Stella Bagwell - Just For Christmas

Drake cleared his throat and tried to shake the erotic vision from his thoughts. After a moment he said, “Whatever you might be thinking, Hope, I don’t want my sister’s kid to be hurt any more than he already has been. But for all we know he might have turned into a little tyrant since we last saw him. I could hardly blame the boy if he has.”

Surprised by his admission, she turned her gaze to him. “From what you’ve told me about your growing-up years, your parents weren’t any better than Denise and Phillip. Did you behave like a little tyrant?”

A dry laugh escaped from him. “No. But I wish I had. I should have dealt them as much misery as they dealt me.”

Her eyes scanned his face, and the bitterness she saw there was like a cold hand clamped around her throat. Drake had never tried to hide the resentment he’d felt for his parents. Even before she and Drake were married, Hope had realized he wasn’t close to either his mother or father. In fact, she didn’t meet the Logans at all until it was nearly time for the wedding. And then she hadn’t been impressed. Harris and Lilah had both been pompous and self-absorbed. The couple had made it easy for Hope to see that Drake had grown up feeling unloved and unwanted.

After the meeting with her in-laws, Hope had vowed to make up for Drake’s parents’ lack of affection. And throughout the years of her marriage, she’d tried to show her love in a million different ways. But it had obviously not been enough to take away his bitterness.

“You can’t forgive them, can you?”

His brows lifted ever so slightly as he glanced at her. “No. And I doubt I ever will.”

ONCE INSIDE the busy Robert Mueller Airport, the two of them located the correct airline gate and took a seat to wait for the flight from Dallas to arrive. Drake said very little and Hope didn’t push him for conversation. As each minute ticked away she was becoming increasingly nervous about meeting Stevie. What if he had become a little tyrant as Drake had suggested? She might not be able to handle him and then the whole household would be in an uproar. Drake would be only too happy to point out another reason they shouldn’t try again for a child of their own, and this whole thing would backfire in her face.

But the moment the passengers began to come through the gate and she spotted Stevie, escorted by a flight attendant, her worries were instantly forgotten.

“There he is, Drake!” Jumping to her feet, she unconsciously reached for his hand, then, as though realizing she shouldn’t be touching him, her hand fell to her side and she stepped back. “We’d better let the flight attendant know we’re here,” she added soberly.

Rising from the chair, Drake deliberately curled his arm around the back of her waist and gave her a brief smile. “We’re supposed to be a loving married couple meeting our little nephew, remember?”

Hope wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or sincere, but at this moment she didn’t care. She desperately needed the extra support his touch lent her.

It took them a few moments to weave their way through the dispersing passengers to the information desk where the flight attendant and Stevie stood waiting. After a brief exchange of necessary information, the woman smiled at Stevie, who continued to cling to her hand. “Well, it looks like everything is in order, so I’m going to put my little passenger in your care now.”

The attendant said her goodbyes to all three of them, then turned to head through the terminal gate. Seeing the lost look on Stevie’s face, Hope quickly kneeled to the boy’s level.

He was pretty much as she remembered. A bit taller, but she couldn’t see that he’d picked up any weight. He was thin and frail, and his complexion reminded her of a child who’d been convalescing from a long illness. Toffee-brown hair fell in a straight bang onto his forehead and freckles dotted his nose. Big brown woeful eyes glanced cautiously from one adult to the other.

“I’m your aunt Hope, Stevie. Do you remember me?”

His eyes were suspicious as they traveled over Hope’s face for long moments. Eventually, he nodded in reply.

Hope smiled with relief. “I’m happy you’ve come to stay with us for a few days. Do you remember Uncle Drake?”

Beside her, Drake reached down and shook the child’s hand as though he were a business associate. “Hello, young man.”

Tilting his head way back, Stevie looked up at Drake, and much to Hope’s surprise, a glimmer of trust replaced the doubt in the child’s eyes.

“Hello, sir.”

Drake’s chest grew suddenly tight as he looked at Stevie’s solemn face. “I guess you’re a little bit scared right now,” he said.

Stevie nodded awkwardly and his gaze vacillated between Hope and Drake.

“Well, I don’t blame you,” Drake told him. “I would be, too.”

Hope darted a frantic look at Drake. What was he trying to do, scare the child even more? But before she could worry, Stevie stepped forward and slipped his hand into Drake’s.

“Can we go now?” he asked.

With a faint lift to his brows, Drake glanced at Hope. From his expression she could see he was just as surprised by Stevie’s reaction to him as she was.

“First we have to get your baggage and then we’ll go home,” Drake promised the child.

By the time the three of them made their way to the baggage area, Stevie’s luggage was already on the carousel. Drake picked up the large suitcase, then once again reached for Stevie’s hand.

As they headed toward an exit, Hope said to Drake, “You might need to slow down just a bit. Stevie’s legs aren’t quite as long as yours.”

He glanced down to see Stevie trotting alongside to keep up with his pace. “Oh. I wasn’t thinking,” he said.

Hope smiled to herself as she watched her husband slow his gait to match the child’s. Maybe the good weather this morning was an omen, she thought brightly. Right now, seeing Drake holding on to Stevie’s little hand was far more than she’d expected.

In the parking lot, Hope buckled the child into the back seat while Drake stowed the luggage in the trunk. On the drive home, Stevie sat straight and rigid and spoke only when Hope or Drake directed a question at him. Otherwise, his brown eyes stared unblinkingly at the view beyond the passenger window.

Once they arrived home, Hope took Stevie to the bedroom directly across the hall from hers and Drake’s. Over the past week, she’d worked at night to change the room into something more suitable for a child. The spread and curtains were printed with cowboys and horses. At the foot of the bed, a wooden crate painted bright red and yellow was filled with various toys that were inexpensive, but favorites of most children. On the wall, she’d pinned Looney Tunes posters and several glossy pictures of kittens and puppies.

“This is going to be your room while you’re here,” she told Stevie. “Does it look okay?”

The boy’s head jerked up and down before turning to watch Drake enter with his suitcase. Once again, Hope noticed Stevie’s dark eyes flicker with interest. Maybe Denise had been right when she’d said the boy was starved for male attention. He was certainly drawn to Drake for some reason.

Drake deposited the suitcase on the bed, then glanced with interest at the change in the room. As his features grew rock smooth, Hope knew the decor was taking him back to the bright colorful nursery the two of them had prepared in the bedroom next to this one. As her pregnancy had advanced, Drake had added more and more to the room until it was stuffed with teddy bears, baseball caps and gloves, stacks of little books and a chest of Tonka toys. Once he’d finally gotten used to the idea of her being pregnant, he’d wanted a son so badly. But then so had she.

“When did you do this?”

Swallowing the tightness in her throat, she said, “The past few nights I’ve been working on it. I wanted Stevie to feel comfortable.” She turned her gaze on the child, who was clearly absorbed by the sight of the bedspread. Apparently he’d never seen anything like it. “Stevie, would you like to change clothes now?”

He looked at her with a hint of defiance. “Do I have to go to bed?”

Hope darted Drake a puzzled glance before she knelt in front of the boy. “Why, no, Stevie. You’re not feeling sick, are you?”

Glumly, Stevie’s head swung back and forth. “No. But sometimes my mommy makes me go to bed.”

Drake stepped forward to join the two of them, and even though he didn’t appear outwardly angry, Hope could tell from the tight clamp of his jaw that he was furious at the information Stevie had just given them.

“Stevie, no one around here goes to bed unless it’s bedtime. So while you’re here you forget about what your mommy made you do at home. Do you understand?”

The boy looked at Drake as though he couldn’t quite believe him. Yet he nodded in compliance.

Hope straightened to her full height and zipped open the suitcase Drake had placed on the bed. “Let’s find you some jeans and a sweatshirt to change into and then you can come down to the kitchen and I’ll make us some cocoa. How does that sound?” she asked the boy.

Ducking his little chin, he mumbled, “I don’t have jeans or a sweatshirt. Can I come to the kitchen anyway?”

“Dear God,” Drake muttered, clearly unable to keep from expressing his anger. “Right now it would give me a great measure of joy to ring my sister’s neck.”

Hope turned from her husband’s disgusted face to Stevie’s lost one. She wanted to take the child in her arms and hold him tightly. She wanted to kiss his pale cheek and tug at his chin. But it was too early to try to smother him with physical affection, and she somehow doubted a hug was enough to make this troubled child smile.

Instead, she said, “Of course you may come to the kitchen. I’ll see what I can find you to wear, and then later on today, the two of us will go shopping.”

“Will he go with us?” Stevie asked about Drake.

Hope didn’t bother to ask Drake if he wanted to join the shopping excursion. He’d already made it clear he was losing valuable work time.

Shaking her head, she said to Stevie, “Drake won’t be going with us. He has to work. But he might drink hot chocolate with us before he leaves.”

She glanced at Drake, who’d gone to stand near the window. Grim-faced, he pulled his attention away from his nephew long enough to give her a nod, then quickly left the room.

With Drake downstairs, Hope turned her attention to unpacking Stevie’s suitcase. There were stacks of dress trousers and crisply ironed shirts, but nothing close to jeans or any sort of play wear. Apparently the child was always dressed like a little businessman.

Eventually, at the very bottom of the case, she discovered a pair of khaki trousers and a navy blue lambswool sweater. She placed the clothing on the bed.

“Change into these, Stevie. I’ll be back up to get you in just a few minutes.”

The only response the boy gave her was one wary nod. Deciding it was far too early to try for more conversation, Hope left the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

She found Drake already there, standing in front of the bay window. He appeared to be watching the cardinals and blue jays vie for the bird feeder that was nestled in the crook of a twisted juniper branch. Yet Hope seriously doubted his mind was on the birds. Stevie’s arrival had disturbed him. That much was obvious. What she didn’t know was whether it had been in a good or bad way.

“I managed to find a pair of khakis and a sweater for Stevie to change into. I’ll go get him in a few minutes.”