Cherishing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 3) (17 page)

T
he harvest season
ended in October in Oregon. By the weekend before Thanksgiving, most of the local farmers shuttered the fruit and vegetable stands that bustled with activity throughout the summer.

However, Jonah and Shannon found a farm roasting chestnuts and serving up hot cider made with apples grown within a mile of the place.

Nestled in a spot at a picnic table in the barn next to the country store, they watched couples and families stave off the growing night chill by huddling together and laughing over hot drinks.

“Oooh, crepes with chestnut cream and chocolate,” Shannon exclaimed, reading the chalkboard menu.

“Do you want one?”

Shannon grinned and popped another roasted chestnut in her mouth. “Yes. Absolutely.”

The squeal of children pierced the low hum of conversation in the barn. A tow-headed little boy streaked past the crackling fire pit, coming to a dead stop in front of Shannon.

“Hi. I’m Ethan.”

Shannon chuckled at his boldness. He couldn’t be more than eight or nine.

“I’m Shannon.” She extended her hand, and the little boy shook it with two firm pumps. Up close, the little boy reminded her of Jonah, and she wondered what their child might look like. What would it be like to have a son?

All around her were mothers and fathers with their children. She imagined being here in a year or two with Jonah, Olivia, and the new baby. If it were a boy, they would look like the prototypical family.

As time passed, how their family came together wouldn’t matter. She would belong alongside all these other people enjoying the holidays.

Ethan spoke up in his gruff little voice. “We’re from Pennsylvania. Where are you from?”

“Texas.”

“Oooh. Like the Dallas Cowboys.”

“Exactly. That’s where I live.”

“I hate the Cowboys. Go Eagles!” he shouted.

Shannon shrugged. “I’m not a big football fan, so I say good luck to everybody.”

“Oh. That’s nice, I guess. My dad says the Cowboys suck.”

With that declaration, a taller man with hair the color of the roasted chestnuts hastened over and grabbed little Ethan by the shoulder.

“We’re sorry. Is he bothering you?”

“No. We’re just talking football. I’m from Dallas. Ethan wanted me to know how you felt about our team.”

Even in the dim light, Shannon could see the man blush. “We’re big into our Philly teams.”

Shannon laughed. “That’s okay.”

“How long are you up here?”

“Just the weekend. You?”

“We’re here through Thanksgiving. I’m up here with my sister and her family. I have visitation with my son for fall break and the holiday. I’m Mark.”

“Shannon,” she said with a wave.

“You can’t be here by yourself.” Mark took a look around before his eyes settled back on hers with a flirtatious gleam.

“I’m not. My boyfriend went to get me some dessert.”

“Oh.” Mark shrugged. “Guess it’s too much to hope that beautiful woman such as yourself might be single.”

Shannon thought his grin a combination of humorous and slightly pathetic, but she laughed.

“Making new friends?” Jonah walked up with a plate of crepes and two forks.

“This is Mark and his son, Ethan. They’re visiting family. This is my boyfriend, Jonah.”

With their chestnut and chocolate dessert occupying Jonah’s hands, the men simply nodded at each other.

“Well…” Mark cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“I was talking to her,” Ethan whined.

“I don’t they need us ruining their romantic evening.”

At the talk of romance, Ethan scowled and ran off. Mark ambled after him.

“That guy was hitting on you.”

“How do you know that?”

“He leaned over you and flashed that cheesy smile.”

“Maybe.” Shannon pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. “But he didn’t bring me chocolate.”

Her fingers found his knee and trailed up in the inside of his thigh a few inches. His eyes deepened to steel.

“Is that all it takes to win your heart?”

“We’ll see.” Picking up a fork, she tried a bite of the crepe and rolled her eyes back. “Yes. That’s pretty much all it takes.”

Creamy chestnut mousse swirled on her tongue with rich chocolate ganache—sweet, bitter, and a little salty. Shannon loaded another bite and raised it to Jonah’s mouth. “Taste.”

His lips parted. Shannon slipped the concoction onto Jonah’s tongue, slowly pulling the fork between his now closed lips.

He chewed and smiled. “I did good.”

“Yes. You did. God, I’m going to eat so much in the next week. You’re going to have to roll me around after Thanksgiving.”

“It’s not so bad as all that.”

“I forgot to ask the other night. Do I need to bring anything?”

“No, no. My mother or—more accurately—Miranda will have everything covered.”

“Does she eat with you? What about her own family?”

“She usually cooks everything at my parents’ house—including food for her family and then takes off as soon as we sit down to eat.”

“And your parents serve themselves?”

Jonah snickered. “I know it seems out of character, but they are capable. We usually have dinner buffet-style in the game room so we can watch football.”

“Huh. I never would have thought your mother would allow you to eat in front of the TV.”

“Well, there’s still a table and what not.”

Shannon imagined every dinner at the Morans being as starchy as the one she attended. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. For a while, she considered begging off and having dinner with Penny. But Jonah was including her, so she planned to see Olivia in the morning and then make the trek to Jonah’s parents’ house.

“You’ll love it. My parents put up the Christmas decorations. The holidays are my favorite time with my family. My grandmother will be there.”

Shannon clung to Jonah’s jacket. Her thumb traced his jawline. “I will make sure I’m in the holiday spirit. Then, we can go Christmas shopping on Friday.”

“Oh, I avoid the malls on Black Friday.”

“I thought that’s the best part?”

“Not for me. I thought I might volunteer with the home builders on Friday. There are so many more homes that need painting and finishing.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.”

“You should come.”

“Okay. Let me know what time. I did promise Olivia I would take her shopping, but I can’t imagine committing to that the entire day.”

“I’ll let you know. If not Friday, then maybe some other time over the weekend. We’re pushing to get a couple of the families in the houses by Christmas.”

“That’s an amazing thing that you do. Finding an affordable place to live that’s not a hell hole is hard. The system works against you if you’re poor, you know? Coming up with first and last month’s rent and a deposit—that’s a whole chunk of cash up front. Then there’s credit checks, background checks…A lot of people can’t find places to live.”

“I’m hoping that’s what I can accomplish by running for office. Maybe I can shift some of the power back in favor of everyday people.”

“Politics seems so sneaky and full of backstabbing.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t have to be. Besides, the politics of governing can’t be that much different from the politics of business. Same game. Different playing field.”

“I guess I’m just not used to all of that. I’m used to people who…I don’t know. It’s not like they don’t lie or cheat, but they do it more straightforward if that makes sense.”

“I can see that. Sticking you up with a gun is more honest than embezzling behind your back while smiling.”

“Exactly. I don’t know how I’ll deal with that kind of cutthroat.”

“You won’t necessarily have to.”

“What if they come after me? The press or your opponents. It’s hard to defend all the things I’ve done.”

“Then we won’t defend it. We’ll admit that it was a mistake, and talk about how you’ve redirected your life. I’m telling you, people will relate to that, and then the people who attack you will look like assholes. You’ll be great, relatable, and honest.”

He moved closer to her and kissed her cheek.

“I hope so. I don’t want to be a liability to you.”

“Impossible.”

She sighed. “Do you know what all I’ve done?”

“I have your record, Shannon. I know.”

“Do you?” A lump crawled into her throat. “I came back to Dallas at the beginning of the year just because I’d read an article about Jeff selling his business for millions of dollars. Yes, I was curious to see Olivia after all these years, but it was Kid and his plan to get money out of Jeff—that’s why I came back. And I would have gone through with some kind of scam if things hadn’t gotten out of control.”

“I’ve heard this already.”

“From who?”

“Nick told me. He also told me that you tried to intervene and stop Kid.”

“Too little, almost too late.”

“But it wasn’t. And you’ve done everything you know how to make things up to Jeff and Taryn. You guys have a better relationship, right? Let some of this go.”

Shannon slammed her eyes shut. Her breath skittered haltingly in and out of her chest. What if she forgot how low things could get and slid back to her old life? Her guilt and her shame kept her vigilant.

“I can’t afford to forget.”

“You can’t afford to let this hang over your life every day.” Her eyes popped open. Jonah pulled her against his chest. “Let’s finish our dessert and get out of here.”

“Okay. Sorry I got so emotional. It hits me in waves.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to apologize. Of course, you’re emotional. Things are changing. You’re pregnant. It’s fine.” He kissed her cheek again.

“I should just quit worrying and believe you.”

“Yes. You should.”

F
aced
with another dinner at Jonah’s parents’ house, Shannon stormed the mall looking for something appropriate to wear to Thanksgiving. She hoped to find a couple of different outfits so every invitation wouldn’t send her into a wardrobe panic.

The process took her nearly three hours, but she finally found two perfect ensembles through scouring the sale rack of a posh department store—a designer wrap dress in black silk jersey, a silk blouse, and a stretchy pair of knit trousers.

Shannon hadn’t thought women wore “trousers,” but since the saleswoman kept using the term, Shannon adopted it. Those were a nod to her expanding waist. The wrap dress, the woman told her, would also fit for several months as would the flowy blouse.

On Thanksgiving morning, Shannon drove to Taryn and Jeff’s to spend time with Olivia. They baked and decorated dozens of sugar cookies, taking advantage of Taryn’s double oven while she worked on side dishes for their turkey.

Shannon ended up with more than enough treats to take home. Jonah insisted she didn’t need to worry about bringing anything to dinner, but showing up empty-handed didn’t feel right. Plus, Taryn had beautiful cookie tins with holiday parchment paper and ribbon. Tom and Sheila Moran might not like her, but who didn’t love cookies?

After saying goodbye to Olivia, Shannon headed home with her cookies in pumpkin and cornucopia shapes—strangely looking forward to dinner with Jonah and his family.

She would get to meet Jonah’s grandmother. According to him, the woman had once been a formidable matron of Dallas society, but now older and mellowed, she had become much more fun.

Jonah picked Shannon up at two thirty, welcoming her with a warm, soft kiss. She snuggled into him, before stepping back and holding open her coat in a pose.

“New dress?”

Shannon grinned. “Yes. I wanted something elegant to wear to dinner. I’ve never had to dress up so much for home-cooked meals.”

“It’s stuffy, I know.”

“Maybe, but it’s nice. Oh, hold on.”

Shannon ran back to the kitchen to get her two tins of cookies—one for his parents and one for Vivienne.

“What are those?”

“I made cookies this morning with Olivia. Some of them Olivia decorated herself. I put those in the package for Vivienne. Liv tried, but some of them are a little messy.”

“Vivienne will love them. That’s sweet.”

The weather had flip-flopped for the past two weeks between unseasonably warm and pleasantly cool. Today, instead of warming, the temperature dropped throughout the day.

Once in Jonah’s car, Shannon cranked up the seat warmer, rubbing her hands together in front of the vent.

“I can’t wait for you to see the house tonight. My parents always have the Christmas decorations up in time for Thanksgiving.”

“Why so early?”

“My parents adore Christmas. Some of my favorite memories are with my family at the holidays. Thanksgiving marked the true beginning of the season. After the turkey and stuffing and football, Vivienne and I would string popcorn to decorate our own tree. My grandmother popped the corn in a beautiful kettle on top of the stove. She could string it so fast. Her hands would fly, but she would slow down and let us help. It was always so much more fun than when the staff came in with the elaborate decorations for the big tree.”

“Two trees?”

Jonah gripped the gearshift tightly, then let go.

“My mother thought the popcorn quaint—a word she loathed to apply to the official family tree. So she gave us the smaller tree to decorate with our silly kid stuff.”

Jealous as Shannon was at the idea of extra Christmas trees and having a grandmother to string popcorn, she took note of how each joyous memory Jonah shared with her frayed at the edges with something snobbish.

“I’ve been thinking about what kind of family traditions I want to start this year with Olivia. This will be our first Christmas since…you know…when she was baby. I’m definitely putting up a tree. I’ve never had one.”

“Never?”

“Well, not as an adult, and only a few times when I was kid. I used to hate Christmas.”

Shannon watched the cool, damp landscape fly by through the window, grateful when Jonah didn’t ask why. He knew why. No real family. Growing up without anyone to buy you gifts while everyone else at least got something.

“No hating on Christmas this year. This year, we’ll have the best Christmas ever.”

Shannon laughed. “That sounds like a line out of one of those cheesy holiday movies on TV.”

“You don’t think it’s going to be the best Christmas ever?” Jonah asked, glancing at her sideways with a smile.

“I do. It’s just funny to declare it out loud.”

“Saying it helps manifest it.”

“Okay, okay. This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” Shannon replied in a monotone.

“Pathetic.”

“This is going to be the best Christmas ever! Yay!”

“Better, but a tad sarcastic. I need you to believe.”

“I do.”

Shannon reached over the console and stroked Jonah’s knee.

“Good.”

Jonah and Shannon entered the circular drive that curled around the massive fountain wrapped in thick twists of garland. They got out of the car and huddled together walking up the stone steps to the front door, cookies in hand.

Vivienne answered the door with a bright, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

Shannon stepped over the threshold into the warmth of the Moran mansion. Sure enough, a twenty-foot spectacle of a tree filled the foyer with evergreen freshness. Gorgeous crystal ornaments and fabricated flowers in gold and silver adorned the branches. Looking closer, Shannon saw one crystal ball cut with stars, another with doves, and then a laughing Santa—each one intricately done and totally unique.

A fire blazed in the formal living room, and as they passed under the horseshoe staircase of the massive foyer into the den, the glow of another fire on the far end of the room launched flickers of shadow like dancing ghosts. The yearning notes of Christmas jazz greeted them.

Christmas Eve will find me, where the love light gleams.

“Jonah,” Audrey Moran reached one hand out toward her grandson. Jonah strode toward the large chesterfield sofa in deep brown leather where his grandmother sat. Her straight gray hair was swept up into a smooth chignon, setting off striking blue-gray eyes.

“Grandmother, it’s so good to see you. You look wonderful.” He leaned over to hug her and give her a quick kiss on her pale cheek.

“Oh, sweetie, I look terrible. I might be old and nearly blind, but even I can see that. Introduce me to your young lady.”

“This is my girlfriend, Shannon Clifton. Shannon, meet my grandmother, Audrey Moran.”

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Moran.”

Shannon started to shake the elder woman’s frail hand, knotted with arthritis, then thought better and gave it a pat. She hated to agree, but Audrey didn’t look well. Lifting her arms to hug Jonah seemed an effort.

“Nice to meet you, too. You are lovely. I can see why my grandson is taken with you.”

Shannon searched for irony or disdain in Audrey’s wide smile and found none.

“Thank you.”

“How was the drive up?”

Jonah sat next to his grandmother on the sofa, and Shannon found a seat opposite them in one of two wingback chairs, next to Vivienne.

“Uneventful, but the closer we got to Dallas, the darker the sky. At least, we made it in time to watch the game. Are you a football fan, Shannon?”

“No, but I had it on this morning. Football makes good background noise.”

“I’ve offered to take her to a game in person, but she told me not to waste the tickets since she has zero interest. It’s sad, really.” Jonah chuckled and winked at her.

Audrey pointed to the package in Shannon’s hands. “What do you have there?”

“Oh, my daughter and I made cookies.”

“Daughter?”

“Yes. She’s with my ex-husband, but I saw her this morning, and we baked.”

Audrey grinned. “That’s wonderful. I miss baking. I used to make bushels of Christmas cookies each year and give them to friends and family. Sadly, a lot of women don’t home-make like we used to.”

“Men are perfectly free to learn,” Vivienne opined.

“Of course, but I still think a woman who doesn’t know her way around the kitchen has something missing in her repertoire as a lady. You know how to cook—even if you never do.”

“I do. You taught me and Jonah both.”

“I had to. Your mother has her talents, but the home arts aren’t among them.”

“I’ve learned to delegate.”

Shannon felt a hand on her shoulder. Sheila’s ears must have been burning.

“Sorry we weren’t in here to greet you. Finishing up some last touches on dinner.”

Shannon stifled a mocking laugh as Sheila and Tom sat on the loveseat. Miranda hurried in and set a tray of steaming cider on the coffee table. The presence of Jonah’s parents chilled the warmth Shannon felt listening to Jonah and his sister match wits with Audrey. Perhaps their frigidity is why they needed so many fireplaces.

“Good evening, Shannon. Jonah.” The housekeeper nodded at them and then hustled back to oversee the kitchen.

“Miranda can take those cookies from you,” Jonah reached for the cookies.

Shannon held on to one container. “Okay. This one is for you, Vivienne. My daughter decorated these.”

Vivienne leaned over and took the tin.

“I’ll keep these with my purse. I can’t have anyone pilfering them. Thank you, Shannon.”

Jonah picked up one mug of cider and settled it in his grandmother’s hands. He kept one hand on the bottom while she grasped it.

“Do you have it?”

“I do. I’m stronger than I look.” Audrey winked at Jonah, which made Shannon smile.

“Something humorous, Shannon?” Sheila asked.

“A little, I guess. She winks just like Jonah does.”

“I suppose he does. We’ve always had our own code, Jonah, Vivienne, and I.”

“I remember that. You and the children were always close,” Sheila admitted, fidgeting in her chair.

Her nervousness surprised and comforted Shannon. Audrey continued to hold court with her stories about Jonah and Vivienne’s childhood—like the time he decided to make caramel popcorn and nearly set the kitchen on fire.

“He got distracted by his video game and completely forgot it until the kitchen filled with smoke and the alarm blared.”

“A little more supervision was in order.” Sheila censured her mother-in-law with her frown.

“Too much supervision makes for soft children,” Audrey replied and launched into another story about her times with her grandchildren. The more she spoke, the more agitated Sheila became.

“I think we can move to the game room. We’ll have our meal in there today. Tom insists that he not miss one minute of the Cowboys game.”