Read A Christmas to Believe In Online
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
follow her into the front room. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
The restlessness of her feet, coupled with the constant
wringing of her hands, pitched his stomach upside down.
Whatever it was, not only had it turned her green around the
gills, but it also had her too worked up to sit still. She'd wept,
extensively. In the last few days he'd become accustomed to
her turning to him for comfort. That she hadn't, that she had
yet to say a single word, only intensified the chill that wafted
down his spine.
"Jesse." He caught her hand as she walked by and tugged
her to a stop. "Talk to me."
Her bright blue eyes welled with moisture. In that
moment, Clint knew this would not end well for him. The
sorrow that reflected in her gaze stabbed knives into his
heart. He withered under the pain that shone behind her
trembling eyes. Whatever had happened since she'd left this
house had broken her. And he didn't have to look far to
suspect the cause—Ethan.
He clung to the dim hope he could change her mind. That
he could listen to what she had to say and convince her to
give him a chance—a real chance—at winning Ethan over.
But damned if he would have his family hear him beg.
He stood up, grabbed his coat, and led Jesse outside. "Talk
to me."
She turned away and braced her hands on the front porch
railing. "Ethan's mom was a user," she began in a near-
whisper. "Addicted to Meth and alcohol. The files say she
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never knew who fathered Ethan. Evidently around that time
she'd been picked up for a short-term stint in prostitution."
Clint closed his eyes. The urge to go to Jesse, to fold her in
his arms and strip away her heartache pounded at his senses.
The woman who'd been strong and undefeatable this
morning, looked small and weak. Frail and helpless. And yet,
he knew she didn't want his comfort. She'd have sought his
embrace, put herself in his arms if she did. He leaned against
the wall, opened his eyes, and listened.
"She kept Ethan until he was four. Old enough he
remembers her. Old enough he remembers every bit of the
statement she gave to DFS when she marched him into their
offices and left him behind." Her long hair tumbled down her
back as she looked to the sky. "Short and succinct—
I'm
getting married and my fiance doesn't want kids. I don't want
this boy anymore.
"
Clint nearly doubled over as an invisible fist punched him
in the gut. Holy shit, no wonder Ethan hated him. He'd hate
him too.
Jesse's breathing hitched as she dragged in a deep gulp of
air. "Until he was eleven, he shifted through the system. Each
home he went into, inevitably terminated their agreement
when he couldn't get along with the husbands. No one took
the time to try. They laid down the law, expected him to
obey, and didn't care what drove him. He came to me
because I was a single woman."
Clint did go to her then. He stepped behind her, settled a
reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her body swayed towards
his, but she resisted the full contact.
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"His
Guardian ad Litem
phoned the day the judge
postponed our adoption hearing. Ethan's known since the day
after he caught us kissing. He thinks I had something to do
with it."
The nightmare opened up and swallowed him. Clint ground
his teeth together, clamping the tumult of emotion behind the
ineffective barrier. Ethan blamed her. Ethan blamed him. He
didn't need to hear more. All the happiness he'd carried
around in his heart since his conversation with his mother
blinked out with Jesse's choked sob.
"I can't get him to listen to me. He's called his caseworker.
Said he's leaving."
Clint tightened his fingers into her shoulder. "Let me talk
to him."
She shook her head, bowed it to her chest. Her shoulders
bent along with it, and she sagged her weight into the
banister. "No, Clint," she whispered. "You can't fix this. It's
not your fault, it's mine. I trusted Jonathan to get hold of
Cindy, and I should have called her myself. I should have told
Ethan. And now it's too late. He's locked himself up behind all
those walls again."
"Jesse, stop. You can't blame yourself. He's thirteen. He's
not stupid. If he hears the right words, he'll understand."
She shoved out of his grasp and stalked several feet away.
Her back turned, she hugged her arms around herself. "It
isn't that easy. It took me two years to get where we are. He
needs me. He's hurting. He's scared. And in his eyes, the only
home he's ever had just got yanked out from under him."
"Because of me," he gritted out.
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At her nod, frustration leapt through his veins. It rolled
through his blood, lit a spark of anger. "Give me a chance,
Jesse. A real chance. Let me talk to him when you aren't
around, so he doesn't have to think about what he says."
"Clint..." Slowly, she turned around. Tears trickled freely
down her cheeks, salty drops that fell like tiny hammers,
intent on breaking him into pieces. "I can't do this. I love you
so much, I can't even say the words in my head."
"Don't." Desperate to stop her before she could set them
free, he stalked to her and crushed her into his arms. "Don't,
Jesse. Don't shut me out. Don't walk away. I need you too,
sweetheart." And he hurt every bit as much as that confused
teenage boy. Hell, Jesse's words, the inevitable outcome he
knew he couldn't stop, splayed open his heart and left him
bleeding in the snow. The chill in his veins became
unbearable, the roiling of his stomach worse than any
seasickness.
"He's my son, Clint."
"And so I lose," he finished for her. Stiffening his spine
against the sudden, violent need to vomit, he summoned his
anger for strength. "You gave me your patience. I'm asking
you to accept mine. I'll wait however long it takes."
Her body shuddered. Against his chest, she shook her
head. She backed up a step, and with a broken whisper said,
"I can't. I won't put him through another minute of this."
He reached for her again, but Jesse evaded his fingers.
She flew down the steps, threw herself into her car. Before he
could make it to the drive, her car was already at the road.
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Clint bellowed in frustration. Rage, unlike anything he'd
ever known possessed him. Every last damn thing he cared
about had just slipped through his fingers, and like everything
else, he was helpless to it all.
He stormed into the house as tears threatened. He stalked
through the kitchen, heading for the stairs. At the table, he
fished his mother's wedding ring out of his pocket and
slammed it down in front of her. "This won't be necessary."
Evading her astonished expression, and Keeley's surprised
gasp, he shouldered through the entryway and mounted the
stairs. Behind the safety of his locked bedroom door, he
wilted into his chair, dropped his head into his hands, and
yielded to the crushing pain inside his chest. Tears fell
unchecked, ugly sobs wracked his shoulders. Gone. Less than
an hour ago, he'd seen the beauty of a life with her. Had
known it as clearly as he'd known his name. Now she was
gone. Just an illusion that wafted into his life, only to vanish
on a rising storm.
He'd thought he'd understood what it might feel like to
lose Jesse, but the reality was far more terrible. That hole
she'd filled opened up and swallowed him. One great, hollow
cavern that was cold and lifeless. Empty of light.
He grieved until he had nothing left to spend. When he
lifted his head, the room was dark. Yet images of he and
Jesse flashed on every surface, as bright as the moonlight on
the snow outside. He snatched at his keys, shoved out of his
chair. To hell with Alex's dinner—he couldn't stay here. Not in
this room, not in this house. Not until he managed to numb
the clawing that shredded his heart.
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Still in her clothes from the night before, Jesse forced
herself to leave her bed and go downstairs. Everything hurt.
Inside and outside. Standing in front of a firing squad
wouldn't produce the kind of holes that peppered through her
heart. That type of pain eased with death. This went on and
on. Eating at her. Slowly bleeding her dry.
She moved through the kitchen, turned on the coffee pot.
Crumbs scattered across the countertop evidenced Ethan's
attempt at toast sometime while she slept. Good. He'd eaten.
She wouldn't have to find the energy to cook. She could
collapse in the chair and stare at the Christmas tree until she
heard his footsteps on the stairs.
The ringing of the phone halted her retreat. Jesse looked
at it, debated whether to answer. When the shrill peals
ceased, and the answering machine picked up, she shuffled
back toward the couch. Maybe she'd lie down. Try to find the
sleep that had eluded her through the night.
The phone called out again. Muttering, Jesse snatched off
the cradle. "What?"
"Jesse?" Zoe's soft voice filled with hesitation.
"Oh. Zoe. Sorry." At once chagrined, Jesse cringed. She
set her mug down and pulled the nearby stool out to sit.
"You okay?"
No. Not in a million kinds of anything was she okay. She
wanted to die. Half of her had. The other half kept her going
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for Ethan's sake. She'd done what was necessary. A duty
reserved only to mothers. "I had a long night."
"I'm sorry if I woke you up, but I didn't know who else to
call."
A hint of urgency clung to Zoe's voice. Managing to push
aside her own selfish concerns, Jesse tuned in to the
conversation. "Is everything all right?"
"No. Yes." She paused, then in a near squeal, she gushed,
"I'm marrying Alex tonight. Again. At the house. I need a
bridesmaid. You're so close to the family, I'd like you to stand
with me."
Jesse's fingers slipped on the receiver. In a rush of
discombobulated thoughts, she saw the wedding, saw Alex in
his tux, his brothers at his elbows. She could hear the spoken
vows, see Clint's harsh features as he stood across the way
from her. Oh, hell, she'd have to be his date. He'd escort her
down the damn aisle. Like she'd fantasized about in the
formalwear shop, only this wouldn't come with the same rush
of swelling emotion. To walk down an aisle with him right now
would crush the little bit that remained of her heart.
She couldn't.
"Jesse, I know it's short notice. I understand if you can't.
It's Christmas Eve... I'm sure you and Ethan have plans."
She couldn't strand Zoe either. Or Amelia. They'd both
been too good to her, and especially Ethan, over the last few
years. Feeling every bit like a puppet on strings, her life
completely out of her control, she sighed heavily. "I'll be
there. I need to find something to wear. What do you want
me in?"
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"I really don't care. Something pretty. I'm not picky. Alex
pulled some strings at the courthouse, so it's small." She took
a deep breath, held it. "Oh, Jesse, I'm so happy. The girls will
have their father. I have Alex. This is like a dream come
true."
I left Clint, Zoe. It's killing me. Help.
It took every bit of Jesse's willpower to find a smile and
force cheer into her voice. This was Zoe's big day. The one
she should have had four years ago. Jesse refused to spoil it
because she'd done the grown up thing and put her son first.
"I'm happy for you. Really happy."
"The girls are bouncing off the walls. I've never seen them
so excited over something."
Jesse swallowed down the lump in the back of her throat.
Ethan should have reacted with the same enthusiasm. He
might have, if this whole court thing hadn't cropped up.
"That's great, Zoe."
"Are you sure you're okay? You sound...off."
"I'm fine," she lied. "But I need to get on the search for a
dress. I don't have anything here. What time do you want me
there?"
"Amelia said around four thirty. She's got a dinner planned
for the reception. She took everything out of my hands,
except for the food I'd already prepared. Oh! And she wanted
me to ask you if you'd still be willing to help with the cleanup.
She's going to keep the girls, and Alex and I are going back