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

by Leah Atwood

  And just like old times, a tall Christmas tree stood in the middle of the living room. Setting it up this morning and decorating it together with his grandfather had given him a warm feeling in his chest.

  “I have to admit, I enjoyed escorting Michael to his car,” Arturo said.

  “I’m sure you did. By the way, thank you for buying me a new truck today.”

  “You’re very welcome. I wish you’d let me buy you a smaller and more convenient vehicle. That was the idea of going to choose a car in the first place. Instead, you bought another truck.” Arturo’s success had given him the ability to buy things easily. Not that he spent all that much. But he took great pleasure in giving his grandfather gifts.

  Grandpa’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “I like it. And it has a step. My foot should heal eventually, and I’ll be able to drive. You can return the rental car and drive my truck while you’re here.”

  “About that. You said yesterday you’d think about moving to Houston with me. I could get you the best doctors, best care, best everything.”

  Grandpa’s face darkened. “I thought about it. No.”

  “No?” Air whooshed out of his lungs. Arturo felt as if he’d run into a wall. He’d had some of those in training camp and then in games in the shape of strong and massive linebackers. Those walls he knew how to deal with, though hits had left him in pain sometimes. This hit, though expected, brought a different kind of pain.

  “No.”

  “Grandpa, it would be better for you in Houston.” Not to mention, it would give Arturo an opportunity to look after him.

  “I love it here. This is where I was born. This is where I’m going to die. Where my friends and home are. But don’t let me hold you up. You have to go back soon, don’t you?”

  “Tomorrow.” Loyalty to his coaches, teammates, and fans warred with his love for his family. He’d let someone down no matter what he chose. His heart ached, split into two parts.

  “You shouldn’t miss practices and the game. Your team needs you, nieto. You can make it to the playoffs, probably further.”

  Arturo’s chest swelled. “We can win this year. I feel it. Coach Stanton is amazing. Our quarterback could lead an army. His strategic thinking and ability to keep calm under pressure are out of this world. And the quickness of his arm… That’s a talent. Brandon was born to be a wide receiver. And our defense… Man! Did you see how they sacked the quarterback last Sunday? Several times!”

  “I’ve seen every one of your games.” Grandpa smiled.

  Arturo’s shoulders sagged. “I can’t leave you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll check my blood sugar regularly. And I’ve got Miss Lana.” Grandpa glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner for, like, the fifth time.

  Arturo was sure it wasn’t to admire the carved handwork. Lana was supposed to be here any minute. Arturo checked the clock, too. Apparently, they were both anxious to see her.

  No, he couldn’t let himself be attracted to a small-town nurse when his life and his dreams were in Houston. And short daily visits from Lana, even if she was an excellent nurse, weren’t enough to keep his grandfather safe.

  A lightbulb went on in his head. Lana could help him talk Mr. Grumpiest into moving to Houston, at least temporarily. Grandpa seemed to think highly of her, so maybe he’d listen to her.

  Arturo left the open-concept kitchen and joined his grandfather. “Grandpa, would you like anything else?”

  “No, gracias.” His grandfather stared at the fireplace mantel, and Arturo followed his gaze.

  Two red-and-white socks that Grandma had sewn together and embroidered with the names Amaro and Arturo. His heart squeezed at the missing third sock with her name on it.

  Grandma’s presence was felt in her lovely crochets, in framed floral embroideries on the walls, in a quilt with a candy cane pattern thrown over the sofa, and in a rug on the floor that had been woven out of strips of unused fabric. And in Christmas tree ornaments that he, Grandma, and Grandpa had made together so many years ago. But her absence was felt deeply in Arturo’s heart.

  Grandpa’s eyes became misty, and he turned away. He probably needed a moment to himself and his memories.

  Arturo headed to his childhood room, which still housed his many sports trophies and photos. But he didn’t look at those. He stared at the baby blanket Grandma had knit years ago, for her future great-grandchild. For her nonexistent great-grandchild.

  Arturo hadn’t made Grandma’s dream come true. A vice squeezed his heart.

  “You miss her, don’t you?” A melodic voice interrupted his thoughts.

  He turned around to find Lana looking at him, compassion in her eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was walking down the hall to the bathroom to wash my hands. I saw you in the door opening. You looked so sad…” Her voice trailed off.

  “I feel like I failed my grandmother somehow,” he blurted out. “She wanted for me what she and Grandpa had, a happy marriage based on faith and love. A marriage that lasted over half a century. And she wanted great-grandchildren so badly. But I’ve never met a person I could fall in love with.”

  “Never?” she echoed.

  Maybe until now.

  He shook his head at the crazy thought. “Not that I was looking. Football takes everything I’ve got. It requires complete dedication, and I’m happy to give it. My coaches and teammates are my family, as well as my fans. We stand up for each other and help each other.” He had a jab of guilt for leaving his team, even if only for several days.

  She touched his hand, ever so slightly, and his breath went shallow. Lana seemed to affect him in a strong way.

  “Then you shouldn’t blame yourself,” she said. “Marriage between two people who are indifferent toward each other isn’t a happy marriage.”

  “I know that too well. When I was growing up, Dad was drinking, which made Mom more and more depressed. They withdrew from each other and from me. I spent most of my childhood here, at my grandparents’ place.” The locks he’d kept on his memories were broken, and words came tumbling out, like wild animals out of a cage. “When I was eight, my parents moved to Austin. Dad had trouble keeping a job here, missing too many days due to hangovers. Things got worse.”

  Why was he telling her all this? She was a stranger to him. Not that his parents’ issues were a huge secret. The media had already dug the information up and gnawed on it until there wasn’t even a scent of meat on the bones. But he hadn’t volunteered that story to anybody, not even to Brandon. Especially not to Brandon, who’d gone through his own troubles with drinking binges.

  She listened to him, eyes wide open, as if hanging on to every word. He sensed kindness in her that drew him in like a vortex. Maybe the fact that she was a stranger actually helped. He’d probably never see her again after returning to Houston. Besides, his grandfather trusted her, and she seemed to care about Mr. Grumpiest for real. His teammates wouldn’t understand why he had to stay to help his grandfather. But this woman… He had a feeling she would.

  “Things got worse?” She broke the silence as she leaned against his desk.

  “I looked, talked, and acted different from the kids in a new school and neighborhood. I had the valley accent, and my skin was darker. Not to mention my clothes were old and often unkempt. I was an outsider. I didn’t belong. I was either ignored or picked on.”

  “That’s horrible.” Indignation rang in her voice. Something else was there, too. Understanding.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “I got into fights. Skipped school. Broke windows. I wanted to take out my anger on… something. The more Dad drank, the more Mom withdrew into herself. Now they could also blame me for their miseries. I got expelled from school. Then I got beaten up. Badly. So I called the only person I knew who’d care.”

  She nodded. “Your grandfather.”

  “Yes. Grandpa came immediately and brought me back here.” He studied her.

  In Hous
ton, he had to be tough and competitive. He couldn’t possibly talk to his teammates about once being a lonely, scared boy who’d wanted his own parents to notice him. He wouldn’t consider talking to a shrink. But now that she softened toward him, it was so easy to open up to Lana.

  “That must’ve been difficult,” she said as if she meant every word.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he hurried to add. “No matter what my childhood was like, I talk to my parents sometimes. Pay all their bills. Send gifts for Christmas. Cars, homes, vacation packages, rehab. Things like that.” For some reason, it was important to him that she had a good opinion of him.

  “But it’s difficult to forgive them,” she said slowly.

  That nailed it. “That’s right. If not for Grandpa, I don’t know what would’ve become of me. I can’t leave him to his own devices. Could you please help me talk him into moving to Houston? At least temporarily.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry, but it’s up to him to decide to move or not.”

  He stifled his disappointment. She couldn’t possibly comprehend what football meant to him. But he did love his grandfather dearly… He felt as if he’d been running through a maze for days, his muscles tired, his heart pounding. He couldn’t find the way out.

  “I’ll try to find ways to help your grandfather here,” she said.

  Kind, understanding, and helpful. She seemed to be too good to be true. She touched his hand ever so slightly and then stepped back, as if she’d inadvertently broken boundaries. He missed her touch immediately. Not good.

  “If I had someone like your grandpa in my life… a grandfather, father, uncle, a third cousin… I’d give my life for a person like that,” she whispered.

  Conviction in her eyes made him flinch. She’d said if. “Your family…”

  “I need to tell you a little secret.”

  Here we go, skeletons in her closet. Just like he’d suspected. He braced himself. “What’s that?”

  “I don’t get the pull of football. I know that’s horribly unpatriotic of me. But I never paid much attention to the game.”

  “That’s a very dark secret indeed.” He wondered what her story was. “What about your parents? Are you close?”

  She visibly recoiled. Then she stared at him, as if deciding whether she should be open with him.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” he said quickly.

  “I…” She took a deep breath. “I’ve never known them.” Her voice shook. “I was found in a trash can near a hospital.”

  For a moment, he was speechless.

  “I’m sorry,” he said finally. His heart went out to her. The protective instinct rose to the surface again, and he wanted to defend her from past and future sorrows.

  Never mind that she’d never asked for his help. And it was he who needed her help with Grandpa.

  “Oh, no, please don’t be sorry. I’ve seen so much suffering in hospitals that I count my blessings every day.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to wash my hands and get back to your grandfather.” She scurried down the hall.

  I’d give my life for a person like that.

  He had a feeling she would.

  * * *

  Arturo returned to the living room, regretting the call he’d made several hours ago. He’d requested Sean Bridges, a private investigator who’d worked for him in the past, to do a background check on Lana Smith. Now, after seeing her kind, vulnerable side, doubt about that call wormed its way inside Arturo.

  However, such precautionary measures had saved him trouble in the past. Some people close to him had harbored rather unsavory intentions. One never could be too careful, especially when it concerned his family. She could have her share of secrets, like all people did, but it was his responsibility to ensure those secrets didn’t hurt him or his grandfather.

  Arturo joined Grandpa, glad to discover him reading and with a smile on his wrinkled face. In spite of his worsened health condition, Mr. Grumpiest didn’t live up to his nickname anymore. Arturo wasn’t self-centered enough to think it was thanks to his arrival. So did the nurse have something to do with it? If so, he sure hoped there were no black spots in her life.

  There had to be a reason she’d changed her attitude toward him. Today, an aura of kindness around her made him comfortable and relaxed in her presence, a welcome change from the tension and hyperawareness of his profession. And at the same time, she made his blood run faster in his veins. Go figure.

  Arturo looked closer at the cover of the book his grandfather was reading.

  The Bible.

  Grandpa seemed to be so much at peace that Arturo wondered whether he, too, could find the answers to the questions that mattered to him in the Bible.

  Lana entered the room, bringing the familiar scents of apple pie and cinnamon with her.

  Grandpa looked up, but she waved at him. “Please don’t mind me. Keep reading.”

  She managed to take Grandpa’s vital signs and change his dressing while he continued reading.

  Conversation with Lana brought a new feeling inside Arturo. Gnawing pain for his messed up childhood didn’t surrender its territory inside him yet. But hope made a tentative appearance, as if his wound had been thoroughly cleansed and scraped. The same thing she was doing with his grandfather’s wound at the moment.

  “All done.” She secured the dressing, snapped off her gloves, and discarded them.

  “The club will meet here today at six, right?” his grandpa asked.

  “What club?” Arturo stepped closer to them.

  “The Blue Yarn Knitters,” Grandpa said.

  Arturo’s eyes widened. “You’re knitting these days?”

  Grandpa sent him an annoyed look. “There’s nothing wrong with knitting. But no. I’m lending the place. Lana organized the club.”

  “My place is too small to accommodate everybody,” Lana chimed in.

  “They donate most of what they make to poor families in town or sell online and donate the proceeds,” Grandpa said.

  An adorable blush colored her cheeks. “It’s not a big deal.”

  His phone rang. He stifled a twang of irritation and glanced at the screen. Stanton, the head coach. Arturo’s hand fisted. It was going to be a difficult conversation. He walked to his room to answer the call.

  When Arturo disconnected minutes later, his heart was heavy. Coach had given him Wednesday to help his grandfather, but Arturo needed to be back in Houston on Thursday. He had to persuade Grandpa to change his mind about moving to Houston.

  When Arturo returned to the living room, Lana was gone.

  His disappointment was probably reflected on his face because Grandpa said, “She’ll be back in the evening. You know, for the knitting club meeting.”

  His heart increased its beat. Grandpa should be his priority, not his nurse. “I can make hamburgers for the knitting club. I’ll get potato chips, too. It’ll have to be hamburger patties and salad for us, though.” He had to avoid fast food and sweets because of his profession, and apparently carbohydrates were bad for his grandfather, too.

  “You’re killing me.” Mr. Grumpiest groaned.

  “Rather the opposite. I’m trying to keep you alive for as long as possible. And either that or your nurse will kill me. How many people are in the club?”

  “Ten. Unless you plan to join.”

  “Um, no, thanks.” Arturo headed to thaw the meat and set up the grill.

  His phone beeped, signaling an incoming message, just as he was getting meat out of the freezer. He glanced at the screen and frowned.

  Brandon.

  His best friend.

  His trusted buddy.

  His loyal teammate.

  How is your grandfather? Will you be here soon?

  The phone beeped again with another text from Brandon.

  You gotta be, man!

  Chapter Five

  The evening breeze touched her face with tender fingers.

  In one hand, Lana balanced the glass tray filled with
a sugar-free, fruit-dairy dessert of bright candy cane colors. With the other hand, she attempted to knock on the door. With Arturo’s arrival, surely it would be locked now.

  The door flung open, and her fist connected with Arturo’s chest instead of the metal

  surface. Oops. The chest was rock solid, as well. Not that she should be noticing such details.

  She looked away, to stare at something else besides his massive muscles, evident even beneath the T-shirt. Way too intimidating for her comfort. “Sorry about that. At least I didn’t fly forward with the dessert ending up on your T-shirt.”

  He didn’t reply, so she looked up.

  His hazel eyes were wide open, and he seemed speechless. Lana hid a smile, happy with the effect she’d produced. She glanced over her outfit.

  A hand-knit white sweater, as well as a long, flowy skirt matching the hue of the strawberry concoction she had in her hands, were simple and nothing like the designer clothes she’d used to wear. But it was a step up from her gray scrubs, and the new outfit was the correct size, for once. She didn’t want to hide in baggy clothes any longer. It hadn’t prevented Michael from finding her, anyway.

  Her scarlet shoes, while inexpensive and modest, were more elegant than the sneakers she usually wore. She didn’t miss her diamond-studded stilettoes at all. Well, maybe a little.

  She bit into her lip slightly, to bring more color to it. She’d debated using makeup and

  had decided against it. But she’d changed her glasses from the ones in an ugly dark frame to the ones in a clear one. She’d also let her curly hair fall on her shoulders instead of hiding it under a baseball cap.

  The change seemed to be enough to put Arturo in a state of shock.

  How about that?

  “May I come in? The tray is kind of heavy.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the

  other. Uh-oh. Did the athlete’s diet allow him to eat desserts? Anyway, she’d made it for the knitting club and not him. Or so was the plan.