Jack Who? (Book 1 Draft Version)

PART TWO~CHAPTER : 15

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CHAPTER 15

Jack descended the stairs ahead of me, and if I had preconceived any idea of what he was up to, I would have darted back up to the safety of the bathroom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, sons and dogs, I present Miss, for now, Marissa, don't get used to the name, Duplei!”

The empty hallway quickly filled. First came Tristan, with Rusty at his ankles. Next, Candace and Marc playfully shoved as they raced.

“What name should we not get used to, Jack?” His aunt goaded while bringing my phone before my face.

“Aunt Cand, there will be enough pictures of tonight...”

“I promised your mother.”

Candace continued her video, and for the first time I wondered why Jack's parents had not come to the drop party, or had not at least flown in for the weekend of such an important event.

The video continued despite the clowning as we got last-minute things together. When Candace switched to camera mode, we dutifully posed for a couple of still shots on the staircase and the panther sofa.

After snapping several, Candace instructed, “Tristan why don't you get in the picture with your mom and dad.”

And so Tristan, in his day old pajamas, climbed in between us thrilled to be on the panther couch. Never one for patience with pictures, the youngster scampered, his crutch barely hitting the floor, back to the den area, and Candace snapped a couple more.

“Jack, you've seen the family pictures. You know the tradition,” his uncle inserted as his aunt had us posing in front of the door. Jack was behind me with his hands resting on my waist.

“Don't do it Jack...” his aunt admonished as she centered her frame.

“Oh paybacks.” Jack sounded pleased. “I was blinded growing up by Mom and Dad's wedding pics--”

“Don't...” Candace actually lowered the camera as she repeated the warning.

“We gotta go Aunt Candi. Take the pic if you're going to.” A smile actually rang out in his words. Candace didn't seem convinced, but she again put her phone's lens to her eye.

Before I could more than briefly wonder what was going on, the picture was snapped with Jack's arms around my shoulders and his hands down the front of my dress!

The echo down in the hall made me jump although I was responsible.

“Damn Mariss,” Jack complained carefully rubbing his fingers along his jaw.

My fingers tingled from the contact, and I tried to remember if ever in my life I had hit anyone other than my sibling during my childhood years. Twice now, I had slapped Jack and I was not proud. Spousal hitting, from either spouse, or in this case, almost spouses, was shameful.

Jack's aunt and uncle silently slunk from the hallway, their shocked expressions frozen on their faces. Thankfully, Tristan was nowhere in sight so the scene had not been witnessed by our son.

“I'm sorry!” The moment we were alone, the apology blurted from my lips. However, the words had not come from my heart, and that surprised me. More than anything, I was angry and embarrassed. My breasts buzzed with awareness, my fingers continued to sting, and my voice was indignant. “Why the hell did you do that?!”

“Let's get going.” With that mutter, Jack pulled open the double door to the left of the one leading to the hallway bathroom and I saw that it was a closet.

“I've, uh, just got to say good-bye to Tristan.” Leaving him pulling on a leather jacket, I moved toward the den wishing I didn't have to face Candace and Marc. Before I reached that destination at the end of the hall, Jack fell into step beside me. we stopped behind the couch where Tristan was reading his new books, and I flashed a totally humiliated glance at his relatives.

“Hey buddy.” Ruffling the tiny boy's hair, Jack explained, “Dad and Momma are going to a party--”

“Not a party,” I interjected when Tristan's eyes lit with too much interest. Not yet realizing his mistake and most probably because he was still aggravated, Jack sent a mild glare my way. Withering some beneath that look, I hastily explained to our son, “No cake or presents. Just a grown up thing where we walk around and talk about how our kids stayed in their pajamas all day!” At this point, Tristan howled with laughter when I tickled him, and I swung my gaze to Candace. “I can give him a bath in the morning.”

“Not necessary,” Jack teased and swung our son into his arms. “I can throw him in the pool in the morning!”

Tristan laughed in delight at the mention of swimming, then quickly sobered. “Don't throw me in, Daddy. I can't swim.”

Jack's smile straightened and he promised, “I won't. But I can assure you, swimming is easy and we will have you swimming like a shark by the end of the day!”

I watched father and son use their hands as makeshift fins as Candace verified with a few concerned questions any allergies and bedtime routine.

Jack settled Tristan back on the sofa and as the laughing between them dwindled, inquired, “So can you keep Rusty company? If he gets lonely?”

“By myself?” Tristan's eyes uncertainly raised to mine and I easily read the insecurity.

“Of course not!” I assured and knelt to pull him close.

Jack added his own reassurance. “Aunt Candi will be here and Uncle Marc loves games. Get him to show you the surfing one, huh?”

“When will you be home Momma?” Ignoring Jack, Tristan locked gazes with me, and my heart swelled with empathy. I knew how he felt. This house was strange. These people were strangers. As for this moment, in Tristan's eyes, Jack was the cause of it all.

Holding his tiny frame even tighter, I promised, “I will be home before the sun comes up.” Bribery came next. “You can show Aunt Candi your new room. And, if you want you can sleep in my bed. When I get home I will find you no matter where you are sleeping and give you a big hug.” Here, I emphasized my words with a huge hug.

“Why do you always have to stay out until the sun comes up?” Tristan shoved himself from my arms, and his voice went into whine mode. “I want to stay with Aunt Olivia like I always do.”

Three pairs of adult eyes hit my face, but it was Jack's incredulous and angered gaze that I squirmed under.

“I don't want to spend the night at Aunt Candi's...”

Although Jack's aunt and uncle had politely averted their eyes, Jack's look was still speculative.

Quietly, he searched my face, a new realization dawning, that possibly I was not the shy woman and responsible mother he thought me to be.

“I want Aunt Liv! She makes whatever pancakes I want for breakfast...”

My eyes widened on my traitorous son as I reluctantly recalled, on several instances, using the words of 'when the sun comes up.' Never because I actually stayed out that late, but because it was a measure of time to a small child of when I would pick him up!

“Tristan--”

I had no idea what I was about to say. I only knew that something had to be said.

However, Jack was quicker, rounding the couch and pulling Tristan against him. “We will be back way before the sun comes up. If you want, you can sleep here on the couch with Rusty, and I will carry you up to your room when we get home.”

Tristan agreeably calmed, and after wrapping his tiny arms around our necks in a hug, he waved good bye.

When Jack reached for my hand, I was surprised given his earlier look of wary anger. Before opening the front door, he squeezed his fingers tightly around mine. Though I did not try to pull away, I recognized the hold as more imprisoning than affectionate.

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