The Christmas Kite Read online

  “Swim. That sounds nice.” Her face brightened. “We’ll take turns.”

  “No, I’m not much of a swimmer. But I know you like the water.” He was a good swimmer. But he had to hide the truth.

  “I’d like to—if it’s really okay with you.”

  He ached to hold her in his arms, to calm her uncertainty. “It’s really okay.” Why couldn’t he admit to her and to himself that he was falling in love with her? And with Mac. “It’s more than okay.”

  The next afternoon Meara climbed from the car. While Mac scrambled across her seat, she grabbed her towel and duffel bag from the rear seat. Mac hurried ahead and rang the doorbell.

  “Come in,” Jordan said, stepping aside for them to enter. “I began to wonder if you were coming.”

  “Hi, Jor-dan,” Mac said.

  “How are you, pal?” Tenderly, Jordan kneaded the boy’s shoulder.

  Meara winced at her son’s obvious admiration. “We ate lunch first, and I had a couple of errands to run. But wild dogs wouldn’t keep me away. I’m so anxious to find out what happened.”

  He beckoned them toward the living room, speaking as he went. “I would have called you last night, but I didn’t get a firm answer from my lawyer until this morning.”

  “Lawyer? What happened? Is there a—”

  “Don’t worry yourself to death, Meara—”

  “To death?” Mac’s voice registered a tremor of fear.

  Meara caught his hand. “It’s an expression, Mac. It means, don’t worry your silly head. Jordan’s only teasing.”

  “Don’t worry your silly head,” Mac parroted with a playful giggle.

  Jordan’s face buckled and his downcast eyes spoke his apology. “Sorry,” he whispered.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Have a seat.” He motioned to the sofa.

  She sank into the soft cushion. “So tell me.”

  Dooley darted in from the porch, his tail wagging like a flag, and Mac wrapped the setter in his arms.

  “Dooley’s ball is on the porch, Mac,” Jordan said. “He likes to play fetch.”

  “Okay! Come, Dooley.” Mac toddled off with Dooley tethered to his leg.

  Jordan sat across from her. “After I left you yesterday, I went to the county planning commission and checked out the zoning laws. The shop’s property is designated as a business district and nonresidential. But I read further and found some lingo about nonconforming status.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A ‘grandfather clause.’ The law says that an individual shouldn’t be deprived of his property value through subsequent zoning laws.”

  Hearing the information, Meara felt her pulse ease. “Then, they can’t stop you from renting the apartment.”

  “Yes and no. As always, there’s a hook.”

  “A hook?” Her stomach tightened.

  “The underlying principle presumes the property should eventually meet the law. There’s usually a time limit connected. For example, if a restaurant sits on land that’s rezoned for residential, the restaurant can continue its business. But—and here’s the problem—if the business is closed for two years, then it has to meet the compliance of the new zoning law.”

  Her heart slumped to her churning stomach. “So that means, we have to move.”

  “Not necessarily. That’s why I checked with my lawyer. I wondered if my thinking made sense. The county zoning law says that after two years or more of disuse, the building must conform. But I lived in the place for a couple of weeks not quite two years ago. And before that, the tenants had moved out only about a year before I bought the place. Nonconforming status runs with the property, not with the landlord.”

  “Then, it’s okay?” Her emotions bounced like a yoyo from fear to relief and back.

  “The lawyer thinks so, but I’ll have to request a special review from the County Appeals Board.”

  “No, Jordan, please. We’ll find another place to live. That’s too much trouble for you. I wouldn’t think of asking you to go through that.”

  “You’re not asking me, Meara. It’s what I want to do. My lawyer says I have a sure case. Hatcher stirred up the hornet’s nest, but I’ll shoo them back without a sting.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” He rose and motioned for her to follow. “I think it’s time for you to take a swim. Nothing like a brisk splash in the lake to wash away your troubles.”

  She grabbed her towel and joined him outside. Mac and Dooley trailed behind them down the path. Two beach chairs sat in the sand, and Jordan eased into one, holding back Dooley as Mac climbed into the other.

  Meara dropped her towel on Mac’s chair back, slipped off her sandals and dug her feet into the warm sand. The sun heated her body, but she knew the water would feel like ice. She slipped off her knit jogging shorts and top, then took a deep breath. Charging forward, with her feet prodded by the rocks, she dove deeply into the aqua lake.

  Her spine tightened in the freezing temperature, and she plunged her hands through the water, gaining speed. As she approached the sandbar, the lake warmed to a tepid bath.

  Her body relaxed, and she surged through the rolling waves like a fish after bait—excited and anticipating. She sought the shoreline where Mac leaned on Jordan’s chair as if discussing the world’s problems. She hoped he was not a bother, but she tossed her worries aside and dove again into the rejuvenating water.

  Jordan eyed Meara’s lean, firm form as she dashed across the sand and dove into the frothy green-blue current. Deep, even waves rolled in as she glided toward the sandbar. If only he could close his eyes from the lasting reminder of his family’s horrid death, he would don his swimsuit and skim the lake like a seal, joining her in the heated water of the sandbar.

  “You don’t like the water, Mac?” He turned his attention to the boy. Dooley’s sandy nose rested in the child’s lap, and, preoccupied, Mac petted it.

  “Water makes me…sick.” His blithe eyes became serious. “I go to…the hospital.”

  “Then, you’re a smart boy to stay away from it. You don’t want to be sick.”

  “I don’t want to, Jor-dan.” He nodded his head with firm conviction.

  “That’s right.” Jordan quieted, his mind drawn to Meara’s plight with Mac. Alone, she had her hands full. In many ways, the child was a delight. Gentle. Lovable. Too lovable.

  But the child was a responsibility. He needed attention and guidance. Special care in many ways, and Meara had to do it alone. Yet, he’d never heard her complain. Only the opposite. She was so defensive when it came to Mac. Maybe more than was good for the boy. And more than was good for her, too.

  Guilt assailed him as he thought of the boy’s fondness for him. And his for Mac.

  “Do you love me?”

  Mac’s voice flew through the air like a dart and pinned Jordan to his chair. How could he answer the child’s question?

  “I love you, Jor-dan.” Mac leaned on the chair arm, gazing into his face.

  Jordan’s pulse pushed against his temple and sweat broke out on the nape of his neck. “You’re my favorite pal, Mac.” He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Hurt. That’s all he could offer the child.

  “Fav’rite pal.” He poked his chest. “Me, too. You’re my fav’rite pal.” Mac rose and leaned his cheek on Jordan’s shoulder.

  It was all he could do to keep from clutching the child in his arms and weeping. His body shook with longing to repeat Mac’s words, “I love you.” But those words were a promise. A commitment. Never again would he love anyone like he had loved Robbie…and Lila. Love meant worry and hurt and loneliness. He could bear no more scars.

  “I didn’t see you…for a long time,” Mac added, rocking his cheek against Jordan’s shoulder. “I miss you.”

  “I know.” Jordan closed his eyes, stemming the flood that pushed against his eyes and heart. “Grown-ups are busy people. We have to work and take care of business. Just like your mom. She has to work.”
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br />   “Mama works. I’ll work when I grow up. Okay, Jordan?”

  “Okay, Mac. I pray you will.” Like the passenger in a plummeting elevator, his breath left him.

  Pray. Where had the word come from?

  “We’ll pray,” Mac said, grasping Jordan’s two hands in his and closing his eyes.

  Aching deep in his being, Jordan shut his eyes and silently paraphrased Mac’s words. Mac will work and live a full life when he grows up. If Meara’s God was truly looking down on them, Jordan wanted Him to know he meant every word he said.

  Chapter Ten

  Tourists paraded through the streets in droves on the Fourth of July weekend. Meara and the other clerk scurried through the shop, answering questions and ringing up sales. Meara checked her wristwatch. Otis would be in at six, only a few minutes away. She took a calming breath and helped the next customer.

  When Otis arrived, Meara left through the front door and headed for the bakery. As her hand touched the door handle, a voice brought her up short.

  “Meara! My word, we had no idea where you were.”

  Meara swung around and faltered, both surprised and distressed to see her cousin. “Alison, what are you doing here?”

  She wrapped Meara in a fleeting embrace. “Why, vacationing, silly. Doesn’t everyone come to Mackinaw on the Fourth of July?”

  Remembering the busy kite shop, Meara agreed. “I’m just surprised to see you, that’s all. Where’s Roger?”

  She heaved a sigh. “I left him in the leather shop across the way. You’d think he’s never seen one before.” She waved her hand in front of her nose. “The smell was too pungent on such a hot day. I thought I’d be sick.”

  Meara nodded in understanding. The sun’s heat burned against her skin even in the late afternoon. She stepped aside to allow a customer to enter the bakery.

  “Anyway,” Alison said, lifting her eyebrows, “I wanted a treat. You know, a cookie or something. Roger’s so watchful about my weight.”

  “You’re as thin as a rail. I wouldn’t think he’d be concerned.” Meara eyed her cousin.

  “But not for long.” Her eyes brightened, and she covered a giggle.

  A second passed before Meara understood. “A baby! Congratulations, Alison. I’m so happy for you.” Meara knew they’d waited so long to have a child, as if afraid Meara’s destiny would be theirs. So many cruel thoughts boiled over in Meara’s mind. Would she disown her child if he or she wasn’t perfect? How could Meara forget her cousin’s snubbing after Mac was born? “And I pray God is good to you,” she added.

  Alison’s face paled, and she pressed her hand on Meara’s arm. “How can I ask you to forgive me for my neglect? I’m so sorry, Meara. We just didn’t know how to handle things when Mac was born.”

  Meara had no desire to discuss this on the street. “Forget it, Alison. That was long ago.”

  “But I can’t forget. I’m so ashamed. And when you left so quickly after Dunstan’s death, I was shocked. Why did you leave?”

  The truth? No, it would serve no purpose. “I felt we had to leave eventually. Quickly seemed the best.” Another customer darted past them to enter the bakery.

  “Oh, you poor dear. I can’t imagine why you would leave that lovely home for…well, for the unknown. And with no word to any of us. They have no idea where you’ve gone.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” Wisdom told her to say goodbye to Alison and let the past fade. Why try to explain now? But Meara longed for family and connections to her lovely green Erin.

  “Would you like to come up? Mac and I live above the kite shop.” She motioned upward toward the windows.

  “Above this little shop?” Alison’s widened eyes peered over the doorway to the two windows.

  “Yes. Why not find Roger and come?”

  Alison flung her arms around Meara’s neck. “Oh, I’d love to see your home. Thank you.”

  “I’m taking Mac to the park for the fireworks tonight. You’re welcome to join us. Or just come up for a moment, if you’d prefer.”

  “Thanks, Meara.” She took two steps backward. “I’ll find Roger right away.” With a wave, she scurried across the street and down the sidewalk.

  Alison’s face told the tale. Clearly, she had been shocked at the less-than-affluent life Meara had accepted without a backward glance. Did she want to see the apartment to gape, or was she really happy? Meara didn’t have an inkling.

  She hurried inside the bakery for her desserts and dashed through the kite shop to the back staircase. When Meara stepped outside, she waved at Nettie in the marina’s meager park. Nettie had agreed to keep an eye on Mac while he watched the tourists fly their kites.

  Nettie signaled her, and soon she and Mac crossed the ferry parking lot and reached the stairs.

  “I met my cousin outside the bakery a few minutes ago. I haven’t seen her since Dunstan’s funeral.” She held her hand against her pounding heart.

  “Such a nice surprise.” She eyed Meara. “Or is it?”

  “Oh, we had words…well, not words exactly. Silence, really. She didn’t know how to handle…” She hesitated, indicating Mac with her eyes.

  Nettie nodded. “I understand. Many people can’t handle life’s unusual blessings.” She patted Meara’s arm. “But don’t worry. Today you have a chance to heal those wounds. Say a little prayer. God can mend the biggest schism.”

  “Thanks. I need a reminder from time to time.”

  She had so often neglected God’s promised guidance. “I always try to fix things on my own, Nettie. Will I ever learn?”

  “If you open your eyes and your heart.”

  She gave the woman a quick peck on the cheek. “You’re a dear. Will you join us at the park? We’ll save you a corner of the blanket.”

  “We’ll see. Otis isn’t one to fight crowds after a busy day in the store, but I’m going in to give him a hand.”

  “Hope to see you later.”

  Meara shooed Mac up the stairs and hurried behind him. She put the kettle on for tea, then rushed into the bathroom to run a comb through her hair. With a swipe of her lipstick, she colored her mouth with a pale coral hue.

  “Mac,” she called from the bathroom. “Come wash your hands, and let me look at you. We’re having company.”

  Mac came around the corner. “Jor-dan?” His face glowed with anticipation.

  Her pulse lurched at the name. “No. It’s family I haven’t seen for a while.”

  “Grandma?”

  Again the child wrenched her heart. “No, a cousin. Just get ready, Mac.”

  Hurrying into the kitchen at the sound of the whistling kettle, Meara brushed errant tears from her eyes. Neglecting the Haydens was hurting Mac, and she didn’t know how to solve the problem. She poured the boiling water into the teapot to steep, then studied the kitchen for her next project.

  The picnic basket sat on the table, and Meara checked inside. She’d already tossed in extra dinnerware, anticipating the Mannings would join them—and there was the vague hope of running into Jordan.

  Then she opened the bakery box and laid out a selection of cookies and pastries for the company. With her tray filled, she headed for the living room.

  A rap on the door signaled their arrival. She set the tray on the coffee table and answered. “Come in,” she said, maintaining a pleasant smile with her greeting.

  “Meara, it’s good to see you,” Roger said, pressing a kiss on her cheek and embarrassing her.

  “Alison tells me congratulations are in order.”

  “Yes. Yes,” he said, his gaze darting toward Alison.

  “When’s the baby due? He or she—do you know?” She gestured them toward the living room.

  “A little before Christmas,” Alison said, “and no, we decided to be surprised.”

  “That’s more fun, I think.” Meara guessed they’d had every test in the book completed to avoid having a disabled child. “Have a seat, please. I have some tea steeping for you.”

  They sa
t on the sofa, and Meara headed for the bedroom. “Let me check on Mac, first.”

  Tonight, she felt terribly protective, and he’d taken far longer than she had expected to get ready. Peeking into Mac’s room, she chuckled. He had pulled on a clean shirt, combed his hair, and was wrestling with his shoelaces.

  “Can I help you?”

  “No. Jor-dan showed me. Bunny ears, see.”

  He looped the strings on each side and folded them into a knot. She should have taught him a simpler way, like Jordan had. Mac struggled so often to make a secure knot.

  “That’s wonderful. Come out when you’re ready. I want you to meet my cousin.”

  When Meara returned to the living room, she sat for a moment, then rose to prepare the tea. After she filled their cups and offered her guests the sweets, she sank into the chair across from them.

  When Alison’s gaze drifted over Meara’s shoulder, Meara turned around. “Come here, Mac. Let me introduce you.”

  Unsure of the guests, he edged forward and stood beside her chair.

  “Mac, this is Alison and Roger Garrison. They’re our cousins.”

  Bravely, Mac stepped forward and extended his hand to Roger. “Hi. I’m Dunstan MacAuley Hayden. Nice…to meet you.”

  Roger’s gaping mouth curved to a smile. “Hi there, Mac. I’m glad to meet you.”

  Alison leaned forward with a whisper. “He’s so polite, Meara.”

  “Say thank-you, Mac.” Meara swallowed her initial response: My son isn’t deaf.

  Mac followed her direction with a “Thank you.”

  “How sweet,” Alison gushed.

  Meara bit her tongue, again. She wanted to heal wounds, not deepen the scars. She strained for conversation, and after refilling their teacups, she looked at the time. “As I mentioned, we’re going to the park for a picnic and then to watch the fireworks. Can you join us?”

  Alison’s head swiveled, her eyes searching Roger’s.

  Roger and Alison obviously made a decision with their eyes. “Why…uh, we don’t want to put you out, Meara,” Roger said.

  “I have plenty of food. I thought perhaps other friends would meet us there, so I’ve prepared extra.”