“Against my wishes, but yes. She examined her options all the time, but she felt like time might be running out because she was in her thirties and no likely prospects loomed on the horizon. So she jumped in with both feet, like she always did, then tragedy hit.”
“But we’ve got the girls.”
His lips thinned. His voice dropped. “I already had my girl, you see? And as much as I love those little ones, it’s not the same because I won’t be here to be part of their lives the way I was with my Jennifer. I carried her in my arms. I taught her how to ride a bike. I coached her softball team, drove her to saxophone lessons and dance recitals and stood in the pouring rain to watch her in the marching band. Watched her graduate from high school and the university. She was my heart. When she got taken away, and the girls were so little, there was nothing I could do to help.” He indicated his fading body with a sorrowed glance. “I had some money, money I could have left them, but being here in the home will sap all of that, too. So in the end, I have nothing to give those three little girls that they can’t get from someone else, because I will never be there for them the way I was there for Jenn. And that’s the sum of it. So maybe you finding us when you did is a good thing, because you’re more a part of Jenn than anyone else in the picture. And there’s something to be said for that, much as I love the Calloways. You’re her blood, and that still means something.”
He probably meant the words to hearten her.
They tore at her instead. Yes, she was the girls’ biological aunt, but they’d bonded with the Calloways, and she couldn’t simply dismiss that fact. But while she recognized the goodness of the Calloway family, they were being torn by a variety of factors right now. Was it right to have the girls be in the middle of all that? What was in their best interests?
Lanny yawned.
That was her cue to let the ailing man rest. She stood up, leaned down and gently hugged him. “Thank you for talking with me. For telling me about my sister. It means a lot to me, Lanny.”
“She’d have loved you if she had the chance,” he told her. Then he gripped her hand with unexpected strength. “We would have, too. And it’s disheartening to think that none of us knew what they did way back then because we wouldn’t have allowed it, and I expect your parents feel the same way.”
“They do.”
“Can you tell Renzo to keep the girls home today? I don’t think I’m up for a visit from them.”
She’d sapped his energy, and now he wouldn’t be able to enjoy his granddaughters. The realization made her feel selfish.
His hand went lax as he yawned again. The aide crossed the floor. “I can help you back to your room, Mr. Drew.”
He didn’t speak. Weariness seemed to wash over him, and when the aide began moving down the hall, the elderly man’s chin dropped to his chest.
Her visit had worn him out. Yes, she’d wanted to hear about her sister, but not at the girls’ expense. She drove back to the Calloway ranch. Kyle and a borrowed hand were moving cattle into a lower pen, closer to the graveled driveway. The days of Advent would begin tomorrow, a sweet time of anticipation. The young cows would be gone on Monday. She still had a few weeks to be here, to be part of the Christmas preparation and while her ideas were different from Gina’s, she wanted this to be a beautiful holiday season for her three nieces. Maybe her presence would offer some calm to their overburdened schedule. If nothing else, she’d be here to celebrate their fourth birthday with them. That alone was a reason to celebrate.
* * *
Sarah had been right about the girls’ December calendar and Renzo was kicking himself for not realizing it sooner. He was studying the overbooked schedule when she came in the side door late Saturday morning. She slung her cute jacket on a hook, laid her scarf on it and came his way. She looked troubled and that only compounded his guilt. “I made you feel bad yesterday, and I’m sorry about that. You’ve got enough on your plate without a stranger coming along and criticizing what you’ve got planned for Christmas, especially since your family has done such a marvelous job raising the girls. I want to apologize, Renzo.” She slipped into one of the seats flanking the broad end of the island. “I’m more than happy to jump in and help in whatever way I can, and I’ll do it nicely.”
“You weren’t wrong.” He slid the December calendar her way. “You were right, and the reason I got mad was because I don’t want to disappoint my mother or worry her when she’s already so worried, but it was a knee-jerk reaction, Sarah, and I apologize. Truce?” He raised a hand to high-five her.
“Yes. Please.”
She raised her hand, too, but he didn’t give her a high five. He took her hand in his and surprised her by kissing it instead. She frowned at him. “Hey.”
He didn’t let go quickly. He took the time to smile into her eyes, then paused just long enough for her to smile back. Then he lightly squeezed her hand and released it before indicating the calendar. “The birthday party stays. Everything else is up for discussion.”
“Really?”
“Hey, I’m flexible. Eventually. Tell me what you think.”
“The school play should stay. They’re already committed to it, and I think being in an angel choir is absolutely wonderful. And I saw that the town does a Candlelighting Walk next Saturday, where they light the candles in all the churches in the village, then decorate the outdoor crèche with evergreen branches. That’s more in keeping with the spirit of Christmas than breakfast with Santa, isn’t it?”
“I think that’s a great idea. And we can always take the girls to see Santa at the mall.”
“And we could do that on a weekday because these four weekends are so busy.”
“Everyone will understand if we bow out of a family party,” he continued. “They all know how sick Dad is, and no one on the Calloway side will care. The Altobellis will give us a measure of guilt because they love seeing the girls, but they’ll understand, too. So let’s delete those from the schedule, too.”
“Are you sure they won’t be offended?”
He shrugged. “They don’t like it when folks flout tradition, but in the end they would want us to do what’s best for the girls. They know we’re dealing with a lot. And we’ll see Mom’s family for Christmas Eve services. We always go to that particular service. That’s the more important thing, right?”
“Yes.” A tiny frown formed a wrinkle between her brows. “You know you didn’t have to do this. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to mess up your mother’s plans, and I should have been more sensitive to that. The sheer number of activities and events took me by surprise, that’s all.”
“Same here,” he replied. “And I shouldn’t have let my protective instincts jump into high gear, but they seem to be ultrasensitized with everything that’s going on with Dad. I honestly didn’t have a true understanding of how busy the month of December was because Mom handled most of it on her own the past few years, but you made a good point. How can anyone relax and enjoy the season if they’re running around keeping commitments every day?”
“They can’t.”
“Exactly. So let’s get rid of this Christmas picture thing, too. Would you be willing to take a Christmas-themed photo of the girls this week? That way it’s natural and I can send them out to family as Christmas cards.”
“I’d love it. We could do it today, actually, because I went to see Lanny this morning and tired him out. That wasn’t my intention.”
She hadn’t mentioned that she was going to do that. He waited for her to say more.
“He asked me to have you keep the girls home today, so that’s another thing I need to apologize for. Taking their time with their grandpa away from them.”
“You didn’t tire him,” said Renzo. “The disease did. We can take the girls to see him on Monday. By the time we’re home from church tomorrow, he’s likely to be worn out. Mornings are best f
or him right now. Did you ask him about Jenn? And are you ready for coffee? Because I am.” He stood up and made a beeline for the coffee maker.
“I am always ready for coffee, and yes, we talked about Jenn. I wanted to see her from his perspective. I know you were her close friend, but he was her father. I wanted to hear what he thought, what she was like and what she did through his eyes.”
“And he told you.”
“It was so sweet. And sad.” She didn’t cry, but he read the sympathy in her expression. “He’s so angry at God.”
“Lanny’s been angry at God for a long time.”
“So he said. I wish he wasn’t. I wish he could be at peace with everything that happened. But then I’m not totally at peace with it, either, so there’s that.”
“Lanny’s a good man, but he’s never been what you would call an optimist. And he didn’t like Jenn’s idea of having a baby on her own, but Jenn did things her way. When it all went bad, I think his grief was magnified by his guilt that he’d spent the last months of her life scolding her for her decision. And when we found out about the triplets early on, he immediately looked up every reason why multiple births were more dangerous and shared them with her.”
“Oh no.”
He made a face of consternation as he brewed the coffee. “Yeah. It wasn’t pretty. But Jenn just hugged him and said she was aware of the possibilities, although she was incredibly surprised by the turn of events. She was always hugging him. Reassuring him. Teasing him. She wanted him to come back to a full life. Full faith. To get over his anger, and losing her only magnified the situation. Grief is a powerful thing.”
“I’ve watched it tear families apart and pull some together, but it’s a wretched bend in the road,” she told him as she accepted the cup of coffee. “When I chose my specialty, my mom told me that it wasn’t the level of constant detail that messed with neonatologists. It was the roller-coaster ride of wins and losses that tore folks apart, so we hold the wins close and pray through the losses. And our team works through things together. That’s a huge part of our success.”
“It’s the same on the force,” he told her. “The things we see on the job show us both sides of human nature, the good and the bad. We’ve got a great bunch of men and women, and that helps a lot.”
She sipped her coffee and smiled her thanks. “Perfect.”
Her reaction made him smile, too. “Well, it was a lot of work, tucking that pod into the system and pressing a button.”
A noise from above shifted his attention. “The onslaught begins. I told them we’d do the gingerbread house once you were here. I thawed some frosting Mom had in the freezer and put it in one of these bags she uses. Easy-peasy, right?” He indicated quick step-by-step instructions on the box of premade walls.
“So it would seem.”
Thirty minutes and three disgruntled girls later he was ready to replace the bag of frosting with actual cement. “This is impossible,” he muttered when a second wall tipped over. “They make it look so easy on TV.”
“Outtakes,” Sarah whispered. “How do we get the walls to stand up while the frosting dries?” Sarah whispered in desperation.
“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “Because it doesn’t really dry. Not all the way.”
Chloe tapped a pack of the squishy snowmen and frowned. “How can these guys protect the house if we can’t even build the house?” She posed the question with her distinctive eye roll.
Sarah hit a button on her phone. Renzo heard only her half of the conversation, but when she hung up, she did a quick internet search for something. Then she pointed to the page that popped up and said, “Mom says this is what we need. Royal frosting. It dries like cement.”
“That sounds awful. Is it still edible?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Totally. Just really, really hard-drying.” She followed the recipe while Naomi and Kristi carefully opened bags of candy decorations.
Chloe propped an elbow on the island counter and put her chin in her hand. “I bet Mama Gina knows about this stuff.” She aimed a dubious look toward Sarah and the mixer. “She knows lots of stuff.”
“She sure does,” noted Renzo. “Like how to be kind and make people feel good about things. A lesson I believe she’s shared with all three of you, correct?” he asked with a pointed look in her direction. “And I’m pretty sure my mother has never made a gingerbread house,” he added, “so you might be sadly mistaken. Be nice. Please.”
“I love being nice!” Naomi assured them as she poured nonpareils into a small bowl. “God wants us to be nice, so why not be nice all the time. Right?”
“That’s silly if you don’t even feel like being nice, Naomi.” Chloe started to make a face, but then redirected her attention to Sarah before Renzo could scold her again. “’Cept it is really nice to make these, I think. If it works,” she added grudgingly, and he couldn’t fault her for that because the outcome wasn’t looking very good at the moment.
“My mom used to make these with me when I was a kid,” Sarah explained to Chloe. “She called it making memories because she didn’t really like gingerbread. She just wanted to do something fun with me. Once we get the walls and roof constructed, I’ll take pictures while you girls decorate the house, okay? We’ll send those to Mama Gina and Papa.”
“And that will make her smile.” Chloe sat up straighter. “I think it’s hard to smile when people are in the hospital.”
“It’s hard to smile when you’re sad or worried,” Sarah agreed.
“But maybe Nomi’s right. Maybe we should try harder. So nobody worries?”
“Yes.” Sarah met Chloe’s gaze, and the love in her eyes fist-clenched Renzo’s heart. “We should always try, darling.”
He slipped away to get a new frosting bag, but not before the image imprinted on his mind. Sarah and the three girls, creating memories together. The moment brought reality into focus.
They belong together.
The realization broadsided him. If Jenn had been given the chance to know her younger sister, she would have left the girls in Sarah’s care.
He saw it plainly, but how was he going to broach the subject with his mother?
He had no idea. His father’s condition cast a pall on everything, but he’d have to talk to her at some point. He’d suddenly realized that if this whole mess came down to a court case, he’d have to take Sarah’s side. Not because she was better for the kids. He was proud enough of his family to know their worth. And not because he had feelings for her.
But because if Jenn had been aware of this wonderful woman, she’d have chosen her as guardian for her daughters. And that made all the difference. But how could he make this better in the meantime?
He’d start with adjusting the girls’ schedule, he decided when the girls were decorating the gingerbread house two hours later. The walls were finally staying upright and the roof was solidly set in place.
The girls loved diving into creative things like this. They’d have more time for that if he lightened things up. He’d let his mom know about the changes, certain she’d understand.
He drove to Seattle after church the following morning. The girls had insisted he bring the gingerbread house and the pictures Sarah had taken. He strode into the hospital, convinced he was right.
Unfortunately, his mother didn’t see it the same way.
She didn’t just object to the girls missing parties and events. She insisted that they follow the schedule she’d given him to the letter. It wasn’t a suggestion, either. It was more like a direct order, so if he did make the changes, he’d be adding another layer of anxiety to her already full plate.
On the flip side, if he didn’t loosen things up for the girls, his conscience would suffer.
In the end, his conscience won. He was there with the girls. His mom wasn’t. He’d do what he thought best and they’d
argue about it later, because prioritizing the children’s joy was his goal. They’d been handed a difficult scenario a few weeks ago. He wasn’t about to do anything to make that any worse.
Chapter Twelve
Sarah saw Gina Calloway’s number pop up on her phone and took the call the day before the girls’ Christmas play the following week. “Hi, Mrs. Calloway. How are you?”
“Call me Gina, please,” Renzo’s mother replied. “I feel that since we both care for so many of the same people, Mr. and Mrs. is far too formal. Don’t you agree, Sarah?”
Care for so many of the same people?
She meant the girls, of course, because there was no way Gina Calloway could know of Sarah’s growing feelings for her son. “Agreed. How is Mr. Cal—” She caught herself before she finished. “How is Roy doing?”
“Stubborn. Always was. Still is. I’m hoping he’ll see the error of his ways,” Gina said roundly.
The way she said it clued Sarah in. “He can hear you, can’t he?”
“Yes.”
Gina was trying to goad her husband toward recovery. It wasn’t a trick Sarah could use on preemies, but she’d seen colleagues use it on older patients with a measure of success. “I’m hoping he listens.”
“You can lead a horse to water...”
Gina didn’t finish the adage. She didn’t have to. “I hear you. Did you like the girls’ Christmas pics? And the gingerbread house project?” Renzo had taken the gingerbread house and candid photos of the girls to Seattle on his last two visits.
“We loved them,” gushed Gina. “They looked beautiful. I could tell instantly who was who and you can’t always do that with them.”
You sure couldn’t. Sarah was still watching for the tiny mole on Kristi’s neck and the way Naomi thrust up her left brow. The right brow was Chloe. “I’m glad you liked them. And I didn’t know what a ham Kristi was until I took out the camera.”
Finding Her Christmas Family Page 13