The Giving Season (25 page)

“Because I don’t think I can do this, Michael.” Jessy finally turned her gaze back to his again. “I can’t compete with her, even if it’s all in my mind. I look at you now and all I can see is the way you looked when you kissed her.”

“And how was that?”

“Like you belonged together,” Jessy said simply. “You both looked like you belonged with each other.”

Michael silently studied her, his gaze lingering on her face so long that she began to feel intensely self-conscious. She knew better than to think she could explain her feelings to him. She didn’t know if she
could
explain them.

“And what about us?” Michael finally asked. “Don’t you think
we
belong together?”

Jessy looked back to the fire. “I don’t know.”

“What do you want to happen here, Jess?” Michael smiled humorlessly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Neither do I.”

They sat in silence, gazing at the crackling fire, listening to the sound of the wind whistling through the eaves, the soft tap of snow against the windows. The grandfather clock chimed midnight.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Michael said quietly. “Are you still going to leave after Christmas?”

Jessy didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. 

“You know you don’t have to go.”

She managed a slow nod.

“You know I want you to stay.”

“Yes,” she managed to whisper.

“You know that I love you.”

Jessy turned her head slightly, not looking directly at Michael. “I know.”

Michael said nothing for a few moments. The quiet that enveloped them felt thick, suffocating. All the things that both of them wanted to say, needed to say—neither of them could find the courage to speak aloud.

“Mind if I stay up with you for a little longer?” Michael asked softly, his voice a rough rasp.

Jessy leaned back on the couch, shaking her head as she cast a quick glance in his direction. “I don’t mind,” she said quietly.

In silence, they sat on opposite ends of the couch, watching the fire pop and spark. When the phone rang, it startled both of them. Michael sighed as he leaned forward to grab the cordless receiver.

“Ann probably wants to keep the kids tonight,” he said as he pressed the TALK button. “Hello?”

Jessy couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but it was clear from Michael’s reaction that it was not good news. He lost his color immediately, eyes widening as he sat up straight and gripped the phone tightly.

“Well is she okay?” A long, horrible pause. “What do you mean you don’t know? Why aren’t you with her?”

Michael rubbed at his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. Jessy gently touched his forearm and he covered her hand with his.

“Okay—where are you? Which hospital?” He listened for a moment. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He turned off the phone, already on his feet and heading for the door. Jessy was right on his heels.

Jessy hated hospitals.
She hated the smell of disinfectant. The sound of muted announcements. The painful brightness of the lights. She’d spent so much time in hospitals when her aunt was dying that at one point she felt like she’d never be able to leave, that she’d spend eternity in those brightly lit corridors, tortured by the moans of the dying.

All that came back to her now as she followed Michael into the emergency room. He’d nearly crashed them into a tree on his way there, skidding on the icy roads. He’d driven with his jaw clenched and his hands tight on the wheel. Jessy could only imagine what was going through his mind. As scared as she was for the kids, his fear must have been a million times worse.

They half-ran into the waiting room, where they found Ann sitting with Ben and Marie. All three looked like they’d been put through the wringer, their eyes red and cheeks still wet with tears. When Ann saw Michael, she shot to her feet and threw herself against him.

“Oh, God—Michael!” She began sobbing again, which started Ben and Marie crying once more. Jessy went to them, gathering them both on her lap. She tried not to look at Michael and Ann.

“What happened, Ann?” Michael gently held Ann by the shoulders and pushed her back. “How’s Libby?”

“I didn’t know she was allergic—“

Jessy’s head snapped up. “You let her have shellfish?”

Ann didn’t look away from Michael. “We went out to eat after the recital. She ordered some kind of salad—I didn’t know!”

“She’s been allergic to shellfish since she was three,” Michael said, stepping away from Ann. “You should have known that.”

Ann was speechless for a moment. “But—I didn’t know—”

Michael’s eyes were hard as he stared at her. “But you should have.”

He turned away from Ann and looked at Jessy. “I’m going to try to find Libby. Would you watch—”

Jessy was nodding and gesturing for him to go before he could finish the sentence. “Go. Go. We’re fine.”

He hurried away and Ann collapsed in a plastic chair across from Jessy. She kept her head down, one hand rubbing at her brows. She looked utterly miserable. Helpless in the face of Libby’s illness. Despite everything, Jessy felt a stab of pity for her.

“I think your mom needs a hug,” she whispered to Ben and Marie.

Still sniffling, they slid off Jessy’s lap and went to Ann, who began to sob as she gathered them in her arms. Her eyes met Jessy’s and, for the first time since she’d met her, Jessy saw no malice or hatred in them.

Just sadness. Deep, overwhelming sadness.

It was well after midnight by the time Libby was released from the ER.
She had gone into anaphylactic shock after taking one bite of the seafood salad Ann had allowed her to order. She had her medi-pen with her, but couldn’t tell Ann what she needed to do. And Ann hadn’t had a clue. If not for the quick reaction of a nurse at a nearby table, Libby might have died.

No one wanted to think about that.

They trailed out of the ER, exhausted but grateful to be leaving. Michael wheeled Libby out to the car as Ann carried Ben and Jessy carried Marie. The kids were asleep. Libby, still pale and weak, could barely keep her eyes open.

Michael hadn’t spoken to Ann since arriving at the hospital, and as he loaded the kids into the passenger seats of the truck, he maintained his silence. Jessy could feel anger nearly pulsing off him in waves. Ann must have sensed it too, because she said very little to anyone but the kids. She kept her eyes downcast most of the night, as if ashamed to look at anyone.

Jessy knew that Ann blamed herself. And she sensed that Michael blamed her, as well. It wouldn’t do any good to tell either of them that it had just been a very unfortunate accident, and that no one was to blame for anything. Jessy didn’t think logic would penetrate Ann’s guilt, anyway.

Ann handed Ben to Michael and stepped back as he helped the boy into the truck and fastened his seatbelt.

“Please call me—let me know how Libby’s feeling.” Ann’s voice had an unfamiliar pleading tone.

Michael nodded, still silent as he brushed past Libby and opened the driver’s door. Jessy said nothing as she opened the passenger door and climbed into the truck. Ann looked as if she had a million things she wanted to say, but Michael had already dismissed her, slamming the door as he settled in behind the wheel.

They backed out of the parking space, leaving Ann standing alone in the snow and slush. Even in the dimness of the parking lot, Jessy could see the shine of tears on Ann’s cheeks.

They worked in perfect unison as they put the kids to bed—slipping off shoes, tugging on pajamas.
Ben and Marie slept through it all, totally exhausted. Jessy kept a close eye on Michael, hoping that his fear would ease up and allow him to at least smile again, but his face remained locked in that grimace, as if he were expecting the worst.

Libby was still awake when they checked in on her. She looked slightly better than earlier, but her eyes were dark-ringed and her cheeks too pale.

“Hey squirt.” Michael managed a smile as he sat on the edge of Libby’s bed and took her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess.” Libby looked over to Jessy, who hovered in the doorway, unsure if she could enter. “You can come in, too.”

Jessy joined them, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed. Michael reached out and smoothed Libby’s hair down, gazing at her for a few moments before speaking again. Jessy knew he was remembering the night so many years ago that they’d almost lost her.

“I hear you were great at the recital,” he said. His voice sounded gruff, as if he were trying to control his emotions. “Wish I could have been there.”

“It was boring, except for my parts.” Libby smiled slightly. “I should have known better, huh?”

“About eating seafood? Oh, yeah,” Michael chuckled and nodded. “Why’d you order that anyway?”

“I thought maybe I wasn’t allergic anymore. A kid at school used to be allergic to peanuts when he was little, and now he can eat them without getting sick. I thought I’d be okay, too.”

“Next time you wonder anything like that, let me know first, okay?”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

Michael touseled her hair. “It’s okay, Libs.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Never.”

Libby hesitated a moment. “What about Mom.”

“Your mom—” Michael’s voice trailed away. “No, I’m not mad at her, either. I’m just glad you’re okay. And that you’re home.”

“Me, too.”  

“Okay—I think it’s time for you to hit the hay.” Michael leaned forward and gave Libby a kiss on the forehead. “Goodnight, troublemaker.”

“G’night, Dad.”

Jessy rose as Michael stood and followed him to the door.

“Hey, Jessy—?”

As Michael left the room, Jessy turned to face Libby. “Yes, sweetie?”

“I just wanted you to know—I’m okay with you liking my dad.”

Jessy smiled. “Thank you, Libby.”

“Good night, Jessy.” Libby smiled as she turned onto her side, cuddling into her pillow as Jessy turned off the light and closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar. She turned to the hallway and nearly ran into Michael.

“What—“

He was kissing her before she could even think to finish the sentence, and Jessy could feel every bit of fear and anger and tension and stress leaving his body as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. The kiss felt almost desperate, but she returned it with every bit of her soul.

When it was over, he raised his head slightly to look into her eyes and she could see that the old Michael was back. His eyes shone almost mischievously as he gazed at her.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment.

“For what? Kissing you?” Jessy grinned. “Not a problem. Trust me.”

“No. Thank you for being here tonight.”

“Again—not a problem.”

He studied her for a moment. “Remember that unfinished business—?” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, her throat.

“Mmm-hmm—” Jessy felt absolutely limp beneath his kisses, unable to do anything but close her eyes and just feel. “I think it’s time to finish it.”

Michael raised his head to gaze at Jessy, who lazily opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said, kissing him again, a sweet, brief kiss on the lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

The rest of the house was silent and dark.
It seemed impossible to her that they were going to do what they were going to do. After so many years of yearning and wishing and hoping and fantasizing, the moment was finally upon her. 

All of her bravado disappeared. The closer they got to Michael’s bedroom, the more apprehensive she became. This wasn’t just kissing or making out or even heavy petting. She and Michael were about to make love. Have sex. Do the deed.

Her stomach churned. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this.

Michael looked down at her and smiled, and every hormone in her body flared to sudden, burning life. 

Or maybe I
am
ready, she thought, remembering the way his hands had felt on her body, the way his mouth moved so wet and hot over her bare skin.

“After you,” he said as he opened the door. Jessy nervously glanced up at him again, then looked into the room. For just a moment, all she could see was the bed. The big, quilt-covered, four-poster bed.

Michael closed the door, discreetly locking it. For a moment, he looked as nervous and awed as Jessy felt. His eyes caught hers, holding her gaze for a few long, silent moments.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

Jessy shook away the clinging remnants of her own nervousness and took his hands in hers, holding them loosely as she stood on tiptoe and kissed his throat, his chin, his lips. She felt him tremble even as his body tensed against hers.

“I’m sure,” she said and looked up to his eyes again.

Without hesitation, Michael wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her with himself, kissing her as if they had been apart for years instead of hours. His sudden ardor caught Jessy off-guard, as thrilling as it was frightening—especially as she felt herself responding to him, as she felt her own body pressing harder against his, trying to get even closer. 

Somehow, moving more gracefully than two entwined bodies should move, Michael maneuvered Jessy backwards to the bed, breaking their breathless kiss just long enough to ease her back against the pillows. He stretched out beside her, holding her close as his mouth found hers again. He deftly unbuttoned her blouse, easing his hand beneath the material, cupping her breast through her bra—

And Jessy suddenly realized what was truly happening. What was going to happen. Despite the pleasure, despite the intimacy, Jessy felt a sickening wave of self-consciousness, all too aware of how bright it was in the room, even in the dim light of the bedroom lamp. All too aware of how vividly the scars and imperfections of her less than perfect body would appear. Michael would take one look at her and—

Jessy involuntarily jerked away from him, raising her arms to cover herself as she pulled her blouse together again. Her reaction was purely instinctive, the impossible-to-shake remnants of a lifetime spent hiding behind loose clothing and dark shadows. She still wanted Michael as intensely as ever—but could not bear the thought of seeing the disgust in his eyes when he saw her body.