Page 18 of All I Want for Christmas

She sighed. “Tensions were high that day. We both said things I’m sure we regret.”

“No,” Joe said calmly. “I don’t have any regrets.”

Mrs. Simmons was quiet for a few seconds. “Well,” she said, her voice softer still. “I realize I’ve let time get away from me, and I’ll also admit, I let my pride get in the way. I’d like to think you did too.”

“Pride had nothing to do with me pretending that you no longer existed.” His voice sounded strained on the last two words, the only sign she was getting to him.

“Okay,” she said, her voice still soft. “Maybe it was only my pride. I should have reached out sooner, but we’ve let this go on far too long. We’re family. We need each other.”

“Family?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “Where were you when I buried yourdaughter?”

She winced, but to my amazement, she didn’t show any signs of anger. “Mistakes were made.”

Joe laughed again. “Mistakes were made,” he mocked. “You think?”

I put my hand on Joe’s shoulder to let him know I was there supporting him. He wasn’t facing her alone.

Joe drew in a deep breath, then said, “I don’t have any money, Mother.”

Her body stiffened. “Who said I was here for money?”

I could see hurt washing over her face, but I reminded myself that his mother was the consummate actress who had let money rule her life. When she’d been kicked out of her house, she’d gone to live with her parents, and I hadn’t heard anything else about what had happened to her. But her parents were simple people who didn’t have money of their own, and Betsy had grown used to living in a large home with staff. It would be surprising if shewasn’there for money.

“Joe,” she chastised gently as though he were being an unreasonable child. “Don’t be crass. I’m yourmother. I’m here because I want to see you and meet my grandchild.” Then a hint of reprimand edged into her voice. “If you would have reached out to mefirst, then I wouldn’t be here unannounced.”

Joe’s shoulders rose and fell as his breathing hitched up.

She looked past Joe, and her steely eyes landed on me. “Rose, I would love a chance to get to know you and meet my granddaughter. If you’ll just let me in, I’m sure we can talk through these hurt feelings.”

I didn’t respond, because this was Joe’s decision, not mine. But I had to admit that part of me wanted to believe her. Did she know that Joe’s hurt feelings went far deeper than angry words spoken the last time they’d seen each other? That he still hurt from years of neglect and being constantly told that he wasn’t enough?

“Well?” she asked. “It’s rude to leave a person standing out on the porch in the cold, Joseph. I raised you better than that.”

Joe clenched his fists at his sides, the first hint of anger. “Youraised me? Roberta,the housekeeper, raised me. Not you anddefinitelynot my father.”

A tight smile lifted her lips, and she clasped her hands at her waist. “Joe…”

“Mother, you of all people knowrude,” Joe said bluntly. “You were the queen of it, lording over your friends and icing out the ones who dared to stand up to you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And you can’t say you’re standing out in the cold. It’s sixty-five degrees outside.”

“But it’s raining,” she protested.

“You’re standing on a covered porch,” he said dryly.

Betsy pushed out a long sigh, then lifted her clasped hand up to her chest as though she was praying. “I will admit that mistakes were made,” she said, her voice breaking. “But it’s time to move past them, Joe. I want to have a relationship with you. I want to know my grandchild.”

“Mistakesweremade,” Joe said in a flat tone. “But I’m curious what you think those mistakesare.”

His mother’s eyes widened slightly, and she drew a breath, hesitating.

“Yeah,” Joe said in disgust. “That’s what I thought. I don’t know why you’re here, and frankly, I don’t care. I don’t have any interest in seeing you, and you sure as hell aren’t coming anywhere near my daughter. So, go back to the rock you crawled out from under.” Then he slammed the door in her face.

He spun around to face me, his jaw clenched as his breath came in rapid bursts.

My heart ached for him. “Joe. Are you okay?”

He silently shook his head and stalked back over to the tree still lying on the floor.

I stepped over to the living room window and peered through the sheer curtains. Joe’s mother had descended the porch stepsand was looking back at the house. She looked lost as she studied the house for a few moments, then she climbed into an older sedan. She backed up and headed back to the county road.

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