Christmas on My Mind (15 page)

Ethan closed his eyes and snuggled deeper under the covers. For a moment, Ben stood gazing down at him, thinking how fast his son was growing up, and how many precious changes he would miss when they were half a continent apart. How could this be happening? Where was that miracle he needed?

He had left the room and reached the top of the stairs when his cell phone rang. The caller was Jess.

Even before she spoke, some sixth sense warned him of trouble.

“What is it?” he asked.

She drew in a ragged breath. “It's my mother. We had an argument, and she left. I've been driving around for the past hour looking for her. But I don't know the town that well. I can't find her anywhere.” Her voice wavered. Ben imagined her fighting tears. “I . . . need your help.”

“Where are you?” He was already reaching for the keys in his pocket.

“I'm back at the house. I thought she might've come home. But she's not here.”

“I'm on my way.” After a quick word to his mother, he sprinted out the door to his truck. Minutes later he was turning onto Jess's street. He couldn't say he was surprised. It would be just like Francine to run off at the first sign of discord and take refuge in a bottle of booze. But he felt for Jess, who was trying so hard to help her.

She was waiting for him on the porch. As he pulled the truck up to the curb, she ran down the sidewalk, opened the door and clambered in beside him. In a few breathless sentences, she told him what had happened.

“Did you happen to notice whether Francine took her purse?” he asked, pulling away from the curb.

“I was in the bathroom when she left. Afterward, I didn't think to look. Why?”

“If she's got money and wants a drink, she'll head for Rowdy's Roost, a dive on the edge of town. That was where she got arrested last time. We could check there.”

“Let's go. I already checked the AA meeting. She wasn't there—not that I expected her to be.” Jess raked her hair back from her face. “I should never have told her the truth about my adoption. If anything's happened to her, I'll never forgive myself!”

“Don't beat yourself up, Jess, it's not your fault.” He swung the truck onto a back street, leading to the far side of town. “Francine's been an alcoholic more than half her life. Sooner or later, some crisis was bound to come along and knock her off the wagon. All you can do is get past it and move on.”

A cold wind battered the outside of the pickup. Jess stared through the side window at the whipping trees. “Francine wasn't dressed for this weather. What if she falls or gets stranded somewhere? What if we can't find her?”

“We'll find her, Jess.” He reached over the console and squeezed her small, cold hand. “We won't stop looking until we do.”

Rowdy's Roost, a place Ben knew all too well, sat just outside the city limits, next to a rusty railroad line that no train had used in twenty years. It was three-quarters of a mile from the center of town, a long walk on a cold night. But even in high heels, a determined Francine could get there. She'd done it plenty of times before.

Low-slung, with clapboard siding and a metal roof, Rowdy's was busy tonight. The weedy gravel strip for parking was crowded with pickups, SUVs and a couple of motorcycles. Even if she didn't have money, Francine could've come here in the hope of bumming a few drinks. Ben could only hope he didn't have to drag her out of the place, with Jess waiting in the pickup.

He parked a few yards away from the other vehicles. “Stay here and lock the doors,” he told Jess. “I won't be gone long.”

* * *

Huddled in the front seat, Jess watched Ben stride across the parking lot and into the ramshackle bar. The place looked like something out of a bad biker movie, she thought. Ben was man enough to handle anything, but tonight he wasn't in uniform. He didn't even have his gun. What if he ran into trouble? What if he found Francine and she wouldn't come with him?

Seconds crawled past, stretching into minutes before she saw Ben trotting back across the parking lot—alone. “She wasn't in there,” he said, climbing back into the truck. “Nobody's seen her tonight.”

Jess's relief surged, only to be swept away by worry. At least her mother wasn't drinking in the bar. But where was she? What if she'd set out for the bar, taken a fall, and was lying somewhere along the road, injured and freezing? Or worse, what if she'd been picked up by some predator who would do her unspeakable harm?

Ben seemed to read her thoughts. “We'll take it slow on the way back,” he said, switching the headlights to high beam. “Watch your side of the road. I'll watch mine. If we don't find her in the next half hour, I'll put out an alert.”

The road was narrow, with no more than occasional traffic. The SUV moved at a crawl as they scanned both sides of the road. But they found nothing, not so much as a track in the half-frozen earth.

By the time they got back to town, the wind had risen to a howl. “Does my mother have any friends who'd take her in?” Jess asked.

Ben pondered the question. “Not that I know of. She's pretty much a loner. But there's one place we haven't looked—her trailer. She liked to stash a few bottles there.”

“I know. I threw away two or three when I cleared the place out. If she's there, she won't find anything to drink.”

Ben shook his head. “I can tell you've got a lot to learn about that lady. She's got a rare talent for hiding things.”

Minutes later they swung into the trailer park. Francine's tiny trailer was dark—as it would be, Jess reminded herself. She'd disconnected the power after moving her mother to the house. “We'll need a flashlight,” she said as they pulled up a short distance away.

“Got one.” Ben switched on the flashlight and stepped to the ground. “You might want to wait in the truck.”

With a shake of her head, Jess followed him. Wind lashed her hair, biting cold through her denim jacket. A dark apprehension gripped her as they neared the trailer. Why had Ben suggested she stay in the truck? Did he know something she didn't? Could Francine have turned prostitute to support her drinking?

But never mind, she told herself. If it was so, not knowing wouldn't change the truth.

The door was unlocked. Ben gave it a gentle rap. “Francine?”

There was no answer. With Jess pressing behind him, he shone the light into the trailer.

Francine was alone, slumped in the old overstuffed chair. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth hung open in a rumbling snore. An empty gin bottle lay beside her on the rug.

“Thank heaven,” Jess breathed.

“Come on.” Ben stepped inside. “We've got to get her into the truck.”

The trailer was frigid inside. With Ben shaking her shoulders and Jess rubbing her ice-cold hands, they managed to rouse Francine enough to get her on her pump-clad feet. Supporting her on either side, they walked her out to the truck and piled her onto the backseat of the club cab. By the time they'd tucked in her feet and closed the door, she'd collapsed on her side and gone back to sleep.

“Has she violated her probation?” Jess asked as they drove back toward the house.

“She's skated the edge. But at least she didn't go back to the bar. There are two more AA meetings scheduled later this week, Tuesday and Thursday. If she goes to those and stays out of trouble, I'll give her a pass this time. I know you don't want her back in jail.”

“Thanks.” Jess settled into the seat with a long sigh of relief. “Can you help me get her into the house?”

“Sure. Let me know if she gives you any trouble tonight.”

“We'll be fine. This is just a bump in the road.”

“I hope you're right.” He reached across the console, probably meaning to squeeze her arm, but he was watching the road and instead his hand came to rest on her knee. The hand lingered, its warm weight sending a ripple of awareness through her body. Her gaze traced the clean, strong line of his profile as he drove. What would she have done without him tonight?

At the house, they woke Francine. She wobbled on unsteady legs and would have fallen if Ben hadn't caught her. Supporting her, they got her into the house and into her bedroom. Jess managed to turn down the bed before her mother collapsed on the sheet.

“Thanks,” she said, giving Ben a tired smile. “You can go. I'll take it from here.”

When Ben had left the room, Jess pulled off Francine's shoes and her fleece jacket. With effort, she tugged off her mother's black stretch pants and, with her blouse still in place, covered her with the quilt. Slipping out of the closet, Sergeant Pepper leaped onto the bed and curled at her side, a warm, purring bundle of comfort.

“Good boy. You take care of her.” Jess scratched the cat's scruffy head. Then, turning off the light, she left the door ajar and walked back to the living room.

She hadn't expected Ben to wait, but he was there, standing by the table, studying the posters. He glanced up as she came into the room. “How's she doing?” he asked.

“She's fast asleep. I hope she'll be sorry in the morning. Don't worry, I know what to expect. I'll have plenty of coffee for her.” She crossed the room to stand facing him. “Thank you for your help. I couldn't have managed without you tonight.”

“Thank you for calling me. I told you it wouldn't be easy.”

“I know. But I still want to be here for her.”

His hand moved to cup her cheek, tilting her face toward him. “You're amazing,” he murmured.

His kiss started out as a tender nibble, his mouth tasting hers, his tongue just skimming her lower lip. Jess moaned as the contact deepened. She pressed upward, feeling the heat that burned through their clothes, flowing between their bodies, molding them together. Her pulse surged, pouring desire through her veins. Heaven help her, she wanted him, in all the ways a woman could want a man.

It wasn't going to happen—not tonight at least. But when they broke apart they were both breathing hard.

Stepping back, he gave her a lopsided grin. “To be continued,” he said.

“If we can ever find the time.”

“We'll
make
the time.” With a quick peck on her lips, he was gone.

From the porch, Jess watched the red taillights of the pickup vanish around the corner. Things were good between her and Ben—so good it scared her. With so many complications in their lives, how could something
not
go wrong?

She'd been there before. Her father had left her, Gil had turned out rotten, and there'd been other letdowns over the years, leaving her wounded and cynical. Now it was Ben's turn. He was everything she'd ever wanted in a man—but why should this time turn out to be any different?

From the speakers on Main Street, the sound of Christmas music drifted to her ears. A small, decorated tree glowed through the window of the run-down house next door. Christmas was a time of love and warmth and family. But for Jess, it had come to be a time for others to celebrate. For her, it was just another day. Time had taught her to lower her expectations—no hope, no hurt.

Ben's truck was gone, and the wind was cold. Struggling to deny the need in her heart, Jess walked back inside and closed the door.

Chapter Fifteen

T
he next morning, when her mother woke up, Jess was waiting to bring her coffee. Francine looked like a smeared portrait of her usual self, her lipstick smudged, her red-rimmed eyes sunk into dark pools of mascara.

“Hell, girl, why d'you even bother with me?” Sitting up, she sipped the strong, black brew. “After what I done to you, givin' you up to such a god-awful rough life . . .”

“Playing on my sympathy won't work, Francine.” Jess found her mother's robe and draped it around her shoulders. “It was freezing last night. You could've died of hypothermia if we hadn't found you in that trailer. And you're on probation, for heaven's sake! You're lucky Ben didn't take you straight back to jail!”

“Uh-oh!” Francine looked startled. “Am I in trouble with the law?”

“You could be. But Ben said he'd give you a pass if you stayed sober and went to your AA meetings. The next one's on Tuesday, that's tomorrow night.”

Francine muttered what sounded like a curse.

“Don't give me that.” Jess was doing her best to show tough love. “Branding Iron Breakfast is set to open this weekend. That can't happen if the cook is drunk or in jail. So get up and put yourself together. We need to take the posters around and get them up today. The first place we'll be going is the hardware store.”

At the mention of the hardware store, Francine brightened a little, as Jess had hoped she would. Grumbling about her aching head, she shuffled into the bathroom. Moments later Jess heard the shower running. While her mother got ready to go, Jess made some toast, then spent some time with her laptop. On Saturday, they'd gotten Wi-Fi in the house. Jess was already using it to track her bank balance and check out supplies for the restaurant. The customers would appreciate having it too.

After an hour Francine appeared, made up, coiffed, and wearing a fresh outfit. Only her eyes betrayed the kind of night she'd had as she downed another cup of coffee, then helped Jess gather up the posters and load them in the car.

At the hardware store, she insisted on getting out and taking the poster inside. Hank took it from her.

“Branding Iron Breakfast. That's a dandy name,” he said.

“We'll add the bed part when the place is ready for overnighters.” Despite her hangover, Francine managed a sparkling smile. “Have you got a place to put our poster?”

“I'll stick it right in the corner of the front window where everybody will see it,” Hank said.

“This gets you a free breakfast if you'll stop by,” Francine said. Jess flashed her a surprised glance. Where had that come from? But never mind, Hank had been good to them. He deserved a treat.

“Do you like that man as much as I think you do?” Jess asked her mother as they drove away.

“Back in the day, I almost married him,” Francine said. “But then your father came along, and that was that. Hank found somebody else, and we never got together again. Now we're just friends.”

“Are you sorry you didn't marry him?” Jess asked.

“In a way, maybe. Hank would've given me a decent life and probably a pack of youngsters. But then I wouldn't have had you, would I? Honey, you're worth everything I went through.”

Jess blinked away a tear, remembering the story Clara had told her. “Promise me you'll go to your AA meeting tomorrow night,” she said.

“I'll go, honey. But only if you go with me.”

* * *

By the time Tuesday night came, Francine was already dragging her heels. “Oh, sweetie, I don't need that soap opera stuff,” she argued. “I'm not like those other folks. I can quit anytime I put my mind to it.”

“Would you rather go back to jail?” Jess shook her car keys under her mother's nose. “Get your coat. We're going if I have to hog-tie you and throw you in the trunk!”

Muttering all the way, Francine allowed herself to be herded into Jess's car.

For a town as small as Branding Iron, the AA meeting in the basement of the church was surprisingly well attended. Jess counted sixteen chairs set up in a circle, with a few more seats in a short row behind. Most of the people there—twice as many men as women—recognized Francine. They greeted her and invited her to sit.

Unsure whether she was even allowed to be there, Jess took a seat in the back row. She'd never attended an AA meeting, but she'd seen enough on TV to know what to expect.

The leader, a man in his thirties, greeted the group. Then, one by one, each person rose and introduced themselves in the customary way. Francine was last to stand. When her turn came, she rose shakily, as if dreading the moment. “I'm Francine,” she said. “And I'm . . . an alcoholic.”

“Hi, Francine,” the group echoed as she sank back to her chair.

The leader rose. “Francine, somebody has offered to be your new sponsor. He said he'd be here tonight, but I don't see . . .”

His words trailed off as a door opened at the back of the room. Jess checked the urge to turn around and look at the new arrival. But she didn't need eyes to recognize the heavy, uneven tread of footsteps or the familiar male voice that spoke from just behind her.

“Sorry to be late, folks. I'm Hank. And I'm an alcoholic.”

* * *

Hank walked Jess and Francine to their car in the church parking lot. The AA meeting had gone well. Hank's support was already making a difference for Francine. He would be coming by the house to pick her up for the Thursday meeting.

“Almost like a date!” Francine primped and giggled as Jess pulled out of the parking space.

“Did you know Hank had a drinking problem?” Jess asked.

“I never thought much about it,” Francine mused. “But it makes sense that a man who lost both his leg and his wife would turn to drink. He hasn't come all the time, which is why I've never run into him here. But he told me the meetings have helped keep him sober for the past five years.”

“If he can do it, so can you.”

“Don't lecture me, girl. I've heard it all.” Francine grinned. “You know, I wouldn't be surprised if that hot sheriff of yours had a hand in this. How else would Hank have known I'd be there?”

“Don't look at me.” Jess dismissed the question with a shrug, but she couldn't help thinking her mother was right. It would be like Ben to pull a few strings and get Hank to the meeting as Francine's sponsor.

“Speaking of the sheriff—” Francine gave her a playful nudge as Jess turned onto their street. “What's his big, black pickup doing parked in front of our house?”

The truck was indeed Ben's. Wondering if something was wrong, Jess pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car. Light filtered through the closed shutters on the front window.

“What do you think's goin' on?” Francine caught up with her at the foot of the steps.

“I don't know. Stay here till I check it out.”

Maybe there'd been a break-in and a neighbor had called the sheriff. Jess braced herself for bad news as she tested the door, found it unlocked and eased it open.

“Surprise! Merry Christmas!” Ethan came bounding out of the hallway with Ben stepping into sight behind him. For an instant, Jess didn't realize what the fuss was about. Then she saw it—the Christmas tree, ablaze with lights, standing in front of the living room window.

“Oh, my stars!” Francine clapped her hands like a delighted little girl. “Will you look at that? It's gorgeous! And that pine aroma! The whole room smells like Christmas!”

Jess stared at the tree. It wasn't much over five feet tall. But its shape, down to the smallest branch, was perfect. Ben, she knew, wouldn't have settled for anything less. The tree was set on a sturdy crate covered with a white sheet that wrapped like snow around the trunk and the stand. The lights and ornaments looked old and well used. But that only added to the tree's beauty.

“This was Ethan's idea,” Ben said. “We've always had our tree ready by the time he showed up for Christmas. This year he wanted to decorate a tree himself. So, since we already had one at our house . . .”

His words trailed off as his eyes met Jess's—the contact so warm that she could feel the heat between them. Was this love or just sizzling physical chemistry? Whatever it was, the intensity was enough to send tingles all the way to her toes.

Dropping her gaze, she found her voice. “Thank you both. I didn't realize how much we needed a tree in here until you gave us one. I'd be happy to pay you for it.”

Ben gave her a shake of his head. “No way! Consider it a housewarming gift. Every home needs a little Christmas!”

“Then let's have more! We need music!” Francine dashed into the bedroom. A moment later, the rollicking strains of “Here Comes Santa Claus,” the old Gene Autry version, boomed through the house.

Dancing to the beat, Francine reappeared from the hall. “Now, we gotta have treats! Hot cocoa with marshmallows coming up!”

Jess hurried into the kitchen to lend a hand. Francine, while filling the kettle, gave her a wink. “See, I told you our sheriff had stars in his eyes. If you let that man get away, you're crazy, girl. God doesn't make 'em any better than Ben Marsden.”

In the time it took to heat the water, gather the cups and mix the ingredients, the cocoa was ready. Jess carried the steaming cups to the dining room table on a tray, and they all sat down to enjoy. Sergeant Pepper padded his way under the table to rub against their legs.

“How did you two get in here?” Jess asked Ethan. “I know I locked the doors.”

The boy exchanged a mischievous look with his father. “It's a secret,” he said. “I promised not to say.”

“We sort of broke in,” Ben said, leaving the answer at that.

“We found the decorations in a box at the back of our closet,” Ethan added. “Dad says he remembers them from when he was a little boy.”

“Then they must be very precious,” Jess said. “I'll make sure you get them back after the holidays.”

When they finished their cocoa, Ethan got up to help Francine take the cups to the kitchen, leaving Jess alone with Ben for a moment.

“You're family's done so much for me,” she said. “I can't thank you enough.”

“You already have.” Ben's eyes held hers again, but gently this time. “Tonight was for Ethan. He needed an adventure. The boy's been down ever since he learned his mother has married again and he's headed for boarding school.”

“Oh, Ben!” Jess shook her head, feeling his pain. “If there's anything I can do—”

“All you can do is what Ethan has been doing—pray.”

Ethan and Francine came out of the kitchen, putting an end to the conversation. “If you want to make a night of it, we can make popcorn, bring the TV in here and put in a video,” Francine offered. “I've got
It's a Wonderful Life
packed away somewhere. It shouldn't take me long to find it.”

“It's way past Ethan's bedtime,” Ben said. “I need to get him home. But it does sound like fun. Maybe another night.”

By the time they'd said their good nights, it was after ten. Francine had stayed up to watch TV in her room, but after a busy day and an emotional night, Jess was exhausted. She got ready for bed, then lay on the camp cot staring up into the darkness, too wired to fall asleep.

The bed frame from the garage stood propped against one wall. Maybe tomorrow she'd go online, order a mattress set from some big chain store and have it delivered. A decent bed might help her get the rest she needed.

But it wasn't the bed that was keeping her awake tonight. It was her worries, tumbling over and over like water in an old-fashioned millrace. Ethan, the business, her mother's recovery, and her relationship with Ben—so many dreams that could come true or turn into nightmares.

Like the little Christmas tree, tonight had glowed with promise. But the past had taught her that promises could be illusions and that one bit of bad luck could send her hopes toppling into ruin.

Right now, however, she needed to stop worrying and get some rest. Closing her eyes, she fixed her thoughts on the memory of Ben's face and the way he'd looked at her tonight—the hunger in his eyes, the unspoken tenderness . . .

At last she drifted into slumber.

* * *

Hours later, the jangle of her cell phone jarred her out of a deep sleep. Heart slamming, she sat up. The room was pitch-black, the house quiet except for the insistent ringing. What was it? Could Francine have stolen out in the night? Could something have happened to her?

The phone shrilled again. Jess's fumbling fingers found it on the nightstand and pressed the answer button. “Hullo?” she muttered.

“Hi, baby. It's me.”

The unctuous voice was the very last one Jess had expected—or wanted—to hear. A sick dread welled in her throat. She forced herself to speak.

“Gil? Where are you?”

“I'm out, that's where. Early release for good behavior. And the number one thing on my list has been tracking down my wife.” He chuckled. “Sounds like I've found her. Are you alone, or have you found a new bed partner to replace me?”

“That's none of your business,” Jess snapped. “And I'm not your wife. The divorce was final years ago.”

His cold laugh held no humor. Jess could only imagine what five years in prison would do to a man, and how much he would hate the woman whose testimony had helped put him there. But she mustn't let him scare her. She mustn't let him see her as a victim.

“How did you find me?” She struggled to keep her voice from shaking.