Leave It to Claire (31 page)

“You know what I miss?”

I shake my head.

“Hearing you type at night. I knew something was missing. But I just put my finger on it the other day when you were at your
desk for a few minutes.”

“So it’s not going to bother you when I go back to work after your Christmas break?”

“No. Because I think things are different now.”

“You got that right.”

And she does.

I
’m leaving Wal-Mart with a vanload of Christmas presents, including Mom’s TV/DVR combo player, when I happen to glance across
the street. A growl rumbles in my throat when I see Patrick’s love-mobile parked in the video store parking lot. On a whim,
I drive over there and pull up next to the Mustang. I’m thinking it’s time for a little chat with Casanova.

He’s behind the counter. A blush spreads across his face and neck when I stare him down. My stomach twists and churns with
nerves as I’m forced to wait while he attends to the lone customer in the video store. The middle-aged woman smiles at the
good-looking seventeen-year-old, clueless to the fact that he’s a groping, two-timing jerk. She leaves with her movie.

I set my purse on the counter and clear my throat while Patrick pretends to be attending to something in the computer. He
bites his upper lip. Lips that kissed my daughter. And Shelley, and no telling how many other girls.

“Let’s get this over with, Patrick,” I say, suddenly infused with courage.

The kid takes a deep breath and looks away from the computer screen, meeting my eyes.

“How are you, Ms. Everett?”

I know he’s about to throw up, but I’m having a hard time feeling sorry for him. A vision of Ari’s swollen eyes and red nose
haunts me as I stare him down. “Well, Patrick, I’m not doing very well, to be honest.” I lean in. “Tell me why I shouldn’t
go to your parents and tell them how I caught you handling my daughter on the bleachers, or share some of the information
Ari’s given me about your dates. You can do a lot before ten o’clock can’t you, Paddy?”

His face drains of color. “I care about Ari, Ms. Everett. If she’d just talk to me, I could explain.”

My anger rises. “According to Ari, there’s nothing to explain. And don’t try to con me. I know all the excuses.”

“I swear to you, I’m not lying. It wasn’t the way Ari thinks.”

He looks so miserable I almost believe him. Against my better judgment, I fold my arms across my chest and cock my head. “Convince
me that you weren’t on a date with another girl or kissing the same girl the next day.”

“I wasn’t. At least not the way Ari thinks.”

“Okay.”

“My mom has been ministering to Shelley’s mom for the last couple of months. She knows Shelley has a crush on me and asked
me to be nice to her.”

I can’t help the harsh expulsion of laughter that pushes from my throat. “Come on, Patrick. Don’t yank me around.”

“I’m not. I swear it.”

“All right. Tell me why Trish saw you at the movies with this girl.”

“Her mom is messed up. A druggie. Shelley was at the movies with some friends and got sick. She tried to call her mom to come
get her, but she was so high when she answered the phone, she wasn’t making any sense. Shelley called my house and my Mom
asked me to go get Shelley while she went to check on her mom. That was all there was to that. Trish saw us leaving together
and assumed we were on a date. Ms. Everett, I’d never cheat on Ari. I care so much about her. I promise.”

Call me crazy, but I believe him.

“All right. I can verify this with your mom.” And I fully intend to do just that. “Tell me why you were kissing Shelley where
my daughter could see you.”

“Shelley interpreted me being nice to her as me being interested in her. I just didn’t know what to do about her. She sort
of cornered me in the hall and kissed me. I didn’t kiss her back and I didn’t have my arms around her. If Ari really thinks
about it, she’ll admit that she saw my hands on Shelley’s arms, pushing her away from me.”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“My parents know everything, Ms. Everett.” His eyes shine with earnest appeal, drawing me in. “They know Ari and I went too
far physically. They prayed with me and I feel like God’s forgiven me. If Ari will believe me and take me back, my parents
have said we can only date in groups.”

Okay, for the record, I’m not crazy about my pastor knowing these things about my daughter, but I’d bet my laptop he’s telling
the truth. “I’ll second that. If she takes you back, group dates only.”

His eyes widen. “Will you ask her to call me?”

“I’ll tell her what you’ve told me, and if she believes your story, I’m sure she’ll call.”

Relief spreads across his face. The bell over the door dings and a customer enters, effectively ending our conversation.

I give him a tentative smile as I leave. Amazing turn of events.

The smell of gingerbread cookies wafts through the house on what should have been the last day of school before Christmas
break. But a northern air mass collided with a southern storm system, dumping twelve inches of snow on our city and forcing
the superintendent of schools to announce a snow day. So Christmas break started one day early. The kids’ll pay for it at
the end of the school year by having to make it up, but they’re not thinking about that. Right now, the boys and Greg’s Sadie
are outside playing in the snow. Ari has spent the entire day on the phone with Paddy sorting out their love life.

My big idea to make gingerbread men is paying off in a great-smelling house, and the cookies, cooling on the stove, actually
look good enough to eat.

I’m feeling very June Cleaver-ish, with Christmas music playing throughout the living room and kitchen. I’m getting that picture
of Greg and me again. The one where we are married and I’m cooking for him. He adores me. Adores my children, adores that
I need to hire a housekeeper (this is
my
fantasy). Adores my cooking.

The front door slams, pulling me from the unlikely dream.

I hurry to the living room. “Tommy, don’t track snow in here. Take off your shoes in the foyer.”

“Whatever.”

Uh-oh. “What’s wrong, Toms?”

“Nothing,” he mutters, but slides down the wall and sits on the floor, his knees pulled up, forearms resting on his knees.
His shoes are making puddles as the snow slides off and melts when it hits the floor.

I sit on the third step from the bottom. “Come on. Talk to me.”

He scowls.

“Jenny Wellington said something that made me mad, so I came in.”

“The girl you like?”

He nodded.

“What did she say?”

“I’m a freak.”

“You’re a freak?”

He nods. “That’s what she said.”

“When?”

He jerks his head to the door.

I get up and go to the door, look out through the little square security window. Holy cow. My yard is swarming with kids of
every shape and size. Gulp. “What’d you do, invite the whole school?”

“They live around here. We started a snowball fight and they just started coming.”

“Who all is out there?”

“The Willards from down the block. All three of them. Sam and David from across the street. Jenny and her friend Melody live
a block over and heard us. Plus Sadie Lewis, unfortunately.”

“Oh, be nice to her.”

“Believe me, I try. It’s not that easy.”

Sadie is demanding and a bit spoiled. For some reason, Jake puts up with it and they’ve become the best of friends.

“Well, I think it’s kind of neat that so many of your friends showed up.”

A shrug lifts his shoulders. “I guess.”

“So why did this Jenny call you a freak?”

“Promise not to flip out?”

What is it with these kids? “I never flip out.”

“Is that your promise?”

“Oh, all right. I won’t flip out.” Probably.

He pulls that fake lip ring from his pocket. “I wear this. And sometimes I wear eyeliner at school. But I’m not gay or anything.”

Sheesh, who thinks that? I am, however, about six seconds away from flipping out about the lip ring and eyeliner, both of
which I’ve forbidden.

But wait . . .

“So this Jenny doesn’t like the whole look?”

He shakes his head. “She said she’d be my girlfriend if I didn’t look like such a freak. Her mom won’t let her go with me.”

Okay, maybe as a mother I should be ticked about anyone calling my boy such a name. And the girl’s mom? She should be so lucky
my son even wants to date her snooty daughter. But back to reality. If his feelings for this girl will wake him up to the
error of his ways, I’m all for the little snot calling him a freak.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” I say, totally trying a little reverse psychology.

“What’s what?”

“You’ll have to start looking at other girls. The kind who like that sort of thing.”

He gives me a dubious frown. “Mom, I’m not four. I know what you’re doing.”

Shoot.

My cheeks warm. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do.” He stands and heads back to the door. “I just needed some time to cool off. I’m going back out there. I might
stop wearing the lip ring and eyeliner, but I’m not giving up my skateboard. And that’s final.”

Yes!

If I had a dime for every Christmas present I’ve ever gotten from my kids, I’d be… really poor. But for some reason,
this year, they put their money together and bought me a DVD edition of
Gone With the Wind
with special features, including interviews.

My children know it’s my all-time favorite movie, so it makes it that much sweeter—that they made sure what they bought for
me would be something I love. That speaks more to me than if they’d let their granny pick out something and put my name on
it as usual. Although I always appreciate the sentiment, this is different. It proves that God is healing our family.

Christmas morning leaves me all weepy. Tommy is so excited over his skateboard that he actually hugs me and kisses my cheek.
Then tells me I’m getting skinny. If he’d have told me that a week ago, I’d have sprung for the board that cost twenty-five
dollars more. But how was I to know?

Ari laughs when she opens her book
I Kissed Dating Goodbye,
which I bought mostly as a joke and before she got back together with Patrick. She does love the diamond stud earrings she’s
begged for each of the last three years. Not only did I not have the money for such an expensive gift before, I didn’t think
she was grown up enough. Things have changed, and that was a little last-minute gift.

The little boys got their usual games, toy guns, remote-control cars, and books.

The morning goes by way too fast and I want to hold on to every minute I can. I fix blueberry pancakes and link sausages.
I’ve been planning the Christmas breakfast for a month, and I’m so excited I can barely contain it as I call them into the
kitchen.

“Wow.” Ari’s eyes are wide. “Mom, this is great.”

My heart swells as they scarf it all down in fifteen minutes flat. “That was good, Mom,” Shawny says with his chipmunk-cheek
smile. “We should have that every Christmas morning.”

Tommy pipes in, agreeing with his brother for the first time that I can remember in recent memory. “Yeah, we could have a
tradition.”

Jake frowns and rains on our parade. “I don’t like blueberries.”

Oh, well, can’t win them all.

“Then maybe I should make you some chocolate-chip pancakes next year.”

A grin splits his mouth, making it clear he did not receive his two front teeth for Christmas.

Finally, at ten till eleven, I give a reluctant sigh.

“It’s time?” Ari is getting pretty good at reading me.

I nod, trying to hold back tears. Rick has always conceded Christmas Day to me. I don’t know why. Guilt, maybe? Because he
wasn’t married? Who knows why? But this year, he’s decided to take his court-ordered holiday. It’s only fair. I know that.

But that doesn’t make it any easier.

We pile into the van and as if by unspoken agreement between themselves, the kids give an effort to contain their excitement,
as there’s no way I can hide my dread over spending Christmas Day without them.

“You could stay and have dinner with us, Mom,” Ari says, breaking the silence. “You know Darcy wants you to.”

Yeah, I know she does. I’ve told her no at least ten times. “This year you need to be a family with Dad and Darcy. Without
me.”

“You’re not running off, are you, Mom?”

I nearly swallow my gum. “Tommy! Good grief, where’d you get such an idea?”

He shrugs. “Just making sure those pancakes weren’t a guilt breakfast. Losing all that weight, wearing makeup. I don’t know.
It just seems like you’ve got something going on. Like a trip to Mexico to get married or something.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. The kid is too clever for his own good.

“Hey, I told you I’m turning over a new leaf. Besides, I would never get married in Mexico.”

“Mommy’s going to marry Sadie’s daddy, anyway. Aren’t you, Mom?”

At Jakey’s question, a tension fills the air.

“You mean Lewis?” Tommy’s voice is filled with a hostility I don’t really get. “There’s no way I’m living in the same house
with that little brat of his.” Ah, now I get it.

“My teacher? That’s not a good idea, Mom. Conflict of interest.”

Good grief, Shawn. “Where’d you learn ‘conflict of interest’?”

“I’m not a baby.” The child has no idea how smart he is. It’s rather disturbing.

“So answer the question, Mom,” Ari says. Partly, I know, as a joke. But partly because I can see she’s starting to put two
and two together.

“I’m not marrying anyone.”

“Never, ever?” Jakey asks.

Well, never say “Never, ever.”

“I promise there would be a family discussion before something like that ever happened. And besides, I’m not dating anyone.”

“Do you
want
to date Mr. Lewis?” Shawn asks.

“That is my private business, Mr. Conflict of Interest.”

We are pulling into Rick and Darcy’s circle drive and for the first time since they married, I don’t feel a bit of jealousy.
Hmm. Methinks perhaps I’ve come to a little intersection we like to call the Building Blocks of Character Development. Next
I’ll pull onto a road named Moving on with My Life.