Читать книгу A Child's Christmas - Kate James - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

CHELSEA SAT ON a chair in Paige’s living room, one leg dangling over its arm. She was dressed in her favorite color—black leggings, thick black socks and an oversize black sweater. Jason was sprawled on the carpet, reading a book. Paige was curled up on the sofa, her legs tucked under her. In contrast to Chelsea’s dark, she was light. She wore faded jeans and a white long-sleeved T-shirt, and her blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a high ponytail.

Her friend studied her while munching on a carrot stick. “You look about eighteen, you know, with your perfect skin and that ponytail.”

Paige flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. “I think that’s a stretch, but thanks for the compliment.”

Bobby Helms’s “Jingle Bell Rock” started to play on the radio.

“Can you believe it’s only a couple of weeks until Christmas?” Chelsea exclaimed. “What are you guys doing this year?”

Paige glanced down at her son just as he turned his head and smiled up at her. “Jason and I discussed it. Although it would be great to be with Mom and Dad, we decided to spend Christmas here.”

Jason pushed up into a sitting position and crossed his legs. “Yeah. That way I won’t get as tired, ’cause I’ll need all my energy for my next treatment right after Christmas.”

Paige looked back at Chelsea. “The doctors timed his second treatment as far before the holidays as possible to make sure he’d feel the best he could for Christmas. But it means he’ll get the following one on December 27.”

Chelsea nodded in sympathy. “Bummer about not seeing your grandparents though, huh, Squirt?”

Jason lowered his eyes. “That’s okay. I wanted to, but Gramps doesn’t really remember me most of the time,” he murmured, then brightened. “Besides, we can see you and Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, and Mr. Weatherly! You can all come over, and we can have hot chocolate and play games and stuff!”

Chelsea swung her leg to the floor and shifted in the chair. “Actually, I won’t be here for Christmas. I’m taking Joel to spend the holidays with my parents in North Carolina. Things are getting serious enough that it’s time they met him. We’ll be gone from just before Christmas until the second of January.” Chelsea shrugged apologetically. “Mrs. Bennett mentioned yesterday that they’d be spending Christmas with their daughter, her husband and the grandkids.”

Jason looked crestfallen.

“Sorry, Squirt,” Chelsea said. “At least Mr. Weatherly will be here.”

A tap at the door had Jason scrambling to answer it. As if on cue, Mr. Weatherly stood in the doorway, holding a small plant, its pot wrapped in shiny red paper.

“Well, hello, Mr. Weatherly.” Paige rose to greet her next-door neighbor. Harrison Weatherly was a very proper, middle-aged English gentleman. He was dressed, as always, as though he was off to have tea with the Queen. Today he wore gray tweed pants with an impeccable crease, a perfectly pressed white shirt, a black knit vest and a maroon bow tie. Paige knew he’d never been married and—because a young lady in his youth had broken his heart—he liked to boast that he was a confirmed bachelor. He didn’t have family in the United States. It struck Paige that he seemed lonely. Gardening was his passion, and he made the most of the small outdoor space that came with his ground-floor apartment. Paige had a soft spot in her heart for Mr. Weatherly.

“Hey, Mr. Weatherly,” Chelsea chimed in, waving at him.

“What’s that?” Jason dashed over, peering at the plant.

“This is for you, young master Jason, and for your mother. It’s a miniature spruce, all decked out for Christmas. Here you go.” He handed Jason the small tree, which was decorated with tiny ornaments and a miniature star on top.

“It’s cool!” Jason exclaimed. Catching his mother’s look, he swiftly added, “Thanks.”

Paige stood on her toes and gave Mr. Weatherly a kiss, bringing a bright red stain to his cheeks. “It’s beautiful and very considerate of you. Thank you.”

“I just thought it might be nice on your table. Perhaps as a centerpiece for Christmas dinner.”

“It’ll be perfect! Jason, why don’t you take it over now? Mr. Weatherly, please come in for a cup of tea.”

Mr. Weatherly followed Paige into the apartment and made himself comfortable on the sofa while Jason positioned the little tree in the middle of their dining table.

Paige paused at the doorway to the kitchen. “Speaking of Christmas dinner, we’d love to have you join us.”

Mr. Weatherly smiled broadly. “What a kind invitation, but this year I’m going to New York City. I’ve always wanted to experience New York at Christmas. Attend a Broadway play, see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. I finally decided to do it. I signed up for a New York Christmas excursion. I’m quite excited about it.”

“That’s wonderful,” Paige said, but she shot Chelsea a quick glance and felt sad as she prepared the tea. Christmas was about spending time with loved ones—family and friends. She wondered again if there was any way she and Jason could spend it with her parents, but travel would be hard for him, and her father wasn’t comfortable in places he didn’t recognize. So this Christmas it would be just her and Jason. All the more reason she needed to make it a special one for him.

* * *

DANIEL WAS IN his office on a settlement teleconference call with opposing counsel for one of his clients. They were doing the customary dance, even though they both knew where they’d ultimately end up. It promised to be a long dance. He leaned back in his chair and spun it around to watch the snow falling outside while he listened to the opposing counsel list the multitude of alleged grievances against his client.

Daniel’s gaze rested on the billboard with the Rockwell-like family. He focused on the flawless-looking parents, ostensibly so happy and in love. They seemed to exude tenderness for each other and their child.

It made him think of Jason’s mother. How would she feel, having recently learned of her son’s illness, alone and with obvious financial difficulties? Who would she lean on for support? Was there someone who loved her and would shower her with gifts on Christmas morning? He had no idea who she was, what she did for a living or what her dreams and desires were. But he could guess that her fears would all be concentrated on her son. He was equally certain that she’d be a good mother. The image of the boy in the picture Laura had sent him suggested a happy, well-loved kid.

Daniel’s thoughts kept darting back to Jason’s mother while he half listened to the other lawyer drone on. He’d had enough by the time they finally agreed on the settlement—a settlement he’d been so confident in, he’d already had the agreement drafted.

He turned to his computer and flipped through his contacts as he concluded the call. Rather than hanging up, he dialed another number. After two rings, the call was answered.

“Laura Andrews.”

“It’s Daniel Kinsley, and I’d appreciate your help with something.”

“Sure, Daniel. I’d be happy to assist if I can.”

“I need some information about Jason’s mother.”

A note of apprehension crept into Laura’s voice. “Now, Daniel, that’s against our policies. Most of our families are proud, hard-working people, and they don’t feel good about needing assistance. We assure them that we’ll keep identities confidential.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t need to know her identity. Just a little about her.”

“I don’t understand...”

“It’s nothing sinister. Based on what you told me, I figure she’s unlikely to splurge on anything for herself. It occurred to me that I’d like to get a few things for her, too.”

“That’s very considerate of you. What do you have in mind?”

He chuckled again. “I haven’t got a clue!” Whenever he’d dated a woman during the holidays, invariably the gift of choice had been jewelry. He was well versed in the cut and clarity of diamonds, although he’d always stayed clear of rings. But he didn’t consider jewelry an appropriate gift for this particular woman. “That’s where I need your help, Laura. Can you give me some ideas?”

“Let me think... Yes! I know exactly the types of things she could use.”

Daniel made a list. It shocked him that he was looking forward to doing more shopping.

* * *

PAIGE WAS GRATEFUL that Jason was feeling better after his treatment. It had been his last before Christmas, and they were able to spend a quiet weekend at home. Mr. Weatherly’s gift of a small Christmas tree aside, they had an agreement with their neighbors that they wouldn’t exchange gifts, other than each of them bringing some small toy for Jason, and Jason painting everyone a picture. Since their neighbors were leaving for Christmas over the coming days, they all stopped by Paige and Jason’s apartment to offer holiday greetings. First it was Mr. and Mrs. Bennett from across the hall, Mr. Bennett making a special effort to move around despite his severe arthritis. Next it was Chelsea, brimming with excitement about introducing Joel to her parents.

Sunday morning, Jason was working with his watercolors at the dining room table. Paige sat down beside him, tilting her head to see what he was painting.

The background was a mottled green. The large form in the foreground was mostly filled with a pale burnt-orange wash, leaving some sections white. Jason was working with a fine bristle brush and undiluted black paint. As Paige watched, the form started to take the shape of a tiger—a rather well-executed one.

Where had her son gotten his talent? Neither she nor her ex-husband was artistic, but there was no denying that Jason had a gift. She began to say so when a knock sounded at the door. Jason was reaching over to put his brush down, but Paige laid a hand on his wrist. “You keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll get it.”

“Good morning, Mr. Weatherly,” Paige greeted him. He was dressed as spiffily as usual, with a vest under his houndstooth check jacket, a bow tie and a fedora.

“Hi, Mr. Weatherly!” Jason stuck his paint brush into the mason jar on the table and ran over.

“A merry Christmas to you, Jason.” He handed Jason a package wrapped in gold foil with a big red bow. “Hold on to this until Christmas,” he said with mock sternness. “Don’t open it until then.”

Jason shook the box gently and listened to the slight rattle.

“No trying to guess, either, young man!”

“Okay. And thank you. I’ll go get your gift.” Jason hurried to his room and returned carrying a large envelope, hand-decorated with a Christmas motif, and with Mr. Weatherly’s name beautifully written on the front. “This is for you.” He held the envelope out to Mr. Weatherly.

“Thank you, young man. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait to open this, too. Gifts should be opened on Christmas morning, don’t you think?”

Jason nodded.

“Mr. Weatherly, would you like a cup of tea?” Paige asked.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

He followed Jason to the table, while Paige went into the kitchen. Their conversation drifted in to her as she made the tea.

“This is going to be a tiger, isn’t it?” he asked Jason as he studied his painting.

Jason knelt on his chair and picked up his brush. “Yes. It’s a Bengal tiger.”

“I can see that. Well done. And you’re painting it from your imagination?”

“From my memory! I saw one in a zoo once.”

“You did?”

“Oh, it was a long time ago.” Jason added a few more black stripes to the tiger’s face. “When my dad was still around.”

He nodded. “What made you want to paint it now?”

Jason moistened the tip of his brush again and swirled it lightly over the cake of black paint. He glanced toward the kitchen doorway. Keeping his voice low, he responded. “Every year, at Christmas, I make something for my dad. Something he’d like. He really liked the tiger at the zoo, so I thought I’d paint him a picture of a tiger this year.”

Hearing her son’s words, Paige froze in the doorway, a tray with cups, milk and sugar, a pot of tea and a plate of cookies in her hands. Jason took that moment to glance up again. Their eyes met. Paige moved forward and placed the tea service on the table. She poured three cups of tea, passed Mr. Weatherly his cup, and made hers and Jason’s with a bit of sugar and some milk.

They chatted until Mr. Weatherly finished his tea and rose. “Well, I’d better be off now, since I’m leaving for my trip soon.” He held Jason’s envelope in one hand, tapping it lightly on the palm of the other. “I thank you for this, and I know I’ll love it. Merry Christmas to you both!” He gave each of them a stiff little hug, and they said their good-byes.

Paige cleaned up the tea service before rejoining Jason in the dining room.

She sat at the table, elbows resting on the surface, not quite knowing how to broach the topic of Jason’s painting. “It’s turning out really well,” she began.

“Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled, but he avoided eye contact.

Her heart had been aching from the time she’d heard Jason’s admission to Mr. Weatherly, but fresh pain seared her now. She ran a comforting hand up and down Jason’s back. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about what I heard.”

His eyes darted to hers before he lowered his lashes again. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She took the brush out of his hand, placed it back in the mason jar, then drew him into a hug. “Oh, sweetie. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” As his arms tightened around her waist, she rocked him gently. “I’d like us to talk about it, though.”

He gave her one final squeeze before settling back in his chair, but he remained silent.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jason picked up his brush and fidgeted with it. “I know we’ll probably never see Dad again,” he muttered.

Paige felt the burn of tears.

“It’s no big deal,” he said quickly. He twirled the brush between his fingers. “But every year I make something for Dad. This year, it’s the tiger. Just in case...” He shrugged. “After Christmas, I’ll put it away. I have a shoe box I use for that. Last year I made him a candy dish at school.”

Paige had wondered what had happened to the pretty blue-and-white dish.

“After Christmas, I’ll put the painting of the tiger in the box, too.”

Jason’s eyes shone with some indefinable emotion when he looked up at her, “Then if I do see him again, the presents will all be there for him.”

Paige’s heart simply shattered, but she’d die before she’d let Jason see that. She smoothed his bangs back from his forehead and brushed her lips across his brow. “That’s very thoughtful of you. It’s a beautiful painting. I know your father would love it.”

Jason straightened his shoulders and swirled his brush over the cake of black paint. “Thanks, Mom.” His voice soft, he added, “Maybe someday I will be able to give it to him.”

* * *

DANIEL WAS ASTONISHED to discover that he actually enjoyed shopping for Christmas gifts despite the crowds, noise and general cacophony. He’d even taken care of all the wrapping. Well, not personally. That was beyond his capabilities or, perhaps more accurately, his patience. But he felt good about that, too, because he’d had everything wrapped by one of those charitable gift wrapping services in the mall.

He dropped off all the brightly wrapped packages for Jason and the few for Jason’s mother at the Foundation’s warehouse so they could be delivered the day before Christmas.

The only thing missing was the deluxe electric train set he’d ordered. Two days before Christmas, he called the hobby store’s owner again to follow up on the delivery date.

“I’m so sorry for the delay, Mr. Kinsley, but the manufacturer didn’t realize how popular train sets would be this year.”

“But you told me—”

“I did, and I am a man of my word. I’ve contacted the manufacturer. He’s working around the clock to fill all the orders, even though it’s costing him more money and he likely won’t make a profit on these remaining sets. I know that’s not your concern, but I just want you to appreciate his commitment. He’s promised to deliver all the train sets by Christmas. Yours was one of the last orders placed. Unfortunately, that means it’s also one of the last being manufactured. He’s trying for tomorrow, but if that’s not possible, he will absolutely have it done by Christmas morning.”

Daniel was somewhat reassured, but now he needed another favor from Laura. He knew this one would be a challenge for her. There was no point in delaying the inevitable, so he called her number next.

When she answered the phone, he began, “Laura, I’ve got a problem.”

“Of all the people I know, I’d think you’d be the least likely to have a problem. Not one you can’t resolve, anyway,” Laura teased him.

“See, that’s the thing about assumptions. They’re often wrong.”

Daniel summarized the situation, and the humor went out of Laura’s voice. “I explained our confidentiality provisions before. If I’m not at liberty to give you a name, I certainly can’t give you an address, especially without checking with Jason’s mother.”

“You can’t check with her. I want it to be a surprise for both of them. You should see this train set, Laura! The kid’s going to flip.”

“I really can’t—”

“As for a courier, I’ve already looked into that without any luck. How about one of your staff, then? I really want Jason to have the train set.”

After a brief silence, Laura responded. “I don’t have anyone I could ask. They’re mostly volunteers, and they’ve worked exceptionally long hours this year because of the large number of families needing help. I couldn’t take them away from their families. I’d do it myself, but I promised my parents I’d visit them. I can’t disappoint them.”

“Then I have to do it. I’m a lawyer. That means I have a code of ethics that requires me to respect confidentiality. I just want the kid to have this train set, and there’s nothing I can do to get it earlier. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“All right, Daniel. I’m breaking the rules here. I hope you know this could cost me my job, but you have a compelling argument, and you’re not leaving me much choice.”

“Thank you, Laura! You won’t lose your job. I promise. If anyone gets any ideas about it, I’ll get you the meanest, most tenacious employment lawyer in existence.” He laughed. “Opposing counsel won’t have a chance, but it won’t come to that.”