The Promise of Christmas. Tara Quinn Taylor

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      “It does.”

      “What about Ada King?” The returning strength in Clara’s voice was a relief. “Does she know about us? About the will? Will she be resistant to our visit?”

      Jim’s face broke into a grin for the first time since they’d entered the room. “Ada’s known about you all since the first time Abby brought Calhoun home. She knows about the will. Cal discussed it with her before he ever came to see me. After Abby died, Ada was willing to continue caring for the children as long as Calhoun was around to help. But I think that though she’s going to miss those children terribly, she’s relieved to know she won’t be raising them all by herself. I spoke with her the day after Cal’s accident. Kayla’s an active little thing and Ada’s getting old, can’t keep up. And she has a sister in Florida who’s invited Ada to share her retirement condo….”

      Kip loosened the top button on the shirt that was sticking to his perspiring skin. Life just didn’t damn well work this way. A man didn’t get up in the morning, and find himself a parent three hours later. Raising children required knowledge he didn’t have. A man didn’t just take an orphan boy home with him and suddenly become equipped to father him.

      “Can we have some time to think about this?” Leslie’s question brought a surge of cool relief. “Until tomorrow?”

      “Of course.” Jim stood. “I have copies of the will for each of you. For obvious reasons Cal wanted its contents to remain undisclosed until now. Read it over and give me a call when you’re ready.”

      Kip accepted his packet and escorted the women out into the cold Ohio day, Jim’s parting words ringing in his mind. Call when he was ready? He’d never be ready.

      JONATHAN STOOD in the doorway of the upstairs bathroom, watching as Nana braided Kayla’s hair. Her fingers moved real fast over and under and on top and around, and the hair just went into place. He wasn’t ever going to be able to do that. ’Specially not with his little sister squirming the whole time.

      “What’s gonna happen to us?” He kinda felt like throwing up as he waited for Nana’s answer. But he had to find out, didn’t he? If he was the only man now…

      “I don’t know, child.”

      He could see himself in the mirror. His face, which was just a boy face, was there. And his hair was boy hair, too, and Nana cut it a lot, so the red color that was like Daddy’s didn’t really show. His skin was always the same though he prayed till he fell asleep that he’d wake up with light skin like Kayla’s, instead of dark like Nana’s and Mama’s. The older kids at school weren’t going to call her zebra and skunk and white chocolate and swiss roll and salt and pepper and a bunch of other things he didn’t know what they meant.

      “It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?”

      “What’s that, boy?”

      “Why they don’t wanna know me and Kayla? Because I’m black and they don’t want no half ’n half.”

      Jonathan jumped back from the door when Nana dropped her comb and whirled at him. “Don’t you never say nothin’ like that again, boy, you hear me? Not ever.”

      Jonathan nodded. And stayed real quiet. He knew better than to talk back to Nana when her face got all pointy like that.

      But just ’cause he didn’t say nothin’ didn’t mean he wasn’t thinkin’ it. So…he’d wait some, but if he got too scared about his baby sister and stuff, he’d just shove as much as he could carry in his special backpack that Daddy and him went to get for school, and go far away, so they wouldn’t be thinkin’ bad thoughts about Kayla ’cause of him. Kayla’s skin looked almost the same as Daddy’s. They’d like her fine.

      He’d bet that old crying lady that Nana said was Daddy’s mama could make her fingers do Kayla’s braids. ’Course she was old, but pro’bly she had a sister like Nana’s who wanted to take care of her and would take care of Kayla, too.

      “CAN I GET YOU SOMETHING to drink?” Leslie stood behind the wet bar in her mother’s family room Friday evening. Clara was at a friend’s house for an impromptu gathering of the six or seven women who’d raised their children together and supported each other through all the following phases of their lives. Which left her and Kip alone—both guests in her mother’s house.

      “Bourbon would be great.” Kip flipped on the switch for the gas fire, leaning an arm on the hand-carved mahogany mantel as he stared toward the flames. He’d said very little since leaving the attorney’s office that morning.

      Not that she’d been all that communicative, either. She’d spent most of the afternoon listening to Clara. Helped deal with the myriad details of closing down a life. And spent a couple of hours on the phone with Nancy, checking on details at work.

      “Rocks or no?”

      He didn’t glance up from the fire.

      “Rocks, please.”

      After getting his drink, she poured herself a glass of Riesling. Her mother had redecorated this room since Leslie had lived at home. It didn’t look anything like Leslie remembered. And still, she was uncomfortable here.

      Shrugging off things that had no rightful place in her life, or mind, she handed Kip his drink, losing herself for the briefest of seconds in his compassionate brown gaze.

      Until she had to look away. She curled up on the end of the plush rose-colored sofa closest to the fire, instead. She hadn’t been warm since she’d arrived in Ohio.

      “I keep thinking about those kids in foster care….” Kip’s voice trailed off as he once again stared into the gas flames that bounced almost rhythmically, creating the same splashes of amber and gold color over and over again.

      “Foster care?” She hadn’t meant to come across so defensively, but his comment took her completely off guard.

      He turned holding the bourbon he’d asked for but not yet touched. “Isn’t that where orphan children go these days? Into foster care?”

      The chill that had been surrounding her for days intensified, leaving her adrift, alone in an Alaska-like wilderness.

      “You don’t intend to honor Cal’s wishes.” All day long, in the confusing array of possibilities that had tortured her mind, she’d never once considered that they wouldn’t somehow provide for Cal’s children.

      He sat on the edge of a maroon-flowered armchair, his feet on the intricately designed wool rug that covered most of the beige-carpeted floor, his bourbon glass held with both hands between his knees. “Do you?” He sounded as surprised as she felt.

      Leslie took a sip of wine. Set the glass on the table. Clasped her hands together, shoulders hunched, and shivered. “I honestly don’t know what I think,” she told him, meeting his eyes. “The problems are so vast I can hardly even begin to make a list of them. I live in Phoenix. You live here. The kids would be separated. If I took Kayla, my mother would only get to see her once or twice a year. Aside from the fact that I’d lose a job I love and my means of support as well, I absolutely cannot move back to Ohio. My home—hell, my life—is not equipped to handle a toddler. The smell of vomit makes me vomit. I know plenty about the world of finance and nothing at all about СКАЧАТЬ