'Tis the Season: A Collection of Mimi's Christmas Books (49 page)

She needed an all-purpose petsitter. At Christmas, all her many friends had plans. Lucky for her she had a soft-hearted, soft-headed brother.

Jesse couldn’t claim work as an excuse because Kim knew he’d just put the For Sale sign up on the latest house he’d built. Therefore, he had a break until he found the next property to buy in the coming year. Guess the week of skiing he’d planned in Aspen took second place to a little sister with a shattered voice full of tears.

Before he could stop her flow of words, a loud pounding on the door got his attention. “Someone’s at the door, Sis. I’ll call back later.”

Jesse hung up. Then made his way over and opened the door. A tiny tornado flew past him screaming. “Kimmy, you gotta come. Mommy’s dead!”

Chapter Two

Jesse felt as if he’d been shot. A crying three-year-old was one thing. A dead woman was completely not acceptable. What the hell was he to do?

He watched the screamer run frantically from the entrance of one room to the other, calling for Kimmy with a hysterical puppy jumping up and down alongside.

The only way he could stop the child was by swinging her up into his arms. Not knowing what to expect, when her arms wrapped a choke hold around his throat, it utterly destroyed him.

She buried her wet face into his neck and hiccupped her words, “I want
Kimmy
.”

“Sweetheart, Kim’s away for a few days. I’m Jesse, her big brother. Now, tell me what’s happened.” He kept his voice soft yet firm. While he talked, he carried her toward the apartment she’d just left.

“Mommy fell down and won’t move.” Anxious eyes, globby with tears, wrenched at his heart. Green! They were the same green as Kim’s babied Persian cats. Deep, dark irises surrounded by velvet.

Jesse’s heart thudded into higher gear without him being able to do a thing to stop it from happening. His arms tightened instinctively around the small body as if to protect her from any horrors awaiting them. Once they arrived, he lowered her onto a chair nearby and patted her head. “Stay here while I help your mom.”

Then he ran to the woman’s body on the floor.

Reaching toward her neck, he jumped when she groaned and moved. Thank the good Lord! The woman was alive.

Yaya, who’d left the chair the moment she’d seen her mommy shift, struggled past his reaching arms, flew around to the other side and faced her mom. Her little hand gently gathered the sweat-coated blonde locks and pushed them away from the thin face of the young woman trying desperately to rouse.

Not stopping to think about the right or wrong of the situation, Jesse gathered the slight woman in his arms, lifting the lightweight as if he carried a fragile parcel too precious to be manhandled.

In the meantime, Yaya pulled back the cover on the sofa and waited for Jesse to lay her mother down. Then the precocious sweetheart covered her groaning mother, tucking the hand-made afghan around her body.

Her tiny hand reached to pat her cheeks and Jesse watched as the woman took the hand and gave it a kiss.

Her voice throaty and wobbling, she said. “Mama’s okay now, Layla. I’m sorry I scared you, honey. I shouldn’t have tried to stand up when I was so dizzy. I guess I fainted.” She pushed the wildly unkempt hair from her daughter’s face. “Who’s your friend?”

Layla crawled up beside her mother on the sofa and cuddled. She sniffed and said, her little-girl’s voice heartbreaking, “Jesse’s weally not a stranger, mommy. He’s Kimmy’s brother.”

Jessie watched the byplay, amusement filling up the space where fright had resided only moments earlier.

He braced himself to be interrogated. But he didn’t ready himself for the effect of the biggest, cat-like eyes of soft emeralds highlighted by diamonds he’d ever seen—like mother, like daughter. The surrounding face appeared colorless which, no doubt, greatly enhanced the beauties under her thick lashes. The woman’s feverish appearance worried him, which had him reaching for his cellphone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling for an ambulance.”

“Don’t! Stop!” Her arm reached his way and her hand waved at him.

So, she wasn’t that far gone. He lifted his finger before pressing send. “No choice. You were passed out. I’m not a doctor but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you need one.”

“I went to my doctor this morning. He’s an idiot with a diagnosis that’s ridiculous.” She spit the words toward him while struggling to sit upright and not disturb Layla.

Impressed with the kind way she behaved toward her daughter, he watched her caring maneuvers. Until her assertive nature flashed annoyance in his direction, then he began to fear for his safety.

Jesse’s hands lifted automatically with his palms facing her. He stepped back once and then again, careful to get out of the path of her raising ire.

Shoulder-length blonde hair, caught under her chin and spread over her shoulders, looked neglected and not at all attractive. In fact, nothing about this skinny broad looked appetising to Jesse other than her eyes.

A voice inside nudged him to leave, get out while he still had the chance. Paying attention to the familiar warning, as he’d done since a young fellow, he put the phone away. “If you don’t like this guy, go to another doctor.”
Damn, he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut!
His feet took over and moved him another step back.

“I no longer have health insurance. I take what I can get at the closest free clinic and that leaves me stuck with the pathetic numbskull who swore I had Irritable Bowel Syndrome because he hadn’t a clue to what my problem really is. Look, it’s obvious you want to leave. Go! We’re fine now. I haven’t been able to eat anything, so I feel weaker than usual. If I rest for a few minutes, I’ll be fine.”

Layla sat up and looked at Jesse, fear written over her face as plain as if she’d screamed the words
‘Don’t leave me!’

The little darling, whose pants looked to be on backwards and whose t-shirt had stains of milk mixed with peanut butter, left her mother’s side and stepped toward him. She took his hand, moving slowly in case he scared her.

Caught!
He was sinking and he knew it. While annoyance blistered his insides, he didn’t have the skill to cover it up. The woman saw his struggle and the cocky grin she shared with him didn’t quite make up for his frustration. She’d most likely been at the mercy of these eyes a time or two herself.

Stiffening his determination to not get involved, he crouched down and waited, not wanting to send Layla scuttling for cover.

The girl’s blonde hair, white gold stuck out all her over her head in thick straight spikes, looked as if a lawn mower had gone berserk. Her timidity seemed faked and for a few seconds, he wondered if he was being played by a genius.

“Will you help us like Auntie Kimmy does? She makes us
supper
when mommy isn’t feeling good.”

Jesse looked toward the grinning patient on the couch for help and got back a smirking shrug. Stiffening his spine, he began to shake his head and refuse Layla’s plea.

That was when the little darling stepped in-between his opened knees, stared up into his eyes and said the one word designed to crumple his resolve.

“Ple-ease!”

Chapter Three

Belle watched as, Jesse Parker, the handsome brother of her friend from down the hall tried to hold his own against a master at manipulation. Her Yaya, the little actress, had skills even she hadn’t seen yet. Probably came from watching too much of the idiot box on the stand in the corner. Not Belle’s first choice, but this ongoing sickness had loosened her restrictions both on herself and Yaya.

Belle saw Jesse look her way and his confused yet gentle gray eyes almost proved to be her downfall. Almost….

Kim tended to brag about her brother, a lot. In truth, she’d started to promote him like a hot movie or a best-selling novel and this type of behavior turned Belle right off. She’d gotten so fed up with the blah, blah that she’d hoped never to have to meet the guy who was perfection in jeans according to his enamoured sibling. Belle didn’t believe anyone could live up to that kind of hype. Now she wasn’t so sure. The dude was priceless in his interaction with Yaya.

Jesse’s look begged for help. Bored, and needing some form of entertainment, Belle kind of wanted him to stick around as much as her little princess. Being picked up in his strong arms as if she weighed nothing, which unfortunately was the case, had her libido sending out hot little signals.

Scared he’d read her response in her reddened face, Belle looked at her dry, chapped hands and then hid them. Under her breath, she grumbled a favorite phrase, one she’d learned from her English father as a teenager. “Bloody hell!” Why did she have to look her worst and feel the same?

Her grumbling comment snared Jesse’s attention for only a few seconds. Then he turned back to the matter at hand, trying to make Yaya understand his predicament. “Look sunshine, I’m not like my sister. I’m a rotten cook.”

Just as Belle knew would happen, Yaya had the perfect solution. “That’s okay. We could order pizza.”

Bingo!
Her baby loved pizza. Feeling sorry for Jesse, Belle broke into their conversation. “Hold it, Yaya. You can’t force Mr. Parker to take pity on us and arrange dinner. I’ll make something in a little while.”

With his eyebrow raised and his head cocked, Jesse turned her way, questioning her sanity. Then he spoke. “You’re definitely not up to cooking tonight, Miss… ahhh Belle. I’ll order some pizza like Layla suggested, and we can share.” His shrug spoke to her and made her grin. If shoulders could talk, his were saying,
“what the hell! It’s just for a little while and then I’m outta here.”

Before she could argue, Layla, the little monkey, danced her glee jig and clapped her hands. “We’re having pizza. Yay!”

Belle sifted her fingers through her mop of loose hair and flipped it to the side. She had no money to pay for the pizza Yaya now had her heart set on. “That’s really nice of you, Jesse, but it’s out of our budget.”

“My treat,” he said, in a nice way, obviously not wanting to embarrass her any further.

Belle realized that Yaya had stopped talking and was physically holding her breath. How could she disappoint since her baby hardly ever got treats anymore.

“Then we accept and with pleasure. By the way, my name is Belle Foster and this little monster is Layla, more often known as Yaya.”

He looked her way and Belle noticed his perusal of her skinny body in jeans too large and a sweater too big. Damn but this sickness had turned her into a scarecrow, someone she didn’t recognize.

She hated that her young life had been reduced to a quagmire of health problems. Apparently, problems with no answers, or at least none she’d found.

Life had been good until one day earlier in the year. She’d noticed certain symptoms had worsened to where she had trouble coping with anything and everything. Her stomach, always a little unsettled, became her worst enemy.

Sick days, never used until this dilemma, had finally run out and she had to give up her job. As much as her boss wanted her to stay, they both agreed that being continuously short-staffed in the daycare hurt the kids and was unfair to the other workers.

Illness not only invaded, it wouldn’t let up. Each day it had gotten worse, to where she lived in a constant fog of indecision and fear. What would happen to her baby if she couldn’t beat this crisis?

Downsizing to save money, she’d moved into this building, met up with Kim Parker and things had improved slightly.

With Kim around, Belle didn’t feel quite so alone in dealing with her difficulties. Her new friend had gotten into the habit of stopping by before breakfast and after work so she could organize meals for her and Layla. On Belle’s worst days, she’d even wash their clothes and spend time housecleaning so that the untidiness wasn’t as bad.

On the days that Belle felt better, she’d cook meals and bake, then freeze it all to use when she was worse. A vicious circle of bad and not-so-bad had them in its clutches.

Money was tight, and if it weren’t for her savings and the help she got from the government, she didn’t know what she’d do. Mind you, that wouldn’t last forever.