The Christmas Phoenix Read online

  "That’s a good rule. Well, I know how to cook. How about you pick up your stuff and do your homework, and I'll scrounge up something for supper?"

  The kid looked at him dubiously. "You cook?"

  "I get by. You live by yourself long enough and you learn."

  "I don't like TV dinners."

  "It won't be a frozen dinner, kid. I promise."

  ****

  Jess parked in her garage and took a deep breath. It had been another long day. And now she needed to make dinner. She had no idea what food she had in the house. Maybe they could order out. That would give her more energy to watch Rory do his homework.

  She climbed out of the truck and dragged herself to the back door, leading to the mudroom and kitchen. As soon as she opened the door, she paused. What is that smell? Steak? Grilled onions? I must be overtired if my nose is playing tricks on me. Hopefully Rory hadn’t been impatient enough to try and cook on his own.

  Letting herself in, she plopped herself onto the parson’s bench and removed her boots. Then she took off her hat and gloves, all the while inhaling the same enticing smells. Had he ordered out already? But where would he get the money?

  “Hey, Mom.” Her son greeted her cheerfully then opened a cupboard and pulled out some plates. “Dinner’s ready. I’ll have the table set in a minute.”

  Jess’ jaw dropped. She hopped up, drawing on energy she didn’t know she’d had. “Dinner? Didn’t I tell you not to use the stove when I’m gone?”

  “He didn’t. I did.”

  Jake stood at the table, setting out silverware. “He told me he wasn’t allowed to use the stove. So he helped me with the prep.”

  “We made shish kabobs. Don’t they look great, Mom?”

  He sure did. Or rather, the food did. If this was a dream, she hoped she never woke up.

  Chapter Eight

  The Christmas decorations were in the basement somewhere. Jess took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and turned the door handle of the furnace room. It had been over two years since she had been in this basement room with Doug. She didn’t like unfinished basements. The cement walls reminded her of European castle dungeons. When her brother had told her the furnace filter needed to be changed every few months, she'd talked him into taking care of it.

  But she couldn't ask her brother to come again. He'd just changed the filter last week, and she'd feel silly asking her son to come and do this for her. She was the mom. She had to be the adult and come down here. Rory deserved to have a real Christmas this year. Two years ago, the pain had still been too raw. Doug had only been gone a few months, and she couldn't handle any of the festivities. She'd finally purchased gift cards for everyone, then she and Rory had gone to her brother's home for a few days. Last year had been a little better, but she still hadn't gotten into the holiday mood enough to get a tree. She'd actually forgotten about it until one of Rory's friends had made a comment when he'd come to visit the day after Christmas.

  "Wow, you guys are fast," he'd said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You've already got your tree and all your decorations down. My mom doesn't usually get around to it until the end of January. She says it takes so much time and effort to get it up, she wants to enjoy it for a while."

  She hadn't bothered to tell him there hadn't been a tree. Or decorations.

  Rory deserved better. She couldn't remain in mourning forever. So here she was, facing her demons. Well, one demon anyway. She was about to enter the scariest room in the house. Doug had teased her about her irrational fear of the basement. "Other than a couple of dragons and a family of mice, there's nothing down there that could harm you."

  She knew the fear was irrational, but she couldn't help it. Standing at the doorway, she had yet to set foot in the furnace room, but her hands felt clammy, her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy. But she had to do it. She took one step, and then another. She could make out the boxes marked "Christmas Stuff" in Doug's bold block lettering. Only a few more steps to go and then—

  "Mom?"

  The scream coming from her mouth echoed off the cement walls, and she scrambled to the doorway, where her son stood, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. She brushed past him to the stairway and collapsed on the bottom step, where she sat, holding her knees, her head down on her lap, shaking and sobbing.

  She was aware of Rory's warmth as he settled on the step next to her. Slowly, his thin arm came around her back, patting her. His voice, when he spoke, cracked between the high register of youth and the deeper baritone it would become.

  "Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. I know you don't like the basement, so I came down to help you. Really. I wasn't trying to freak you out." With each word, his voice got higher in pitch and more desperate in tone.

  The fear in Rory's voice finally got through, and Jess knew she had to get it together. She took a deep breath, sat up, and wiped away her tears. Rory still clung to her, his face pale. She reached around him and gave him a reassuring hug.

  "I'm okay now, Rory. Sorry I freaked out on you like that."

  "I know you're scared of the basement, Mom. That's why I came down. If you needed something, why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because—because it's silly for me to be afraid of that room. I should be able to get the Christmas decorations myself."

  Rory perked up. "You're going to put up decorations this year?"

  "You bet. And we'll go and pick out a tree this weekend."

  "Cool!"

  Jess' feelings were a mix of happiness and guilt. She was happy to see her teenage son get excited about something. That hadn't happened in a long time. And she felt guilty that the thing it took to make him excited was something she should have been able to provide for him.

  Rory popped up. "I'll get those decorations out for you, Mom. You stay right here." He dashed in the furnace room and returned, carrying the large plastic tub. Jess scrambled up to help. Together, they wrestled it up the stairs and set it in the middle of the living room.

  "Is there anything else down there, Mom?"

  She scrunched her face in thought. "The outdoor decorations are in another box, but I'm not sure where your dad put it."

  "What does it look like?"

  "I'm not sure. I think it was a big white box, the one your bookshelf came in."

  Rory stilled, and his eyes clouded. Jess immediately regretted mentioning the bookshelf. Doug and Rory had spent nearly a week setting up the unit. It was the last project they had tackled together.

  "I remember the box, Mom. I'll be right back."

  Jess briefly considered going after him, but the chill creeping up her spine made her reconsider. If Rory had trouble, she'd go after him. Yes, she would.

  Standing at the top of the stairs, she heard boxes being moved about and her son's grunts as he lifted things and moved them around. Paper rustled as he searched through opened boxes. Finally, the noises stopped and she soon saw him carrying another plastic tub.

  "I found the box, but this wreath and bows and stuff were on top of it. Did you want me to put the wreath up over the mantle?"

  "Sure. I'll get the ladder." She headed toward the pantry.

  "Uh, Mom? I don't think I'll need it." He walked over to the mantle, reached up and took down the family photo that hung there. Dust flew, and he sneezed. Jess cringed. There was another household chore she hadn't taken care of lately. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a dust cloth. By the time she got back to the living room, the wreath had already been hung in place. Her little boy was tall enough to do this on his own.

  Rory wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I'll go downstairs and get the rest of the stuff now."

  Jess couldn’t stop the tear from escaping her eye. Doug would have been so proud of their son.

  Chapter Nine

  Jess dragged herself into the hotel. The overnight storm had been fierce, dumping lots of wet, heavy snow. She'd gone out early this morning, plowing driveway after driveway. The drifts were d
eep, and it had taken longer than usual to clear the drives and parking lots. More snow was forecast for this afternoon, so she'd probably have to go out again this evening.

  Business was picking up. She'd been contacted by another store to clear out their parking lot. It was more work but she was thrilled to have another client. If things kept picking up, she'd have to start hiring someone to help. She had a nephew who'd appreciate the work.

  But for now, she had a banquet to serve. She stowed her coat and purse in her locker and punched in just before the time switched to show she was late. She turned around, and found herself face to face with Max, the banquet manager.

  "Jess, we have to talk."

  "Sure. What's up?" She tied her apron and adjusted her collar.

  "We've got a lot of evening banquets coming up. I know you don't usually work at night, but we're going to need you on nights more than on days."

  Jess stilled and counted to ten. Better not to blow up at her boss. He knew very well why she insisted on working only during the day. "Max, I have a young teenager at home. When I applied, I specified I’m available only during the day, while he’s at school. Rory's old enough to take care of himself for a few hours after he gets home, but I don't want to leave him by himself all evening."

  "I understand, but it's only until after the holidays."

  "Anything can happen in that amount of time. And there’s no guarantee you would switch me back. I just can't do it, Max."

  Max's gaze shifted. His hands went in his pockets, and he took a deep breath. "I'm going to have to insist, Jess. We have the business at night, not during the day."

  "You've got plenty of afternoon events on the books."

  "But we also have servers with more seniority than you. If you want the hours, you're going to have to work at night. Especially for the big banquet on Christmas Eve."

  "You expect me to work on Christmas Eve?"

  "I need everyone here on Christmas Eve. Nobody's getting it off. Not for any reason."

  Jess waited for Max to meet her gaze. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, ran his hand through his hair, and when he realized she hadn't given him an answer, finally looked up at her.

  "I'm giving you my two-week notice, Max. I'll put it in writing by the end of the day."

  Max's face paled. "Are you sure, Jess? I—I might be able to put you on days maybe one or two days a week."

  "Sorry, Max. I can't work at night. Period. Not while Rory is still in school. He's already lost one parent. I'm not going to make him fend for himself. It’s bad enough he’s alone for a few hours after school. But if I work one night a week, it’ll become two nights, and before long I’ll be gone every night of the week. And Christmas Eve is definitely out. I won’t do it." Before she could change her mind, she turned and went to work.

  She expected to feel panic set in, knowing she was giving up a source of steady income. She was quitting a job at the height of the holiday season. Had she lost her mind?

  Maybe so. But she had to do it. Rory wasn’t a baby, but he still needed her. She needed him. Besides, if she had to wait on tables at night, it would be more difficult to get up and drive the plow in the mornings. And the plowing business was quickly becoming her main source of income. They would get by. And after the New Year, maybe she could look for something else closer to home.

  But right now, she had to get through this shift.

  Chapter Ten

  Jess poured herself a cup of coffee and laced it with her favorite creamer. It had been on sale at the grocery story this week, and she'd splurged on a couple of different flavors. Today she opened a new one called Peppermint Candy. She poured it into the steaming liquid and watched as the white swirled into the brown, blending into a light tan color. Then she leaned over her mug and breathed in the enticing aroma.

  It was Saturday, and she had some unexpected time off. Rory was gone for the day. He'd met some new friends at his church youth group, and one of them had invited him to an overnight party. She'd taken him to the boy's house last night, met the parents, and been assured he was in good hands. No snow had fallen since yesterday, so she didn't have to run her route. And the banquet she was supposed to serve had been cancelled.

  Finally, she had a day to get caught up on chores. She decided to start with the worst job of all—tackling Rory's room. It had been a while since she’d given it a thorough cleaning. She'd been in there to change his sheets and grab his dirty laundry, of course, but that had been all. No telling what she’d find in there.

  Finishing her coffee, she changed into her work clothes and tied her hair back. She took a deep breath at the entrance to Rory's room and set her shoulders. Then she opened the door.

  And nearly fell backward from shock.

  The first thing she took in was the floor. There was nothing on it that didn't belong. No clothes, either dirty or clean, littered the carpeting. Her gaze moved upward. The bed was made. Neatly. It would be a real shame to take it apart to change the sheets. She walked over to his closet and got another shock when she opened the doors.

  His clothes hamper was full of dirty clothes, as well as the sheets she had put on his bed the previous week. He had actually changed the sheets himself! Did he know how? She glanced at the neatly made up bed. It looked decent. She couldn't resist checking. Yes, it was made up with clean sheets. When had he done that? It must have been after school yesterday, before she had gotten home from work.

  She checked his dresser drawers. His clothes had been put away. His books lay on his desk in a neat pile. She opened the top one. It was a planner, provided by the school. Monday's page listed all his assignments in his precise handwriting.

  So like his father's.

  She sat on his desk chair and waited for the familiar pain to hit her, the pain that always came when she thought of her husband. He had been her first love. But the pain didn't come. It was more like a dull ache, the discomfort that came from missing someone dear. Not the crushing, crippling pain of helplessness she'd felt before.

  It was a good hurt, if there could be such a thing. The sort that came from shared memories. Doug would always be a part of her. She had this home they had worked so hard to build. But he was gone. She was still here. She had his son, who looked, acted, and sounded more like his father every day. Rory would grow up to lead his own life, and doing everything for him was not going to help him. Everyone was right. Her son was able to take on more. He'd proved it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd needed to take him to school. He'd even started to pack his own lunch. And now, he'd cleaned his own room. Her baby boy was growing up and coddling him would not protect him from the world.

  They were like a phoenix, rising from the ashes.

  She rose, gathered his clothes hamper, and took it to the laundry room.

  For the rest of the morning, she sailed through her chores, humming. She dusted, vacuumed, and straightened up her own room. For the first time in months, she turned on the television and exercised along with a fitness show, and then, inspired by the show's message of good health, ate a light salad for lunch. Knowing Rory would be home for dinner, she hauled out her slow cooker and assembled the fixings for a beef stew, knowing it was one of her son's favorite meals.

  Once in a while she would break out in song. "Deck the halls with boughs of holly, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la."

  The stew cast a homey aroma through the house. It smelled like family, like home.

  She pictured Jake sitting at the table with them, the three of them sharing the events of their day. Could that possibly happen?

  There was one way to find out. She still had the business card he had left with her the first time he had come, telling her about Rory and his friends shooting firecrackers. Would he think she was silly? Would he be annoyed with her? Before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up her phone. Her hands shook as she punched in the numbers. Her heart raced as she waited for him to pick up.

  “Hello?”

 
He sounded a little irritated. Maybe she had interrupted his work.

  “Jake, this is Jess. I’ve got beef stew cooking, and there’s a lot more than Rory and I can eat. We’d love it if you could join us. If you want.”

  There was silence. Was he figuring out how to turn her down?

  “Stew is one of my favorites. What time is dinner?”

  “We usually eat around six.”

  “I have a really big order for next week, so if I get a lot done today, I’ll come. Thanks.”

  She disconnected, wondering at the giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach. He was just a neighbor coming for dinner.

  A handsome, male neighbor. And she looked a mess after her workout.

  Her shower was quick, but then came the daunting task of deciding what to wear. She had a clean pair of jeans. Did they still fit? Did they look too out of date? She didn't want to dress up and look like she was flirting. But she didn't want to look like a slob.

  She had already vacuumed and straightened out the house, and Rory had helped her with the Christmas decorations. They had put up and decorated the tree the night before. What would she do for the next few hours?

  The tree needed some wrapped gifts under it. She hauled everything out and was soon surrounded by mounds of cheerful packages. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed giving gifts and watching as her loved ones unwrapped them. This would be a merry Christmas. She'd make sure of that.

  ****

  Jake disconnected his cell phone and put it back in his pocket. He hadn't been lying about having a big order for tomorrow. This was a major banquet at the Pine Ridge Hotel, and he was to provide a huge sculpture for the serving tables. The hosts had some exacting requirements and were willing to pay big bucks for them. This commission would pay off several of his debts, and he would be able to start saving up for his own studio. He needed to get this done and delivered so he could get back on his feet and have a life.