The Giving Season (19 page)

Michael took the stairs two at a time as he raced after Jessy.
Lyssa was curled up on the couch in the living room, her nose buried in a romance novel.

Michael turned, ready to search the kitchen, when Lyssa spoke.

“If you’re looking for Jessy,” she said mildly, not raising her gaze from her book, “she grabbed her coat and went outside.”

“She what?” Michael was already opening the coat closet and dragging out a heavy parka. “It’s freezing out there. Why didn’t you stop her?”

Lyssa shrugged and finally looked up, hooking a finger into her novel to save her place. “I figured you had something to work out with her.” She arched an eyebrow. “Or something to tell her.”

“Like what?” Michael grunted as he tugged on a pair of scuffed cowboy boots.

“I think you know
what.”
Lyssa opened her novel again and settled into it. “Big smart guy like you should’ve figured that out ages ago.”

With a faint shake of his head Michael shrugged into a denim jacket, scowling as he hurried to the door. At least Jessy couldn’t have gotten very far, although the thought of her wandering around lost in the night gave him a sick feeling deep in his gut. He stepped onto the front porch and a gust of icy wind sucked his breath away as he struggled to pull his gloves on over his already aching hands. Scanning the front yard, he saw nothing but moonlight sparkling on the unmarred crust of snow. No footprints.

Then he heard it. A slow, creaking sound. Faint but steady.

Frowning, Michael followed the sound, turning the corner of the wraparound porch to find Jessy sitting in the bench swing, bathed in the glow of the multi-colored Christmas lights lining the porch railings. She huddled in her heavy coat, almost disappearing within its folds, her face and head covered by a blue crocheted scarf.

For a moment she looked like a lost child, alone and terribly lonely.

Michael slowly walked towards her, his hands shoved into his pockets, his chin dipped low into his coat collar. Silvery snow dusted the porch, swirling in random breezes.

“Mind some company?” he asked, sitting beside her on the swing and hissing involuntarily at the feel of icy wood. Jessy glanced over to him, and even in the dim light of the Christmas bulbs he could see that her cheeks and eyes were wet. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she muttered, lowering her head again.

“Want to talk about it?”

Jessy said nothing for a moment as she swung her gaze back to him. Finally she looked away, staring out at the flat expanse of snow that surrounded the house.

“That was a rotten thing for you to do,” she said softly.

“I know.”

“You know this is what I have to do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” Jessy finally looked at him again, struggling to control the strange swell of anger and fear and grief that threatened to overwhelm her. “Ann—“

“Is just something we’re going to have to deal with,” Michael said quietly. “You can’t hide behind that excuse anymore.”

Jessy said nothing for a moment, sighing instead. She sniffed, clearing the tears from her throat, and looked down at her gloved hands, clasped tightly in her lap.

“Okay,” she said finally, looking up to him once again. “You’re right. No more excuses.”

Michael took her hand, lacing her fingers with his. “What are you afraid of, Jessy?”

She gazed at him for a moment, and even in the shadowy moonlight Michael could see the raw pain in her eyes. But when she spoke her voice was surprisingly calm, with only the faintest hint of tears.

“I’m afraid—” She hesitated for a moment, shaking her head. “I don’t know how to explain it to myself, much less to you.”

Michael said nothing, waiting for her to continue. For just a moment Jessy almost wished that they were arguing again. At least when they fought she could wrap herself in self-righteous anger and distance herself from him. Now, talking like this, she felt uncomfortably vulnerable. She knew she would tell Michael the truth about her feelings, felt the urge to say it rising within her like a bubble. Ever since that first night together in the motel, she had known it would come to this. Now all she had to do was find the courage to say it—and the strength to accept whatever the repercussions might be.

“I’m afraid—of losing you,” she finally said, voice so soft it was almost carried away by the wind. “All of you.”

“Go on,” Michael whispered.

Jessy took a deep breath and sighed. “When my family died—I lost everything in the world that I loved. I never wanted to go through that kind of pain again, ever. So I kept to myself, and I kept telling myself that it was okay to be alone, that I was doing myself a favor because if I didn’t let anyone get too close, then I wouldn’t have to deal with losing anyone again.”

Michael gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “But now?”

Jessy smiled sadly, shaking her head. “Now everything’s changed. I—” she hesitated a moment, swallowing back tears. “I can’t go back to being alone anymore.”

Jessy’s voice faded away as she gazed at him a moment longer, as if trying to will him into understanding. Then, unexpectedly, she rose and walked away from him, hurrying down the snowy steps. Michael quickly followed, catching up with her easily as she trudged through the snow.

“Michael, I need to think—” Jessy didn’t look over to him, keeping her eyes focused directly ahead of her.

“And I’m supposed to let you wander around the farm by yourself?”

Jessy stopped so abruptly that Michael didn’t realize it until he was several steps ahead of her.

“I can’t do this, Michael. I
can’t.”
Jessy’s voice was as soft as the whisper of the falling snow. “I want to stay. I really do. But—”

“But you can’t,” Michael said softly, walking back to her.
“Why,
Jess? Just tell me why.”

“I don’t know—” The hopeless frustration in her voice, the utter bewilderment, broke Michael’s heart all over again. She raised her gaze to him again, her eyes wet with tears. “I wish I did—but I don’t. I just know that I can’t stay here.”

Michael moved to wrap his arms around her, meaning to offer comfort, but Jessy pulled away from him.

“No,” she whispered. “Please—don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Would you please take me to town now?”

“You’re actually going?”

Jessy glanced up, barely meeting his eyes. “I need to go now. While I still can.”

And with that, she walked away.

Ten minutes later, Jessy was in the Bronco.
Seatbelt fastened. Eyes staring straight ahead. Totally silent.

Michael purposely kept his thoughts to himself, giving both of them time to settle their emotions down to a dull roar. He’d never felt so helpless and frustrated and angry in his entire life—not even during the divorce from Ann. This—this was beyond all his experience with women. He knew Jessy wanted to stay with him and his family. He knew she had feelings for him, just as he had feelings for her. If she’d just give it a chance—

But then again, why should she? What had he done to prove how he felt to her? He’d kissed her, yes, but he hadn’t found the courage to tell her that he was falling in love with her. He hadn’t found the nerve to tell her that he wanted, more than anything in the world, for her to stay with him and his family forever. Somehow, for some reason, he’d expected her to just
know,
to be able to read his thoughts through his actions and know that he cared deeply for her. It had never occurred to him that Jessy’s upbringing had been worlds away from his, that she had not had the privilege of being raised in a family that had the luxury of taking each other’s love for granted. 

Jessy needed to be told beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was loved. He understood that now.

He also understood that her concern about Ann taking the kids was simply a way of hiding her own fears of allowing herself the vulnerability of getting too close to him and his family. For Jessy, life would be easier if she didn’t get involved. To her, love equaled pain—so to avoid the agony of grief again, she would just be numb. And instead of living, she would merely exist.

As he drove, Michael chanced a quick glance at Jessy. She sat ramrod straight, her beautiful chestnut hair loose and spilling over her shoulders in soft waves. She sensed his gaze and grimly smiled.

“I warned you about me,” she said quietly, a faint note of sour humor in her tone. It was enough to give Michael a glimmer of hope.

“Yes, you did,” Michael said. “But I’m not one to listen to warnings.”

Jessy almost smiled at that, looking straight ahead instead of at Michael. “I don’t know what else to say to you, Michael.”

“I don’t either,” he said, swinging his own gaze back to the road. “That’s why I want you to listen to me now and hear what I have to say.”

The unusual forcefulness of his words caught Jessy off-guard. She frowned faintly, but said nothing. For once, she didn’t attempt to argue.

Michael pulled the Bronco onto the shoulder of the road and cut the engine. An uneasy silence settled between them as the engine ticked and snow softly tapped against the windows.

“I know why you’re afraid,” he said, voice as soft as a caress. “I understand.”

Michael undid his seatbelt and half-turned in his seat, facing Jessy. It had been so long since he’d talked about this, years since he’d even allowed himself to dwell on it—but Jessy needed to hear it. And maybe he needed to share it.

“When Libby and Marie and Ben were born,” he said quietly, “I didn’t think it was possible to love anyone as much as I loved them. From the moment they were born, I knew that I was taking a risk by loving them so much. Every time they bumped their head or caught a cold, it reminded me just how easily I could lose them.”

Jessy remained silent, gazing steadily at Michael. He looked away, eyes shining with sudden tears. He gritted his teeth for a moment, steadied himself to continue.

“We almost lost Libby,” he finally said. “She was just a few months old, just a little thing. One second she was smiling at me in her crib and the next—” His voice caught and he swallowed hard. Jessy reached out to smooth down his hair, a simple gesture that suddenly meant the world.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“Convulsions,” Michael said simply, meeting Jessy’s gaze again. “Her temperature spiked to a hundred and one by the time we got her to the hospital. Ann and I spent the night in the ER while they packed Libby in ice and reduced her fever. Every time I saw a doctor walk by, I was afraid he was going to tell me that my little girl had died.”

Jessy reached out, covering his hand with hers. He smiled slightly, grateful for her touch.

“It wasn’t until we lost my dad that I understood how the world worked,” Michael said, his voice not much more than a whisper. “There’s a price we have to pay, a trade-off. If we’re going to be happy or love somebody or be loved—we have to be willing to accept the fact that one day it’s going to end.”

Jessy nodded slowly. “But when it ends—it hurts so much—”

“It should,” Michael said, a faint smile slanting over his lips. “That pain is what reminds us of how much we loved. Yes, it hurts to let go and face the end of that love—but I don’t believe that it ever really ends. It just changes.”

Jessy thought of her parents, gone for so many years, yet still so alive in her heart and memories. Michael was right; she still loved her parents as much as she ever had, if not more. And she knew— felt in her heart—that wherever they were, they still loved her. 

“You have to take that chance, Jessy.” Michael touched her cheek, cupping it gently in his palm. “I know you’ve had a lot of pain in your life—but you’re entitled to some happiness, too. If you don’t allow yourself that, then—then all the pain was for nothing.”

Jessy studied him for a few moments, feeling something deep inside her linking to him. He was speaking the truth, a truth she had tried to convince herself of time and time again. “You think so, huh?” she asked with a faint, lopsided smile.

“I know so.” Michael felt an almost sickening lurch of fear in his belly as he realized that now was the time to tell her how he felt. There would be no better chance, no more perfect opportunity. “Jessy—”

His voice trailed away and she waited for him to continue, gazing at him with guileless, wide eyes. Her breath had caught, as if she somehow sensed what he was about to say.

But the words wouldn’t come.

“Don’t run away from us,” he said instead, his slight smile fading even more. “The kids don’t want you to go. Stay until Christmas at least—please. Then you can do whatever you want. Just—think about it.”

Michael heard the pleading tone in his own voice and forced himself to stop before he could embarrass them both. For all his talk of taking risks, he couldn’t bring himself to take that chance yet—just in case she didn’t feel the same.

Jessy said nothing, keeping her eyes averted as she finally, slowly, nodded her head. Michael had the very bad feeling that somehow, without meaning to, he had hurt her even more by not being completely honest. He had let the moment pass, and now it was too late to fix it.

“Jessy,” he said softly, taking her hand before she could move away from him. “I told you I’d give you all the time you need—all the time we need—and I meant it. I promise you.”

She nodded, struggling for control of her emotions, but said nothing.

“So what do we do now?” Michael asked, voice barely more than a whisper. “Do I drive you into town, or do I take you home?”

Jessy closed her eyes for a moment, a tear trickling silently down her cheek. Her silence seemed to last an eternity to Michael. She could say anything right now. With her decision, she could either destroy the fragile thing they had created, or she could make everything right again.

“Take me home,”she finally whispered. “Just—take me home.”

Resisting the urge to laugh, to take her into his arms and shout his relief to the world, Michael simply nodded.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

Michael held to his promise.
The rest of the week passed in a pleasant whirl of Christmas shopping and school pageants and cookie decorating, and Michael never again mentioned their argument or the reasons behind it. If anything, he was more wonderful than ever, as friendly and caring and generous as always. He kept his thoughts and feelings to himself, and if Jessy glanced up and caught him studying her, he merely looked away without a comment. Every night, after the kids were put to bed, they sat up and watched television for a while—usually while Lyssa dozed in her easychair—and then went their separate ways to bed. Michael never tried to kiss her or touch her or do anything that might scare her away.