The Christmas Kite

“Jordan, please, and if you don’t mind, I’ll call you Meara.”

“Not at all,” she said as her lashes lowered shyly for a heartbeat.

“It’s a beautiful name. Where did you get it?” He looked at her with longing, marveling at the mysterious aura that emanated from her.

A grin crept to her lips. “From my mother.”

“Hmm?” he asked, not understanding.

“My name. My mother gave it to me.” Her grin widened to a smile.

“Right, but I mean, what kind of a name is it?”

“I’m being silly. I knew what you meant.” She drew her shoulders as if surprised she’d allowed herself the lighthearted moment. “It’s Irish. My parents were born in Ireland like I was.”

“Ah, so that’s the lilt I hear in your voice.”

She tilted her head upward. “Lilt? I didn’t know I had one.”

“It’s lovely, really, like your name. Like music.”

“Thank you. Meara means ‘happy.’” A distant look rose in her eyes, and her face filled with a kind of sadness.

“Happy? And are you?” he asked, wondering why he had posed such a personal question. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken like that.”

Her gaze drifted to the ground, then upward. “No, you’re being honest. I am…sometimes…like today with the kites.” She nodded. “Today, I was happy.” She reached toward Mac, who held the kite close to his chest. “We need to be running along. You’ve given us too much of your time. Thank you.”

She gazed at her son. “Say thank-you, Mac.”

The child lifted his excited gaze. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome. And you, too, Mac.”

They headed down the beach, hand in hand, and Jordan turned toward the house, tugging at every fiber of his good sense. How many times must he caution himself and still not listen? This woman and child needed too much, and he had nothing to give anyone. He was scarred, scarred to his core. His capacity for love had burned away the day God took his family, the day guilt and grief scorched every strand of his being…his spirit.

He tucked his thoughts back where they belonged, deep inside. No time for mourning now. He needed to face life, learn to live in the world again, not for love or family, but just to get through each day. He’d abandoned his career and lived like a hermit far too long. Good old Otis did the pickup and delivery, while he hid from the world building kites. And what was he hiding from? Memories? A person can’t hide from those. He’d tried.

Raising his eyes, Jordan saw Otis standing outside the front door. He hailed him with a wave.

“Okay, this time I knocked,” Otis said with a good-natured grin. “That didn’t work any better than the doorbell.” He chuckled, and Jordan patted him on the back.

“Sorry, I was down here helping a young man fly a kite.”

“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Jordan gave him a fleeting grin. “So what can I do for you? Hadn’t expected you today.”

“No, I was passin’ by and thought I’d stop in. I have a question for ya. And by the way, I checked out the zoning board. Looks like the church is a few feet clear of the property restriction limit, so that doesn’t help us one bit.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He’d hoped the board might solve the problem without further action. Now he’d have to give the issue more thought. “Come in,” he said, holding open the screen.

Otis stepped inside but stayed by the door. “This won’t take a minute.”

“Sure you don’t want to sit?”

“No, the wife’s probably wondering where I am. She’s expectin’ me home. I had a question from this woman and son who came by the shop a couple times. First time lookin’ for those cheap kites. I sent her to the gift shop. Anyway, she passed by again and came in. Her boy is a charmer and loves kites.”

Curious, Jordan’s stomach tightened.

“She’s lookin’ for a rental. Happened to mention it, and I thought about the apartment above the shop. You have any interest in renting out the place? She’s alone with the boy and could probably use a cheap rental.”

Jordan stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to decide how to ask the question. “Do you know her name?”

“Nope. The boy’s name is Mac. He introduced himself to me like a little man. Down syndrome boy, but bright as a new penny.”

Jordan’s tensed shoulders rose and relaxed as he released a blast of pent-up air. “Can you guess what boy I was helping with the kite a few minutes ago?”

Otis snapped to attention. “Mac?”

Jordan nodded.

“You don’t say.”

“They’re renting a cabin down the beach. Those rustic ones.”

“She said they were down the road. Never thought you’d know her. Funny thing, I mentioned your name. She didn’t act like she knew you at all.”

He shook his head. “We introduced ourselves today.” Curious. She hadn’t shown she recognized his name. He gave a mental shrug. “I met them one day when the boy saw me kite-flying. Then Dooley knocked the woman over on the beach yesterday and we chatted a minute.”

“You sure know how to win friends and influence people, don’t you.”

Otis’s words held more truth than he knew. “I don’t seem to have the knack, Otis.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “So what about the apartment? I haven’t seen it in a long time. Not sure what shape it’s in. I told her to drop by, and I’d let her know.”

“How about checking it out. I don’t want to rent a firetrap to anyone.”

“Sure thing. Might even have the missus look it over. You know, from a woman’s point of view.”

“Do you have a key for the place?”

“I think so. It should be on the ring.” Otis pulled a set of keys from his pocket and eyed them. “Check this one out if you would. I think that’s it.”

Jordan took the key and burrowed through a drawer until he found a set of tagged keys. He matched it against the other. “That’s it, Otis.”

“Good. By the way, I mentioned earlier that I posted the Help Wanted in the window. Nothin’ yet. Darla can work only another week or so. I’ll need at least a part-timer.”

“Whatever you need, Otis. Run an ad in the paper if you want to.”