We were at Mom's for dinner last night. At some point the conversation came around to her students this year and your conversation about a new boy at the junior high." He snapped his fingers. "Which reminds me. Mom wants you to find out what the boy's favorite cookies are."

Annette almost laughed out loud. The only thing surprising about Billy's comment was that Maile hadn't already found out the answer for herself. That woman had a way of knowing everything. "I'll see what I can do. Now, you were saying?"

"At the mention of possible autism, Doug asked if there were any sports programs in the school district for special needs children."

"Like Special Olympics?"

"Maybe. But I think he was referring to smaller school programs. Emily was going to get more info on one of the high school programs."

And from what Annette had learned about the Everrett family and their friends, if there was a way for them to be involved, they soon would be. Her heart still swelled with appreciation when she thought back to the time after the plane crash. Trapped in a broken body in a Los Angeles intensive care unit, she could not care for her children. Never mind uncover the true cause of the plane crash that killed her husband and almost killed her.

But Billy and his friends had quickly learned that the crash had been no accident. And, more importantly, that Adam and Bethany could be in danger. Doug, Jim, and the others from Billy's former EOD team had come running when Billy said he needed help protecting her children and Maggie, the woman who had been more like family than a mere household manager. Heck, Jim had come days before his wedding, ticking off his then fiancée. Annette bit back a smile. Yep, if the closest thing to
family
she had here got involved in the special needs community, Michael and Brian Becker were about to learn that moving to Kona was the best thing to happen to them since Maile Everrett's coconut fritters.

O
ne of the
nice things about Carlo's was that, in a large nook at the back of the restaurant, the owners had installed a game area to entertain the children as their parents finished their meals. The first time Mike had noticed that section, he'd been concerned the noise would be off-putting to his son, but, focusing on his game of choice, Brian was almost oblivious to all the sounds surrounding him. "I have to admit, I'm surprised."

Annette swallowed her last bite of pizza. "At what?"

"How easy tonight has turned out."

"In what way?"

"When Brian was a baby, my wife arranged playdates. Mostly mother-and-toddler events. As he grew older, it became more challenging."

"I can imagine."

He bit back the urge to ask,
Can you
? In less than a day it was impossible for a bystander to understand the ordinary challenges faced by the parent of an autistic child. Hell, he'd lived in the same house with an autistic child for years and not until Karen died had he discovered just how much he hadn't realized. "I could be reading this wrong, but it looks like Brian and Adam are friends."

Her face lit up. "You're not. They are. So what did Brian have to say about school?"

"More than I expected. Nothing terribly revealing. Social cognition is not my son's strength. He takes everything at face value. No room for nuance or socially understood undertones. But I know that Brian is in class with Adam and that Adam likes school. Adam is friends with Cory. Adam is five foot two inches. Brian mentioned that several times. I suspect that might have something to do with how Adam likes to play basketball."

"Adam likes to scuba dive too."

"Okay, it might be totally uncool of me, but the picture brewing in my mind scares the hell out of me. And I was raised in the water."

"Never dived?"

"Oh, I have. Which is why the idea of my twelve-year-old son doing it is so frightening."

Covering her mouth with her hand, Annette did her best to mask her laughter. Especially since this time he was pretty sure she was laughing at him, not with him. "It's pretty tame at Adam’s age. And plenty of years of snorkeling came first. The Big Island Dive shop has a training pool and lots of classes for young kids. They're a great group of people."

"Do you dive?"

Annette beamed. "You bet. I love the water. It's why we bought a vacation home here."

"Vacation? But Adam's in school."

Her gaze dropped to the table. "After I got out of the hospital—"

"The hospital?"

The way she drew in a deep ragged breath, Mike wished he had kept his stupid mouth shut.

"I was also in the plane crash. My husband and the pilot were killed instantly. I spent a great deal of time in intensive care. When I finally was released and able to travel, I joined my children here to finish my rehab."

Intensive care? Rehab?
He'd quickly learned she had the tenacity of a pit bull, but that didn't begin to describe the strength this woman must draw upon. Mike took a good long look. Not just at the surface: the pretty eyes, sweet smile, silky hair, or the hint of cleavage that could easily feed his imagination for hours—if he let it run in that direction. Instead he focused on how she held her shoulders straight, erect, proud. Her chin high, firm, strong. And her eyes. Almost caramel in color with flecks of yellow shone with compassion and warmth. The same qualities that had no doubt pushed her to stand up for Brian in the first place.

"The kids were settled in school already," she continued, "and Los Angeles didn't appeal anymore. The smog. The traffic. The flash. The attitude. I couldn't deal with it. I needed … simple. So here we are."

"You're amazing."

Her cheeks turned several shades of pretty pink. Big eyes looked up at him through long lashes. He was in some serious trouble.

L
unchtime
the last few days had gone about the same. Annette brought Adam and Cory takeout, while Brian ate his regular fare. Eddie had veered too close to a table of “uncool” kids, but, when he caught sight of Annette watching him, he'd cut a wider path. She would have to figure out a long-lasting way to deal with this kid after she no longer came to lunch. A few more kids had joined her son's table. The original group of three now consisted of six. All thoughtful of Brian. Annette noticed that, on occasion, when too many of the kids were all horsing around at the same time, Brian seemed to pull into himself, but she had yet to notice any of the meltdowns that Mike had warned her of. She had to wonder if maybe Brian's desire to be mainstreamed went hand in hand with a growing ability to manage the world around him. For his sake she certainly hoped so.

"There you are."

Annette looked up to see Emily Everrett approach their lunch table.

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. You're not answering your phone."

Annette gave an apologetic wince. "I turn it to Silent while we're at lunch."

"That's what Maggie said."

"You called Maggie?" Boy Emily must really want to talk to her. Unless … Her heart lurched and lodged in her throat, almost robbing her of air. "Is something wrong with Bethany?"

"No, no." Emily shooed her over and sat beside her. "This is about a new program. I'm meeting with the principal in thirty minutes and thought you might want to join me."

"Me? Why me?"

"It would be good to have some parental backup."

"Ah. A blood sacrifice."

Emily laughed. "Maybe not that bad. But I wouldn't mind if you sat in."

"Does this have something to do with Brian?"

"It does."

"Then the one who should sit in is Mike. Not me."

"
Mike
?" Emily batted her eyes at her friend. "Not
Michael
or
Mr. Becker
?"

Annette shook her head and rolled her eyes upward. "You've been spending too much time in high school."

"Okay, okay. And I agree about Brian's father, but he can't break away."

"You asked him?"

"Of course I did. This is official school business. I do have access to parent records."

"But you teach at the high school, not the junior high."

"Doesn't matter. Same district. Besides, this is Kona not New York City."

Annette shrugged. "So what have you got on your mind?"

"At dinner the other night, Doug asked about school sports programs. I remembered that, last year, the high school started a unified basketball program. I checked around and turns out it's been a huge success. Each of the district's unified teams consists of three special needs players and two regular students. This way the special needs children feel a part of things, and the other kids, who maybe aren't talented enough to play on the varsity teams, feel better about themselves as well. Gives everyone a chance to shine a bit. A real self-esteem booster. It's working better than the district had hoped. I'm thinking the program could be beneficial at the junior high level. I looked into it, and I think there are enough special education students for the concept to work, but we'd have to move fast if they're going to start alongside the regular season."

"Adam does love to play but didn't think he was good enough to try out for the school team."

"See what I mean?" Emily's dimples bookended her bright smile. "You're the perfect person to help convince the principal that this will be a good experiment."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Annette scanned the room, looking for Eddie and his friends. Something in her gut told her to follow the kids as they shoved their lunch remnants into a bag, gathered their things, and filed out of the cafeteria. "I'm going to tag along here a minute, and then I'll meet you at the principal's office."

"No problem. I've got a few minutes. I'll be right behind you."

Sure enough, at the end of the hall, Eddie and his band of troublemakers huddled in wait. Annette shook her head and, instead of merely shadowing the boys, picked up speed and zipped ahead of them, stopping short in front of Eddie. "How are you today?" she asked the startled tween.

"Uh …"

"Have you met my friend Ms. Everrett? She's the math teacher at the high school."

Somehow the kid's eyes grew even rounder.

Emily extended her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Hello." He looked down at her hand, as though it were capable of biting off his arm, but finally reached out to shake.

"I'm also in charge of the theater arts productions, so, if you think you'd enjoy being in the plays or working on the stage crew, I'm the person to see."

For a split second Annette thought she saw a twinkle in the kid's eye. Did the kid want to act, sing, or build a fake world? Another challenge. Emily's earlier words about building self-esteem in the regular students started an idea percolating. "Do you by any chance play basketball, Eddie?"

"No, ma'am. I mean, not on the school team."

"But you like to play?"

Eddie kicked his toe into the vinyl floor. "Some."

Glancing sideways, Annette caught Emily's satisfied nod. Things were definitely looking up.