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

  “I'm not much of a plant guy, but I figured most women would like that.”

  “I had a lot of plants in my old house,” Jen replied softly, remembering. She turned around to face Billy. “They were a lot of work, but I loved them.”

  “I'm sorry,” he said simply.

  “No, don't be.” She shook her head, shaking off the memory, too. “I brought my favorites with me and now I have time to tend them properly.”

  She was looking through him as she leaned back against the sink, lost in her memories. He saw her framed in the window he'd built, her slim figure outlined by the last of the dim winter light filtering through the glass, and he could barely breathe for the ache in his heart.

  It was Angelo that broke the mood, sniffing around his new master's feet.

  “He must be hungry,” Billy grinned, but it was only half a smile. Even though Jen had moved away from the sink, he still had that image of her imprinted on his mind. An image that he knew would be imprinted there forever.

  Jen was suddenly conscious of being alone in the house of a man she barely knew. And more; that he was looking at her as a man looks at a woman.

  “I … I'd better get back home,” she stammered, heading for the door and safety.

  “Why don't you call the kids? They can meet Angelo and we can order a pizza or something.”

  “The kids are with my parents for the night,” Jen whispered, not daring to turn around to face him.

  He came up behind her but didn't touch her. He knew she would bolt if he did.

  “If you don't want pizza, I can nuke a couple of TV dinners,” he offered, trying to lighten the mood.

  Jen shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Angelo's here to chaperone.”

  Jen gave a sort of strangled laugh. She wanted to stay. After all, they were both alone on a Saturday night, and it was just pizza with a man who'd proven himself to be a good friend.

  Finally able to face him, she took a deep breath, prepared to meet him halfway.

  “You mean, Angelo is trained to attack if I make a pass at you?”

  “Something like that,” Billy grinned, pleased at her teasing. Jen didn't let go often, but when she did, it was with a gentle humor that touched him.

  “In that case, I accept,” she smiled, finally able to relax.

  While Jen sat in front of the fire thawing out her icy feet, Billy and Angelo ordered spaghetti and meatballs for two. They ate their dinner there on tray tables, with Angelo curled up on Billy's feet. Jen figured the dog knew who was the sucker in the family as she watched Billy sneak him bits of meatball.

  “You'll spoil that dog,” she pointed out.

  “I know,” he admitted sheepishly. “But it's been a long time since I had one.”

  Jen watched the shadow pass across his face when he ducked down to scratch Angelo's head.

  “You must miss him very much.”

  “Yeah. Every day,” Billy replied, his voice low.

  “It's so easy to get attached to a pet and so hard to lose one.”

  He looked up at Jen, so beautiful, so sympathetic, and spoke without thinking.

  “Not Sparky. I meant ...”

  Billy pushed the table away from him and moved over to a window, pulling up the roman shades. He stared out the window, only half aware of the woman who stood behind him.

  “It's starting to snow,” he said in a shaky voice.

  “Who was it you lost, Billy?” she asked softly.

  “My son, Willie. Little Willie. He would have been sixteen.”

  He stared hard out of the window at the light snow swirling through the darkness, as if he would find his answers there. But when Jen laid her hand on his arm and pressed him to turn around, he knew he would find his answers in her arms.

  “Is that what broke up your marriage?” Jen held her breath, waiting for the answer.

  “No … yes … but not in the way you think.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said, simply, leading him back to his chair.

  Billy sat and Jen took the footstool for herself. When she was settled at his feet, she took his hands in hers. Her hands had been warmed by the fire, but now his were icy cold to her touch.

  “Start at the beginning,” Jen encouraged him.

  So Billy told her all about it. He told her everything. Not just the bad parts; not just the terrible ending. He told her all about Kay and Willie and all the good times, too.

  He talked non-stop, letting it all out, until he'd run out of words and almost run out of voice.

  Through it all, Jen held on to his hands, smiling and laughing at the good and letting the tears run silently down her cheeks at the bad.

  When he was done, Billy lay back in his chair, exhausted from it all. It took a few moments for him to realize that he felt lighter, happier, as if he'd finally set down the burden that had been tormenting him all these years. He thought he had adjusted to it all, but now he knew he hadn't.

  Adding to his happiness was the woman who had laughed and cried with him. She was doing such an ordinary thing; wiping her eyes and blowing her nose with a handful of paper napkins. But that ordinary thing told him that she'd been deeply moved and understood.

  “You all right, Jen?” he asked softly, getting up to stand beside her.

  “Sure. I cry over meatballs all the time,” Jen sniffed, finally looking up at him. “You're a good man, Billy Easton, and a brave one.”

  Silently, he took her hand, leading her back to the chair where he'd just unburdened himself. He pressed her down into the seat and pulled up the footstool for himself, taking her hands in his.

  “Your turn,” he smiled.

  “But, you already know about me!” Jen protested. It wasn't her way to complain, but more than that, unburdening her soul to this man would open the door to things she wasn't ready for and didn't want.

  “The bare facts,” he nodded, shaking her hands. “Time to fill in the blanks.”

  Billy saw she was both horrified and scared to death, but he wasn't going to give up. He'd get her to talk if it killed him.

  He had to laugh when he realized their roles were reversed: wasn't it usually the woman who wanted to talk about her feelings and the man who kept everything bottled up?

  At least he had the good sense to do no more than smile. He knew if he laughed, he'd send the prickly Mrs. Prescott running out the door.

  “I'm Jennifer Stanley Prescott,” he said, to start her off, “and I'm … How old are you, anyway, Jen?”

  “No fair!” she cried, trying to pull her hands away, but he had her in a tight grip.

  “Okay, I'll admit I'm 42 if you'll admit you're older than me,” he grinned.

  “I am not! I'm 37.”

  “Nice age. Go on.”

  “I will not.” Jen wanted to squirm in her seat, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction. She'd always been the one to listen to other people's problems, not tell her own.

  “I'll just have to keep guessing, then,” he told her, rolling his eyes and heaving a great, gusty sigh.

  “Let me go, Billy. Your dinner is getting cold,” she said in her best mother voice.

  “Sorry, Mom. You can send me to bed without dessert, but we're going to finish this.” He looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think. “Now, let me see. Where were we? Oh, yes. Vital statistics.”

  Jen glared at him, but he was getting harder to resist.

  “I'm 6'2 and I bet I could just rest my chin on the top of your head.”

  Jen had always been sensitive about her height and she had to admit that Billy was the only man she'd ever met that could make her feel small.

  “Weight?”

  “Now that's enough!”

  “Why? You're anything but fat,” he told her, careful not to laugh.

  “It's the Crohn's. I look like a skeleton,” she replied, her face flaming with embarrassment at her admission.

  “Perfect height and weight for a runway model as far a
s I can see,” he observed.

  “Oh, don't be silly. I'm a mother, not a model.” How she wished he would let go of her hands so she could smack him one.

  “Soft brown hair,” he continued.

  “Which is falling out because of the medication,” she told him.

  “We'll weave a rug,” he replied, not missing a beat. “Absolutely stunning blue eyes, which are shooting sapphire bullets at me right now.”

  Jen instinctively closed her eyes, not wanting him to see so much.

  “Tell me about David,” he demanded without warning.

  She slumped back in the chair, grateful that she'd closed her eyes so that he couldn't see the turmoil there.

  “Come on, Jen.” He lifted one hand to touch her cheek. “Let it out. You're the bravest woman I've ever known.”

  “Braver than Kay?” Jen whispered. She regretted the question almost as soon as it came out. “I'm sorry. That wasn't fair.”

  “Kay lost her courage in the end, but it wasn't the courage to go on. I finally came to realize she wouldn't let me help her because she didn't want to let go of her pain. The pain was keeping Willie alive for her.”

  Billy's words speared straight into her heart, opening up a crack that she was almost afraid to look at. Could she be hanging on to her pain to keep the illusion of a happy marriage alive?

  There was only one way to find out. She had to match her courage with Billy's. She began to talk. And as she talked, she came to realize that the failure of the marriage was even more her fault than David's. She'd been the one to relieve him of responsibility. She'd turned her husband into an overgrown version of one of her children.

  It was too late to hold anything back, and Jen didn't spare herself in the telling.

  When she was finished, she leaned back in the chair, exhausted, just as Billy had done. She only opened her eyes when she felt Billy's large, warm hand cup her cold cheek.

  “I forgive you,” he told her softly.

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  “David's not here to do it, and you'll never admit the failure was anybody's fault but yours, so I'm forgiving you,” he told her simply, finally having to laugh at the disbelieving expression on Jen's face.

  “Come into the kitchen,” he told her, raising her up to her feet. “I'll make coffee to go with the éclairs.”

  “You have éclairs?” she asked, following him out of the room.

  “Of course. And those mini cream puffs, too. They're in the freezer.”

  “Oh, those.” David and the kids used to eat them by the boxful, but now they were an unaffordable luxury. A week ago, Jen would have been biting her lip over the memory, but now, it was just something to remember fondly about her family.

  Had the last two hours in front of the fire really rung out the old for her?

  Jen took the box of éclairs out of the freezer, nearly tripping over Angelo. She'd forgotten all about him, but there he was, hoping for a treat from the fridge.

  “Do you have anything for Angelo?” Jen asked, stooping to pet the panting dog.

  “Damn, I left his food out in the truck. It'll be frozen solid by now.”

  “There are a couple of meatballs left, I think,” Jen said, lifting up Angelo's chin so he could give her a doggie kiss. “Never mind.”

  “What?” Billy asked, shrugging into his jacket.

  “There's a bit of spaghetti on his nose,” Jen laughed.

  What a picture, Billy thought. A laughing woman, sitting on my kitchen floor with my dog crawling into her lap to lick her face. Lucky dog.

  “I'd better take him out for a walk. He's probably not used to table food.”

  He walked over to Jen, offering her his hand to help her off the floor. She was still smiling as she rose, her face inches away from his.

  “Jen?” he whispered.

  She dropped her head, her hands on his chest to push him away. But Billy had the leash in his hand and Angelo jumped up down, anxious to get outside. Thank goodness for doggie chaperones, Jen thought.

  “I'll be right back,” Billy sighed. Maybe the dog hadn't been such a good idea after all. But he'd thought of it as putting down roots again and burying the painful memory of Willie and Sparky. And if he were honest with himself, he'd gotten Angelo as much for little Davey as for himself. What had happened to Willie was such a freak accident, and a boy needed a dog.

  “That's okay,” Jen replied, running her hand through her short curls. “I'd better go anyway.”

  “The temperature has probably dropped twenty degrees,” Billy told her.

  “It's not going to get any warmer if I stay here,” she pointed out.

  “Don't you think we need to talk? Besides, the éclairs are already out of the freezer.” He tried to joke but it fell flat and he knew it when he saw the determined set of her jaw.”

  “We've talked enough for now, Billy,” she said, quietly. “I'm too exhausted now, and I need some alone time, okay?” Too open, too raw, too vulnerable, is more like it, Jen thought.

  With Angelo tugging at his leash, Billy knew he didn't have time to persuade her.

  “At least let us walk you home.”

  Jen nodded as she pulled on her coat, taking the time to button it. The cold air hit her like a blast, and she almost regretted leaving the warm security of Billy's house.

  “If I didn't have Angelo, you could ride the Easton Express again,” Billy joked.

  “Next time I have a flare-up,” she told him lightly.

  “Don't even joke about that, Jen,” he told her, stopping her with a hand on her arm.

  Jen turned to face him, shivering in the cold night air.

  “But it's a fact of life, Billy,” she told him bluntly. “Nat will have them, too. Life is a constant round of doctors and hospitals and emergency rooms for us.”

  “Then it's a good thing you have someone around with a whole lot of experience in those areas,” he pointed out, his deep brown eyes even darker with the intensity of his feelings.

  Jen had no answer for that. She just turned to go inside where, hopefully, she could still create her own warmth.

  “Come by for éclairs and coffee in the morning,” he invited, but she didn't answer. The door closed behind Jen with a soft click, and Billy had to let her go.

  “Well, Angelo, what do you think?” But the terrier had no answers for him. He was more interested in showing off the steaming pile he'd left outside Jen's porch door.

  “That's no way to treat a lady,” Billy reprimanded him. “We'd better clean that up in case she decides to have coffee with us in the morning. The sight of frozen poop on her doorstep will definitely not put Jennifer Prescott in the mood for éclairs.”

  Behind her door, Jen was shaking with suppressed laughter. She decided that his thoughtfulness should be rewarded with a hot breakfast. He could make the coffee, but she'd bring over the bacon and eggs. Besides, she was dying to try out that kitchen where, she was sure, the stove had never even been turned on.

  * * *

  Jen was shocked that she'd slept so well. She woke feeling positively energized, and jumped out of bed, ready to face the day. No kids, no husband encouraging those kids to wreak havoc at the breakfast table. There were times when life was absolutely wonderful.

  Not that she didn't miss the kids now that breakfast was a more orderly affair, with only the usual early morning mayhem. Even in this small space, mittens got lost, papers had to be stuffed into backpacks that hadn't been packed the night before.

  Just this last Friday, Nic had been wailing that she didn't have enough points to go to the seventh-grade dance that afternoon. Normally, Jen would have intervened when Nat offered to make up the difference out of her points, reminding Nic that if she behaved better in school she would have enough points of her own.

  David would have told her to lighten up, you were only young once, what difference would a couple of points make in a hundred years anyway. He would have worn her down and another opportunity to teach
the kids responsibility would have been lost. Worse, she would have gone to work irritable and frustrated.

  Firmly, Jen pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. Things just weren't like that anymore. She and the kids had their own routines, and Jen knew that without the daily fights to distract them, they'd become closer.

  Even better, she'd learned to compromise. She'd allowed Nat to loan Nic the tickets, but made it clear to Nic that she had to pay her sister back.

  It was after eight already, and Jen hoped that Billy hadn't had breakfast yet. She really wanted to see him this morning. She had to thank him for forcing her to face the truth, and for giving her the first good night's sleep she'd had in months. Maybe even years. Even though she usually got her eight hours, she woke up tired every morning. Tired and reluctant to face the day.

  Not today. Today, she gathered up what she needed and rushed out the door, a smile on her face. In fact, she felt almost like skipping down the path that led to Billy's house. Part of her mind noticed that Billy had cleared the ice from the path, and she knew he'd done it for her, hoping that she would take him up on his offer.

  His truck was in the driveway, but when he didn't answer her knock, she was afraid he might still be asleep. Jen didn't know whether to keep knocking and wake him up or let him sleep and leave him a note. She really knew nothing about his sleeping habits.

  Geez, Jen, get a grip, she admonished herself. It wasn't like her to be indecisive. She was just raising her hand to knock again when she heard a bark coming from the front of the house.

  “Slow down, Angelo!”

  Jen came down the steps and stood in the driveway, waiting for the man and the dog to notice her, a big grin on her face.

  An unexpected tug on the leash was the first clue that someone was waiting for them. A tug that nearly sent Billy sprawling.

  He looked up to see Jen, her arms burdened with grocery bags, laughing at his attempts to control the small dog.

  “Thanks a lot, pal,” he told Angelo. “Make me look like an idiot, why don't you?”