Sweet Christmas Kisses (92 page)

This book built at IndieWrites.com

Ryan Warwick glanced furtively up and down the crowded hallway. Footsteps and voices bounced off the walls inside the county courthouse as men and women hurried about their business. No one was paying any attention to Ryan and his little sister. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Yvonne’s hand.

"But Mommy told us to wait here," Yvonne protested, twisting her small wrist to pull herself from her brother's grip.

"We won’t go far," Ryan insisted, holding more tightly to his sister and tugging her along. "There's a train in there. Can’t you hear it? Besides, we'll be back before she gets out of the bathroom. She
always
takes forever in the bathroom."

Because that's where she did her crying, Ryan thought. She tried to hide it from him and Yvonne, but he knew that's what she was doing.

"I'll go get her," Yvonne said, once again trying to pull away.

"No." He held on tight and hauled her toward the room where he could hear the smooth whir of a model train rounding a track.

"But she'll be mad."

"We won't tell her."

Yvonne’s hand went limp, and Ryan knew she had given up. He was stronger than she was. Besides, he could tell her attention had already been distracted by the sound of her new black shoes tapping across the shiny floor; she was looking down and deliberately tapping harder as he pulled her along.

The sound of the electric train grew louder. Ryan couldn't see it, but he could hear it, right on the other side of a tall wooden door.

“Now I hear it!” Yvonne squealed.

Yvonne liked toy trains—mostly, Ryan knew, because
he
loved them. Right now, Ryan was the only thing in her life she could count on, so what Ryan liked, she mostly went along with.

As long as it didn't make Mom sad, he thought. Neither he nor Yvonne wanted to see Mom cry again. It made both of them sad, too.

When they reached the door, Ryan saw that it was open a tiny crack. Again, he looked quickly up and down the hall. He knew he was supposed to knock first. That was something his mom and dad had drilled into him, especially lately. When his parents were behind closed doors, their voices low and furious as they argued over things a nine-year-old boy wasn't supposed to know about, they didn’t take to being interrupted. Ryan usually followed the rules; it just made things easier.

He wasn't going to follow the rules this time, though. There was a
train
behind this door. He pushed it open far enough to slip inside, dragging his little sister behind him.

His eyes widened. A big table occupied most of the room, and on its surface was an elaborate track. An electric locomotive pulling a series of cars raced through a tunnel, around a curve and then down a straight-away.

Ryan all but salivated. All his friends liked video games, the latest high-tech toys, things that gave off electronic beeps and produced colorful graphics and flashing lights. Those were fun, but Ryan loved mechanical things, things whose moving parts he could see. He had a special passion for electric trains, and this one was especially appealing, decorated for Christmas with little lighted trees here and there along the track and a tiny Santa Claus, his face laughing, standing beside a sleigh attached to eight reindeer.

Ryan’s heart leapt with excitement, and he forgot, just for a moment, the reason that he and Yvonne and Mom were here at the courthouse. He made a beeline for the train, not even looking around to see if anyone else was in the room.

"Well, hello there," a man’s voice boomed.

Ryan jumped and Yvonne squeaked. Ryan had let go of his sister’s hand, but now he grabbed it again, pulling Yvonne close in an unconscious gesture of protection. The big, gray-haired man looking down at them didn’t look dangerous, though. He was wearing a suit, his gray hair and full gray beard were neatly trimmed and his blue eyes twinkled.

Ryan knew he should just turn around and leave. That’s what his mom would have told him to do. But the train was too tempting. He looked toward it longingly.

"Hello," he mumbled. "Is this your train?"

"It is indeed," the man answered proudly.

Ryan liked his voice. It was loud, but it sounded happy.

"It was taking up too much room in my house, so I moved it here,” the man added. “Do you like trains, young man?"

"Oh,
yeah
," Ryan answered fervently. Uninvited, he stepped up to the table. It was chest-high on him, so he had a good view of the scene.

The man chuckled. "And you are…?" he asked.

Ryan blushed. "Oh, sorry. I'm Ryan Warwick, and this is my little sister, Yvonne. She's six."

Yvonne gave him an insulted look. "Six and a
half
," she corrected.

The man chuckled again, a deep rumbling sound. Yvonne’s eyes widened. “Santa Claus!” she said, and then, with a frown, “Only where’s your red suit?”

Ryan rolled his eyes and jerked on her hand. “Yvonne, don’t be dumb.”

“It’s all right,” the man said. “I know I have a beard like Santa Claus and I look a little like him, too—but no, I’m not Santa. My name's Dallas. I work here."

"Well then, are you a court?" Yvonne persisted.

"What?"

"It’s a courthouse. Are you a court?"

This time the man named Dallas laughed out loud. "Yes, I guess you could say that," he answered.

"Shh, Yvonne, don't say silly stuff," Ryan hissed at her. Nodding toward the table, he changed the subject quickly.  "What kind is it?"

"Running Rocket," Dallas answered. "Have you heard of it?"

Ryan nodded, his eyes wide.

"Would you like to run it?" his new friend asked.

"Yeah!" Then, remembering his manners, he added, "I mean, yes, please."

Eagerly he took the controls, accelerated the train and then expertly switched from one track to another.

"All aboard!" Yvonne yelled, getting into the spirit of things. She grasped the edge of the table and jumped up and down, squealing with delight, each time the train passed in front of her. Finally, Ryan slowed it down, then stopped it smoothly at the miniature station.

Dallas smiled at the two children as Ryan handed the controls back to him.

"I have a train, too," Ryan said. "I got it for my birthday, but…." He glanced away. "My dad hasn't had time to help me set it up. It's still in the box."

"Daddy doesn't live with us anymore," Yvonne said, then she sighed and looked down at the ground.

"
Yvonne
," her brother scolded, casting their new friend an embarrassed look.

"He doesn't?" Dallas pulled up a stool that sat beside the table and regarded the children with interest.

"Mommy and Daddy are getting a Vorce."

"
Dee-
vorce," Ryan corrected. He wished she'd just shut up. He'd learned not to talk about the divorce. Mom had explained and talked and tried to make everything okay, then Dad had explained and talked and tried to make everything okay—but it wasn't okay, and it never would be again. He already knew that.

It worried him, the divorce. It was always in the back of his mind. It was like a monster under the bed, everyone pretending it wasn't really there, or at least that it wasn't going to change things—or if it did, it would be only for the better. Mom and Dad would be happier, they said, and that meant he and Yvonne would be happier, too.

But he knew it wasn't true. He knew.

"We might have to move," Yvonne added.

"Why?" Dallas asked. He leaned against the edge of the table and crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded the children.

Something about the way the man was looking at them made Ryan stand up straighter. Dallas acted like Ryan was grown up, somebody worth listening to, somebody whose opinions mattered…

Still, Yvonne shouldn't be telling their family business to a stranger.

"'Cause they both want to live in the house with us,” Yvonne answered Dallas’s question. “So maybe they'll have to get another house. Or…or two other houses."Ryan sighed. His sister was just a baby. She didn’t understand. "Be quiet, Yvonne," he pleaded, but she ignored him.

"Me and Ryan don't want to move," she said, letting go of her brother’s hand and walking over to stand close to Dallas's knee. Her face earnest, she looked into his eyes. "My bestest friend, Mandy, lives right next door. Sometimes we play at her house and sometimes we play at my house. We can't do that if I move away."

"No, you can't," Dallas said gently.

The way his voice sounded made Ryan feel weird inside, like a hard little block of ice in his gut was going to melt and start gushing from his eyes.

But he couldn't cry. He was
nine
.

He stepped up and grabbed Yvonne's arm. "We've gotta go. Mom will be looking for us."

"In a minute,” his new friend soothed. “What about you, young man? Do you want to move away from your house?"

Ryan paused. Even though he wished Yvonne hadn't said anything, everything was out in the open now. And Ryan wanted to tell someone how he felt about it. He knew his mom and dad loved him. He knew they believed the decisions they were making were the best for everyone. But how could that be when they weren't going to be married anymore? When their family wouldn't be together?

"No," he blurted. "My friends are there. My school, my basketball and soccer teams. We don't want to leave."

Dallas looked from one to the other of them, then nodded, smiling. "Maybe you won't have to."

Something about the way he said it made the knot that had tied itself around Ryan's stomach months ago begin to loosen a little. Involuntarily, he gulped in a breath and then hiccupped, making Dallas laugh. "You two better run along now. Your mother will be worried about you."

Ryan nodded. “Thanks for letting me see your train." Scooping up Yvonne's hand, he hurried into the hallway and back to the chairs by the wall just as their mother, looking pale and harried, came out of the bathroom. Ryan didn't know why, but something about talking to the man named Dallas made him feel a little less like the world had landed on his head.

****

Cecilia Warwick, spotting her children exactly where she'd left them, gave them a shaky smile even as she touched her puffy eyes, hoping she had used enough concealer and powder to hide the effects of her crying.

But what did it matter, really? She knew she wasn't fooling them. Ryan was too smart and Yvonne too much her mother’s little shadow that they wouldn’t notice she'd been crying, yet again.

She had to stop this. Yes, today her marriage was ending. But a new life was also beginning. She was going to be in charge of her future, follow her own plans, meet her own goals. She was going to be the best mother possible to her children, and she was also going to take good care of herself, nurture her soul—make herself into someone other, someone
more,
than just Ryan and Yvonne's mom and Jim Warwick's wife. She was going to reclaim the career she'd started ten years ago and put on hold for her husband and children. She could do this, Cecilia told herself. She could absolutely do this.

Except that the butterflies in her stomach seemed not to agree.

Who was she trying to fool? She was absolutely terrified.

And she was heartbroken.

Things would get better, she told herself. Being alone would be far better than the desperate unhappiness she’d experienced in her failed marriage. It had to be.

When Ryan looked up at her, Cecilia pulled a smile from somewhere deep inside and tried to be cheerful. She could only hope it didn't look as lame and forced to her children as it felt. "Hey, you. Auntie Stephanie is going to be here in just a few minutes to take you out for lunch. Won't that be fun?"

Ryan didn't answer. What could he say, after all? Nothing they did was fun anymore. Cecilia was determined to change that, starting today.

She sat down on the bench beside the children and reached up to push her hair back from her face before remembering she no longer had the long, ash blonde waves to push away. Her hair was cut shorter now, the natural curl tamed by a variety of products. She’d also changed her makeup, as much to perk up her spirits as anything. Her dark blue eyes were now enhanced by a lighter shade of mascara than she'd been using, and she was wearing blush to add contours to a face she’d always thought too bony. In addition, she had lost twenty pounds in the past six months—pounds she hadn't really needed to lose.

Her outward changes had cost far more than she could afford, but she’d wanted—needed—a change. In her hair, in her makeup, in herself. She’d gone for an easy but professional look, since she was going to be hunting for a new job soon.

Right after New Year’s, she thought. Working part-time was no longer an option.

Her hand fell to her lap and Ryan gave her one of the searching looks that seemed to have some old, terrifying wisdom behind them—looks that asked what on earth she and his dad thought they were doing.

Darned if she knew.

"We went to see the man with the train," Yvonne announced.

"Hush, Yvonne," Ryan whispered fiercely.

"What?" Cecilia frowned as she focused on them, but before she could say anything more, she saw her sister dashing down the hallway, her dark hair flying. "Sorry I'm late, Cee,” Stephanie called. “Traffic was awful."

She swept up, talking fast, as usual, and giving Cecilia a swift, critical look as if mentally checking her pulse and blood pressure even as she hugged her niece and nephew.

She looked down at the kids, beaming. "We're going to your favorite place for lunch, kiddos."

Yvonne perked up. "Benji's Pizza?" she asked. Yvonne adored the game room and the life-size puppets at Benji’s.

"Yup. Then we're going to see that new movie—the one about the kids who save their mom and dad from bad guys trying to destroy a whole town’s Christmas."

"Are they gonna save them from a Vorce?" Yvonne asked, tilting her head to look from her mother to her aunt and back again. “Cause I think it would be good to see someone get saved from a Vorce.”

Stephanie's face fell. "Maybe another movie," she said, looking heartsick.