Justifying Jack (The Wounded Warriors Book 2) (9 page)

“She's not ready for what?” Shonda demanded.

She just can't help herself, can she? God, give me strength… Please help me to say the right things, in the right way.
“Shonda, let the boy speak.”

“Right,” Shonda was dismayed. “Sorry. Sorry, go on.”

Jack resumed his tale. “Well, I went over to her place, expecting to proclaim myself to her, but when I got there, I just knew it was the wrong time.”

“It's never the wrong time to tell a woman you love her!” Shonda insisted.

“Woman, please!” Malcolm scolded her. Giving Jack a chastened look, she waved at him, indicating he should continue, as she pursed her lips reluctantly. Acknowledging her deferment to her son, Malcolm said, “Thank you. Jack?”

“Trust me, it was the
wrong
time,” Jack reiterated firmly. “Elena was in the tub and Marithé was trying to help her get the shampoo out of her hair, but the phone kept ringing.”

“Well, that's what voice mail is for!” Shonda interjected. Both men gave her a stern expression, causing her to hold her hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

“She tried to let the calls go to voice mail, but the caller just kept phoning her. It ended up being her jackass of a cousin, Raymundo,” Jack shook his head. “Apparently there was some urgency, the way he yelled at Marithé about how much money she should put forth towards a Christmas cruise he wants to send his parents on.”

“He wants Marithé to give money towards a cruise for
his
parents?” Malcolm asked, winning a scowl from Shonda.

“Who's interrupting now?” Shonda barked.

“Sorry, you're right,” Malcolm conceded. “It just caught me off guard, is all.”

They turned their attention back to Jack. “Anyway, while she tried to contend with him, Andres thought it would be fun to feed the beta fish they have and when he went to pour the food, the lip fell off and the entire can of fish flakes dumped into the tank, making a huge mess.”

Shonda gasped, “Oh, no!”

“Of course, Andres got scared he'd be in trouble so he dropped the food container into the tank and ran off. In his haste to escape, he slipped on an area rug, slid across the floor, and slammed into a wall.” Jack dragged his hands down his face in exhaustion. “I tried to help, but Andres just wanted his mom.”

“Yeah, you always wanted your mom when you were hurt too,” Malcolm recalled
. I used to take offense to it, but then I realized it's just how it is.
“Kids always want their moms for things they need. They seem to think of us dads as toys or playgrounds.”

Jack snorted. “Right?”

“You two hens stop,” Shonda snapped. “What happened? Was Andres okay?”

Malcolm harrumphed.
Hens? Hmmm…

“Yeah, he just bumped his head and skinned his knee a bit, but he was okay,” Jack reassured his mother, hoping to relieve her concerns. “It's just, that was when Elena started screaming.”

“Elena was screaming? Why?” Shonda's hand shot to her chest in fright for the child. “Please tell me she didn't slip and fall in the bathroom!”

“Nope, she got shampoo in her eyes,” he said wearily.
He looks tired. I wonder if he's still interested in having a family after this craziness. I mean, that's the reality of the situation he's taking on if he decides to be with Marithé.

“I can see why you didn't tell her then,” Shonda conceded. “Sometimes life is hectic like that.”

Life is always hectic like that,
Malcom amended silently.

“Well, we were able to get things calmed down, but when we did…” Jack seemed hesitant to tell the rest.

“What?” Shonda pushed impatiently.

Jack sighed. “When we got everything settled down, she said… she said she wished Jorge was still here. After that, I couldn't… I couldn't tell her.”

Shonda gave him a determined look. “Of course, she'd say that. It's hard being a single parent, I would know! All the times I was left alone to care for you while your father was on deployment… I wished him home too.”

Malcom winced.
I wished I had been there for you too, Shonda. Maybe things would have been different… better. I missed so much.

“I'm sorry I was so difficult, Mom,” Jack cringed, anguish in his face.

“Don't be silly!” Shonda smacked him with her dish towel. “Children are worth the stress. It's just, well… it's natural to want your partner to be there to help you when things get chaotic and overwhelming.”

“Yeah, but
I
was there,” Jack's voice was pained. “I wanted to help… I
tried
to help.”

“But it's not the same thing. I mean, you're not her partner, son,” Shonda said gently. “Not yet, anyway. She wouldn't think to ask you for help or comfort. She expects to deal with things on her own.”

Jack met his mother's eyes. “Yeah, I guess you're right. I can see that now.”

“She just needs a little more time, Jack,” Malcolm reassured him, patting him on the shoulder consolingly.
It hasn't been that long yet since her husband passed away.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “She's been through so much and the last thing I want to do is to push her.”

“Good idea,” Malcolm said, glowing with pride for his son's maturity.

“Jack, can you get the door, please,” Shonda called from the kitchen. Sighing, Jack set his beer bottle down and hoisted himself painfully to his feet, grunting with the effort.

“Were you expecting someone?” he called back as he passed the kitchen door.

“Yes, honey. Marithé and the kids will be joining us for dinner.”

Jack stopped moving towards the door and veered into the kitchen. “Mom, why did you do that? Remember what we talked about? She's not ready and I don't want you pushing her.”

Shonda pulled out a whisk and began to clang it noisily on the edges of the roasting pan. “I'm not pushing anyone,” she shouted over the racket. “My friend Marithé is facing her first holiday as a widow. Her family lives far away, so I invited her for dinner. It has nothing to do with you, silly.”

Jack didn't believe a word of it, and shot his mother a sour look before he resumed heading towards the door to let their guests in, muttering under his breath.

Marithé looked even more beautiful than usual, dressed as she was in a knee length black dress. Equally tempting was the covered dish she carried in both hands, the aroma tantalizing his senses. Behind her, Elena, clad in a sparkly red dress, carried a bag of rolls. Andres, looking grumpy in a suit and vest, hugged a two liter bottle of soda almost too big for him to carry. Jack quickly retrieved the Dr. Pepper before the child could drop it.

“Come in,” he urged. “Welcome and Happy Thanksgiving.”

They stepped through the door and he closed it behind them.
If I didn't have this damned cane, I could get that dish from Marithé.
His sense of chivalry insulted, he caught her attention with a look of apology, only to have another one of those electrifying gazes capture them for a brief moment. Then she tore her eyes away, leaving him feeling temporarily overwhelmed.

Jack cleared his throat, centering himself before saying, “Come on.” He beckoned, escorting her to the kitchen. The kids trailed along in her wake.

“Hi! Don't you look handsome?” Shonda greeted them warmly, arms outstretched as she bent down to give grandmotherly smooches to the giggling toddler. When Elena thrust the bag of rolls towards her, delighted to receive her welcome hug, she added, “You look like an angel!”

“How can I help?” Marithé asked Shonda, setting her burden on the counter.

“Can you mash the potatoes?” Shonda suggested, slipping each of the children a cookie.

“Follow me, kids,” Jack said. “I think there's a holiday movie on TV.”

“Can we watch football?” Andres suggested, taking a generous bite of the offered cookie.

Jack laughed. “Sure, of course. It's already on in the den. What about you, Elena?”

“I want to cook,” the girl replied primly, setting her cookie on the table and clapping her hands together in anticipation.

Shonda beamed. “That's my girl! Jack, honey, can you please put that chair over by the stove before you men folk head off?” Touching her forehead to Elena's, she said conspiratorially, “You can help me make the gravy.”

“Yay!” The little girl cheered and Shonda grabbed one of her aprons from the drawer to tie onto her. “I love gravy!”

“Have you ever made gravy?” Shonda asked, smiling over at the grateful looking mother, who was adding a splash of milk and a pat of butter to the contents in a large pot.

“Nope,” Elena answered with her hands in the air. “But I like to eat it.”

Grinning, Jack dragged the chair over as directed and returned to the den, where Andres had already plunked himself onto the floor, watching the game as he gnawed on his cookie. Interestingly, he had chosen a spot close to Malcom's leg.

His father reached down and tousled the little boy's curly hair.

* * *

“Ugh,” Malcom groaned, “No pie for me, please. I'm stuffed to the gills. Marithé, those tamales you brought were delicious. I've never liked those before, but yours are great.”

The lovely woman beamed. “Thank you, Pastor Nelson.”

“Malcolm, please.”

“What about you Jack,” Shonda asked, picking up her glass to wash down the last bite of her supper. “Are you ready for pie?”

“No thanks, Mom!” Jack said, shifting against his belt buckle, looking uncomfortable. “I don't think I'll want to eat again for at least a week.”

Shonda grinned into her glass of wine.

“Me either,” Elena echoed then tried to mirror Jack's movements before she gave up, opting to pat her bloated tummy instead.

At the end of the table, Andres let out a tremendous yawn. The corners of Marithé's mouth turn upwards in a soft grin as she gazed at her son affectionately. “I don't mean to eat and run, but we'd better be going,” she said, getting up to start clearing away Andres' dishes.

“Don't rush away,” Shonda insisted. “Let me just get a bed ready in the guest room.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Marithé said, trying to prevaricate.

“Actually, I've been dying to have some little kid time. Marithé, would you do an old lady a favor and let me play grandma for a while? You and Jack could… I don't know… go to a movie or something. What do you say?” She gave her best puppy dog eyes to the young mother.

Jack rolled his eyes at her obvious manipulation, and waited for Marithé to refuse. The woman remained silent for a long, long moment, and then, just as Jack was about to jump in and say it wasn't necessary, spoke. “Okay.” She turned to him. “If that's okay with you, I mean.”

He blinked. “Yeah, sure it's okay.”

She grinned and Jack felt his stomach tighten.

“Here, let me do that,” Shonda ordered, standing up to take the plates from Marithé.

“Thank you, Shonda,” she replied, surrendering the items to the older woman before holding out her hand to Jack. He claimed it and they quickly crossed the room to the door. Once outside in the cool November evening, Marithé asked, “Do you really want to go to a movie or are were you just trying to make your mother happy?”

How can I answer? I don't want to give the wrong idea, but…
“Not a movie, if you don't mind. I don't like encouraging businesses to make their people work on Thanksgiving, if I don't have to. But after all that turkey,” he rubbed his belly with his free hand and groaned, “I'd love to go for a walk.”

“Oh,” she replied, looking startled, “won't that bother your leg?”

“Nah,” he replied. “I'm supposed to keep moving to help prevent stiffness. Plus, sitting around is going to make me gain weight if I'm not careful. Interested?”

“Sure,” she replied. She shifted her hand in his so their fingers laced together. They set off down the street musing over the Christmas lights the neighbors had already hung from their eaves. “I bet you're wondering why I agreed, right?”

“Well, now that you brought it up,” he joked. “I mean, I'm not about to argue… Still, I won't lie, Marithé, spending time alone with you is… something I can't stop obsessing about.”

She grew timid, her cheeks taking on an attractive pinkish hue. “I know and I'm sure you realize I feel the same way.” Her soft, shy voice struck him with its sincerity. A warm, gentle feeling spread through him starting in the vicinity of his heart.

He stroked her thumb with his. “I wondered… I
hoped
, but I wasn't sure.”

She glanced at the ground in front of them and whispered, “Well, I do.”

“I'm glad, ecstatic, but I'm determined not to rush you. After everything that's happened…” He broke off, wondering what to say next. “I would never try to replace Jorge, you know that right? I mean, I don't expect you to forget him or… be over him or anything. Hell, I won't forget him either.”

They reached the corner and turned left, following the sidewalk past a small house with green siding and then a two story brick townhome. A harvest wreath adorned the front door of the second house, and an inflatable turkey bobbed in the front yard.

“I know, Jack. In fact, that's part of what helped me change my mind,” she confessed.

“Oh,” was all he could think to say.

“Look, I have to take this slow and I can't promise you anything,” she stammered uncomfortably, but clearly wanting him to understand that she was at least willing to try. “I don't know… where I'm at or anything, you know? Some days I think I'm better and then other days…” The shadow of pain which flashed across her face made him tighten his grasp on her hand. “There are moments when I feel like I'm falling apart.

“I know,” he whispered with genuine concern.

“If you're serious about taking things slowly, giving me time… accepting me as you find me, moment to moment, then…” she swallowed, a pleading in her eyes as she held his. “I think, maybe… It might help me to not be scared, to move forward.”

Jack stopped walking, turning to face Marithé, retaining their connection through their clasped hands. “Do you mean that?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“So, if I asked you to go out on a date with me?”

She nodded nervously and a little voice in his head roared.
YEAH! Thank you, God!

Slowly, Marithé lifted one hand and laid it on his cheek. She stroked his skin with her thumb. The warmth of her gentle touch shot straight to his groin, but somehow, this time, the ache didn't upset him nor did it surprise him. She drew him down until his lips hovered inches from hers.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, restraining himself as he waiting for her to respond.

Though she didn't speak, her eyes begged him to take over.
Damned right I'm taking over,
he thought. Then he eagerly closed the distance between them, capturing her mouth in the gentlest, most tender touch he could manage.
I only want to love you the way you deserve… to ease your suffering and give you happiness again.
He poured those emotions and all the affection he'd repressed over the last month into her soft lips.

He pulled back a fraction, hating the cold that washed over his wet lips, wanting her warmth to be there once more.
I don't want to rush her.
He cleared his throat and asked in a soft voice, “How about a movie next week some time. I know Mom will watch the kids.”

“Okay,” she agreed readily, still sounding a little out of breath.

“Great.”

“Jack?”

“Hmmmm?” He couldn't stop staring into her entrancing eyes.

“Kiss me again.”

Smiling, his heart about to burst with joy, Jack captured her luscious pink lips with his once again.
I could kiss you forever.