by Jillian Hart
“Anytime,” she tossed over her shoulder, fighting the terrifying realization that when she walked away, it didn’t break the snap of closeness between them. She liked Michael way too much. And not like a coworker, not like a friend, but more.
Much more.
She got Alicia and her mom checked out, tucked safely in their car and headed home through icy roads and darkness. Everywhere she looked shone Christmas cheer in yard displays, house displays and even on her front porch, where garlands of lights hung in the windows to celebrate the season.
“There’s my girl.” Dad opened the door to welcome her home as Dee barked a greeting. “I heard your boots stomping up the steps. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Let me take your coat.” Meg leaped over to take the garment Chelsea shrugged out of. “We’ve got the decorations out of the attic—”
“The ones we could find anyway,” Johanna finished, tromping over with a cup of steamy, foamy cocoa. “Here, this will warm you up. I can’t believe how cold it is out there.”
“Come sit by the fire,” Sara Beth invited, patting the cushion of the chair she abandoned. “We’ll get you unthawed and then start decorating. Dad, which Christmas album do you want to listen to?”
“It’s my pick, is it?” Dad inhaled, as if buoying himself against the painful truth that Mom had always decided the carols they would sing to while they decorated the tree. “Which one did your mother always like?”
“It’s by Amy Grant. Let me get it.” Sara Beth thumbed through the CDs stored in a drawer, head bent, dark hair tumbling over her slender shoulder. “We’ll start with Mom’s favorite. That’s fitting. Maybe she’ll sing along with us as she’s looking down from heaven.”
“Maybe,” Dad said, absently patting the yellow Lab. Dee licked his hand consolingly. “Maybe heaven isn’t always so far away.”
That was Chelsea’s prayer, too. She settled into the chair, careful not to disturb Burt, who snoozed on top of the back cushion, and sipped hot chocolate, thankful to be home with her family. Bayly lifted his head from his dog bed by the hearth, companionably acknowledging her, as they soaked up the heat from the crackling fire together.
“Hey, I got a question for ya.” Johanna dropped down on the nearby couch. “Do you remember where we put the special ornaments?”
“The ones Mom got for us every Christmas?” She licked marshmallow fluff off her top lip. “Well, I don’t know, not off the top of my head.”
“Bummer. They weren’t with the regular Christmas stuff in the attic.” Johanna plopped her feet on the coffee table and studied her fuzzy slippers. “I thought it might be nice to use them this year. I know we’re supposed to keep them for our own families one day, but—” She fell silent.
Chelsea understood exactly what Johanna meant. “If we use them this year, it will be special. A new tradition. Brilliant idea.”
“Thanks, I thought so, too.”
“I might know where they could be, but don’t get your hopes up.” She hated leaving the relaxing heat by the fire, but duty called. “Want to come help me look?”
“Just try and stop me.” Johanna’s feet hit the floor. Bayly sighed and went back to sleep on his comfy bed. “Hey, Meg, keep Dad busy until we get back.”
“I’m on it. Holler if you need help.” Meg looked up from petting Dee.
“Will do,” Johanna promised, leading the way upstairs. “So, we all conferred while you were gone.”
“You did? Glad I wasn’t there,” Chelsea quipped as she went up on tiptoe and yanked down the attic stairs. Cool air radiated from the dark rafters overhead and she climbed up into it. “I hate to ask what you all conferred about.”
“Ideas on what to get Dad for Christmas, which came to zip. It’s driving me crazy.” Johanna flicked on a switch and bare bulbs shot light down from the rafters. “He has everything. He wants nothing. Meg and I have been throwing little hints at him. For weeks. It hasn’t done a bit of good.”
“What kind of hints?” Chelsea wove around a stack of dusty boxes.
“Like when we’re at the clinic and one of us will say, ‘Hey, maybe I should spring for a tablet computer like Chelsea has. It’s cool, don’t you think?’ Or ‘Do you know what you need? A new saddle,’ but we get nothing from him. Not so much as a ‘Hmm, that sounds interesting.’”
“A new saddle is a good idea, his is ancient.” She ducked, following the slope of the roof. “I can’t see him using an iPad. You can barely get him to use the computer.”
“Hey, I was desperate. We’ve tried everything else.” Johanna plopped down on an old rocking chair. Dust puffed into the air. “Is it me, or do you seem distracted?”
“I’m not distracted.” That wasn’t the exact word. Troubled, that was more accurate, troubled and trying to deny it—not that it was working. She picked her way around a little pink bureau that used to be Sara Beth’s and opened Mom’s old hope chest. “I bumped into Michael Kramer at the hospital this afternoon. He was called in, too.”
“That can’t be good news, since he’s an oncologist.” Johanna’s forehead furrowed with concern. She was adorable with her thick straight hair, her big brown eyes luminous with concern and her lovely porcelain features. “Did he have to admit a sick child?”
“Yes. A little girl I met at the clinic yesterday. Such a sweetheart. They’d been praying for remission and now her kidneys are in trouble. If she doesn’t turn around, the news isn’t good.” This was the tough side of being a doctor. Everything had two sides—love, life, health. It was the way God had made the world. Nothing on this earth remained, not one thing lasted.
Only love. She pushed aside the tissue paper and a fragile ceramic figurine smiled up at her. An adorable little girl holding a floppy-eared dog. “Found them!”
“Awesome, Chels. You rock.” Johanna bolted out of the chair. “Sara Beth is going to do a Snoopy dance. Using them was her idea. This is just perfect.”
“Perfect,” Chelsea agreed, holding up the ornament by its delicate gold braid. “I think Mom would approve.”
“I do, too.” Johanna dropped to her knees and pawed through the tissue paper. “Oh, this is my favorite. A cat with a candy cane. Wait, there’s something else here.”
“Here, give me the cat.” Chelsea took the fragile figurine and set both of them on the floor. “What do you have there?”
“It’s a present. A Christmas present.” Johanna held the square box the size of a large coffee mug as if she were afraid it would break. “Do you know what this is?”
“No. Let me see.” She leaned in to read the foil tag taped neatly beneath the beautiful red crepe ribbon. “To Sara Beth from Mom.”
Seeing their mother’s handwriting was a shock, as if it was something she could have just written yesterday, as if she wasn’t gone after all, as if she could be just downstairs with the rest of the family. Tears burned behind Chelsea’s eyes. She sank back on her heels, her knees biting into the rough wood floor.
“She hid it up here, like she always did. Remember how she’d start Christmas shopping in January?” Johanna laid the wrapped box down shakily. “She was hoping to be here for one more Christmas.”
“We were hoping, too.” Their mom had left one final gift, one that meant more than any other. “We have to tell Sara Beth.”
“Wait, there’s more.” Johanna pawed out another identical box wrapped in festive Christmas paper and tied with a fancy bow. “To Meg. Oh, and this is for me. Chels, there’s one more in here.”
Chelsea closed her eyes, listening to the crackle of tissue paper. She didn’t think she could bear it, this last present from Mom. When she opened her eyes, Johanna held out the last box, wrapped in cheerful red paper and topped with a silver bow.
To my Chelsea, she read on the tag, taking the gift with an unsteady hand. With all my love, Mom
.
The words blurred with the tears she held back. Memories rushed in and pushed away all her sadness. Of Mom standing in the corner of the attic, a scarf wrapped around her head, searching for the angel topper for the tree. Of Mom’s melodic alto rising and falling with a Christmas carol’s tune as she wrapped presents at the kitchen table. Of Mom stashing gifts in the back of the hallway closet. “Oops, Chelsea, there you are. Whatever you do, don’t tell your sisters I stash presents in here.”
Chelsea blinked to keep tears from falling as the memories faded. The attic came into clear focus around her with its mishmash of stacked stuff and Johanna on her knees, her hands to her face. Her poor little sister. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Sure. Yeah. Fine.” After a muffled sniff Johanna lowered her hands, trying to dismiss her true feelings with a shoulder shrug. “It just took me by surprise, that’s all. Just thinking of Mom hiding these when she was so sick, and I was—” Johanna’s sob echoed against the open beams and she lowered her face into her hands again.
“I know.” Chelsea scooted over to slip an arm around her sister. “I miss her so much I can’t breathe.”
“Me, too.” Johanna leaned in, resting her head on Chelsea’s shoulder. When sisters were together, everything was a little easier. “I just wish we could roll back time, just once, to see her again. Just for a one day.”
“Any day,” Chelsea agreed. “A day with Mom in it was a good day.”
“Remember her laugh?” Johanna rubbed her wet cheeks with her sleeve. “And how she was always singing? I’m not sure one day would be enough. If my wish could come true, if God did turn back time, I’d still want another day with her.”
“Me, too.” Chelsea spotted the edge of another figurine in the crinkled paper and unearthed it. She held up the ornament by its gold braid, four little girl angels singing. “Her love is still here.”
“It really is.” One last tear trailed down Johanna’s cheek. “Do you hear that? Mom’s favorite song.”
It drifted up from the stairwell, Dad, Meg and Sara Beth’s voices singing in harmony. The thing about life was that it whizzed by so fast with responsibilities and things to get done and to-do lists to complete that it was easy to forget every passing moment was golden. Once spent, it was gone forever. It mattered how you spent it.
“C’mon.” Chelsea held out her hand. “Let’s take this stuff down. We’ve got a tree to decorate.”
“And songs to sing,” Johanna finished, smiling through watery eyes. “And cookies to eat.”
“And hot chocolate to drink.” Her blessings were all around her in the family she loved. A bright flash at the far side of the attic grabbed her attention. The icicle lights, dangled in front of the single round window, dancing in the night breeze as if moved by a loving hand. Chelsea adored those lights. Somehow Mom didn’t feel far away.
She scooped up the ornaments, Johanna gathered the presents and they headed downstairs together.
Chapter Eleven
God graced the day with flawless sun and sky, which framed the white steeple church on Mission Street with heavenly beauty. At the base of the wide cement stairs, Michael hugged his little girl in the after-service rush, not wanting to let her go. Kelsey’s condition weighed heavy on his heart as he knelt in front of his Macie, the daughter he loved. “I’ll be home soon and we’ll do something fun.”
“Like going sleighing?” Bluebonnet blue eyes pinched with the power of her plea.
“Sure, okay, we can go sledding. I’ll dig out your sled from the garage—”
“No. Sleighing. Like at the stables. Remember, I told you?” She shook her head at him, tsking like a schoolmarm, her brown curls a soft cloud around her face. Nothing on earth could be cuter. “A horse and sleigh. Like the song, ‘Jingle Bells’? Do I have to sing it for you, Daddy?”
“No, I get it.” He tweaked her nose. “I know the song. I was thinking more along the lines of putting up lights on the house.”
“Really? Did you hear that, Grammy? He didn’t say no.” Macie tilted her head, gazing up at her grandmother expecting complete solidarity.
“I stand as witness. I heard no ‘no.’ You’re in trouble now, son.” Mom caught Macie’s gloved hand. “Call if you’re going to be late.”
“I’ll keep you updated,” he promised.
“See you later, alligator.” Macie tromped off beside her grandmother heading for the parking lot while chatting away, his precious girl.
“What a sweetheart.” A woman’s voice caught his attention, but he didn’t recognize her until she was at his side. Mrs. Collins. “Looks like the McKaslin girls underreported things. My kittens won’t be going to a good home. They’ll be going to a great one. Your daughter is so sweet and gentle. It’s easy to see those little ones will be well loved.”
“Big-time. I can promise you.”
“Say, Dr. Steve said you were taking his place on the food drive committee. We’re a small group, but vital. It’s hard to think we have families in our own church struggling to put food on the table. I think we are going to make this the best food drive in our history.”
“Sounds like a noble goal.” He thought of the families he knew, struggling to pay medical costs and hold on to their homes, and the ones he didn’t, drowning in these uncertain economic times. “Glad to help. Should we head inside and get started?”
“We have a few minutes yet. I’ve got a few people to chat up and then I’ll be in.” She secured the ends of her scarf more tightly beneath her chin and hurried off, waving down the choir director.
His phone buzzed as he climbed the church steps, going against the grain. The last of the churchgoers straggled out as he shouldered in. Warmth enveloped him as he crossed the vestibule, the coved ceiling overhead echoing with his footsteps. He wove around the food donation barrels. The wide double doors leading into the sanctuary stood open and gave him a perfect view of a woman kneeling, her light chestnut locks cascading down her back and her head bowed in prayer.
Chelsea. The sun through the stained glass windows found her, washing her with jewel colors of light. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful.
“Michael.” She rose from the pew, gathering her wool coat and bag from the seat. “I figured I’d be running into you here.”
“Imagine that.” A smile broke through him like the first rays of morning sun, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the change in him because of her. “Guess we have a meeting to attend. Hope it doesn’t take long. I haven’t had lunch yet.”
“Me either. My stomach is rumbling.” She swished into the aisle, her sapphire blue dress nipping in at her small waist and swirling around her knees. “I was just saying a prayer for Kelsey and her family.”
“I’m sure they would appreciate that.” The Koffmans hadn’t shown up for church, not wanting to leave their daughter’s side. Every moment they spent with Kelsey was precious, and time was ticking down. At least, that was his fear. “No calls, so Kelsey’s holding steady.”
“That’s what her mom said in her text this morning.” Chelsea folded her coat and slung it across her slender arm. “I checked in on her, I promised to keep in touch. Maybe there’s something I can do to help, even if it’s running errands or bringing them a meal.”
“That’s beyond the call of duty.” He ambled closer. Chelsea’s ability to care about others was one thing he admired about her. “It’s nice of you.”
“No, it’s the season.” She dismissed his compliment with a wave of her slim hand. “I’m in the Christmas spirit. It’s really why we’re here on this earth. To help one another.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Or the fact that he’d fallen for her, hard and fast. He had no idea what to do about it, so he shuffled his feet, staring down at the polished toes of his shoes. Before he could say anything more, footsteps tapped in the aisle be
hind him.
“So, the rumors are true. Michael, you are here.” Dr. Susan Benedict rushed down the aisle. “Steven told me, but I didn’t believe it. I’m so glad you’re taking his place.”
“Steve is hard to say no to.” Grateful for the interruption, he tried to pry his attention away from Chelsea beside him.
No good. No matter how hard he tried, Chelsea stayed in his periphery, not his focus, as she marched to a stop.
“That’s why I’m here, too,” Chelsea’s soft alto warmed with humor, drawing him in, holding him captive. She greeted Susan with a smile. “The inability to say no.”
“Tell me about it. I fell into that trap years ago,” Susan admitted, her voice distant to his ears when Chelsea’s was not.
As the women chatted and Mrs. Collins joined them, all he could see was Chelsea. Chelsea smiling. Chelsea laughing. Chelsea’s interest as she asked about the kittens. Watching her, he felt a door open to his heart. He couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
* * *
Okay, so this isn’t so bad, right? Chelsea thought as she scooted her chair closer to the table in the minister’s cozy kitchen. I’m well fed and warm, I’m in good company and this apple cobbler is to die for. Everything’s good. Well, except for one thing.
The man across the table. Michael’s resonant voice rumbled in answer to the minister’s question and everyone else around the table nodded, so she did, too. Could she concentrate? No. Her mind whirled way too much for that, going around and around on an endless loop. Every time she glanced at him her feelings grew. She felt a sparkle, like twinkle lights on a Christmas tree, festive and bright and hopeful.
This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
“Chelsea and I will do it.” Susan spoke up beside her, looking at her expectantly. “It’ll be fun, right?”
“Uh, sure. Right.” Warning bells went off in her head. Maybe she hadn’t been as subtle about gaping at Michael as she’d thought. And really, she should be paying better attention. Well, whatever she’d volunteered to do would be more fun with Susan. “Okay.”