Forever After (22 page)

She wondered what Lucas was doing. No doubt the whole Vermontez family had gathered at Emily’s. She could almost imagine the laughter around their table, even in the midst of bittersweet memories of Luc’s father. This would be their second Christmas without him. Odd how the thought came before it dawned on her that this would be her second Christmas without Zach.

She had trouble remembering what he looked like. Right after the fire she’d sometimes thought she heard Zachary calling to her. And his voice was as sharp and clear as if he were in the next room. But now, when she tried to imagine what he’d sounded like, it was Lucas’s voice she heard.

But Lucas had never called her back after they’d talked the night of the fire. She missed him. Missed the friendship she thought had been growing between them.

But maybe he’d had the same second thoughts she’d been having. Maybe it was better for them both that he’d backed off. After all, she’d been telling herself all along that she had nothing to offer him. That she needed to figure out who she was before she had anything to offer Lucas—or anyone else.

Things were different now, though. Slowly she was getting back on her feet. Learning that she was stronger than she’d ever imagined. Even though she would never get rich working at Hanson’s, at least she had a job. And she’d eventually have her own place.

She glanced up, and the lights of the scraggly little Christmas tree in the corner caught her eye. Bryn and Garrett had put it up one night while she was working at Hanson’s. She and Bryn had ordered pizza and exchanged gifts beside the tree two nights ago. They’d both gotten
a little teary-eyed remembering last Christmas and how fresh their grief was then.

She’d confessed to Bryn that night about how things had been between her and Zach. That she didn’t think she’d ever really loved him—didn’t know what love
was
. It was a relief not to have to keep up the charade of grieving widow with her friend. But she held her other secret close. She was starting to realize that her inability to love Zach had far more to do with her than with him. Zach had loved her as well as he knew how. Even Lucas had testified to that.

What purpose would it serve to come out now and declare that she’d never loved her husband? It seemed dishonoring to Zach—and certainly to the Morgans. The Morgans. There were two gifts left beneath the Christmas tree—fruit baskets Jenna had picked up at Hanson’s yesterday after her shift ended. Mr. Iverson had marked them down to half-price, and before closing he gave the staff their choice at another 20 percent off. In a spurt of generosity Jenna had chosen one for Bill and Clarissa and one for Bryn, even though it was still beyond her budget.

She’d headed out to Clairemont Hills after work to take the basket to them but changed her mind before she even left the city limits. What would she say? Her last encounter with Clarissa had ended badly, and she hadn’t heard from her since.

Looking at the elegantly wrapped basket, a twinge of shame played at her conscience. Whether Zach’s parents had done so from a pure motive or not, they had been generous with her. Not just since Zach’s death, but for as long as she’d known them. The Morgans had made it possible for her to crawl out of the mire of poverty she’d grown up with.

As a Morgan, for the first time, Jenna’d seen the acceptance money could buy. The acceptance and friendships that dressing a certain way and living in a certain kind of house brought.

Hmmm … Where were all those friends now? She pushed away the
question. It was her own fault that she’d let Clarissa choose her friends.
Dictate
her friends.

She closed her laptop and went to the hall closet to gather her coat and purse. For all she knew, Clarissa wouldn’t even allow her through the gate, but she would do the right thing and at least try to take the gift to them. A small token of her appreciation.

And a step in the direction of reconciliation.

B
ill stood at the door staring at her as though he didn’t know who she was. Had Clarissa not told him that she’d buzzed Jenna through?

Quincy yapped and pranced at Bill’s feet. Behind him, Clarissa appeared from the family room. “Hello, Jenna.”

“Hi. Merry Christmas.” She glanced down at the fruit basket. The gift’s elegance faded in contrast to this luxurious mansion, and she shrank, feeling as if she was just about to tip a waiter a nickel.

“I brought this,” she said lamely. “It’s not much, but I wanted to say … how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me this past year.”

Bill nodded wordlessly, looking at the basket, then back at her. She’d never recognized it before, but she saw now that he was waiting for a cue from Clarissa as to how he was to respond to Jenna.

“Come on in.” Clarissa stepped back from the door to let her pass.

“Come in out of the cold,” Bill said, coming to life now that Clarissa had given the okay.

It was sad, really. Bill was a nice guy, but he needed to get a spine.

The house smelled of cinnamon and pine, and Clarissa’s fancy flavored coffee. The tree in the cavernous foyer was decorated the way Jenna remembered from Christmases past—except for last year. There had been no celebration, no decorations then, so soon after the fire.

As Clarissa led the way to the great room off the kitchen, Jenna took in the rest of the decor—a garlanded tree in almost every room, mantels overflowing with greenery and glitter, candles aglow and their Christmasy scents mingling, filling the house.

The television was on in the great room, a commercial blaring a holiday jingle, but the heavy loneliness of the house weighed on Jenna. She felt sorry for Zach’s parents. This beautiful, massive home, and two grieving people alone in it. She wondered—no, she
knew
what her life would have looked like if Zach were alive. They’d be here making toasts and opening thousand-dollar gifts from each other. She and Zach would go home and fight about how much they’d put on the credit cards and how they were going to pay the bills.

For an instant she let herself imagine what it would have been like if she and Zach had children—if she could have ever carried a child to term. Their kids would have been pampered and coddled by Grandma and Grandpa Morgan. Clarissa would have tried to orchestrate their lives, and she and Zach would have let them because they wouldn’t have been able to afford to do otherwise. They would have—

“Jenna?”

She shook herself from the daydream, embarrassed to realize that Clarissa was speaking to her.

“I’m sorry. What was that?”

Clarissa gave her a frosty look. “Would you like something to drink? We’ve already put the champagne away, but there’s decaf still on if you’d like.”

“Oh … no, thanks. I’m fine. The house looks beautiful.”

Bill picked up the remote and turned the TV down a few decibels, but some program came on and he kept one eye on the screen while Clarissa launched into a high-strung recitation of all she’d done to get ready for Hanover Falls’ annual holiday home tour. Jenna remembered that—except for last year—the Morgans had been part of the tour ever since they’d moved out to Clairemont Hills.

“I tell you,” Clarissa said, getting wound up, “it gets harder every year to come up with something new. I must have shopped at five different stores in St. Louis before I found anything that wasn’t boring and cliché … the same as everybody else.” She gave a nervous laugh.

“Well, it looks beautiful,” Jenna said. She shifted the basket awkwardly in her arms.

Bill kept inching closer to the television and notching up the volume until he’d effectively removed himself from their conversation.

How long did she need to stay to be polite? She’d learned a lot about social graces and etiquette over the years, thanks to Clarissa, but this was a circumstance Miss Manners hadn’t exactly covered.

She cleared her throat, buying time, foraging for something to talk about that wouldn’t start a fight.

Clarissa saved her the trouble. “So, you’re still living with Bryn Hennesey?”

Jenna drew back, willing herself not to get defensive. “I’m only staying with her for a few weeks until I can save up enough for an apartment.”

“Well, you’ve managed to make Bill and me look like the devil incarnate. I hope you’re happy.” Clarissa took the fruit basket from Jenna’s hands and plopped it on the counter as if it were a sack of potatoes. She poured herself a cup of coffee and gestured for Jenna to take a seat at the table.

“Clarissa, I haven’t said one word to anyone that would give them that impression.” Not exactly true. She’d unloaded to Bryn, and to Lucas, but she trusted both of them implicitly. “If people in this town don’t have anything better to do than gossip about our situation, then that’s their problem.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true.”

Oh? You mean you and Bill are the devil incarnate?
She bit her tongue to keep from voicing her mental retort. But her conscience got the best of her, and she clarified her earlier statement. “The people I work with—at
Hanson’s—know I’m staying at Bryn’s for a while. But I haven’t said one word about why. The only people who know anything about what happened are Bryn and Lucas Vermontez, and I assure you neither of them would share what I told them in confidence. And Bryn doesn’t know the whole truth about
why
I moved out. I didn’t want to hurt her,” she couldn’t resist adding.

Clarissa frowned. “Why would Lucas Vermontez know anything about it?”

Jenna had no desire to reveal her relationship—or lack thereof—with Lucas. “He was Zach’s closest friend. … We’ve talked—”

“You don’t think I know he was Zach’s friend? But why on earth would you be discussing our private business with him?”

“I discuss
my
private business with whoever I choose, Clarissa. Lucas and I are friends.”

Clarissa sniffed. “Well, he’s a nice young man. As much as we were opposed to Zachary’s involvement with the fire department, we always liked Lucas.” Her voice softened. “I was sorry to hear about his accident.”

What was she talking about? It sounded as if she was referring to a recent accident. She wouldn’t talk that way if she was referring to the fatal fire at the shelter.

“Do you happen to know if he’s home from the hospital yet?”

“Lucas was … in the hospital? Recently? What happened?”

“Oh?” Clarissa raised an eyebrow. “I thought sure you would know about it, since you’re
such good friends
. He reinjured his leg. Something about an accident with a dog. Mary Harrison said it was that dog from the homeless shelter … the one Bryn Hennesey took in.” She made a face and clicked her tongue. “I don’t know what Lucas was doing with the animal, but I’ll tell you, that establishment has caused nothing but trouble.”

Jenna’s blood turned to ice. Lucas must have been hurt badly if he’d been hospitalized. And if Sparky had something to do with it, she’d never forgive herself.

She didn’t want to ask Clarissa for more details lest she prove how distant her friendship with Lucas had become. She blew out a breath. At least maybe this explained why he hadn’t called her. He probably wondered why she hadn’t called
him
.

Making an instant decision, she scooted her chair away from the table. “I need to go!” Without apology, she practically ran to the front door.

One way or another—he was going to do this.

25

Y
ou cheater! There’s no way you could have drawn all those aces!” Gina grabbed for the cards fanned out in Lucas’s hand, but he laughed and held them high in the air just out of her grasp.

“Gina,” Ma warned, “don’t you hurt him.”

“Yeah, little sister, don’t you hurt me,” he mocked, still holding his hand aloft.

But Ma wore only mild concern beneath a smile that testified to her joy at all her chicks being home together under one roof on this Christmas Eve.

Gina glared at him, but her smile gave her away. “Fine. But so help me, if I find out you cheated, I
will
hurt you!”

The doorbell interrupted their merriment.

Ma looked up at the clock. “Eight-fifteen? Geoff must have gotten away early!” Her face lit up and she slipped from her chair and started for the door. “I’ll get it.”

“You might wanna take your cards with you!” Gina smirked and hollered after her, “That is, if you don’t want certain people peeking at them.”

“What?” Lucas feigned outrage. “You don’t trust me? Since when have I ever been a cheater?”

“Since tonight, for one.”

His sister’s impish grin prompted him to pop her in the bicep, then duck out of reach before she could return the favor.

It had been a good night. They all felt Pop’s absence keenly, but unlike last year when their grief was so fresh, they’d been able to talk about Pop and even laugh together, summoning funny stories from Christmases past. Surprisingly, it had been a Christmas full of laughter and full of love. Lucas could almost feel Pop’s presence in the remembering.

He’d been reminded especially of a Christmas Eve twenty years earlier when Pop had told the Christmas story the way he always did. Only on this night a seven-year-old Lucas had taken the story to heart. Pop had segued from Christmas story to Easter story, and Lucas had opened his heart to the truth of Christ’s life and death.