Christmas Blessings: Seven Inspirational Romances of Faith, Hope, and Love

by Leah Atwood

  If she was honest, though, it wasn’t only that. It was also…well, just the embarrassment of it all. Hearing Colin say out loud that she’d come to Iowa looking for him—it sounded so ridiculous. Humiliating. Sure, Drew might’ve refuted Colin, but give him a day or two and he’d probably look back and wonder what he was thinking, going on a date with a girl who not even a month ago had still been carrying around a postcard from his brother.

  Drew was so grounded, while she was so flighty, fanciful. Just like Dean said. And Drew would’ve seen it eventually.

  “What aren’t you saying, Mare?” Remy’s hands were on her hips. Instead of answering, she leaned in to hug her friend. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, but don’t think I don’t know what this is. Your art of avoidance is slipping.”

  “I’ll try to work on that,” she said over Remy’s shoulder before releasing her. “Come on, let’s go join the party. Mom hired a new caterer this year and the appetizers are amazing. I hid a plate in the pantry.”

  “Glad to see Iowa didn’t change you too much.”

  Maren willed a laugh to the surface and spent the rest of the evening doing the same, trying her best to make conversation and hold her smile in place.

  And ignoring the questions that kept itching through her: Had Colin stuck around for Christmas at the farm? Had the church’s live nativity—the one she’d heard about during her two Sundays there— gone well? Did Winnie know yet she was getting a new bed for Christmas?

  What was Drew doing tonight?

  And why hadn’t she heard from him?

  And what might’ve happened if she hadn’t left in such a rush?

  An hour passed, then two. Maren extracted herself from a conversation about Christmas movies and went in search of something to drink. But she paused in the entryway at the sight of Dean knotting a scarf around his neck, ushering Bridget to the door.

  Impulse took over then and she found herself hurrying over the foyer’s oval Christmas rug and catching the door before it closed behind the couple.

  “Dean.”

  He stopped halfway down the cement steps.

  The wreath on the front door jingled as she pulled it closed. The white of the moon spread in a haze over a starless sky.

  “Hey, Mare.”

  Bracing night air cloaked her and she wrapped her arms around her middle. “Hey, Dean, Bridget. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to say hi earlier.”

  He glanced back at Bridget, who offered Maren a nimble smile before stepping to the sidewalk. “I’ll get the car started.”

  Dean turned back to her, question or maybe apology in his eyes. “I didn’t know you’d be here. My parents insisted we stop by. Sorry if it was awkward or anything.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m glad our parents are still friends.” She shivered against the breeze. Why hadn’t she grabbed a coat before following him out? “I just…I wanted to say…”

  She took a pinched breath and let it out before going on.

  “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like my writing was more important to me than you were.”

  He buttoned up his coat. “That was a long time ago.”

  “But I never said it. And I’m sorry if I idealized my own character too much or something. If I ever implied…or made you feel like…” Her words stalled but it didn’t matter because Dean’s abrupt laughter interrupted her anyway. “I’m trying to make a heartfelt apology here, Dean.”

  “I know.” He fastened his last button. “But here you are apologizing for your writing dream and your detective guy of all things and it’s hitting me how ridiculous we were.” At her stare, he shook his head. “How ridiculous I was, I mean. I was legit jealous of your main character, do you realize that?”

  “That’s why I’m saying I’m sorry.”

  “You do not need to be sorry for my own insecurities, Mare.” He shook his head again while pulling on a pair of leather gloves. “Look, yes, I was continually frustrated that you seemed to prefer writing over my company. And I made a big deal of reading your story notes and not digging your main character and all that. But those were just my chosen big-ticket items. We had a lot of other problems—smaller stuff, but stuff that mattered.”

  What? “This is not how I expected this conversation to go.”

  “I didn’t expect we’d ever have this conversation at all. But come on, think about it. We were constantly on different pages. If we’d paid more attention to the little things, we might’ve been smart enough to call it quits before it got to the big stuff.” He glanced back at his wife waiting in the car. “But it all worked out, yeah? I’m married to someone who thinks my vintage car obsession is charming and you’ve had a book published and…” He shrugged. “It’s all good, right?”

  “Sure.” Her voice had gone flat. “All good.”

  He gave her a small wave before backing away and jogging to his car. She watched him drive away, the cold numbing her fingers, but she couldn’t make herself turn around. Not yet.

  She heard the door unlatch behind her.

  “Who left? Who’d I miss saying goodbye to?” Mom joined her on the top step. “And what are you doing out here without a coat?”

  “That was Dean and his wife.”

  Mom groaned. “Drat. I was trying all night to keep you from having to deal with him. I kept sending your dad to intercept. He must’ve slacked off.”

  “Don’t scold him, Mom, I’m the one who chased Dean out. Had this silly idea that maybe I should apologize for some things. I don’t know, get closure or something.” Mom snuck an arm around her waist and she leaned in. “But he basically brushed me off. Told me there was no need to apologize for the big things, when really it’s the little things that broke us up. Whatever that means.”

  Mom tilted her head as Dean’s headlights disappeared around the block. “Hmm. Makes sense, I guess.”

  “Really?” Just bizarre, this whole night.

  “Sure, I mean, look at the flip side. It’s the little things that make a great marriage. Your father and I? We’ve had some splendid big moments. But it’s the little stuff that glues us together—the way he always knows where I’ve left my glasses, the post-it notes I still leave him around the house, how he peeled himself away from a half-dozen conversations tonight to make sure his daughter didn’t have an awkward run-in with an ex-boyfriend.” Mom chuckled. “’Course, then you went an orchestrated a run-in on your own.”

  Mom steered her around. “Come on. Let’s go inside and get warmed up and eventually all these guests will leave and you can finally tell me what happened in Iowa.”

  “You sound like Remy.”

  Mom tsked and opened the front door. “I’m your mother, dear. I deserve the details first.”

  * * *

  If Leigh had to move out, at least she’d picked a good townhouse.

  “I can’t believe they let us stop over on Christmas Eve night.” Leigh turned a full circle in the home’s spacious first floor. Her voice echoed off the freshly painted walls and laminate floor—not real wood, but it looked to be in good shape at least.

  “That would be the perk of living in a small town.” And going to church with the landlord. When Drew had found out what house Leigh was interested in, he realized he knew the owner. He’d talked to Pete at the Christmas Eve program and asked if there was any way they could take a look after the service.

  Call it an early Christmas present.

  Drew wandered to the fireplace in the corner, crouched and opened the grate near the bottom. “Looks easy enough to light the pilot. Red knob’s the gas. Then there’s the pilot on/off switch and the button that actually lights the thing.” He glanced over at Leigh, who was now checking out the galley-style kitchen. He could write fireplace instructions for her later.

  He replaced the grate and stood. “So what do you think?”

  “I think it’s perfect.” She worked her way along the cupboards, opening each one, and then gasping when she opened the
pantry door. “It’s huge! I’ve never had a pantry before.”

  He had to swallow his own rebuttal, the reminder that the farmhouse had a pantry three times the size of the little closet she’d disappeared inside now. And that he’d have more space than he knew what to do with once she moved out.

  It’d hounded him for days, the approaching emptiness. The house felt hollow enough as it was, ever since Maren left just over a week ago. Colin might’ve filled one of the bedrooms, but he was like a ghost in the house—whisking through now and then but more often than not out with hometown friends. Their conversations were stilted. The interactions, minimal.

  But he’s still here.

  Maybe the fact should fill him with hope. But he kept waiting for the inevitable moment when Colin would take off again. Drew had thought tonight—the service, the live nativity—might make him feel better, tug his Christmas focus back where it belonged. But as he’d stood outside, moonlight sloping over the inclined roof of the makeshift stable, the candlelight and the costumes, the languid strains of “Silent Night,” none of it managed to quell the tide of unease churning inside him.

  Leigh’s happiness now, though, helped at least a little. She hadn’t stopped smiling since they pulled up in front of the place. He should’ve seen it earlier—her hesitation about living at the farmhouse, her need for space. Leigh had always been that way—independent, a free spirit. She’d felt squashed at the farm.

  He’d just been too busy trying to decide what was right for her to see it.

  “I’m already imagining where I’m going to put furniture. Once I buy some, that is. I’ll need to save up awhile longer, but I’m sure I can get some cheap second-hand stuff in the meantime.” She tried out a light switch in the kitchen and jumped when it turned out to be the garbage disposal.

  “Or you can take some from the farm. Not like I need everything. You should take the piano, at least.”

  Apparently he hadn’t done enough to mask the dejection in his tone, because Leigh angled around the peninsula that overlooked the rest of the first floor and met him in the narrow dining area. “You understand, right? I love you to death, Drew.”

  “I know.”

  “And I know you’re dying to ask how I can afford this, but the assistant manager position comes with a raise and I’ve reviewed my budget plenty. Frankly, the rent’s uncannily cheap.”

  Probably because Pete was giving her a break. The man had a soft heart. And no doubt Seth Walker was being more than generous with the raise he’d granted Leigh. Maple Valley might be quirky, but there was no shortage of kindness and generosity.

  “Besides, this change is going to be as good for you as it us.” Leigh looked up at him. “You can go back to being the doting uncle who spoils Winnie like crazy instead of having to deal with things like calls from the school and whatnot.”

  “You realize I’ll hold you to that, right?” He zipped up his vest. “She comes asking me for money for expensive concert tickets to that one band she likes, I’m not only getting the tickets, I’m driving her there and buying her a t-shirt and making sure she gets backstage.”

  “You have my full permission.” She watched him replace his fingerless gloves. “Why are you bundling up? I know Winnie’s eager for presents, but we haven’t seen the second floor yet.”

  “I know. I thought maybe you’d want to check it out yourself. I’ll wait outside.”

  She just looked at him for a moment, excitement giving way to gratefulness. She pulled him into a hug and promised not to take long.

  He was at the door when she stopped him. “Drew?”

  “Yup?” He clasped the knob.

  “You could call her, you know.”

  “Who—”

  “Don’t even pretend. Text, email, show up on her doorstep like she did yours. You’ve got all kinds of options.”

  He turned. “Leigh—”

  “None of my business, I know, and don’t think I haven’t noticed how massively hard you’ve been trying to give me space. Stepping back and letting your siblings figure out their own lives, that’s one thing. But giving too much space to the first girl to pique your interest in I don’t even know how many years, that’s another thing entirely.”

  If there was a response to be had, he couldn’t find it. Not underneath his surprise at how clearly his sister had seen through him. And how easy she made it sound.

  And how crazily, incredibly much he missed Maren Grant.

  “Just don’t wait too long, okay?”

  Words still stalled, he only nodded and then let himself out of the house. And then stopped halfway down the sidewalk when he saw the car parked behind his at the curb, the figure leaning against it. “Colin?”

  Colin straightened as Drew approached. “Winnie said you guys were here. Well, not here-here. She said you were looking at a townhouse and Maple Valley only has a few of those, so it wasn’t hard to find you.”

  “I thought you were with friends tonight.”

  Colin’s gaze dropped to the ground, one foot digging into the snow. “No, uh, actually I went to the Christmas Eve thing at the church. Sat in back.” He glanced up. “Hey, remember that time a kid accidentally burned down the stable during the live nativity?”

  “That was you, Colin.”

  “My first taste of acting.” His grin faded just a hint. “Huh, maybe it should’ve been a sign. Anyway…” He looked past Drew and took a breath, as if gathering energy for his next words. “I’m getting ready to head out.”

  “What?”

  “Said bye to Winnie at the house. Car’s packed, gassed up. All that’s left is you and Leigh and—”

  “You can’t leave. It’s Christmas Eve. Mom and Dad are coming in tomorrow and—”

  “And that’s why I’m going.” Colin’s stance went limp, hands in his pockets. He slackened against his car. “You know how it is, all the times they’ve had to bail me out of stuff. I’ve disappointed them one too many times.”

  Drew opened his mouth, but…he had nothing. No argument, no pleading request for Colin to stay. Maybe he really was turning some kind of corner. Learning to wait instead of rushing in to advise or fix things or whatever.

  Learning to hush his own regret and believe the God he was trying to trust his own future with could also be entrusted with his family’s.

  “I’m just not ready.” Colin twisted a glove in his hands. “I’m sorry about the farm. I know you had big plans.”

  It was the first time Colin had brought it up since the night of the carnival. And for the first time since Drew had made the decision to move home in the first place, something loosened inside him.

  “Do you really want to be a farmer?”

  Maren’s voice, her question…it’d hummed along under the surface for more than a week now. And maybe he could finally really answer it.

  No. Did he love the idea of keeping Grandpa’s dream alive? Sure. Would it have been great if both he and Colin could’ve made a living off the land? Yeah, it’d sounded nice.

  But would either of them have been happy? “It’s okay, Colin.”

  “And about Maren…”

  First time she’d come up, too. Out loud, anyway. But there wasn’t a day since she’d left he hadn’t felt her absence.

  Colin opened his car door, reached inside and pulled out a book. Maren’s book. “Early Christmas gift.”

  “Why…?”

  “Spent the last two days reading it. If you haven’t yet, you really should.”

  Colin’s face stared at him from the cover. “I will eventually.” When he could get its author out of his head long enough to focus on it.

  “Just don’t take too long.”

  Same thing Leigh had said only minutes ago. Which was strange, come to think of it—his siblings giving him advice instead of the other way around. “Why?”

  Colin rounded his car and opened the door. “Because she wrote you onto the page before she’d ever met you.”

  He dropped into the
car.

  Chapter 11

  The last time Maren Grant pulled up to the Renwycke farmhouse, took in the faded barn and the snow-laced maple tree, the circle drive that wrapped around the front of the house like a gravel grin, she’d half-expected to find the property abandoned.

  This time, the signs of life were everywhere. Footprints in the snow and tire tracks on the road. Garland coiled around the porch railing and stringed lights tracing the rooftop.

  So why didn’t anyone answer her knock?

  She tried again, then stepped back, porch boards creaking under her boots. Boots she barely needed as sunshine thawed the air this Christmas Day. If it stayed this warm, snowy fields would turn patchy and that row of icicles over the porch might fall. So much for a white Christmas.

  Didn’t matter, though.

  She didn’t need a snow globe landscape or haze of holiday magic. She didn’t need white-tipped trees or snowflakes and stars bedecking a dazzling sky.

  She did, however, need Drew. Who didn’t appear to be here.

  She’d figured it might be incredibly awkward crashing a family Christmas. Had asked herself a hundred times why she couldn’t at least wait until the day after to come here. But after she’d poured her heart out to Mom and Dad and Remy last night, they’d practically forced her out the door. In fact, if they’d had their way, she would’ve left last night.

  Dad: “You’re worried Drew will think you’re too flighty and fanciful? That’s ridiculous. It’s one of the best things about you. And if he’s a no-nonsense kind of guy, then you’re the perfect complement for him. If he’s any kind of smart, he’ll realize that and like you all the more for it.”

  Mom: “I know you’re worried about coming in between him and his brother. But they’re grown men, dear. They’ll either choose to work out their issues or they won’t. But whatever happened between them started long before you came along and you know it.”

  Remy: “Don’t be an idiot, Mare. Go.”

  So she’d obeyed and every time the worry crept in that she’d be disrupting the Renwycke family’s Christmas, she reminded herself that she had actually prayed about this last night. And that the best things could happen on Christmas. That Mary and Joseph had made their own trek, probably full of doubts and concerns and…