First Kiss at Christmas by Lee Tobin McClain

CHAPTER SEVEN

LATE SUNDAYAFTERNOON, Tony sat on the couch at Paul and Amber’s place, watching football and drinking a second beer.

Paul lazed in the recliner, and the boys ran around in circles, living room to kitchen to dining room, shouting and waving plastic light sabers.

It had been a nice afternoon. They’d run into Paul, Amber, and Davey at the church lunch, and Paul had invited them to come over to keep them company while Amber went shopping. “It’d be a help,” Paul had said. “Jax and Davey get along well, and with kids, it’s one plus one equals zero.” Which Tony hadn’t understood, but now he did: when two kids played happily with each other, the adult responsibility for entertaining them reduced to zero.

Tony was just thinking he and Jax should leave, go home and get some dinner, when the front door opened. Amber came in with a flurry of shopping bags...and Kayla. The two women were laughing and talking, faces pink with the cold, and in the moment before she noticed him, Tony just sat and admired Kayla. She seemed to embody all the fun and goodness he wanted. He couldn’t have it, no, but it sure was nice to look at.

“Miss Kayla!” Jax rushed to her and hugged her legs.

Kayla’s forehead wrinkled and she glanced up and spotted Tony. “I didn’t know—” She broke off and focused on Jax, ruffling his hair and kneeling to speak to him.

But Tony could finish her sentence: she didn’t know Jax and Tony would be here, at Paul and Amber’s. He and Jax had walked over, so there was no car to give a warning. And it seemed possible, based on the guilty smile on Amber’s face, that she’d known but hadn’t told Kayla.

What was up with that?

Paul hugged his wife and then started tapping his phone. “Everyone, stay for dinner,” he said. “I’m cooking. Which means I just now—” he flourished his phone “—ordered pizza.”

“Told you,” Amber said to Kayla.

“We can’t stay,” Tony said quickly, standing. He didn’t want to put Kayla in an uncomfortable spot. “We’ve been here all afternoon.”

“But I want Jax to stay,” Davey said.

“Yeah, Uncle Tony. Can we stay?” Jax asked.

The two sets of pleading eyes were hard to resist.

“Don’t go!” Amber was piling packages in a chair. “I’d love to get to know Jax better.”

“One plus one equals zero,” Paul reminded him.

Kayla didn’t make a plea either way, but she didn’t look too upset at the prospect, so Tony agreed. Only to get more concerned as Jax continued to hang on Kayla, holding her hand, leaning against her when she sat down, even clinging to her leg when she tried to get up.

Tony called Jax over and talked with him, tried to distract him by encouraging him to play with Sarge the bloodhound, and decided he’d definitely talk to the therapist about this at their appointment tomorrow. He needed to find out if Jax’s growing attachment to his new teacher was a bad thing.

As for his own growing attachment...he didn’t have to ask a therapist. He knew it wasn’t wise.

He’d always figured he’d meet a great woman, settle down, start a family. But he didn’t deserve that, not now, not when he’d failed to protect his sister. Not when he was the reason Jax had lost his mother.

His responsibility was to take care of his nephew and help him heal, not to think about his own needs and desires.

“So, um, a hurricane hit the house, is that it?” Amber joked. She’d leaned back against Paul and his arms were wrapped around her from behind. They both looked so happy that it made Tony’s heart hurt with jealousy.

He looked at Kayla to discover she was watching them, too, but he couldn’t read her expression.

“Hey, we were babysitting,” Paul said. “You know men can’t multitask.”

Tony looked around the house and realized that, indeed, there were toys strewn across the floor. Sarge was eating chips from a bowl on the coffee table. Jax and Davey had gone back to chasing each other.

“We’ll clean it up, promise,” Tony said to Amber as Paul shooed the dog away from the food.

“I was kidding. We had such a good time shopping, I couldn’t be mad no matter what I found at home.” She winked at Kayla. “We got some great stuff, right?”

Kayla’s cheeks went pink. “Uh-huh,” she said, and knelt to pet the bloodhound.

“What did you get me?” Davey asked Amber.

“Now, why would you think I got you something?” she teased.

As Davey tugged at her and begged her to tell him what she’d gotten him, Jax frowned like he was thinking hard. Then he looked up at Kayla. “What did you get me?”

Uh-oh. “Hey, Jax. Miss Kayla is your teacher. She’s not like Miss Amber. She’s not part of our family. She doesn’t buy us presents.”

“She’s not your mommy,” Davey further explained.

Amber put a hand on Davey’s shoulder and, when he looked up at her, shook her head.

Kayla bit her lip but didn’t speak.

Jax frowned. “My mommy died,” he said slowly. “That means her body stopped working and we can’t see her ’live anymore.”

Tony’s throat tightened. It was the explanation he’d given Jax, and repeated several times, coached by the therapist they’d visited back in Filmore.

“My mommy died, too,” Davey said. “She got real sick.”

Jax looked puzzled. “Miss Amber is your mom.”

“Miss Amber is my new mom.”

“Oh.” Jax looked speculatively at Amber, then at Kayla.

Tony had to step in, or Jax would start to have dreams that could never be realized. “Your mommy loved you very much,” Tony said. That was something the therapists wanted him to emphasize to Jax. “It’s not your fault she died.”

He caught Kayla looking at him. She gave him the tiniest nod, which made sense. She was trained in early childhood education, which probably meant she was trained in how kids tended to think about death—namely, how they tended to think it was their fault.

“We talk to my mommy every night when we pray,” Jax told Davey.

“Us, too,” Davey said. Then he glanced up at Paul. “Not every night. Sometimes I forget.” He squatted, and Sarge came over to nudge his hand with his big muzzle. “Sometimes,” Davey added, “I forget what she looked like, but Daddy shows me pictures and then I remember.”

Paul sat down on the floor and pulled Davey into his lap, and Amber perched on the couch, watching them with a mix of love and pain in her eyes.

Jax went over and leaned against Sarge. “I heard a big bang,” he told Davey. “My mom fell down and didn’t get up.”

Tony sucked in a breath. Jax had never said that before. Was he starting to remember the day of the shooting?

Kayla pressed her hand to her mouth, just for a minute, and sank down onto a chair. She didn’t speak, and Tony appreciated that. Lots of people couldn’t handle this sort of discussion from kids. He could barely handle it himself.

“Why didn’t she get up?” Davey asked.

Jax looked up at Tony.

Immediately, he knelt, then sat on the floor beside his nephew. Jax scooted right into his lap.

“Do you want to tell about it?” Tony asked. He dreaded it, and moreover, he wasn’t sure it would be a great thing for Davey to hear about. His biggest priority, though, was Jax. These difficult conversations didn’t ever come up at predictable times, but from all his reading, he knew it was important for Jax to discuss his mom’s death if he felt the need, for him to know the subject wasn’t taboo.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Amber said quietly.

Jax looked up at Tony. “You tell.”

“Sure, buddy.” He closed his eyes for the briefest second and then opened them again. He looked at Amber, then at Paul. “It’s a sad story,” he said, giving them the chance to withdraw their son.

“Sometimes things are sad,” Paul said. “It’s better to face it.” It was tacit permission to go on.

Tony nodded, took another breath, and reached for a child-level explanation. “Jax’s mom was walking to the car and a bad person shot her with a gun. She was hurt so much that she died.”

“Mommy told me to run and I ran,” Jax said.

“You were there? Oh, honey.” Kayla reached over and squeezed Jax’s shoulder, her eyes filling with tears.

Tony and Amber looked both shocked and sympathetic. Davey leaned back into Paul’s arms.

Tony was floored, not because it was such a shock, but because Jax had never talked about that day before.

“Maybe if I didn’t run she wouldn’t be shot,” Jax said, his voice thoughtful.

“Buddy, listen. You couldn’t have stopped the bad man. You did what Mom said to do, and that was just right.” Tony was reeling inside. He’d have to notify the police that Jax was regaining his memories. Or maybe he’d always remembered, but he was starting to talk about it.

He’d call the therapist before their appointment tomorrow, give her a warning and get her perspective on how to handle this new development. And she’d know the best way to help Jax process what he was remembering.

The doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery, and everyone mobilized to pay the guy and set the table and put out drinks. The boys asked if they could eat in front of the TV, and the adults instantly agreed.

“Another beer?” Paul held out a can to Tony, eyes compassionate.

“Better not, thanks.” Tony definitely needed all his wits about him, in case Jax talked more about the day his mother had died.

The boys settled, the four adults sat around the table, nibbling at their pizza. Nobody seemed to have much appetite.

“So Jax witnessed his mother being shot?” Amber asked quietly.

Tony nodded. “This, tonight, was the most he’s said about it. I suspected he must have seen, but we didn’t know for sure.”

“Did the police just find him on the scene?” Kayla asked. “That’s so awful.”

“I’ve dealt with a few of those,” Paul said. “Former cop,” he added, looking at Tony. “Tragic stuff. Hard on a kid.”

“That it is.” Tony sighed and pushed his plate away. He probably wasn’t going to find another group of people as knowledgeable as these. “What’s weird is that someone brought him to my porch and left him. We don’t know who.”

“Like a Good Samaritan?” Amber asked.

“We think so,” Tony said. “The shooting happened in a rough part of town, and there was drug involvement and probably more than one shooter. Jax is lucky to be alive, and he probably owes his life to that person, whoever it is.”

“Breaks my heart.” Kayla shook her head. She hadn’t eaten a bite. “The things kids live with.”

Jax and Davey laughed uproariously at something on TV. They were both leaning against the couch, stuffing pizza into their mouths, Sarge between them.

“Kids are resilient.” Amber gestured toward the boys. “Remember that, Tony. He’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.” But the thing that worried him, in addition to Jax’s memories, was his growing attachment to Kayla.

She was a good woman, a kind woman. The type of woman who would have made a good new mom for Jax if the situation were different.

But Tony couldn’t drag her into it, couldn’t ask her to be involved with a household that included a man who’d forced his own sister, basically, to her death.

LATE TUESDAYAFTERNOON, Sylvie walked into the back room of DiGiorno’s restaurant, feeling anxious. She liked wrapping Christmas gifts, and loved the cause of helping underprivileged kids, but here she was, doing it again: getting involved in the community against Bobby’s wishes.

Going against Big Bobby Morrano’s wishes would, or should, make anyone nervous. But Sylvie’s heart cried out for connection and a new start.

She’d do the volunteer gig today, but she’d keep her distance, she decided. She wouldn’t aim to make a bunch of new friends or connect more closely with those she’d just recently met.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Primrose Miller called from one of the three tables. “Come sit with me. We need two at a table, and my partner backed out.”

Sylvie smiled and greeted the woman. She’d enjoyed helping Primrose do some cleaning Sunday afternoon. Even Big Bobby couldn’t object to her befriending an older church lady, could he?

Kayla and her mother sat at one of the tables, and two gray-haired women who looked like twins sat at the third. Each table had a big plastic box of red, green, and silver wrapping paper, scissors, tape, and ribbons.

She walked over to say hi to Kayla and her mom and thanked them for inviting her. They in turn introduced her to the other women, who were indeed twins, and who thanked her for volunteering. “I lured her here with food,” Kayla joked, then turned to Sylvie. “Once we work an hour or two, they’ll bring in calzones or pasta or something else good. I promise.”

“Sounds wonderful. I love Italian food.” And she was getting a little tired of the limited meals she could prepare for herself in her kitchenette, with its two-burner stovetop and microwave.

The room, really a big banquet hall, had a window facing the bay, and Sylvie strolled over. Today was gray, with only a couple of boats out and gulls swooping overhead. Although the bay wasn’t displaying its classic beauty, Sylvie found she liked its variability.

She watched the boats and daydreamed. Maybe, one day, she’d go out on a boat, experience the Chesapeake the way the fishermen did.

“We’d better get started,” Primrose said, and Sylvie looked around and saw that the other women had begun wrapping the boxes and toys that were propped beside each table.

She hurried back to the table she was sharing with Primrose. “Sorry, I got caught up in the scenery,” she said.

“That’s understandable. We love our beautiful bay.” Primrose leaned over in her scooter and plucked tape and a roll of glittery Christmas wrapping paper from the bin. “If you don’t mind cutting, dear, I’ll tape. It’s not easy for me to reach all the way across the table.”

“Of course.” Sylvie took the roll of wrapping paper from her, eyeballed the size of the boxed doll on the top of their toy stack, and then cut a big sheet of paper for Primrose to use. “Is this something you guys do every year?”

Primrose nodded. “The restaurant sponsors it, and people from the community and the churches buy the gifts. It’s pretty informal. Anyone can participate.”

“There aren’t many poor kids here in Pleasant Shores, are there?” Sylvie hadn’t seen any poverty, at least not like back home. Most of the homes here on this side of Pleasant Shores were modest, but well-kept, and most people seemed to be employed. You didn’t see shady characters hanging around in parking lots and on street corners, setting up drug deals.

“Oh, yes, we have people in need,” Primrose said. “Head over to the docks sometime, on one of your walks. Some of the families over there really struggle. It’s hard to get by with a small fishing business, these days.”

“Is it safe to walk there?”

Primrose looked at her strangely. “Of course it is.”

They continued working, and as the stack of wrapped toys grew beside their table, it brought back a memory.

Her mother had taken her and her brother to a similar event at a church one year. She and her brother must have been under ten, but they were old enough to sense that the people who ran the event weren’t real friendly, at least to their family. A couple of the hosts had exchanged harsh words with Mom, who’d grabbed Sylvie and her brother by the hand and dragged them away before the toys could be distributed. “Guess we aren’t the right kind of poor people,” she’d said bitterly.

There hadn’t been any Christmas presents that year. Most years, for that matter. And since Sylvie had spent most of her adult life with Big Bobby, whose relatives didn’t accept her, she hadn’t gone to many family Christmases, either. A couple of times, she’d made the drive to visit her brother in Baton Rouge, but the truth was, she’d felt out of place. She wished she and her brother were close, but they weren’t.

“Sorry I’m late!” The deep voice cut through the female chatter and sent a funny feeling down Sylvie’s spine.

It was the pastor, striding in, greeting everyone. And was it her imagination, or did his eyes light up a little when he looked at her?

“Let’s see, who’s wrapped the most presents?” He went from table to table, checking their stacks, talking and laughing.

“At least we’ve been working, unlike you.” Kayla smiled at the pastor, making it clear she was joking with him.

“Right! I’ve been remiss. What’s my job?”

“You carry these wrapped gifts over to the tree and bring us our next batch of toys.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a little salute and picked up a stack of boxes beside their table.

“Arrange them artistically, Pastor Steve,” Kayla said.

Sylvie watched their interaction and wondered. Kayla was pretty, and not that much younger than the pastor. Maybe he liked her. Maybe they had a thing. She’d thought Kayla liked Jax’s uncle, but it would be hard to resist someone like Steve.

As the other women joked comfortably with the man, Sylvie blew out a sigh and tried to focus on cutting paper and helping Primrose wrap. But her eyes kept straying back to the pastor, whose rugby shirt showed his broad shoulders and chest and trim midsection to good advantage.

It was wrong of Sylvie to compare Steve with Big Bobby, who was aptly named. She’d always found his burly physique attractive in its own right, his sizable belly notwithstanding. And love wasn’t all about looks, anyway. It was about what was inside.

What’s inside the pastor is probably pretty impressive, too.

After a while the staff of the restaurant started carrying in dinner, and they all stopped working and moved over to the long table to eat.

Sylvie inhaled the fragrance of marinara and garlic, the yeasty smell of the calzones, and her stomach rumbled. “Somebody stop me or I’ll eat eight of these.”

“No need for you to stop, you’re thin,” Kayla said. Kayla was built, as they said, with the kind of curves and hips men loved. “Now, me, on the other hand... I’d better limit myself to one.”

“You’re gorgeous,” her mother scolded. “Eat as much as you want.”

That was nice. A mother-daughter relationship that was supportive.

Her own mother hadn’t ever criticized the way Sylvie looked, but that was because she’d barely paid attention to Sylvie at all. Too caught up in her own problems, too busy trying to manage money, support the family, and avoid her boyfriends’ fists.

Mom hadn’t chosen men well, and her frequent bruises and sprained wrists were the result.

Sylvie had chosen better, she’d always thought. Big Bobby wouldn’t marry her, and hadn’t always been faithful. She’d contemplated leaving him, multiple times, but she’d never felt secure to manage on her own. Besides, it was hard to imagine starting over.

But Big Bobby had never raised a hand to Sylvie. And he supported her financially, which was huge considering she didn’t have a lot of skills. She’d worked over the past eight years, but never at anything resembling a career. Mostly, she’d done custodial work, which didn’t pay enough for her to live in the kind of nice little house Bobby had.

“The kids are going to love this,” Kayla was saying when Sylvie tuned back into the conversation. She gestured to the tree and wrapped gifts. “They were so cute at last year’s party. I thought they’d grab for the biggest packages, but they were mostly so polite, looking out for each other.”

“Do you have any kids?” Sylvie thought to ask. This was the first time she’d had a real conversation with Kayla; mostly, they’d stuck to practicalities of working together at the school.

“No.” Kayla looked around the group. “Or rather, I have twelve of them this year. Some years, even more.”

Her perky tone seemed a little forced, and Sylvie wondered at it. Kayla obviously loved kids, and she was a pretty girl, and sweet. Why didn’t she have a family, then, if she wanted one?

“How about you, dear?” Primrose asked. “Any children?”

The pastor looked up as if curious about her answer.

“No kids,” Sylvie said. “I love them, though.”

“Are you married?” Primrose persisted.

The twins glanced at each other, and Kayla’s mom rolled her eyes. They obviously weren’t on board with Primrose’s nosiness, but what could you do? She meant no harm.

“No,” Sylvie said, “I’m not married.” She could have said that she had a long-term boyfriend and lived with him, but she didn’t want to go into it and possibly earn these people’s disapproval. She felt a twinge of disloyalty to Bobby, but after all, he was the one who’d wanted to avoid tying the knot. She was just telling the truth: she wasn’t married.

“I was never blessed with a husband or children, either,” Primrose said. “It can make you bitter, or better.” She glanced around the group. “I know, that sounds trite. But I have it needlepointed on a pillow at home, and it’s a good reminder.”

“Being single gives you time to help the community, Primrose,” the pastor said, “and for that, we’re all grateful.”

“This community is my family,” Primrose said.

“You’re lucky, then.” Sylvie half wished she could stay in this community herself. She loved it here.

She didn’t miss Bobby, not really. She could admit that to herself, now that she was away from him. Things had been cooling between them for a while now. He was less loving toward her, and it didn’t bother her in the least. She was generally glad when he was gone from the house, even when it stretched into an overnight absence that he didn’t explain when he came home.

Could she end it? But the thought of that filled her with fear. Bobby didn’t like to be rejected; he liked having Sylvie around.

Besides, she’d never saved up any money, which was just plain stupid of her.

Maybe she could change that.

Sylvie poked at the rest of her food. Primrose followed the twins back to their table and sat talking with them, and Kayla and her mom got back to work. All of a sudden it was just Sylvie and the pastor lingering at the dinner table.

For whatever reason, that made her nervous. She stacked dishes and started to stand.

“You don’t have to bother with that,” the pastor told her. “They’ll wait until we’re done with our activity and then clean everything up at once.”

“Oh, well, I like to be busy. And my partner’s otherwise engaged.” She gestured toward Primrose, deep in conversation with the twins.

“I can take over for her for a bit,” he said, “if you’re eager to get started.” He stood and headed for the table where she and Primrose had been sitting.

Now she was stuck. Reluctantly, she took her seat at the gift-wrapping table again, now with the pastor beside her.

He smelled of something fresh and woodsy, and when their arms brushed, he felt warm. She stood, feeling nervous again, and started cutting big squares of wrapping paper to fit each toy.

They worked for a few minutes in silence. “You didn’t stop in to see me at the church,” he said finally.

She laughed a little. “I’m not much of a church person.” She pulled out a chair across the table from him and sat down at what felt like a safer distance.

“A church person.” He studied her. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“I had a rough background. You wouldn’t approve.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re a sinner?”

The blunt question startled her. From a lot of men, that would have qualified as a come-on, but Steve didn’t seem to mean it that way. “Definitely,” she said. Just living with Bobby for all these years, without benefit of marriage, would qualify her for the label.

“The church specializes in sinners.” He wrapped a box and deftly folded and taped the ends.

“Does it, now?” That was pretty different from what the self-righteous church people Mom had gotten mad about were like. Different, too, from the curious stares she’d gotten at the few funerals to which she’d accompanied Bobby.

“We’re all sinners, Sylvie,” he said. “It’s just part of being human in this fallen world.”

Their hands brushed on the package exchange, and it didn’t feel accidental.

“Are you preaching at me, Pastor?” she asked, going on the offensive because she felt uncomfortable.

“I’m off duty tonight,” he said. “I’m here as a civilian, not a pastor.” He paused, then added, “I’m just a man. Like any other man.”

Clear blue eyes met hers and held.

Sylvie’s breath got a little quicker. It took some effort to look away.

Oh, if only, she found herself thinking. She barely remembered how to flirt, but she liked Pastor Steve, and he seemed to like her.

But this was different from developing a nice friendship with Primrose. Getting involved with the local pastor—even getting a little friendly with him—was definitely something Bobby wouldn’t approve of.

And anyway, she was here to keep tabs on a little boy, make sure he didn’t know anything incriminating about the day his mama had died.

That was what was important. Not any little dissatisfaction she might feel with her own life, nor any tug toward starting something new.

“If you’re trying to start something,” she forced herself to say, “you should know I’m already...” She started to say living with someone, but at the last minute, switched it to “seeing someone else.”

The pastor nodded. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “And I’m going to be honest. I think you’re a very attractive woman. But I would never cross a line you don’t want crossed. What’s important is that you feel some of the comfort the church has to offer. I’d like to talk to you about your faith and put you in touch with some of our people and groups.”

“Why?” The question seemed to burst out of her.

He smiled. “I’m good at spotting a seeker,” he explained. “Goes with the job description. Sometimes I meet someone who seems like they could really benefit from everything the church has to offer.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to say that everyone could benefit from the church?”

“Sure. Most people could, in my opinion. But some just seem especially hungry for it. That’s what I sense from you.”

“Hungry for church? Me?” She pretended his words were funny rather than piercing. “You must have gotten that wrong. I’m just hungry for another calzone.”

He chuckled at her joke, and then his face got serious. “I do want you to know that I’m there. The church is there, should you need it.”

She wanted to believe that. Wanted to take advantage of it. But how would that fit in with her real life?

It wouldn’t. She stood, conscious that the movement was abrupt. “Listen,” she said to the room in general, “I’m going to have to take off.” And giving a few quick waves and goodbyes, she hurried out of the restaurant and into the cool evening darkness.

She needed air, and distance, so she didn’t make a big mistake.