The Giving Season (8 page)

“This hasn’t been your home for a few years now,” Michael said mildly, leaning against the back of a chair. “Or have you forgotten?”

“I could never forget you. Or the kids.”

Jessy had never felt so conspicuous, so overwhelmingly out of place, in her entire life. She forced herself to stand her ground, to at least have the dignity to act unaffected by the entire show. She had the distinct feeling that Ann was marking territory, letting her know exactly where she stood in the grand scheme of things. And for some reason, that triggered a stubborn streak that Jessy hadn’t realized she’d possessed. If this was going to be a battle of wills, then damned if she’d be the one to break first.

“I didn’t expect you to have
company,
Michael.” Ann’s voice was as annoyingly insincere as her smile.

“Jessy’s a friend,” Michael said quietly. “Jessy, this is Ann Forrester—my ex-wife.”

“Dating so soon?” Ann’s smile was venomous, not quite making its way up to her eyes. “She doesn’t seem to be your type, sweetie.”

Jessy managed a pained smile. She couldn’t ever remember disliking someone quite so much on just a first impression.

Lyssa came out of the kitchen with dessert—a tray filled with pies and cakes—and, with a cool glance in Ann’s direction, placed it on the table and left the room. Ann’s smiling mask slipped as she watched Lyssa go, her narrowed eyes blazing for just an instant before she refocused her attention on Michael again. The whole drama happened so quickly, no one else noticed.

But Jessy had.

Libby had taken a small sliver of pecan pie, as well as a small sliver of pumpkin, and was beginning to spoon whipped cream on top when Ann reached over and snatched the plate from her hands. “Honestly, Libby—do you really think you need dessert?”

Libby’s face turned crimson in humiliation, and Jessy had to grit her teeth, gripping her fork so tightly she thought she might bend it in half. She glanced across the table and saw that Michael was just as furious.

“Ann—” Michael’s voice held a note of warning that Ann ignored. Jessy could see that Michael’s ex was either quite good at remaining blissfully ignorant, or she just didn’t care. She had a feeling it was the latter.

“Michael, Libby’s already at least fifty pounds overweight. Do you want her to blow up like—” Ann’s eyes cut to Jessy—a subtle, yet meaningful glance—before she continued. “Like a whale?”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Libby said quietly, pushing away from the table. “I’m not hungry anyway.”

“Honey—”

“Let her go,” Ann said. “It wouldn’t kill her to miss a few meals.”

On the verge of tears, Libby walked out of the dining room. Michael helplessly watched her go, then pushed himself away from the table. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

“Don’t,” Ann said coldly. “You shouldn’t go running every time she gets her feelings hurt. She’s a big girl. She’ll get over it.”

Michael slumped back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “What do you want, Ann? Are you
trying
to give her an eating disorder?”

“I just want what’s best for her. She’s too fat.” Ann took a dainty bite of Libby’s pumpkin pie and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “And she’ll
never
have a boyfriend while she looks like that.” Ann looked to Jessy and smiled. “Right, Jessy? I mean, you must know.”

“
Ann—
” Michael’s voice rose slightly, his eyes darkening with anger.

“Anyway,” Ann continued, unfazed, “you haven’t even asked me why I’m here.” She mock pouted, acting coy, and Jessy’s dislike for the woman quadrupled.

“Well, I’d assumed you were here to visit the kids, since you’ve only seen them three times this year.” Michael leaned back in his chair and leveled Ann with a steady, no-nonsense gaze. Jessy silently watched the exchange, feeling conspicuous and intrusive. But there was no way she’d leave yet.

“I
do
want to see the kids,” Ann said with a slow, suggestive smile. “But I kinda missed you too, cowboy.”

Cowboy?

“But since you didn’t ask,” Ann continued, ignoring Jessy completely, “I came here to talk to you—about what we discussed earlier.”

Michael cut his eyes toward Jessy, a less than subtle attempt to stop Ann from saying too much. Jessy leaned back in her seat, a sickly feeling uncurling in the pit of her stomach. As if she needed to feel more conspicuous.

“Now’s not the time, Ann.”

Ann abruptly focused her attention on Jessy again. “So you picked up my husband on a bus,” she said with forced mildness. “What happened—was the street corner too cold?”

“Ex
cuse
me?” Jessy sat up straighter, feeling her face flush with anger. This was getting uglier by the second.

Ann flashed her a brilliant and totally insincere smile. “It’s a joke. I’m joking. Mikey knows how I like to kid, don’t you, sweetie?”

“Mmm-hmm—and by the way, I’m your
ex
-sweetie.” Michael cleared his throat, flashing Jessy an awkward apologetic gaze as he shifted in his seat. “And Jessy did not ‘pick me up.’ We met—” His gaze touched upon Jessy’s, the faintest of smiles on his lips. “We met during a dinner stop.”

“What on Earth were you doing on a bus, Michael?” Ann laughed and tossed her hair, effectively drawing Michael’s attention back to her. “I mean, really—I know the farm’s in trouble, but surely you could afford to buy a plane ticket.”

“The farm’s fine,” Michael said tightly. “My flight was cancelled and I wanted to get home for Thanksgiving.”

“So let me ask my second question.” Ann leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly as any trace of forced friendliness vanished. “Why
are
you here, Jenny?”

“Jessy,”

“He
invited
you! How unbelievably sweet of him.” Ann’s smile was suddenly toxic as she looked to Michael. “Inviting a strange woman into my house to spend Christmas with
my
children. How wonderful.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” Michael said, smiling easily if a bit stiffly, “those kids are mine, too. And this house hasn’t been yours since the day you walked out on us. So please spare me the sarcasm, okay?”

“No, Michael. It’s
not
okay. I don’t know who or what this woman
is
—and I really doubt you do either.” Ann looked at Jessy again, but this time she didn’t even bother to hide her distaste. “Really, Michael—if you’re going to have your little flings, can’t you do it in private? Do we all have to see what awful taste you have in bimbos?”

Michael straightened in his chair, leaning forward as he glared at Ann. “Now that’s
enough.
You have no right to walk in like you still live here and—”

“When it comes to my kids I have
every
right!”

“You haven’t even bothered to call them in three months.” Michael’s voice lowered with anger. “And where were you on Ben and Marie’s last birthday? Or Libby’s, for that matter?”

“I told you—I was on assignment.” Ann’s expression tightened. “I had deadlines and—”

“And meanwhile you can’t be bothered to make a five-minute phone call.”

“Damn it, Michael—I have to have a
life!”

“The
kids
should be your life,” Michael said quietly. “Just like they’re mine.”

“Don’t fight,” Ben whispered, looking very small and very frightened. Jessy wished she could pick him up and hug him until the fear went away. “I don’t like it when you fight.”

“We’re not fighting, baby.” Ann looked almost triumphant as she glanced back to Michael.
“Are
we?”

“This is ridiculous,” Jessy muttered, pushing away from the table.

“So what’s
your
problem?” Ann snapped.

Jessy stood, tossing her napkin down on her plate. “My problem is the way you’ve managed to upset your children in the space of fifteen minutes.”

“My relationship with my children is none of your business.”

Ann glared at Jessy, the facade of forced friendliness gone now. “You have no right to criticize—”

“That’s enough, Ann.” Michael spoke softly, the anger in his voice sharp but controlled. “Jessy is just concerned about the kids.”

“Someone ought to be,” Jessy murmured, unable to resist taking one last swipe. “I’m going to go try to find Libby,” she said, looking from Michael to Ann. “Maybe I can talk to her.”

“She needs to talk to
me,”
Ann said, standing quickly. “You don’t even know my daughter.”

“I think you’ve said enough already, Ann.” Michael’s voice remained dangerously steady. “You’ve seen Libby three times in the past year. What makes you think
you
know her?”

At a loss for words, Ann’s cheeks reddened with anger. Jessy took advantage of the silence to speak to Ben and Marie, smiling brightly as she gently guided their attention away from the argument.

“Hey—I’d sure like to see Miss Purty now,” Jessy smiled as she gently wiped away the tears on Ben’s cheeks. Ben managed a slight smile of his own.

“She won’t bite or anything,” he said quietly, taking Jessy’s hand. “So you can hold her and pet her if you want.”

“She’ll poop on you,” Marie warned.

“That’s okay. I’m not allergic to hamster poop.” Jessy smiled and stood, taking Ben and Marie’s hands in hers, and allowed them to guide her out of the dining room. She glanced quickly to Michael, but he was staring at Ann, his eyes dark with anger. Ann returned his gaze as if they were the only two people in the world.

How could Michael ever love someone like Ann? Jessy had seen this kind of thing far too many times in her life. No matter how horrible, how mean, how selfish the woman was, if she had a good body and a pretty face, nothing else mattered. Character and personality had nothing to do with it.

Jessy shook her head in frustration as Ben and Marie led her up the stairs. Why did high-maintenance women like Ann always end up with all the men? Sometimes it seemed like a man wouldn’t be interested in a woman unless she was difficult and touchy and bitchy to the extreme. Nice girls not only finished last, they rarely even got into the race. And if the nice girl happened to be fat—forget about it.

As they walked past Libby’s door, Jessy wondered how long Ann had been nagging the poor girl to lose weight. She knew how painful it could be to feel so different, excluded from the rest of the world for the simple sin of being overweight. She remembered all too clearly how much it hurt to want to be like everybody else, even though she knew she’d never truly be accepted on their terms.

Ann was wrong; Jessy knew Libby quite well. In some ways she probably understood the girl better than Ann ever could.

“Come on, Jessy,” Ben gave her hand a tug. “I wanna show you how Miss Purty plays in her wheel.”

Jessy smiled and knelt again, brushing a lock of blond hair from Ben’s brow.

“How about,” she said and playfully swung his hands at his sides, “you go make sure Miss Purty is ready to meet me, and I’ll come visit her in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay—but don’t be too long or else she might get sleepy. It’s almost her bedtime.”

“And she gets grouchy when she stays up too late,” Marie said gravely.

Jessy nodded, matching their serious tone even as she bit back a smile. “Then I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Satisfied, Ben and Marie smiled and ran down the hallway, racing to their shared bedroom. Alone in the hall, Jessy took a deep breath and knocked on Libby’s door. Maybe she was intruding in matters that were none of her business, but—

But the hell with it. Libby needed a friend right now, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

“Libby? Can I come in?”

Silence, then padded footsteps and the click of a lock. Jessy took that as an invitation. When she opened the door, Libby was sitting on the edge of her bed, a huge purple teddy bear in her arms. Her eyes were still red, her cheeks still wet. On the bed was a crumpled bag of potato chips.

“Hi,” Jessy said softly, remaining in the doorway. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fat and ugly,” Libby muttered. “I’m just fine.”

Uh-oh, Jessy thought,
this is gonna be fun.
She eased into the room, gingerly perching on the edge of the bed beside Libby. Nothing was said, so Jessy assumed her presence wasn’t
totally
unwanted. So far, so good.

“So are you gonna tell me how my mom’s really worried about me and just wants me to lose weight so I’ll be happy?” Libby grimaced as she spoke, rolling her eyes in the way that only adolescents can. “Because if you are—”

“I think your mom was wrong,” Jessy said quietly, turning her head just in time to catch Libby’s look of surprise. “I mean, I’m sure she’s worried about you, but that’s not the right way to show it. I don’t think she was thinking of your feelings.”

Libby said nothing, just staring at Jessy like she was a Martian fresh off the mothership. Jessy felt a twinge of self-consciousness— after all, she’d just met the girl a few hours before; what right did she have to give her opinion of the situation?—but she forced it away. Michael had been right; if they weren’t excruciatingly careful, Libby could very easily become bulimic or anorexic—and being slim just wasn’t worth it.

“Why are you here?” Libby finally asked.

“Your dad felt sorry for me, I guess.” Jessy managed a faint smile. “I bet he takes in a lot of strays, huh?”

Libby smiled slightly. “Usually he restrains himself to cats and dogs, but I guess he figured you were already housebroken.”

Sharp, Jessy thought as she laughed. The kid’s got a good sense of humor. Maybe she’d be okay after all.

“Mom’s just being Mom,” Libby said, folding her legs beneath her as she snuggled the teddy bear closer. “She’s gorgeous so she thinks I should be too. I think I’m just kind of a disappointment to her. She wanted a cheerleader for a daughter—but she got me instead.”

“So what do you do when she says stuff like that?”

“Usually I just come up here and sit by myself for a while.”

Libby looked over to the empty potato chip bag and blushed. “And sometimes I eat.”

Jessy nodded, remembering her own experiences. “I used to go to my room, crawl into bed with a bunch of comic books, and eat candy until my stomach hurt.”