A Magical Christmas by Heather Graham Page A

hesitation.
    “Why? Jon, you know this is extremely bad for me. I needed you home today. Jack is going to do a lot of work for me so that I can go away for Christmas, but—”
    “Julie, I more or less got hit with this because I’m going away.”
    She was quiet a long time again. “We’re always at a stalemate these days, aren’t we?”
    “Most couples have these problems.”
    “Most couples deal with them.”
    “Most couples care,” he said dully.
    “Maybe we shouldn’t go for Christmas—”
    “I’ll get home as fast as I can. Ashley will be in after-school care; Jordan can get home on his bus.” He hesitated. “Our daughter is probably off somewhere sleeping with her delinquent lover—”
    “You don’t have the right to make that kind of judgment.”
    “On whether he’s a delinquent, or on whether they’re off sleeping together?”
    “Either.”
    “The problem is going to be getting Ashley home. I wish your mother—”
    “Well, my mother is gone, and she can’t help us. And Ashley is a little young to take a cab home from day care.”
    Jon exhaled on a long breath.
    “Julie, I can’t afford to get fired.”
    “Jon, I just made some really good money on this house. I can’t afford to blow it, or my reputation.”
    “Damn it, Julie, I hate my job, but it is our main income!” he exploded.
    “I have an idea. I’ll call you right back,” she told him.
    She did get right back to him. He had set down the receiver, stared at the wall, and drummed his fingers on the desk, that was all, before she returned the call.
    “Christie and Jamie were at the house. They’ll pick up Ashley with Jordan, then stop at a fast-food restaurant for dinner.”
    The blood seemed to rush into his head, and explode there.
    “Damn it, Julie, you know how I feel about Christie and that Jamie—”
    “He isn’t a ‘that.’ And I know that I can’t get out early, and you’re telling me that you can’t get out early.”
    “I don’t like that boy.”
    “You don’t like his last name.”
    “That’s not true—”
    “He’s polite, intelligent, and responsible.”
    Breathe.
    He’d taken a business course once where they’d taught the class to breathe rather than speak in explosive situations.
    Breathe. And count.
    “Julie, you know where he comes from—”
    “Jon, this is America.”
    “Julie—”
    “You’re going to judge him by his address?”
    There was something in her voice that hit home. That was exactly it, and he knew it.
    The kid did seem to be all right. He responded when spoken to—not just in full syllables or full words, but in full sentences.
    It was true that Jon hated the kid’s neighborhood. He hated the fact that drug deals went down there, and most of all, he hated the fact that shots had been fired near the kid’s house.That wasn’t a crime, he told himself. Being afraid for his daughter wasn’t a crime.
    He expelled a long breath and realized that he’d just flunked Breathing 101. Didn’t matter. He was feeling just a little bit more rational.
    Jamie Rodriguez was in Jon’s own “safe” neighborhood.
    “All right. Your solution will work.”
    Now it was Julie’s turn to be silent for a long moment. “How amazing. You can be compromised.”
    It wasn’t a compliment. She wasn’t saying that he was willing to compromise.
    She was telling him that his work meant more to him than his concern for Christie.
    Again, he fought to hold his temper. Their quarrels were degenerating into awful mudslinging matches where they both tried to make each other out as callous, selfish, self-centered parents. He didn’t mean to do it.
    He knew Julie loved the kids as much as he did.
    He just didn’t know what was happening to the two of them, and if it wasn’t too late to stop it.
    “Julie, I’m afraid of the kid’s house. I’m afraid of his neighborhood. Hell, it’s not even his folks; I don’t know them—they might be great people. It isn’t race, religion, or nationality