One Christmas Knight

Chapter 15

“That home cookin’s smellin’ awful good right now.”

I-40-Texas

He knew from her silence and sadness that she’d probably expected it, that she’d already guessed what he wanted to ask her. And that the tears in her eyes were there because she’d already convinced herself it wasn’t going to work.

Funny thing-he never once thought it had anything to do with her maybe just not feeling the same way about him that he did about her. Somehow, he knew she did. It was just a feeling he had, something to do with the way she looked at him, the way her lips clung to his when he kissed her, the way she trembled when he touched her. And then, she’d named her baby Amy.

“Jimmy Joe,” Mirabella whispered, “I can’t.” The ache inside her was so vast that she wondered as she gazed down at her daughter’s fat, contented little cheek, how she could not feel it, too.

“You say that a lot,” he said matter-of-factly. “So far you’ve been wrong every time.”

Since normally there was nothing Mirabella hated more than being told she was wrong, that should have been enough to launch her headlong into an argument with no holds barred. But now, since deep in her heart she wanted nothing more than to be wrong, all she could do was snap, “It wouldn’t work,” then clamp her mouth shut again and glare at him in stubbornness and confusion.

He took a deep breath and for a moment didn’t say anything, while she watched his eyes roam the room, touching briefly on her, on the baby at her breast, the rain-streaked window, the bassinet, as if searching for something that lay just…there-so near but always beyond his grasp.

Then his gaze came back to his hands, clasped between his knees, and he cleared his throat, lifted his eyes to hers and smiled his sweet, Jimmy Joe smile and said, “I’ve never been much good with words. I mean, I know a lot of words. I read-my mama tells me too much-and the words are all up there in my head, and I hear them sometimes when I’m drivin’ and I don’t feel like listenin’ to the radio or one of my books-on-tape. Words just flow along so easy, then, like a river. But when there’s something important I want to say, I don’t know, it’s like somebody throws up a dam, or somethin’, and all those words back up inside me, and the only ones that come through is just my usual trickle.”

He paused to grin, then shake his head and look down at his hands again. “See, I knew you’d have to argue with me. And I had about a thousand miles to think how I’d answer you. All the good reasons why, different as we are and crazy as it seems, I think I could make you happy. Now that I’m here, though…” He looked up at her, his smile slipping awry. “The minute I saw you, I knew I wasn’t gonna have the words. So I figure the best way is just to show you. So…Marybell, that’s why I’m askin’ you to come home with me to Georgia. So you can see for yourself who I am and what I’ve got to offer you. And then you can decide if it’s anything you want, or not. It’s up to you. So…what do you say? Will you come with me?”

Come with me… It’s up to you. Oh, God, what was happening to her nice, controllable, well-planned world? It was as if he’d suddenly come to her and said, “Hey, you want to fly to the moon? Here are the tickets-we leave in an hour!” The wild, the crazy, the impossible, was suddenly there within her reach-and she felt confused, terrified, paralyzed, her heart racing and her mouth as dry as sandpaper. She opened it, but no sound came out. The silence grew tense and viscous. And then…

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Bella,” her mother said, “don’t be an idiot.”

They both turned to see her standing there, Amy’s infant carrier car-seat in one hand, the diaper bag slung over her shoulder. Jimmy Joe rose instantly, mumbling, “Ma’am,” as good manners dictated. Mirabella simply sat, dumbstruck, as Ginger dumped the baggage onto the rug and advanced with arms outstretched.

“Here-I’ll take that baby. You go get your coat.”

“But…she hasn’t been burped-”

“I’ll do it. Go and get yourself ready-now. This instant.”

Mirabella drew a sharp, reflexive breath as she saw her baby lifted from her arms, an instinctive preparation for battle. Then she caught Jimmy Joe’s quiet gaze and the exhalation sighed softly from her lips. “Yes, ma’am,” she murmured humbly.

They rolled into the front yard of Jimmy Joe’s mama’s place late in the evening, long past the usual suppertime. He’d thought about whether he should take her home, first, but then he’d figured that might not be fair to her, and that he couldn’t really expect her to make a decision until she’d had a chance to see what she was getting into. And that meant his whole family-at least the part of it he lived with on a regular basis, which was to say, Mama and Granny Calhoun, Jess and Sammi June, and of course, J.J.

His heart did a little double-skip when he thought about Mirabella and his son meeting for the first time. He wasn’t worried so much about J.J. liking Mirabella right off the bat-how could he not?-and even growing to love her like the mama he’d never had.

On the other hand, he had to face the fact that his son had pretty much outgrown the cute-and-adorable stage, and that he could be a real pistol, sometimes. He knew it was asking a lot of a woman with a brand-new baby of her own to take on someone else’s eight-year-old kid, besides.

But whichever way it was going to go, he knew he wouldn’t have to be in suspense for long, because the minute J.J. heard the rumble of his diesel and the hiss of those air brakes, he would be out that front door like a shot, just like he always was.

With one ear tuned to the slamming of the door and the familiar cry, “Hey, Dad!” he turned to Mirabella, who’d come quietly to stand between the seats and was peering through the cab windows at the house, which for some reason was all lit up like Christmas. “We’ll stop here a minute, if that’s okay,” he said, just a little out of breath. “Just want to pick up J.J., have you meet my mama. My place is just down the road.”

She didn’t say anything, but nodded and began to unbuckle the belt that held Amy’s infant carrier securely in place in the passenger seat. He got out and went around to open the door and lift the carrier down for her. Then he offered her his hand to help her down the steps, remembering what a climb it had been for her before, wondering if her independent nature would let her accept. When she gave him a look but took his hand anyway, he thought it was a good sign.

They were standing together beside the truck, sort of straightening themselves out and shaking the road stiffness out of their legs, when he finally heard the door. Not a slam, though, and without the exuberant shout of welcome that usually went with it. He turned and saw that his son had come onto the porch. But instead of running on out to meet him as he always did, he was just standing there with the light from the windows behind him shining in his hair, so he looked like he was wearing a halo.

Jimmy Joe touched Mirabella’s elbow and they started across the yard, last fall’s dead leaves crackling and crunching underfoot. When they reached the front walk, J.J. started slowly down the steps and came toward them, holding himself straight and tall, as if he was walking down the aisle of a church, fixing to light the candles on the altar. Wondering what had gotten into his son, Jimmy Joe set the baby carrier carefully on the ground, cleared his throat and said, “Hey, son, there’s somebody here I’d like you to meet.”

That was when he got his first look at Mirabella, who had stopped dead-still in the middle of the walk. He didn’t know how to describe her expression, except to say she looked…stunned. Then as he watched, her face began to take on a kind of glow, as if she was witnessing a miracle. She glanced up at him, and her eyes-again there was only one way to say it-her eyes were dancing.

“God does have a sense of humor,” she murmured as she moved up beside him, her hand going out toward the boy standing so tall and stiff before her. Thinking she meant to ruffle his hair, Jimmy Joe held his breath, knowing how J.J. hated that sort of thing, but she stopped just short of it and instead said briskly, “Hey, how are you doing? I’m Mirabella.”

Then, while J.J. solemnly shook her hand, his father let his breath out in silent thanksgiving, knowing it was going to be all right. He’d seen that look on Mirabella’s face before, as she watched her baby while she slept.

“You’re a lot prettier in person than you are on TV,” J.J. said, studying her with his head cocked to one side.

“Thanks-I think,” said Mirabella, laughing shakily. She still felt jangled after the shock of seeing her fantasy child in the flesh, right there before her eyes.

In the boneless way of all eight-year-olds, J.J. dropped to his knees beside Amy’s carrier. “Boy,” he said in an awed voice, “she sure is little.”

“Can I hold her?” asked a tall, slender girl with long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, who had just joined them.

“This is J.J.’s cousin, Sammi June,” Jimmy Joe said. “Sammi June, say hey to Mirabella.”

“Hey,” said Sammi June dutifully. “Can I hold the baby?”

“Well-” Mirabella looked over at Jimmy Joe and caught his reassuring nod “-sure, you can. As soon as we get inside.”

“I get to hold her first,” J.J. hissed, glowering possessively.

“Uh-uh. I’m the oldest, so I get to hold her-”

“Uh-uh, do not! I saw her first!”

“Sammi June!” yelled a tall, slim, dark-blond woman from the doorway. “You get in here, now, and help Gramma put the food on the table.”

“That’s my sister Jess-Sammi June’s mother,” said Jimmy Joe, then muttered under his breath as he bent to pick up Amy’s carrier, “Sure am glad everybody’s just bein’ their usual selves.”

They went up the steps together, Mirabella thinking, Oh, God, is everybody in this family tall, thin and blond? Then she saw the woman standing behind Jimmy Joe’s sister, waiting for the confusion to clear. A small woman, shorter even than Mirabella, with a neat cap of hair in a rich, naturallooking shade of brown, and a body that was still youthful, though definitely on the voluptuous side.

“Mama,” said Jimmy Joe, sounding slightly breathless, “this is Mirabella.”

“Betty,” his mother said firmly, as she held out her hand.

She doesn’t look anything at all like Jimmy Joe. That was the first thing to sort itself out of the mess in Mirabella’s mind. Then she saw his mother’s eyes-warm, brown eyes, with a golden gleam of fire lurking in their depths. And she thought, with a sense of familiarity that was almost like a homecoming, Yes…

“I’m just so happy to finally meet you,” Betty Starr exclaimed, dragging them all through the doorway and into her house with the sheer force, it seemed to Mirabella, of her personality. “Let me see this little one, now. Oh, she’s sound asleep, isn’t she? Well, that’s good. Just bring her on in, we’ll set her right down beside the table. Y‘all come on, now, food’s on the table. We waited supper for you. Would you like to freshen up? No? Well then… Mama…?” Her voice rose to a melodic bellow. “Supper’s ready, Mama. Company’s here and food’s gettin’ cold.”

In a kind of daze, Mirabella followed her into the large, informal dining room that adjoined a rather old-fashioned kitchen, with appliances that probably dated at least from the sixties. She was reassured by the light pressure of Jimmy Joe’s hand on her back, and in a strange way by the children, fidgeting and hissing at each other as they came along behind. Children, at least, were the same everywhere.

While Jimmy Joe’s mother directed everyone to their places and his sister Jess bustled off to the kitchen to see to lastminute preparations, they were joined by a tiny wraith of a woman, no taller than the two children and bent and gnarled as a tree root with osteoporosis.

“Hey, there, gorgeous,” said Jimmy Joe, bending over to kiss and hug her, handling her as though she were made of blown glass.

The old woman beamed and reached up to pat his cheek, then clutched his arms and peered around him like a child playing hide-and-seek. “Where is she?” she croaked, her old eyes gleaming, and Mirabella knew that, frail though she might be, here was a woman who still held the reins of life firmly in her hands.

“Granny,” said Jimmy Joe, “this is Mirabella.”

“Yes…yes…it’s nice to meet you.” She peered intently up at Mirabella, who felt her hand clutched in a grip of surprising strength. Then Granny Calhoun announced to nobody in particular, “She’s a lot prettier than she looks on TV.”

My family… Jimmy Joe watched them assemble around the table, squabbling and bickering and bossing one another as they always did and always would, and felt the familiar feeling that always came over him when he’d just gotten home after being gone awhile. A sense of thankfulness for them all, a rueful acceptance that they weren’t perfect, and acknowleg-ment that he loved them in spite of-maybe even because of-that.

He wanted to look at Mirabella and smile at her with his eyes in a way that said, Yes, I know, but they’re part of me. A big part. And a big part of what I brought you here to see. So what about it? Do you think…?

But he couldn’t look at her then, too afraid of what he might see.

They all took their places-Mirabella, with Amy in her carrier at her feet, at the end closest to the living room in case, she was told, she needed to get up and tend to the baby during dinner. Jimmy Joe was down at the other end-miles away, it seemed-at the head of the table, with Granny Calhoun and the two children on one side and Betty and Jess on the other. The food-roast chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy, and boiled greens and corn bread-all smelled delicious, even to a semi vegetarian like Mirabella, but she didn’t know if the twinges she felt in her stomach were hunger pangs or butterflies.

On her right, Jimmy Joe’s mother held out her hand. After a moment’s uncertainty, Mirabella placed hers into it. Then she noticed that everybody was joining hands all around the table, so she looked over to her left and sure enough, there was Jess holding out her hand, too. Oh, God, she thought, not even aware of the propriety of that as everybody bowed their heads for the blessing.

She felt cold, suddenly. Lost and alienated. Not unusual, surely, for somebody thrust abruptly and unexpectedly into the bosom of a strange family. But this was Jimmy Joe’s family. He’d brought her here in the hopes that she might want to become a part of it, too. Could she? Maybe she wanted to. But how would she ever make it work, when everything was so…different?

She felt so…lonely.

Then, while Sammi June did the honors in a singsong, recitative voice, Jimmy Joe suddenly lifted his head and looked down the length of the table at Mirabella and smiled his sweet, special smile. And she felt a strange stirring, like the rustling of the wind through the pine trees outside…

Later, when supper was finished and they’d collected J.J. and everybody had said all their goodbyes and y’all-come-backs and they’d gone on home, Jimmy Joe got J.J. settled down and then went looking for Mirabella. He found her out on his front porch, wearing his Levi’s jacket and hugging herself against the cold, just standing and listening to the sounds of the night.

He went to her cautiously, not knowing quite what to make of her stillness. He felt calm and confident now, as he mostly did when he was here in his own place, but wired and restless, too, in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. With J.J. all tucked in for the night in his bedroom upstairs, and Amy Jo sound asleep again in her carrier, suddenly it was just the two of them-him and Mirabella, alone in the quiet of the night for the first time since that Christmas, more than three weeks ago. It seemed like a whole lot longer-another time, another place.

“Chilly out here,” he said.

And she nodded and murmured, “Yes.”

And then after a moment she went on, drawing a deep, quick breath, “I like it, though. It feels so crisp…so fresh. Reminds me of when I was growing up. We lived in the desert, then. I don’t think we ever had snow, but it could get cold, and I remember the sky being like this, so black and clear and full of stars.”

Hope filled his throat. He coughed and said, “Yeah, it’s real nice in the summertime.” He made a little gesture toward the two rocking chairs he kept there, side by side. “Sometimes I like to sit out here in the evenings and watch the night come in-you know, the air feels soft on your skin and the honeysuckle smells so sweet, and the fireflies twinkle on and off in the trees…”

“I’ve never seen fireflies,” said Mirabella wistfully. And then he could hear a smile in her voice as she added, “Except at Disneyland-fake ones.”

“I’ve seen those. They look awful darn close to the real thing.” He went and sat in one of the rockers, and after a moment, she took the other. “If you sit here long enough,” he said after a while, “the whippoorwill’ll start to sing, somewhere out there in the trees. Just sings his little ol’ heart out.”

“I’ve never heard a whippoorwill.” Her voice sounded far away. “What do they sound like?” She caught her breath and flicked him a quick, delighted smile when he cleared his throat, pursed his lips and whistled the three-note song. Then she turned her head away again, but not before he saw her smile go soft and wry. “I remember…you told me about the whippoorwill. The night Amy was born.”

Warmth rose in his cheeks, and he laughed. “I’m kind of surprised you remembered that.”

“Oh, I remember everything about that night.” She sounded wistful again. Almost sad, he thought. “I remember you held me, and you told me it was like making love. And then…”

“And then, you told me…”

“I’d never made love before.”

“I didn’t believe you,” he said softly.

She gave a dry snort of irony. “You didn’t-I couldn’t believe I’d said it. It’s not something I go around telling people, ordinarily.”

“I didn’t believe you,” he said again in a muffled voice, talking to the boards between his feet. “How could I? There you were, havin’ a baby.”

“And then…” Her breath sighed and the rocker creaked softly as she leaned back. “I told you I’d been artificially inseminated.”

His short, dry laugh was an echo of hers. “Then I believed you. I figured nobody would make up somethin’ like that.”

“You were so shocked.” Her voice was gentle; not accusing, just stating a fact. “I know it…changed things. Between us. The way you felt about me.” He shifted uncomfortably, wishing he could deny it, knowing he owed her the truth. Knowing she wouldn’t let him deny it, even if he’d tried to. Her eyes were steady on him now, the light from the living-room windows shining in them like moonlight on water. “I know it did, Jimmy Joe. I felt it. What I couldn’t understand was why?”

He looked at her for a long time without answering, trying to pick apart the knots of feeling inside him. He was discovering that knowing something in your gut was one thing; trying to reason it out so you could explain it was something else. Finally he shook his head and began, “I never meant to judge-”

“But you did.”

He looked down at his clasped hands. “Yes, I guess I did, for a while.” He paused, then went on in a voice he kept low to hide the intensity of the emotions inside him. “I know what it’s like, you know, raising a child all alone-I’ve been doin’ it for eight years, now. And dammit all-I can’t help it if I have strong feelings about a kid needin’ two parents. Me, I know I’m one of the lucky ones, because of Mama and Jess bein’ so close by, so even when I’m gone I know J.J.’s always got somebody around to love him and care for him. But I’ve seen what happens to kids, left alone with the TV or some computer for a baby-sitter.”

He left the rocking chair, propelled by the tension he couldn’t keep to himself any longer, paced to the railing and stopped. Leaning his hands on it, he stared into the darkness and said quietly, “I know things happen to people they can’t help, and when they do they’ve got no choice but to make the best of things. But I thought, for somebody to do that to a child on purpose, that it was kind of…” He looked over at her, hating to say it to her now, because of the way he felt about her, but knowing it was best to get it said and over with right up front, too. So he took a breath and murmured, “Selfish.”

She sat hunched forward in the chair, rocking it slightly, making faint creaking sounds, not saying anything. He watched the way her hair shone warm in the light, like polished cherry-wood, and thought again of the nursery rhyme about the robin.

“Selfish…” She whispered it, then shook her head and said slowly, “And yet, you brought me here.”

His feelings burned inside him like fire. He wanted so much for her to understand. “But that’s just it,” he said with gravel in his throat. “I know you’re not selfish.”

“No-maybe I am selfish.” She left the chair rocking, empty, and came to the railing, her chin lifted in that uppity way she had. And he caught his breath, filled with a sudden burst of pride and delight in her, so it was all he could do to keep himself from bursting out in smiles and dragging her into his arms then and there.

“I wanted to be a mother,” she said, roused and angry. “That’s pretty selfish, I know. And I had a good job, plenty of money, a really nice home, and all this love and warmth and security-everything a child could want or need, right? Except for one thing-oops. no father! Bummer. But then I thought, so what? The important thing is the love, not who it comes from, or how many. I know lots of kids with two parents who’d be a helluva lot better off with one-or none at all, if you want to know the truth. So I thought, I’ve got enough love for two people, and I knew I’d make one terrific parent, so I decided to do it. I planned to try it this way first, and if that didn’t work, I’d adopt. But it did work. And if you want me to say I’m sorry I did it-wett, I’m not.”

He listened to the angry rhythm of her breathing and felt his own pulses quicken in response, and his body heat with a passion to match hers, although he knew it was a different kind. He meant to change that as soon as he could. He didn’t move toward her, though, but said in a slow, soft drawl, “Well, Marybell, like I said, I know you’re not selfish. And I won’t say you’re wrong about anything you just said, especially the part about the love bein’ what’s important, and you bein’ a terrific mama. Which I guess just leaves me with one question.” He turned his head to look at her. “Why? Why did you have to do it this way? I mean, look at you-you’re smart, funny, warm, a whole lotta fun to argue with, and probably the most beautiful, the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Her breath caught, and surprise flashed like summer lightning in her eyes. His own heart stumbled, then began to pound like answering thunder. He whirled away from her, not trusting himself so near her, heat pumping through his body. Struggling with it, searching for a way to say it without being crude, he finally burst out with, “Woman, there must have been men fallin’ over themselves to be the father of your child!”

Behind him, she laughed softly and unevenly, as if someone had taken her by the shoulders and shaken her. “Maybe so. But not the right one.” Silence pulsed between them.

Then she said in her brisk, businesslike Mirabella voice, “I guess you want to know how come I’m a virgin at thirty-eight. Well, like I said, I didn’t exactly plan it that way. My problem has always been, you see, that I don’t look anything like who I really am. I told you what I was like as a child. Well, there was a poem I remember-it was about this little girl who was a tomboy on the outside, but inside she was something completely different. That was me. It still is. When I was fat and homely, I kept waiting for some little boy to see how funny and smart and generous I was.

“By the time I got prettier, I’d developed this enormous chip on my shoulder. So now I looked like this cute, sexy little airhead, when actually I was an angry, resentful witch. And…I I kept waiting for some guy to see how funny and smart and generous I was in spite of all that.”

Remembering the thought that had come to him way back in that truck-stop diner in New Mexico, Jimmy Joe wanted to burst out with, ‘I would have! Me!“ It took all the patience and good manners he had in him not to interrupt her.

“Guess what? Nobody ever did. Oh, I had crushes, of course-always on somebody who didn’t have a clue. Guys who were attracted to me because of my looks-which was pretty much all of them-got turned off as soon as they found out who I really was. They just weren’t expecting somebody who looks like I do to have a brain, I guess. They thought they’d be getting this adorable little someone they could dominate and control, and when they found out I was bossy and independent and headstrong and just as capable as they were-if not more so-boy, did they back off in a hurry.

“So…” She gulped, and suddenly there were tears in her voice. She lowered it to a whisper and went on, hurrying now, determined to get it all said. “I kept waiting for some guy to come along who would see how smart and funny and generous, and headstrong and independent and capable I was, and love me anyway. And no one ever did. I could have settled for just…someone, I suppose, but I’ve never been much good at compromising.” She stopped there for a short huff of dry laughter, then finished in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. “For me it was the right man, or none at all. Eventually, I realized that the right man wasn’t going to come along in time, and if I was going to have a child, I’d have to do it without one. So I did.”

“Maybe,” Jimmy Joe said hoarsely, “you just gave up too soon.”