12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart (35 page)

A
multitude
of physicians and therapists through the years had told Michael and Karen that Brian's screen time needed to be held to a minimum if they wanted to improve his socialization skills. At an early age Brian could spend hours happily on a computer tablet, playing word and counting games far above his age level. When neighborhood children were babbling and interacting, but Brian remained focused in his own world, Karen knew something wasn't right.

Today, however, seemed to call for a bending of the rules and letting Brian indulge in soothing his mind with a favorite computer game. Deep down, Mike still hoped one day Brian would use that computerlike brain for something amazing, like finding a cure for cancer or world famine, but Mike would gladly settle for his son having a happy life. Mike’s glance shifted to the photograph on his desk. When Karen had succumbed to a burst aneurysm, he'd clung to the good memories and pushed one foot in front of the other, expecting someday he wouldn't miss her so damn much. "You always made it look so easy."

The sound of his cell chiming in his pocket had him setting down the beloved photo of Karen and Brian, and answering, "Becker."

"Hello, Mr. Becker. My name is Annette Deluca."

The name didn't ring any bells. Was she the homeroom monitor? Or whatever they called the mom who organized all the parents nowadays. "Hello."

"Am I catching you at a bad time?"

His gaze shot past his office door to the living room, where Brian smiled over his iPad. Was there ever a good time? "This is fine. How may I help you?"

"My son, Adam, got into a fight at school today."

Mike's spine stiffened. If this woman thought calling to apologize for her child's cruel behavior ...

"Normally I don't approve of violence as a response to a negative situation, but, as much as I think that other boy deserved a good throttle, I'd like to avoid putting our boys through this again."

Our boys?
Karen's voice echoed in the back of his mind.
"Look at our boy, Mike. He's so smart."

"I'm sorry." Mike shook his head in an effort to clear his mind. If this wasn't the bully's mother, then she must be … "What exactly are we talking about?"

"Oh, excuse me. I thought you knew. My son, Adam, got in a fight with a bully at school for telling your son to kiss a girl."

Kiss a girl
? His neighbor had only relayed what little information her daughter had shared with her after school. All he really knew was that Brian had been picked on again, and a boy from another class came to his defense. A girl would certainly be an easy button to push for Brian. Mike had so hoped mainstreaming here in Hawaii would be different. "I was planning to call the school about this first thing in the morning."

"I know it's short notice, but, if you have a few minutes, perhaps we could meet somewhere and discuss what happened."

"That won't really be necessary. I'm sure the school—"

"Mr. Becker, I'll be honest. This is the first difficult situation involving Adam that I've had to face on my own, and I would prefer to be better informed, before I decide how to deal with my son."

And how could he say no to a request like that? Hadn't he wished a hundred times in the last three years that he could have someone to talk to about Brian? "I can't leave Brian alone. Would you be willing to come to our home?"

"Of course."

For the next hour Mike did his best to finish up the work in front of him. Despite his mind's eagerness to veer off path and consider Annette Deluca, her son, and this new mess, the demands of Mike’s job didn't allow him that luxury. By the time the doorbell rang, he'd pretty much given up on making any progress on either front.

Taking two seconds to glance into Brian's room and make sure he was settled in for the night, Mike proceeded to the front entryway and resisted the urge to straighten his collar.

At the other side of the door stood a dark-haired petite woman with big round eyes and a nervous smile. "Michael?"

"Yes." He stepped aside and extended a hand toward the living room. "Please come in."

"Thank you."

Mike did his best not to watch the shift of her hips. Why was he even looking? He had no interest in women. Not anymore.

A
nnette did
her best not to fidget. There was no reason for her to be so nervous, but for some reason, her stomach was doing somersaults and back-springs. Michael Becker stood across from her by the armchair, and she wondered how long before his wife joined them.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you." Where to begin? "Is your wife not home?"

The already grim expression on the man's face intensified. "No." He took a seat. "Karen's been gone for almost three years."

Gone
? She didn't even want to contemplate what he meant. Today was difficult enough. "How much do you know about what happened at school this afternoon?"

"According to my neighbor's daughter, a boy named Eddie has been teasing my son."

She blew out a breath and bobbed her head. "I'd say it's more than just teasing. Eddie is apparently the class bully. He likes to torment the not-so-popular, and now he's targeting your son."

Michael's lips thinned, and his brow creased.

"As I mentioned on the phone, my son, Adam, saw Eddie talk your son into kissing a girl. Adam was too late to stop it, but he fought the boy for making fun of Brian."

Michael's throat bobbed. "I only knew the gist of the situation before your call."

"I spent my afternoon in the principal's office." Annette wished she'd accepted his offer of a drink; it would have given her hands something to do. "I'd like to know more about Brian."

"He's autistic. High functioning. But socialization is not something that comes easy for him."

That lined up with what Emily had told her. "That possibility has been suggested."

Casually he leaned forward, his joined hands resting on his knees. "Do you know anyone on the autism spectrum?"

She shook her head.

"Brian's a sweet, warm, wonderful boy. And smart as a whip. But he doesn't understand normal social cues."

He blew out a deep sigh that Annette suspected represented more than a long day. She had a feeling she was listening to years of exhaustion and future anticipations all wrapped up in a single breath.

"Routine is very important," he continued. "As long as we don't change the familiar, he's a joy to be around."

For a moment she saw the gleam of a proud parent in his eyes.

"But I'll admit, I don't know what to do about this." His pleading eyes lifted and met hers. "Are you sure I can't get you something to drink? Juice? Coffee? Tea?"

"A cup of tea would be nice."

"Good." He pushed to his feet. "One cup of tea coming right up."

Her gaze followed his steps across the room. From where she sat, she could see Michael moving about the kitchen. He opened cabinet doors and pulled out cups, saucers. Next he tugged at the drawers and retrieved spoons. A kettle simmered on the stove.

"Do you have a flavor preference?" He popped his head out the doorway.

Taking that as her cue to join him, she stood. "What are my choices?"

In the kitchen Michael held out a large tin of specialty teas. "I'm rather boring and always drink black tea. Karen liked fruity flavors."

Annette scanned the choices and pointed at the corner package. "I'm rather fond of Earl Grey."

"Earl Grey it is."

Easing farther into the room, she gestured toward the kitchen table. "Do you mind?"

"Make yourself at home."

Waiting for the kettle to boil, she slipped into the nearest chair. "My son and I have had a long talk."

Michael nodded.

"I've explained to him that violence is never the answer." The memory of her son's grin at giving Eddie a split lip made her smile. "I don't think he believes me completely."

The frown on Michael's face lifted, replaced by a lazy smile.

He had a nice smile.

"I don't think we ever truly get over the need to occasionally beat the sh … to knock sense into someone who rightly deserves it."

"That may be, but punching everyone we think deserves it isn't the answer either."

Michael's smile slipped, and he shook his head. "No. No, it's not."

"I'll be talking with the school tomorrow, but Adam and I have come up with a plan of sorts."

"Really?" The kettle whistled, and he turned off the stove.

She nodded her head. "Adam wants to be Brian's study buddy. At least that's the name we've given it. If you agree, we could ask the school to transfer Brian into more classes with Adam."

"That could be a problem." He filled the cups. "Remember what I said about routine being important? Brian only needs to do something once for it to become the standard. By now he's gotten used to his teachers, the students. He probably knows how many steps there are between each classroom."

"Hmm. I didn't realize. The idea is for Adam to keep an eye on Brian."

"Milk or sugar?"

Annette shook her head.

Michael set the cup on the table and took a seat across from her. The way he gazed into the cup, as he dipped the teabag in and out, made her wish she could read minds.

"And," Annette continued, "Adam's hoping to uncover something they might have in common. A foundation of sorts for building a friendship."

"It would be nice for Brian to have a friend." He smiled.

She blew on the hot liquid. "That's what we thought."

"I'm just concerned the solution may be more difficult for him than the problem."

"I hope not." She took a brief sip. "Adam has given this a lot of thought. Does Brian like sports?"

"A little. Mostly it's keeping track of statistics. But, yes." Mike took a long moment to study her. "I am starting to believe Adam may be an answer to prayer."

"I hope so. I, on the other hand"—she bit back a smile—"will be Eddie's worse nightmare."

A
rash
of interruptions had filled Annette's morning. Early Christmas shopping had been taken off her to-do list, and if her phone rang one more time, she was going to throw the thing into the Pacific Ocean. Lunchtime for Adam and Brian started in a few minutes. Running late, she had just enough time to get her car into a parking space, hurry into the building, and sign in at the office.

The school's policy of allowing parents to lunch with their children made her plans much easier. As small children in elementary school, having Mom or Pop in for lunch was always seen as a big treat. Though few preteens held that same enthusiasm for their mothers eating lunch with them, under the circumstances, Adam was more than glad to have Annette tag along for a little while.

She'd barely set foot in the cafeteria when she spotted the first problem. The split-lip kid was making his way to the table where Adam, his friend Cory—who wanted to help too—and Brian were seated. Though he looked a little stiff, there was nothing that would have led her to believe that Brian was any different than any other boy in class. If she picked up her pace, she just might beat Eddie there. Maybe.

"Slumming Deluca?" The tough kid almost sneered.

Annette reached her son's table just in time to hear Split Lip's remark. "Eddie. How nice to see you. Will you be joining us for lunch?"

M
ike wiped down clean countertops
. He'd already emptied the trash in every room and hauled it out back. He'd also taken the microfiber mop and dusted the floors. It was his way of productively pacing until Annette came by after lunch to report. Not even Brian's first day of school had left Mike this nervous and unsettled.

Which begged a totally new question. Was it Brian's day or Annette's impending visit that had Mike prowling like an alley cat? Tensing in place, he looked up and out the window, taking in the driveway and steadily traveled street. The compromise for wanting an oceanfront home was having a main drag at his front door. Not that a main drag in a place like Kona was ever
that
busy. And letting his mind wander off about real estate didn't change the truth of why he was nervous.

He and Karen had been high school sweethearts. She'd graduated and gone on to Florida State; he'd ventured farther away and attended Stanford. By the end of his sophomore year, rather than grow apart, he'd concluded Karen was the only girl for him. And, thank the Lord, she'd decided the same thing. Graduation was in May and the wedding in June. He'd be a liar if he said he'd never noticed a pretty woman. After all, being married didn't mean he'd lost his eyesight. But none appealed to him. Not even after Karen's death. Well-intended friends had eventually introduced him to a parade of attractive women, who should have had any normal red-blooded American male eager to return to the dating game. But he still wasn't interested. Not even a little. Until now. This woman most definitely qualified as
interesting
.

A midsize SUV turned into his drive, and, eager to learn about the lunchtime experiment, he had to stop himself from running for the door. Curiosity won out over patience, and, instead of casually walking to the entryway, he trotted from the kitchen.

Pulling the door open wide, he waited until Annette was within earshot. "How did it go?"

"Good." She picked up her pace, until she reached the stoop. "Really good."

While his mind had been doing a song and dance only a few minutes ago about the subject of Annette, right now all he wanted to know about was his son. "I made lemonade. Why don't we grab a couple of glasses and head out to the lanai."

Annette dipped her chin in agreement and followed him to the kitchen. "First of all, I just want to say that, had I not known Brian was autistic, I'm not sure I would have figured it out on my own."

Mike handed her a glass and started toward the patio doors. "How is that?"

"Well, I think I would have labeled him as shy. Probably introverted too."

Mike couldn't argue with her. He and Karen had thought that same thing when Brian was a toddler.

"For instance, whenever Adam or Cory—"

"Cory?"

"Adam's best friend."

Best friend
. Mike hadn't considered that Adam would have more friends who would want to get involved with Brian. Mike had just assumed Adam was some sort of do-good loner. Maybe one of the brainiacs.

"Anyhow, whenever the boys asked Brian a question, he'd look up and answer, like any other kid. Then I noticed that anytime Adam or Cory spoke to Brian, they always said his name first. I realized they wanted to make sure they had Brian's full attention."

Mike nodded. He often had to step in front of the computer or TV, if he wanted information from his son.

"And that's when I realized the methodical way Brian eats his food."

"It's all part of his routine. When he was little, his hotdogs had to have a squiggly line of mustard in just the right pattern, or he'd have a bit of a meltdown."

Annette's brow crinkled in thought.

She'd done that a few times last night while explaining her plan to him, and it looked just as cute on her this afternoon as it had yesterday.

"After everything you explained to me about the importance of his routine, I was a bit concerned Brian was going to have a hard time at lunch with the three of us joining him. But I was really pleased."

Now Mike was able to blow out the last bit of breath trapped at the base of his lungs waiting for good news. For years he'd been told that, sometimes around puberty, situations improved for autistic children. Change would no longer be such a horrible thing. Reactions to breaks in routine less exhausting. He'd been hoping Brian would be one of those kids. Now he had a solid reason to believe this might just be the case for his son.

"Eddie, on the other hand, that kid is a real piece of work."

Mike's spine stiffened. He should have known something would go wrong.

"He is nothing but a big bully. My son warned me, and, brother, was he right."

"What did Eddie do?"

"To the boys, nothing. But when I invited him to join us at the table—"

"You invited him to what?"

"Oh." She shrugged. "When I reached the table, Eddie was all set to pick on Adam for who-knows-what, but he didn't quite know what to make of me showing up."

Not much made Mike want to smile nowadays, but picturing petite Annette making nice with a middle-school bully probably as tall as she was made him want to grin from ear to ear. "I think I would have liked to have seen that."

"It was quite the sight. The kid's eyes rounded like a pair of golf balls, and he shook his head so hard it might have been at risk of rolling off his shoulders. Somehow he managed to mumble no. My son and Cory quietly snickered to themselves. Brian's expression was unchanged."

"I'm not surprised. That's exactly the sort of thing that flies over his head."

"Of course." She nodded before continuing. "I brought takeout for Adam and Cory, as you told me changing Brian's lunch would not be a treat for him but more of an upset. We talked for a bit about the boys' morning, and, while they chatted with each other, I kept an eye on Eddie across the room. I just knew if the parent volunteers hadn't stopped him from tormenting kids before, having me in the cafeteria now wasn't going to change that. Sure enough, somewhere between the conversation of tonight's basketball game and history homework, I noticed Eddie paying way too much attention to the table of girls to his right.

"Marsha Fitzsimmons is a sweet girl. Definitely shy and quiet, and probably one of the most intelligent children in Adam's grade. She and her smart friends would be easy targets for a bully. Rather than wait for the inevitable, I excused myself from our table and circled my way around the room, coming up behind Eddie and his friends, so they wouldn't know I was still watching. As the girls rose from the table, Eddie's big sneakered foot inched its way farther away from his seat. If I didn't know firsthand how much tripping those girls would not only embarrass them but prick at their emotional well-being, I would have laughed at Eddie's lack of imagination."

"You were teased in school?" The sudden snap of anger at her disclosure surprised him.

"Not me. My daughter. She's very pretty and graceful now, but, at the boy's age she had braces and wore glasses and was smart."

"Making her the perfect target for bullies."

"Not bullies. Just mean girls. Every school has them. Like bullies, they're a fact of life. One I told my daughter to ignore. That it would pass."

"And you were right."

She nodded slowly, a tiny crease forming between her brows. "But she shouldn't have to put up with the hurt. I should have done something then. I think it will always bother me that I didn't."

He didn't quite know what to say to that. How to respond. Karen would have had the right words, but, saving him from saying the wrong thing, Annette shrugged and pulled up a smile, shook off the emotional moment, bringing them back to lunchtime today.

"I waited until Marsha was little more than two feet away from him, then I came around and slid into the space beside him. Even pushed his foot over with mine, before sitting. Just a subtle show that I knew what he was up to."

"What did he do?" Suddenly visions of a growling hormonal pubescent teen shoving back had Mike wishing to hell he could be the one to spend lunches with his son instead of Annette.

"Gaped like a landed trout." She chuckled. "I know I shouldn't find so much pleasure in putting the kid in his place, but it was really nice. Same thing when his pimply-faced friend laughed at him. I moved over and sat next to the snickering kid. I'd have sidled up to every kid at the table, if they'd continued making fun of their own friends. When I informed them that I'd see them tomorrow, they all looked absolutely horrified."

"So, in an odd sort of way, you stood up for Eddie too."

That cute little frown was back. "I hadn't thought of it that way. But someone has to teach these kids to treat each other with respect."

Mike set his drink on the small glass table beside him on the lanai. "It'll take more than a lunch or two to retrain bullies."

"I'm not convinced they're that bad. Thoughtless, yes. A little cruel, maybe. But mostly I suspect their bad behavior is overcompensation. Time will tell. And I've got all year, if that's what it takes."

"I can't ask that of you."

"You're not. I want to do this. Besides, even if Eddie can't be truly reformed, I doubt it will take more than a few lunch visits to at least curb his behavior with Brian." She glanced away from Mike and turned her attention from one side of the sweeping windows to the other, taking in the broad view as though just now noticing they were on the ocean. "This is lovely."

"Thank you. Growing up in Florida, I've always loved the water. I've been blessed with a good career, even if it does eat up most of my waking hours. At least I can provide a good home for my family … my son."

Her expression softened. "You mentioned your wife has been gone … was it three years?"

"Yes." Even after all this time, the too-familiar taste of hurt and anger swilled around his words. "I left for work in the morning the same way I did every day. Around noon I got a phone call from the police. Karen had been battling a headache the night before, and it hadn't gone away by breakfast. She'd collapsed at the grocery store. Aneurysm."

"I'm so sorry." Her hand lifted to him. Then halfway there, she snapped it back to her side.

An odd pang of loss kicked at him. It made no sense. He'd just met this woman and had no idea how comforting her touch could or would be, and yet he really wished she'd not pulled back. "Are you in a hurry?"

With a question in her eyes, she slowly shook her head.

"Up for a walk?"

"Don't you have to work?"

“The servers went down about ten minutes ago for maintenance.” Living in a different time zone from the teams stuck running backups in the middle of the night did have its perks.

A smile took over her face. "I love walking on the beach. It's more fun with company."

Funny, he'd always thought that too.