We Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. Brenda NovakЧитать онлайн книгу.
A Sampling of Praise for Brenda Novak
“What a wonderful love story…. An emotional, romantic journey you’ll not want to miss!”
—Rendezvous on Expectations
Brenda Novak’s “books are must-reads for those hopeless romantics among us.”
—Bestselling author Merline Lovelace
“In her first Superromance, Ms. Novak has given us a wonderfully warm story. This is a definite keeper!”
—AOL Writers’ Club Romance Group on Expectations
“…three-dimensional, very real characters with realistic problems. These characters touched my heart and had me reaching for the tissues.”
—Scribes World Reviews on Snow Baby
Brenda Novak’s “powerful storytelling voice sweeps the reader through a stormy past and a painful present, providing the novel with depth seldom matched in this genre…. I very highly recommend that you read Snow Baby.”
—Cindy Penn, WordWeaving
“Baby Business is a heart-wrencher with a knock-your-socks-off ending!…One thing is for sure: I know I never, ever want to miss a book by Brenda Novak.”
—Suzanne Coleman, The Belles and Beaux of Romance
“This one kept me turning the pages. A tautly written suspense plot, an interesting setting, well-drawn characters and an enjoyable romance.”
—Jean Mason, The Romance Reader on Dear Maggie
Dear Reader,
Sometimes we come to a point in life when we have to look honestly at our situation—and the decisions that have brought us to where we are—and face the fact that it isn’t where we want to be. Maybe we took a wrong turn somewhere. Maybe someone else took the turn that threw us offtrack. Either way, changing requires a great deal of strength and determination. In We Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, Jaclyn Wentworth is a woman who won’t settle. She digs deep inside herself for the courage to do what must be done, and as she grows in wisdom and confidence, she eventually finds what we all want most—love and happiness. I hope you enjoy her journey.
I’d love to hear from you. You can contact me at P.O. Box 3781, Citrus Heights, CA 95611. Or simply log on to my Web site at www.brendanovak.com to leave me an e-mail, check out my book signings or learn about upcoming releases.
May we, like Jaclyn, find the courage to make the changes that are best for us!
Brenda Novak
P.S. Merry Christmas!
We Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
Brenda Novak
To my mother, LaVar Moffitt,
the inspiration for Jaclyn’s strength and spirit. And to Ted Novak, my own self-made man. Cole has nothing on him.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
THIS WAS IT, the absolute last straw. Jackie Wentworth couldn’t take any more.
Numb, she sat in her new Suburban, the engine idling, as she stared in sickened wonder at her husband’s 1997 Dodge Ram with its identifying Rodeo bumper stickers. She’d spent hours looking for him, worried when she’d returned home from her friend’s place in Utah a day early to find their bed, their entire section of his parents’ home, empty. Even though it was the middle of the night, she’d driven past his friends’ houses, his two sisters’ houses, and gone all the way out to Sand Mountain, his favorite weekend haunt.
But she’d been fooling herself, of course. His dune buggy, or “sand rail,” as they were now called, was still in the garage. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe the worst, at least not at first, not after all the counseling sessions and promises and hard-won confessions they’d been through—and finally, finally the forgiveness she’d managed to wring from her own heart.
What a waste. Jackie closed her eyes, hoping she’d see something different when she opened them again. But the scene was just the same. Her husband’s truck sat in the dimly lit parking lot of Maxine’s, one of the legalized houses of prostitution that stood neighborless in the barren desert just outside Feld, Nevada.
Behind her, Mackenzie and Alex were wearing their pajamas and fighting over the pretzels Jackie had bought to keep them occupied. Alyssa, the baby of the family at two years old, wailed miserably in her car seat. It was nearly three in the morning. Jackie couldn’t blame them for feeling put out. But she heard the noise they made as though it came from somewhere far away. Her ears were ringing too loudly, her heart thumping too hard, to hear anything clearly.
Opening her door, just in case she was going to be sick, Jackie put her head between her legs and took long, deep breaths. It’s okay. You’re okay, she told herself.
But she wasn’t okay. She didn’t know if she’d ever be okay again. She only knew she’d leave Terry. She’d take the children with her if she had to crawl on her hands and knees and carry the three of them on her back. And this time she wouldn’t let anything undermine her determination.
“Mommy? What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re gonna throw up.”
“Mom, Alex is touching me.”
“Shut up. You’re such a pain.”
“You shut up. You’re the one who started it.”
Jackie couldn’t answer. She straightened, thinking of the movie classic Gone with the Wind. She pictured Scarlett O’Hara crying and angry and shaking her fist at the sky, swearing she’d never go hungry again, and finally understood the depth of that kind of resolve. Because she felt the same way.
“As God is my witness, I will never let myself become so dependent on another human being again,” she muttered.
“Mommy? Why are you talking to yourself? What’s wrong with you?”
“Just leave her alone. Can’t you see she’s sick?”
Alyssa cried louder. “Out, out, out!” she chanted.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Jackie said, turning, dry-eyed, to face the three of them. “We’re getting out. Soon.” Out of Feld. Out of Nevada. Out of her loveless marriage.
Her words did nothing to placate the baby. Alyssa had no concept of soon, except that it wasn’t now, but Jackie felt infinitely better. Terry