“That’s right.” Reese greeted his aunt and bent to kiss the cheek she presented, then sank down onto the ottoman, facing them both. “I want to talk to you both about dropping charges against Jacob.”
“We most certainly will not,” Aunt Catherine snapped. “That boy needs to be taught a lesson. Maybe if he gets in enough trouble here, he’ll leave town for good.”
“Is that the goal, really?” Reese tried to keep his tone of voice mild. “He’ll do better here than he would with his father, it seems.”
“Not our problem.” Aunt Catherine brushed her hands together as if washing away unpleasant dirt. “We raised our son well. If other people can’t do that, then they should bear the penalty. Not God-fearing citizens like us.”
Reese’s eyes narrowed. The way they’d raised Brock had made him the entitled, bullying person he’d become. The criminal he’d become.
Reese faced them down. “You definitely don’t want to hurt this family. They’ve been through enough at our hands. At Brock’s hands.”
He expected questions, was prepared to explain as much as was required to get them to leave Jacob alone. But instead of responding to his statement with surprise, his aunt and uncle glanced at each other.
“Reese is right,” Uncle Clive said. “It’s Christmas! We should let the boy off the hook.”
Aunt Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “That whole family is appalling. I don’t want them in my town.”
“Catherine...” Uncle Clive’s tone held a warning.
Shock made Reese forget caution. “You know,” he blurted out.
“Know what?” Uncle Clive asked, his voice bland.
“You know what Brock did.”
His aunt began blustering. “There are so many ways to interpret things,” and “no one knows what actually happened,” and “Brock was a good boy.”
Reese barely heard her words. His world was shifting. He’d always thought of his aunt and uncle as difficult but basically good people; after all, they’d taken him in and given him a home when he’d had nowhere else to go.
But if they’d known what Brock did... “When my cousin was in the accident,” he asked his uncle, speaking slowly, “did you speak with him before he passed away?”
Uncle Clive didn’t answer.
“Yes,” his aunt choked out. “We were able to say goodbye. Talk to him about heaven.”
“Catherine...” Again, his uncle’s tone held a warning.
“What was said is between us.” She looked at the two of them, her eyebrows drawn together, face flushed. “I blame that girl for his death.”
“You what?” Reese stared at the woman who’d helped raise him, whom he’d thought he’d known. “You know what he did, and you’re blaming her?”
The implications of that were so big that he couldn’t begin to fathom them. If the police had been notified...if there’d been an investigation...at a minimum, Brock’s parents would have been required to give Gabby child support for Izzy.
She’d suffered so much. She’d had to be so strong, and it broke his heart. Roused his anger, too, and his fist clenched, but he forced himself to relax.
This was in God’s hands. It wasn’t up to Reese to bring out what had happened, at least not without consulting Gabby. Enough of her power had been stolen from her in that act of violence. She didn’t need him to orchestrate what happened next.
When and whether the truth came out was her decision, and knowing Gabby, he had no doubt she’d thought about how much of the circumstances of her conception to reveal to Izzy when she was old enough to hear it.
Should his aunt and uncle admit the truth and possibly be allowed to be Izzy’s grandparents?
His own impulse was to say “no way.” They’d proven themselves to be bad parents.
He had to wonder, though, whether they’d looked at Izzy and seen their son, as Reese had, as Marla had, and maybe as others had, as well.
He looked from his aunt to his uncle, both of whom were watching him.
“Will you drop charges against Jacob?” he asked.
Uncle Clive nodded immediately.
Aunt Catherine opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, looking anywhere but at Reese.
“Catherine,” Uncle Clive said. “It’s the right thing to do. We were wrong to come down on him so hard before, for his friendship with Paige.”
She sucked in a breath, then let it out, seeming to deflate at the same time. “Oh, all right.”
Reese nodded, stood, and turned to leave.
“Wait, Reese.” Aunt Catherine sounded almost desperate. “Are you coming for Christmas dinner tomorrow? We’re having several couples over and we’d love to have you join us.”
To fill the gap in their lives? To impress their friends with a wounded veteran, now that that was trendy?
“No,” he said. “I have other plans.” He strode out the door, ignoring his aunt sputtering behind him.
He had a lot to do before tomorrow, and not much time in which to do it.
Chapter Fifteen
In the predawn dark of Christmas morning, Gabby checked on the peacefully sleeping Izzy, washed her face and went downstairs. She stirred flour together with yeast and salt, then heated milk, butter and sugar in a small saucepan. She tested the temperature, then stirred the liquid mixture into the dry one, gradually beating in an egg and more flour. Once the dough looked the same as Nana’s, or almost, she placed it on the flour-covered counter and started to knead.
Worries about Jacob crowded in, but she firmly pushed all her disasterizing thoughts aside. She’d prayed the situation into God’s hands and there was no more she could do.
Thinking of Jacob took her back to two nights ago, to the Markowskis’ house. To thoughts of Brock.
Remembering him, seeing the image of his face and smile, had shaken her...but it hadn’t broken her. The assault was a trauma she’d never forget, but after so many prayers, so many tears, she’d moved beyond it. She had a real life to live now, a daughter to raise. Brock had paid for his crime, the ultimate price, and he, too, was in God’s hands now, to be dealt with as God willed. Searching her heart, she found that most of the hatred she’d felt for him had faded away.
And that left Reese. He’d apologized for his lack of belief in her last night. She was glad of that, because part of her wanted him to think well of her. He’d been so important in her emotional life for so long.
And yet she couldn’t trust his words; or rather, they weren’t enough. He’d declared love for her before, told her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, begged her to wait for him. But with just one social media posting, his perception of her had changed, and his feelings had been too quick to change, too.
He’d been quick to judge her and find her wanting. Quick to anger.
If she’d been on her own, she might have risked accepting his apology, smiling sweetly, trying again.
But she had Nana, and Jacob and most of all Izzy to care for. She had to take care of herself so she could take care of them. Put on her oxygen mask first, just like she’d heard they instructed on an airplane, not that she’d ever been on one.
Whatever Reese thought of her, whatever the Markowskis thought of her didn’t matter. She knew now, inside herself, that she was an okay person and she was going to do okay. Her mistakes and sins were forgiven, and she was loved by God.
As the sun rose, making diamonds on the snow, she felt glad to be staying here, in the town where she’d grown up, where her family was. Here, she could help Jacob and Nana, and she could raise Izzy.
She checked the dough. It had risen just enough, so she turned it onto the floury counter and rolled it out into a rectangle, the long motions of Nana’s old rolling pin soothing her. She’d wanted to make Izzy’s first Christmas special, but there would be no frilly dress, no shiny baby toys, no board or
bathtub books. Not this year. Nana was fine about the lack of gifts, of course, but Jacob would be disappointed that she was going to have to return his hockey stick and skates so she could pay the Markowskis for his vandalism. It was a valid consequence, but a tough lesson to learn at fifteen.
She painted melted butter onto the dough and then sprinkled a mixture of cinnamon and brown sugar generously over the whole thing.
Christmas wasn’t about gifts; it was about Jesus. Through tears, as she rolled and then sliced the cinnamon-filled log, she lifted her praises and thanks.
But after sharing her joy with God, she had to share the sorrow that had caused the tears. How she’d wanted a complete family, wanted to be loved in the special way that a husband loved a wife. Wanted to be someone’s favorite person, wanted to make someone’s eyes light up.
She’d wanted it to be Reese. Wanted it with all her heart, and she could share that, now, with God.
Not my will but Thine, she whispered as she slid the cinnamon rolls into the oven.
The spicy, yeasty smell of them brought Jacob downstairs first, and he actually came over to the kitchen table where Gabby was sitting and gave her a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, sis,” he said.
“Same to you, kiddo.” She bit her lip. “I’m not going to be able to give you a present.”
“I figured,” he said, sounding philosophical. “Whatever you’re baking will do just fine for me.”
Inspiration struck. She couldn’t give him a physical gift, but she could give him something that might be even better. “Jacob,” she said, putting into words the plan she’d been pondering, “would you like to stay here?”
His head whipped around to face her. “What do you mean?”
“Stay here permanently. With me, and Nana and Izzy.”
“Even after what I did?”
She shrugged. “We’re family. When we make mistakes, we still love each other.”
The words hung in the air as they looked at each other, and then Jacob rubbed a knuckle across his face. “Something in my eye,” he mumbled. “Is Nana okay with it?”
“Okay with what?” Nana said through a yawn. She stood in the doorway in her old chenille bathrobe, holding Izzy, who was bundled in a blanket and babbling long strings of nonsense syllables in the rising and falling tones of a meaningful conversation.
“With Jacob staying here,” Gabby said.
“I’d like nothing better. And what’s more, I think I can talk your father into it.” Nana walked over to squeeze Jacob’s shoulder. “But we can have no repeats of what you did at the Markowskis’ place, understand?”
“I understand. I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused.” He gave Nana a quick, fierce hug.
Feeling teary herself, Gabby enlisted Jacob to frost the cinnamon rolls while she ran upstairs to throw on jeans and her old red sweater. And then they gathered around the table, and prayed and ate together.
It was enough. It had to be.
This hole in her heart would heal. Eventually.
Gabby had just started dishing out a second round of rolls when the doorbell rang.
Jacob’s mouth was full and Nana was holding a new sippy cup for Izzy, so Gabby went to answer the door. At first, all she could see was a white beard and hair and red Santa suit. And bags. Lots and lots of bags, overflowing from Santa’s arms onto Nana’s porch.
“Ho ho ho!” came a deep voice.
She’d recognize it anywhere. “Reese?” She just stared, trying to figure out what she was seeing and hearing.
“Can you let a merry old guy in?”
“Um...sure, I guess.” She held the door wider.
His costume made him almost too broad for the doorway, but he pushed his way in, eyes twinkling above a cottony beard.
“Let me help you, um, Santa,” she said, and took the packages from his arms. What on earth? He turned to grab more bags: wrapped presents, what looked like colorful decorations, and groceries—a large ham, a couple of pies, dishes of vegetables and potatoes.
As soon as they’d carried everything into the kitchen, Reese knelt down low in front of Izzy, speaking softly. “Ho ho ho,” he said, dangling a stuffed reindeer. “I hear it’s somebody’s first Christmas.”
She laughed and reached for it.
“And I think you’d look awfully pretty in a new dress.” He held up a stretchy red one and then pulled a bright red snowsuit from another bag.
Gabby snapped pictures and cried.
* * *
As Reese helped clean up the wrapping paper after they’d feasted and opened gifts, he looked over at Gabby. She was squatting in front of Izzy, holding out her arms, trying to encourage Izzy to let go of the sofa and walk to her.
It wasn’t happening yet, but it would surely be soon.
Whether his relationship with Gabby would move forward similarly was anyone’s guess.
He couldn’t find out unless he could get her alone, and that wasn’t going to be easy. He knelt beside Nana’s recliner. “I need your help,” he said, and explained what he wanted to do.
Minutes later, she’d collected Izzy and Jacob and gone upstairs with promises of an Xbox marathon and a nap.
Gabby looked after them like she wanted to follow, so he took her hand. “I need to talk to you a minute,” he said, and drew her toward the Christmas tree.
“Oh! Of course.” She shook her head and pulled her hand away. “In all the excitement I forgot to thank you. You did a very kind thing today.”
“I had a lot to make up for,” he said, facing her. “I was wrong, Gabby. I jumped to conclusions, I guess because I’m insecure in certain ways. I didn’t think someone like you would really want me, and I made that come true.”
She crossed her arms and studied him, head cocked to one side.
“Because of this, partly,” he said, holding up his prosthesis.
“Oh, Reese. That means nothing to me, except that you sacrificed for the rest of us.”
“Partly also because of...other things.”
“Your uncle and aunt?”
He nodded, then clapped his hand to his forehead. “I forgot to tell you! They’re not going to press charges against Jacob.”
Her eyes widened. “You talked them out of it?”
“Yeah.” He’d tell her the whole story later; she deserved to know. But right now, he had something else he wanted to do.
She wrapped her arms around him in a sudden tight hug that took his breath. And then she let go and backed away just as quickly. “Can we go tell Jacob? I know it was weighing on him today.”
He was never going to get another chance like this. “In a few minutes,” he said. “I have something I want to discuss with you first.”
“But knowing Jacob isn’t in trouble...it’s the best Christmas gift ever! Thank you so, so much.”
“I have another one,” he said. Sinking down on one knee, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little box that he’d had for three plus years. He’d never thought he’d get the chance to make this offer, but it was time. Past time.
“I love you, Gabby. I’ve loved you since the first time I kissed you on Romano’s Mountain. You’re beautiful, and amazing, and kind and smart, and...will you marry me?”
* * *
Gabby pinched the skin on the back of her hand to figure out whether she was dreaming.
It hurt. She wasn’t.
Will you marry me? He’d really said it.
But did he mean it? Was it as changeable as his teenage feelings of love for her, easily destroyed by something somebody said?
Be still. It was a piece of one of her favorite Bible verses, and she’d found it more and more applicable as she’d assumed the hectic life of a single working mom. Once she stilled her mind, the day’s reality had room to come in.
He’d shown up in a San
ta suit and brought gifts for all of them, including a little Christmas outfit for Izzy that made her look like a Christmas elf. That meant he remembered Gabby’s offhand comment that she wanted to buy Izzy a Christmas outfit. Remembered it and noticed that it hadn’t happened yet.
Dressed in that uncomfortable rented Santa suit, he’d stood still for photo after photo. And then he’d helped them cook the Christmas dinner he’d brought fixings for, ate it with them, talking and laughing like a member of the family, and then helped clean up.
And he’d gotten Jacob off the hook with his aunt and uncle.
He’d been so kind to all of them. He seemed to genuinely care for Jacob and for Nana, which meant he could truly be a part of their family. He’d gone beyond words into actions, which was priceless to her.
But she had one more worry before she could relax into what Reese seemed to be offering. “Wait here,” she said, patting the couch. And then she rushed upstairs. “I need to borrow Izzy,” she said to Nana. She picked up the baby. Held her close and breathed in her sweet fragrance.
She loved Reese with all her heart; she could admit that now. Maybe she’d never stopped loving him.
But now, she loved Izzy that much and more, and she had a responsibility.
She carried Izzy over to the couch where Reese was sitting, and this time it was she who went to her knees, a posture of supplication consciously chosen. “We’re a package deal, Reese,” she said, holding Izzy snug against her. “She’s my joy out of sorrow, and she’s...” She swallowed, then made herself say it. “She’s Brock’s child by blood. Can you accept her, knowing that?”
The Christmas lights shone behind him, and the smell of evergreens was heavy in the air as he met her eyes. Deliberately, he held out his arms for Izzy and then cuddled her close, just as Gabby had. “How can I not accept her,” he asked, “when she’s a part of you? And when you’re such a wonderful mother to her, even after all you went through?” He placed a resounding kiss on the top of Izzy’s head, and she laughed up at him, so sweet and trusting.
Seeing the two of them together, Gabby’s eyes filled.
The Secret Christmas Child Page 17