Ring Out the Old (Twelves Months of Romance - January) Read online

  “Well, hell, I know that now, don't I?” he replied, mixing the hot chocolate and bringing a mug over to her.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the drink from him.

  Billy plopped down beside her on the settee, blowing on the chocolate to cool it.

  “You drink that up and get warm. You could've caught pneumonia out there.”

  “How about I warm up some of that pie for us? You know what they say. An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Jen thought the little joke might ease the heavy atmosphere in the room, but it backfired.

  Billy went to the kitchen to pour the chocolate down the sink. After rinsing the cup, he stood in front of her, his hands on his hips.

  “But it won't, will it? There are things you can do that will help you avoid flare-ups, but there's no cure, is there? Medication, exercise, biofeedback; they can help, but that's all, right? I did my homework.”

  “Are you accusing me of something, here, Mr. Easton?” Jen asked, ice in her voice.

  Billy glared at her a moment longer, then rubbed his hand through his hair in frustration.

  “No, of course not,” he told her, trying to keep his tone normal.

  “Then are you afraid I won't make a satisfactory tenant?” she pressed.

  “Ah, Jen, I'm sorry.” Billy shrugged his shoulders, finding it hard to put his thoughts into words. He sat beside her once more, and without thinking, took her hand in his.

  “It upset me to see you go through that. Scared me some, too, I guess. And thinking that Natalie has to face the same thing for the rest of her life … well, I guess it made me want to break something or punch somebody.”

  “So, you took it out on me?” At his stricken look, Jen squeezed his hand to let him know she'd forgiven him. “It's okay. When Nat was diagnosed, I raged inside for days and ended up in the hospital.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their thoughts. Jen made no attempt to reclaim her hand. It was comforting to sit together like this, her frail hand in his big one, listening to the ticking of the clock. It was the whir and clunk of the ice-maker that brought Jen back to herself.

  She raised her head to look at Billy and saw that he was gazing at her so intently that she blushed and had to look down again. He raised her chin, making her look at him once more.

  “I care about you, Jen. I care about you and the kids,” he whispered. “I want to help. Please, tell me how I can help.”

  Jen took a shuddering breath, undone by the kindness in his eyes and the gentleness of his touch. She wondered if he was going to kiss her and for one reckless moment, hoped that he would.

  But that's all it was. A reckless moment, a brief rebellion against her fate and the sheer desperation of it all. This kind man, this stranger, had come into their lives at a time when he was needed, but that time was already passed. He would be moving on to his next job, his next house, his next tenant. Jen could not, would not, allow herself to become dependent on someone else ever again.

  Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand and stood up, so that his hand slid away from her face.

  “Thank you for your generous offer, Billy, but you've done more than enough. I can't tell you how much we all appreciate everything.”

  Billy knew a dismissal when he heard it. He also understood pride and hurt and despair and all the other human emotions that went along with tragedy. How could he not?

  But he also knew that this family needed his help whether Jennifer Prescott wanted it or not. One thing was certain: there would be no selling this property, not as long as they needed a place. And for once, since Kay's death, he had no urge to move on himself.

  “Think nothing of it,” Billy smiled, getting up from the settee. Two short strides took him to the front door where he waved at Jen over his shoulder. “Good night.”

  Billy gave her another cheery smile and left, not giving her a chance to respond. He found himself whistling on the short walk to his back door, and even did a couple of dance steps as he hung up his coat. God, it felt good to be needed again.

  * * *

  Jen had been under strict orders from Dr. Haskett to take a couple of days off to rest. Her mother had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she would love to fill in for her at work and Jen was to follow doctor's orders. Since Dr. Haskett was both her boss and her G.I., she knew she had no choice.

  Neil showed up in the morning to take the kids to school, but Jen decided to keep Davey at home. She spent little enough time alone with her son, and now that Nat was sick, she would be getting a lot more attention.

  Billy had run into Neil and the girls as he was leaving for an appointment with his realtor. He was pleased at the news that Jen would be resting for a few days and even more pleased that he didn't make a fool out of himself in front of her father for once.

  “I'll be gone for a couple of hours but I'll keep an eye on her and Davey,” he assured Neil.

  “Thanks, but for heaven's sake, don't let her know you're doing it,” Neil warned him.

  “Mom's kind of stubborn,” Natalie told him.

  “A lot stubborn,” Nicole added.

  “You can count on me, ladies,” he grinned.

  Billy climbed into his truck, feeling even better than he had the night before. He waited until Neil had backed into the street before starting down the drive himself. One of the first projects he would undertake in the spring was expanding the driveway so there was room for more cars. He had the feeling there would be a lot of coming and going around here.

  Billy was away most of the day looking at properties. He'd found a couple going cheap that he could fix up with minimal strain on his limited resources. Until he got an infusion of dollars from the sale of this house, his cash flow could be a cause for concern.

  But now he had a new direction: fix 'em up and rent 'em out. He was happy enough with his latest home, and it was time to settle down for a while. He'd been living like a gypsy for the past ten years, running away from all the bad memories. No more. It was more than past time to start building some good memories.

  Billy pulled into the driveway to the sound of childish laughter and female screeches. He watched from his truck as Jen and her son engaged in a fierce snowball fight.

  Somehow, Jen's snowballs kept missing Davey. The boy was taunting her about it and throwing handfuls of unpacked snow at his mother.

  Billy decided it was time to show the little guy how to make a proper snowball. Walking toward the pair, he casually scooped up a handful of snow and started packing it slowly between his hands, his eyes on Jen.

  Guessing his intent, she backed away, ready to dive behind the fort she and Davey had constructed.

  “Don't. You. Dare,” she warned, suppressing the urge to giggle.

  “Davey, my boy, come on over here. I'll give you the honor.”

  Davey ran over to Billy without hesitation and took the snowball from him.

  “Don't throw it yet,” Billy told him, picking the boy up to straddle his broad shoulders. “Always take the high ground, kid.”

  They stalked Jen around the backyard until they had her backed up against a tree.

  “Now!” Billy yelled. “Fire away!”

  Davey threw the huge snowball at his mother with two hands. It just missed her, but hit the tree over her head, exploding snow all over her with the impact.

  Billy and Davey both threw their hands in the air in triumph, and Jen's heart caught in her throat. She didn't know if it was fear that Davey would fall without being held or happiness at the sight of the man and boy together.

  But Jen knew in her heart that she could trust her son to Billy without reservation. He was simply incapable of being irresponsible or anything but kind and generous.

  Jen took off her hat, shaking off the snow, while Billy brushed off her shoulders.

  “I got you good, Mommy, didn't I?” Davey laughed.

  “You sure did,” she told him. “I think I need to go in and dry off. You too, young man.”
r />   “Aww, Mom, can't me and Mr. Easton stay outside and play some more?”

  “Mr. Easton and I,” she corrected automatically. “No, but Mr. Easton can come in for a cup of coffee if he wants.”

  Jen smiled at Billy, hoping he would accept so she could make up for her abrupt dismissal last night.

  “Coffee sounds good,” he accepted, smiling back. When she knew him better, she'd know that he never held a grudge. Life was too short and people were too precious to waste holding on to anger.

  Billy kept Davey on his shoulders for the short walk to the bungalow. He put him down on the stoop and let Jen precede him inside. She'd been busy, he saw. She'd mounted some hooks on the wall beside the door for hanging coats and put a rubber mat underneath for snowy boots. Towels hung on the posts now, and she handed one to Billy so he could dry himself off while she did the same for Davey.

  As soon as he saw what she'd done, Billy made a mental note to add an enclosed porch onto the front of the bungalow. Jen could use it for a mud room in winter and a playroom for Davey in the summer.

  As soon as his mother let him get away, Davey ran over to the breakfast bar and climbed up on the stool. The boy's blond hair gleamed in the lights Billy had installed there, and his rosy cheeks glowed with the cold. Billy couldn't see anything of Jen in the boy and had to assume he looked just like his runaway father.

  Jen started the coffee, then made hot chocolate in the microwave for Davey while Billy watched her work. Her movements were brisk and efficient, but that didn't surprise him. It did surprise him that she smoothed back Davey's hair and touched his cheek with an almost desperate fondness. It was as if she were unfamiliar with these loving gestures. And yet, Billy would have bet his last dollar that she was a caring woman.

  Jen removed two chocolate chip cookies from the cookie jar and put them in front of Davey.

  “Chocolate chip or sugar?” she asked Billy.

  “I thought I smelled chocolate when I came in. You've been busy today.”

  “I guess that means chocolate chip,” she smiled.

  “How about both?” he countered.

  Still smiling, Jen put two of each on a plate and set them down in front of him.

  Billy took a bite, savoring the chewy goodness. It felt good to sit there beside the boy, eating cookies together while his mom poured coffee.

  “I sure hope you bake a lot, Jen,” he smiled, taking another one.

  “I didn't before, but now I think I'll have the time. I used to love to bake and sew and knit,” she told him, setting cream and sugar on the counter.

  “Work and family take a lot of time,” Billy replied, careful not to mention her bouts of illness.

  “So does a four bedroom house,” she told him.

  “Wow, this little place must be a real come down for you,” Billy nodded.

  “I'm glad to be rid of it. We've got everything we need right here. We can whip through this place on a Saturday in a couple of hours and have time for fun after. Right, Davey?” she asked, ruffling the hair she'd just smoothed.

  “Like today?” Davey asked, smiling shyly at his mother.

  “Like today, and that's a promise.”

  Billy's heart lurched at the sight of these two, groping their way toward each other. The little boy and the woman who'd been so badly hurt. He had to ask, but heeding Neil's warning, he thought he ought to go slowly.

  “I guess there wasn't much time for fun, either,” he observed, sipping his coffee, but watching her over the rim.

  “Dad used to take us lots of places,” Davey told him brightly, “but he's gone away now.”

  Billy hated seeing the boy's happiness dim at the thought of his absent father, but those few words had spoken volumes.

  “I guess Dad was a fun kind of guy,” Billy prompted.

  “Yeah, we used to have lots of fun and he never yelled at us or anything.” As if sensing he'd said something bad, Davey ducked his head, hiding behind his mug.

  Out of the mouths of babes, Billy thought. And as long as he was using clichés, he figured that the Prescott's marriage was a case of the grasshopper being married to the ant. Davey didn't understand now, but Billy hoped the boy would have a better role model to teach him how it should be.

  And with the thought that he wanted to be that role model, Billy decided it was time to make a graceful exit. It was one thing to want to help. It was quite another to allow himself to think of a future with another man's family.

  * * *

  Two days later, Billy came home to find a note taped to the window of his back door:

  If you haven't made plans for dinner, I made pot roast. Jen

  Just the words pot roast were like a magnet pulling him away from his door and down the path to the bungalow. When Jen opened the door, the aroma of spices hit him like a wave of exotic perfume.

  Jen watched, amused, as Billy stood on her doorstep and inhaled, his eyes closed in ecstasy.

  “It's only pot roast, Billy,” she teased. “Would you like to come in?”

  “No, it's heaven and yes, I would like to come in.”

  He was letting the cold in; another reason for the enclosed porch. As he stepped across the threshold into the warmth, he decided to get his crew over the next day to start construction. He could draw up the plans tonight, pick up the lumber early tomorrow and get them started as soon as he got the permits. They knew him down at the building department, and he could probably push the application through in a day.

  “Hi, kids!” he called. Davey was putting placemats on the table as the girls brought over plates and silver.

  “Would you like to take your jacket off and sit down?” Jen invited, realizing Billy was in a pot roast haze and would have to be led to the table.

  “When I asked you to cook for me a few nights a week, I didn't expect to intrude on your family time,” he protested. “Besides, there's no room.”

  “You and Mom can sit at the table,” Natalie told him.

  “We'll sit at the breakfast bar,” Nicole added.

  “Can I sit on the stool near you, Mr. Easton?” Davey asked hopefully.

  Billy stooped down to Davey's level so as not to intimidate him with his size. Ever since he'd overheard a kid call him ‘the big, scary dude with the deep voice’, he'd made a conscious effort to appear less overpowering.

  “Why don't we pull up one of those stools for you and we can all sit together,” Billy suggested.

  “Really, we wouldn't want to crowd you, Billy,” Jen objected, but she was pleased he'd made the offer.

  “I know I'm kind of big, but I'll only take up one side of the table. We can all fit,” he declared, showing them how they could arrange the place settings.

  While he was picking up lumber tomorrow, he'd pick up a piece to make a leaf for the table. He'd noticed when they'd bought it that there was room for one, but it was missing. In the meantime, they could make do.

  Billy pulled up the stool and lifted Davey onto it.

  “Here you go, sport.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Easton,” Davey beamed.

  There wasn't room on the crowded table for the food, so Jen sliced up the meat and filled the plates herself. She handed them across the counter to the girls who served Billy first.

  Billy enjoyed watching Jen and the girls working as a team and he took the opportunity to observe the twins closely. No twins were exactly identical. One might be a bit heavier or a bit taller than the other, or there might be subtle differences in coloring. It was usually easier to tell twins apart when they were together so the differences were obvious.

  Nicole was more outgoing than Natalie, and he noticed that Nicole's eyes were a brighter blue than her twin. And he chuckled to himself when he noticed that Nicole bit her nails. Now he had them. He'd always know which was which just by glancing down at their hands.

  Billy also noticed that neither Natalie nor her mother had any carrots or onions on their plates. He'd done the research and knew that roughage like vegetabl
es had to be kept to a minimum, especially after a flare-up. He'd also learned that stress could contribute to a flare-up, so he'd keep things very light and find ways to ease Jen's burden as much as he could. If the mother wasn't stressed, then she'd be more likely to maintain a calm atmosphere around Natalie. Good for the other kids, too.

  They'd finished their meal, and Jen announced there was chocolate cake for dessert.

  “First cookies and now cake? You'll wear yourself out,” Billy warned her.

  “Not at all,” Jen smiled. “I told you I would have more time to bake now and I'm happy working around the kitchen.”

  “In that case, ladies and gentlemen, let's make your mother happy.” He leaned across the table, making them lean in, too. “If we eat all the cake she gets to bake again tomorrow.”

  “Yeah!” Davey agreed, his eyes rolling in ecstasy.

  He winked at Natalie and Nicole, making them giggle, while their mother widened her eyes innocently.

  “What a wonderful idea you've given me!” she exclaimed. “I could bake a cake and then give it away so I could bake another cake the next day!” She pretended to think, tapping her finger on the table. “Pies, cookies, turnovers … why limit myself to cake?”

  “Couldn't I have just a little piece of the chocolate cake?” Davey asked her, his lip quivering at the thought of never getting dessert again as long as he lived.

  “Your mom's just teasing,” Billy told him, wiping away the one tear that had spilled over. “Tell you what, sport. Let's you and I clear the table so we can bring the cake right out here in the middle where you can keep an eye on it.”

  Davey nodded dumbly, allowing Billy to lift him down from the stool.

  Jen just sat at the table, stricken by her mistake. Davey was used to her being serious. She didn't think he'd ever seen her in a teasing mood. Even worse was the thought that she just wasn't very good at it and her children would have to grow up without the laughter that only David could provide.

  She felt like crying, herself, but was used to hiding her feelings. The thought of little Davey and big Billy dropping all her dishes was enough to have her choking back her tears and heading for the kitchen.

  “You two go sit down,” she ordered briskly. “Nat and Nic and I will do it.”