Jack's Christmas Mission

Barton Beverly

Peggy Jo hugged her daughter to her, savoring the bliss of being loved and needed by this special child. She had decided years ago to never remarry, so for an old-fashioned woman like she was, that meant never having children. But when her friend Ginny had died in a car accident, along with her husband, Wendy had been left an orphan at six months old. Adopting Wendy had been an easy decision. Peggy Jo’s maternal yearnings could be fulfilled without compromising her moral standards and without risking a second marriage. She had given Wendy all the love in her heart and everything that money could buy, including a private school. But recently Wendy had begun asking why Peggy Jo couldn’t get her a daddy.

“I’ll call Missy’s mother first thing tomorrow,” Peggy Jo said. “Right now, I have something to tell you.”

On the drive home from the station, she had thought about how she would explain to Wendy that a man would be moving into their home tomorrow. The last thing she wanted Wendy to do was become attached to a hired bodyguard. But for the past several months Wendy had become as obsessed as Hetty with finding her mother a mate. Every man Peggy Jo dated became a potential daddy candidate.

“Sweetie, we’re going to have a houseguest.” Peggy Jo eased Wendy onto her lap. Wendy’s big blue eyes rounded in surprise. “His name is Jack Parker, and he’s a bodyguard. Since Mommy’s TV show is going to be seen all over the United States and Mommy is going to be famous, Aunt Jill thinks I need someone to look after me.”

God, she hoped that explanation made sense to a six-year-old. She had gone over several different versions, and this one seemed simple and honest, without being frightening.

“Oh, Mommy, we’re going to have a man around the house,” Wendy mimicked Hetty’s repetitive declaration that what they needed was a man around the house. “He’s going to take care of you and me, and I can tell Missy and Jennifer and Martha Jane that I do so have a daddy.”

“No, Wendy.” Peggy Jo clasped her daughter’s chin gently. “Mr. Parker isn’t going to be your daddy and he isn’t going to take care of us. What have I told you about us girls?”

Wendy’s smile quickly turned into a frown. Her rosebud mouth became a pout. “That we don’t need a man to take care of us. That we can take care of ourselves.”

“That’s right.”

“But you said he was going to look after you,” Wendy whined. “Daddies look after mommies and little girls, don’t they?”

She wished she could tell Wendy that, yes, all daddies look after their wives and little girls, but she had never lied to her child and she wasn’t going to now. “Some daddies do, sweetie, but some daddies don’t. That’s why it’s very important for us girls to always know how to take care of ourselves and never depend on any man.”

Peggy Jo knew that some women had fathers and husbands who had never let them down, who had always taken care of them and looked after them, but she hadn’t been that lucky. She had been forced, at an early age, to face the harsh reality that some men were uncaring.

“I know. There is no Prince Charming,” Wendy said as she cuddled close to her mother. “Fairy tales aren’t real. They’re just made-up stories.”

“That’s right,” Peggy Jo said. “Life can be wonderful and beautiful, but it can never be like it is in fairy tales. Life is what we make it. It’s up to us to make it good for ourselves.” She loved her daughter far too much to fill her head with hopeless dreams of happily-ever-after when that dream so seldom came true in real life. Others might think her hard-hearted for giving Wendy a realistic view of love and life and relationships, but she knew better. As a mother, it was her job to protect her child and that’s what she was doing.

“Okay, Mommy. I won’t pretend that Mr. Parker is my daddy. I promise.”

Peggy Jo sighed. “Mr. Parker is going to work for me. I’m going pay him a salary to be around all the time and make sure nobody bothers me.”

“Will he keep me from bothering you?” Wendy asked, with wide-eyed innocence.

Peggy Jo hugged Wendy close, then chuckling softly, she lifted her child and put her back into bed. After pulling the covers up to Wendy’s chin, Peggy Jo kissed her.

“You never bother me, sweetpea. And Mr. Parker will never keep you away from me. I’ll tell him that Ms. Wendy Riley can see me and talk to me any time she pleases.”

After yawning, Wendy smiled. “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too.”

When Peggy Jo exited the room and closed the door behind her, she made her way down the hall to the kitchen. Hetty sat at the table, a mug of hot chocolate in her hand and another waiting for Peggy Jo, who immediately pulled out an oak Windsor chair and sat across from Hetty.

“I knew that after the day you’ve had, you’d need something chocolate.” Hetty nodded toward the Santa mug. As soon as Peggy Jo tasted the delicious drink, Hetty asked, “So, how did you explain to Wendy that we’ve got a man moving in with us tomorrow?”

“It wasn’t easy.” Peggy Jo sipped the cocoa. “At first she thought Mr. Parker might be her new daddy, but I cleared that up right away.” Peggy Jo glowered at her housekeeper. “If you hadn’t talked so much about our needing a man around here, she wouldn’t have—”

“Don’t blame me because that child wants a daddy. All of her friends have daddies, even the ones whose parents are divorced.”

“I can give Wendy everything else she needs and wants, but I cannot give her a daddy.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Hetty glanced at the ceiling, her expression making a statement.

“Both. Can’t and won’t. Marriage is just fine for a lot of women, but not for me. After my own father deserted me, and Buck treated me like dirt, I swore that I’d never let another man have any control over my life. And that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

“All men aren’t like your father and Buck Forbes,” Hetty said. “My Jim was a wonderful man. I wish you had known him. He would have changed your mind about men.”

“We’ve had this discussion before, and there’s no point in beating a dead horse.” With the mug in hand, Peggy Jo scooted back her chair and stood. “Just make sure the guest bedroom is ready for Mr. Parker. He’ll be coming home with me tomorrow evening.”