Heart-strong (5 page)

He kept wondering what Christmas at Rachel’s apartment would
be like. He imagined Scott would be wild with excitement, ripping ribbons and
paper without waiting for adult approval. Rachel would be almost as
uncontrollable, her curls flopping like Raggedy Anne’s, but she’d be thrusting
presents in all directions, sure that she’d made faultless selections. In
Sharon’s case, nothing would stop her from tidying as the morning went along.
Maybe they’d sing carols along with classic recordings.

Since he wouldn’t make it to Iowa this year for the holiday,
Rachel’s place would be the most home-like he could think of. He was sure she’d
invite him, given the opportunity. He reached for the phone.

* * *

“Is this going to be awkward?” Rachel asked Sharon on
Christmas morning. “With both Ryan and Jim here?”

“I don’t think it need be,” Sharon answered. “You’ve told
them that you’ve invited a number of guests, right? That they’re not your
date?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I said we host a holiday open house every
year for anyone we know in town who’s at loose ends.”

Sharon returned to her careful arrangement of
snickerdoodles, iced sugar cookies, and the perennial favorite chocolate chip
on a holiday platter that featured awkward snowmen falling down snowbanks.
“Have you been up front with Ryan about how you feel?”

“Weelll, I’ve hinted.”

Sharon slapped down the tray so hard, the cookies bounced.
“That’s not fair, Rachel. He’s a nice guy. You need to tell him.”

“I will. I promise. Today. I thought it would be easier with
other people around. Although I’ll make sure we don’t have an audience when I
bring the topic up.”

“Be tactful with him.”

Rachel’s promise proved to be a challenge to keep. She’d
invited guests for late morning so that Scott’s hysteria over his new soccer
ball and Legos would be over and everyone could simply relax. She dutifully
trotted around making introductions and passing out eggnog and hot chocolate
boasting candy cane stirrers, managing to spill no more than a few drops on
some of the guests. But even with only nine visitors —Jim, Ryan, and several
people from both Sharon’s and her work—she felt immense pressure to keep
conversations moving. And Sharon seemed disinterested in being a bubbly
hostess. Rachel caught her and Ryan at one point simply sunk into armchairs in
a corner of the living room, absolutely silent.

Finally Rachel resorted to confronting Ryan in the empty
hallway that led to the bedrooms, as she waved a sprig of mistletoe over her
head. Ryan complied with her implicit command, delivering a soft warm kiss that
allowed her to grip his arm and look up with intense sympathy. “I need to talk
to you,” she said.

“No, no, not now. Some other time,” said Ryan as he pulled
away, the hunted, haunted look of an escaped criminal on his face. “Too many
guests.”

“Yes, now.” Rachel led him into her bedroom, indicated the
sole chair for him to sit while she perched on the corner of a bedside table.
After clearing her throat several times, she began. “I don’t know how to
start.” Wonderful opening, she thought. “You and I have been seeing one another
for a number of weeks now, and I’ve enjoyed our times together.”

“Yes, so have I,” Ryan broke in. “But—”

Rachel held up a palm. “But…I want to be honest with you. I
think of you as a dear friend. But as for romance, it’s just not in the
picture.”

Ryan leaned back in the chair. “You’re kidding.”

Rachel surveyed him as if through a microscope. He didn’t
appear to be falling apart at her pronouncement. “No, I’m afraid not. There’s
someone else in the picture.” Jim, Jim, Jim, her heart seemed to hum.

“Well, that’s wonderful.”

“Wonderful? You mean you feel the same way?”

“Yes. There’s someone else in my picture, too. I was trying
to think of how to tell you.”

Should she be offended? Hurt? Angry? Rachel probed her
emotions and felt only release. Ryan was too nice a guy to take advantage of
her, and she hoped he’d met his soul mate. For that matter, she hoped
she’d
met her soul mate. She felt a
strong, unspoken connection to Jim. Like her, he preferred action movies,
mysteries with English detectives, and living in the central city. Like her, he
hated reality television, injustices, and wasting money on elaborate baby and
wedding showers. Although they hadn’t as yet gone far in the romance area, she
had to catch her breath when she thought of a dark and intimate interlude with
him, say a starlit solitary evening walk in the park, or even—gasp!—snuggling
under the covers in her bedroom.

She stood and said, “That’s a relief. I wish you the best.”

When Rachel returned to the living room, she signaled Sharon
with a thumbs-up. Sharon responded with a huge, magnificent grin. Then Rachel
took on the next most important task—talking to Jim. He actually was easier to
pin down than Ryan had been since he was lingering in the hall, but the
conversation proved to be more difficult.

Thinking it was now or never to see where she stood with
Jim, she started with the mistletoe again. But when Jim leaned over to kiss
her, she couldn’t hold back her reaction. She responded with a depth of passion
she hadn’t known she possessed, rather like a close-up embrace on a screen
complete with glistening lips and thrusting tongues. Somehow the physical
sensations superseded the issue of trust. So long, she thought, so long since
she’d had or even wanted this kind of closeness with a man. Even more, the
unspoken connection they seemed to share surely meant he was worth taking a
chance on.

Jim appeared as stunned as if she’d clubbed him with a two-by-four.
Then he wrapped both arms around her as if he never wanted to let her go. Their
breathing deepened and sped up in unison.

Rachel finally sighed and leaned back to look up at him.
“I’ve wanted to talk to you quite honestly,” she said. “This is a milestone for
us. We’ve been seeing each other for six months.”

“Really?” Jim managed to croak. He thought frantically.
They’d met in late summer. Must be true. How had that happened, he wondered,
although he was pleased as well as surprised. He usually considered himself
footloose and fancy free, although that state was swiftly losing its appeal,
with Rachel’s puppy-dog eyes opened to their widest and looking at him as if he
were the center of her world. Maybe he’d just been a coward.

If you count August through December as half-a-year, Rachel
rationalized to herself. “Nearly. And I need to tell you how much I enjoy your
company. And how much Scott idolizes you.”

“Me, too. Back at you,” scrambled Jim. This line of
conversation was surprising but thought provoking. He realized he felt at ease
with Rachel, yet invigorated, as if he were the best man he could be. She
certainly needed a strong, solid man around to save her from some of her
impetuous decisions, like the time she bought three bushels of tomatoes to save
money, forgetting until they emitted a dreadful odor that they rotted very
quickly. As for Scott, he was the best kid in the world, even if he wasn’t a
great athlete. He needed Jim as much as his mother did. Jim cringed to think of
Scott’s adolescence without a decent father figure. Gangs, thefts, joyriding,
drugs, sleazy women. So as Rachel relaxed, Jim gloried in the vision of himself
as knight in shining armor, squeezed her shoulders, then kept his arms around
her. She radiated warmth like a space heater.

She gave him a hug back. “We have a lot in common, and we
get along well. I for one am hoping we can continue to get to know each other
and let our relationship grow.”

“I’m sure we will,” said Jim and gave her another kiss, this
one as passionate as hers. He was looking forward to the new year.

A guest stuck his head around the corner. “Ooops. Sorry.
Bathroom. Where?” he grunted.

Hostess duties recalled Rachel to the dining room, and she
appreciated the excuse they provided shortly after to hunt Sharon down to
report progress with Jim. She discovered Sharon and Ryan wrapped around each
other like colors in a candy cane. She whooped approval. “So that’s why Ryan
wasn’t upset with my diplomatic rejection. I should have guessed.”

Sharon released Ryan and stepped to the side. With a blush
she asked, “I hope you’re not upset. I wanted to tell you I have feelings for
him, but I thought it wouldn’t be fair unless and until you realized you’re
best suited as friends.”

“Absolutely not upset.” Rachel stepped forward to give the
couple a hug. “I’m thrilled. And it seems Jim and I might be ready to move to a
higher level.”

The women compared notes later that evening after the guests
left and Scott was in bed. “So you really are ready to make a commitment to
Jim?”

“Absolutely. He showed me how much he cares for me. God, it
will be so nice, to have a guy as great as Jim to depend on, to be with. And,
so sexy.”

The sisters giggled.

Jim was driving toward Donna’s place as he thought about the
gathering at Rachel’s. Very pleasant, very homey. And Rachel, wow! He hadn’t
realized the depth of her feelings. Intrigued, confused, he felt a decision was
looming, whether to stop splitting his attentions between the two women. It
didn’t ring true to harbor growing desire and feelings for Rachel while also
seeing Donna. He wished he hadn’t agreed to this rendezvous with Donna, but it
wouldn’t have been gentlemanly to cancel at this late date. He’d scrape through
it and then consider the relationship with Rachel later.

He had to admit that Rachel was like a teddy bear—squeezable
and steadfast. He felt that he could solve any problem when he was with
her—tackle the dirtiest and meanest divorce at work, kick a soccer ball past
the toughest goalie, talk his mother into wearing one of those home medic
alerts which she sorely needed, even balance his checking account. In fact,
when Rachel’s big hazel eyes were fastened on him and her voice dropped to that
soft whisper, her attraction for him was mesmerizing.

Parking his silver subcompact import in the driveway, Jim
headed to Donna’s door and pounded with some impatience, his mind still
occupied with Rachel. When the blonde opened the door, every thought in his
head disappeared, leaving only sensation behind. She’d suggested a quiet
evening at home, promising that her son would be with his father, and she’d
rustle up some decent lamb chops and fresh veggies. He’d had no idea dessert
would consist of Donna sexed up with décolletage nearly to the waist, gold
glitter on every visible inch of skin, and a warm honey smell issuing from
various body crevices. She looked and smelled good enough to eat. He forgot how
off-putting were her strong opinions on every political issue, overlooked her
obsession with having each and every hair in place.

She proceeded to tempt Jim in every conceivable way. Her
fingers lingered on his shoulder when she brought dishes to the table. Pursed
plump lips around tidbits of appetizers. Plied him with tasty aperitifs and
varied wines. Threw seductive glances from under her eyelashes during
conversation. Finally led him to the living room where the lights were low, the
fire glowing, candles shining, and cognac waited by the low and cushioned
couch.

Completely beguiled by the comforts and liquor, an
unsuspecting Jim sank into the couch to savor the cognac. A collection of
instrumental holiday music played softly in the background as Donna snuggled
against his shoulder. “Could anything be more wonderful?” she sighed. As if on
cue, snow started drifting across the picture window. “So picturesque...so, so
romantic.” She lifted her head and offered her lips, which he was sorely
tempted to savor. After all, friends exchanged kisses, right? They meant very
little.

The front door to the house flew open and banged against the
wall. Donna’s son Tyler rushed into the living room, her ex-husband on his
heels. Tyler gripped his right arm in his left hand and was wailing at top
level.

“Mom. Mooommmm. I think I broke my arm.”

Donna moved out of Jim’s embrace, raised her eyebrows, and
stood up with the smooth motion of a model. “What happened, sweetheart? Calm
down and tell Mommy.” Her soothing tones to Tyler contrasted with the words she
snapped at her ex, low and furious. “How could you let this happen? And so
close to New Year’s. Have you taken him to the emergency room? Of course not.”
She bent to hug Tyler, lifting him like a two-year-old. He snuggled on her
shoulder willingly, favoring his arm only a trifle.

Donna’s ex shot her a look full of malignant threat, like an
unarmed gangster. “Stop babying him. He fell on the stairs and banged his arm
on the banister. There’s nothing wrong that a bag of ice won’t fix. He insisted
on coming back here, where we find you nuzzling with a new boyfriend. Sorry to
interrupt you.”

Jim felt a label had been tattooed on his forehead that
read:
Danger, new boyfriend
. He
thought to defuse the situation by stepping forward and offering his hand.
“Hello, Jim Landers. You must be Tyler’s dad, Mr. Fletcher. Sorry to hear of
the mishap.”

The ex could hardly refuse to shake hands. “Rex Fletcher.
Yes, these things always happen at the most inconvenient times. And how do you
know Donna?”

Before Jim could answer, Donna butted in. “Really, Rex.
You’re not my keeper. Jim and I met at one of Tyler’s soccer games.”

What had he gotten into the middle of? Sounded like tit for
tat, one-upsmanship, or exes who couldn’t let go of one another emotionally.

“And you’re the coach?” asked Fletcher.

“Uh, no. I have an interest in the sport, played myself in college.
I live near the park where the kids practice, and sometimes I kick the ball
around with them. Watch the games. That sort of thing.” Jim ended on a lame
note, thinking that he was coming off like a predator or something. Still the
important point was both Fletcher and Donna were parents and the welfare of
their son had to be top priority. Or had he fallen into the stickiest of
situations like an animal slipping into a gluey tar pit—an ex-husband still
possessive of his ex-wife?