Quilted by Christmas (9781426796142)

by Bailey, Jodie

  “You can’t deal with your emotions, so you work.”

  “My fingers to the bone.” Jemma smiled softly and gave Taryn a light hug. “I had to sort through the relief of you knowing the truth and the pain you were feeling. Marnie helped. She listened. And she sewed through the yawns to keep me company.”

  “Another quilt?” Again with the quilts? Taryn didn’t care at this point if she never saw another one. Nor did she care what Jemma had done with the one Justin and she had sewn. For all Taryn cared, it had been thrown in the cheerily popping fireplace the moment her foot hit the bottom step on her way out yesterday.

  The thought sent a pang against her heart. Not really, but denying the truth about her emotions made her feel a little bit better.

  Pride and excitement warred for prominence in Jemma’s expression. “Rachel’s wedding is a little over a week away. With some help, we can get her a proper quilt done in time. And Holly can put a rush on quilting it as long as I get it to her four days ahead of time. I already spoke to her.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday evening.”

  Of course. When did Jemma ever wait on anyone? She probably called smack in the middle of dinner, while Holly was eating, then charmed her until the woman thought the idea of a rush quilting was her own.

  “It’s not hand-sewn.” Wasn’t Jemma’s biggest thing the method of construction? An heirloom quilt must be sewn by hand, or it was not an heirloom.

  “Yes, well, Marnie and I were talking.” Of course they were. “And it’s more important for Rachel to have a quilt than it is for it be hand-sewn. The look on her face . . . Won’t it be worth the work?”

  Still. Taryn’s fingers and her heart both ached from the hours with Justin. And speaking of hearts . . . “You know the doctor told you to be careful with—”

  “My heart is happy. And it will be happier when Rachel opens up her own Irish chain. It’ll be like her mama was here. Tying her together in her family’s history is what she needs. Working toward it for her is what I need.” Tears hung on the edges of her lashes. “Rachel’s new family is the most important thing.” Jemma swiped at her eyes, cheeks pinking with embarrassment over her rare show of emotion, and slapped her hands together. “Now, there is cake to eat. Wait.” She turned on Taryn. “Did you have breakfast?”

  Taryn shook her head.

  “Then you definitely need cake. And afterward, we’ll box up cookies, and you can help me sew.” Jemma was off again, huffing to the kitchen and muttering about fresh coffee.

  Taryn let a smile tip the corner of her mouth. Jemma. Nothing slowed her down. Not a heart condition. Not a broken arm. And not the sadness for Taryn and Justin lurking behind her eyes.

  * * *

  When the pounding on her front door came after midnight, Taryn didn’t have to guess who it was. Justin was not about phone calls. It only made sense he’d show up in person to ask the questions only she could answer.

  She sat up in the bed, letting the covers pool around her waist, and pulled on the App State sweatshirt she’d discarded on the pillow beside her only an hour ago. The pounding continued as she pulled on thick socks and padded to the door, knowing she should hurry, but scared into slow motion by what was sure to be righteous anger.

  The front door squeaked its protest at the late hour as Taryn pulled it open. “Justin.” She didn’t even pretend he’d interrupted her sleep.

  He stepped away until he stood about six feet from the door, near her porch swing, wearing jeans and his ever-present jacket, twisting her heart with the familiarity of the sight. He kept his back to her, staring across the side yard toward the Jenkins house next door. “Tell me about the baby.”

  Small talk wasn’t something she’d expected, but neither was this kind of abruptness. In her mind, Taryn had pictured him angry and loud and ranting, not quiet and to the point. Then again, this was Justin, and she’d only seen him angry once. At her. This quiet was almost scarier, but she deserved it. With a sigh, she tested the door to make sure it was unlocked, then pulled it closed behind her. When the screen door slipped shut, she sank into the white porch rocker. Her legs wouldn’t hold her, she was sure. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” Even the day they’d parted on his parents’ front lawn, Justin had never sounded like this. It was like he strained for the words. He was not only angry, he was hurt, just like Taryn had known he’d be. But knowing it and confronting it in person were two different things.

  She’d caused it—the pain in his voice. Taryn pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her flannel-clad shins. “I’m sorry.” The words weren’t big enough. Nothing would ever be big enough. It made her stomach ache.

  Keeping his back to her, Justin tilted his head toward the ceiling. “I can’t do an apology right now. I’m not there yet. Just tell me about him or her. Was it a boy or a girl?”

  If he ever got to where he could hear her apologize, it would be a miracle. At this point, it would take a miracle to even get him to look in her direction again. “There’s no was. She didn’t die. She was adopted. She’s a girl. Sarah.”

  “Sarah.” He seemed to try the name on for size. “Sarah what?” There was a touch of wonder tingeing the heaviness.

  “Sarah Faith. Because her parents had prayed so long . . .” Taryn had forgotten the conversation until now. It solidified the answer to her earlier question and proved Marnie’s words. The Warrens had waited so long for a child, and Sarah had been the answer to their prayers. “I was going to church in Pennsylvania, and I met the Warrens. They’d been praying for a child, and then I showed up and—”

  “So you know who adopted her? You’ve seen her? Had contact with her?”

  “Only in pictures. I have her school pictures. They’re inside. Her parents write a few times a year. I send a present on her birthday and Christmas. I haven’t ever seen her in person. Not even on the day she was born.” Her gut twisted again in a way all too familiar. It wouldn’t have been fair to Sarah or to Justin to physically be with the little girl, and Sarah had never asked, until now. Something told her this was not the time to bring up Sarah’s most recent letter.

  There was a silence so long Taryn thought he might have no more questions, but then he breathed in his measured way, the one where he was furious and was doing his best to hold his temper.

  It was cold out here, but his silence made the air feel ten degrees colder, like a sudden front had swept off the mountain. It ran along her skin under her sweatshirt and raised goose bumps along her arms.

  “Do you realize what you took from me when you gave her away without ever letting me know she existed?” Justin spoke like he’d been holding the words back for a long time and, once he started talking, they wouldn’t be stopped. He gripped the porch rail beside him. “You gave our child . . . Did you hear me, Taryn? Our child away, and you never even asked me. You never even took what I’d think or what I’d feel into consideration. Life could be so much different right now if you’d told me.”

  “You’re right.” When his anger burst, so did hers. All of the grief she’d held back for so long tumbled out in a furious rush. “Life would have been different. Because you’d have married me. You’d have done the right thing, and before she was even born, you’d have hated me and resented her. We were eighteen, Justin. Eighteen. Neither of us was ready. It would have been horrible.”

  Silence again. The grandfather clock in the living room chimed a muffled half hour before he spoke again, low and measured. “Is that what you think of me?”

  “This is not about you right now. This is about the you who was already feeling like I’d used you. This is about the kids we were. Some part of you would have always believed I got pregnant on purpose to trap you. I did the right thing for all three of us. In the wrong way, yes, but don’t you ever, ever act like it was easy for me.” Taryn swallowed the sting of tears trying to rush from her stomach and out her eyeballs. “It wasn’t. It has never been easy. No
t for one day.”

  “Seems to me like you don’t have any right to be angry here.” Justin’s voice rose. “You’re not the one who was lied to, who was treated like he didn’t even exist in his own daughter’s life. You’re not the one who has missed every single birthday and every single Christmas. She’s what? Twelve now?”

  “Eleven.”

  “And she’s called someone else dad all of this time.” The bitter anger coming across the porch was so much worse than the hurt from earlier.

  “The Warrens love her a lot, Justin.” For the first time, it occurred to her Justin could challenge the adoption as Sarah’s birth father, even all these years later. Taryn sat straighter, her feet thudding to the wood porch, panic hammering her pulse so hard she could feel it in her head. “Justin. Don’t try to take her away from them. They’ve been the best thing for her.”

  “Once again, this is how little you think of me.” He huffed, breath visible in the chilled air. “I would never . . . but it doesn’t mean I condone what you did. You lied. You had to lie to have her . . . Sarah . . . given away without my consent.”

  “I did.” Admitting it out loud hurt worse than almost anything else. It brought to the surface all of the guilt she’d managed to absorb, destroyed all of the excuses she’d managed to make. God may have forgiven her, but the guilt stuck firm.

  “What did you tell them?”

  This was the hardest part. “I didn’t know who the father was.”

  More silence. “You erased me and made yourself out to be . . . to be that?” His laugh was bitter. “So let me ask you this. You’re sure I’m her father?”

  Taryn winced at the angry accusation, but she deserved it. “Positive. There was only you. One time.”

  “Only me.” Justin practically whispered it, turning his eyes skyward. “I knew after twelve years you’d be different and I’d be different. Still, all the time we spent together, made me think . . . it was stupid.”

  “What was stupid?” Taryn was terrified to ask, but she had to know what he was hinting.

  “I was stupid.” A car passed on School Street, and he waited for it to disappear around the curve toward town. “Forget it. Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

  The letter. Sarah’s request. What would it do to the girl to find out Taryn had known who her real father was all along? Would it thrill her or make her just as angry at Taryn as Justin was? If it made the girl angry, if it made the Warrens angry, Taryn deserved it. She’d caused the problem; she’d have to face the consequences.

  “Taryn, what are you not telling me? This is one time you’d better not hold one thing back.”

  She swallowed hard and pulled in a deep breath, the cold stinging her lungs. “I got a letter this week.” The words hung up in her throat. It was better if he saw for himself. “Know what? I’ll get the letters and you can read them all.” Taryn pulled the door open and slipped her hand in, pulling the letters from the table by the door. She’d laid them there last night, knowing he’d eventually show up looking for answers.

  Justin was waiting at the foot of the steps, and he kept his fingers far from hers as he took the stack. “I’ll get these back to you. Eventually.” He walked across the yard, shoulders hunched against the cold and with the weight of Taryn’s burden.

  His truck rumbled to life and he was gone, having never looked at Taryn once.

  17

  Every eye in the church was on Taryn.

  At least, it felt like it. The truth was out there. Marnie knew. Justin knew. There was no telling who else did too.

  It had been four days since he’d walked away from her carrying those letters. It was his story to tell, and he could tell whoever he wanted. Right then, it felt like he’d told everybody, and every whisper rippling across the sanctuary and rising up to the wood beams in the ceiling felt like it was saying her name. It would be a miracle if she got through the Christmas Eve service without losing her head in a panic attack and screaming the truth to everyone in the pews of Hollings Christian.

  If fear won, she’d miss her favorite part of Christmas. After the congregation sang “Joy to the World,” when the church went dark and the gathered voices joined for “Silent Night,” everyone lit individual candles and filed quietly out into the dark before heading home to await Christmas morning. It always filled Taryn’s heart with Jesus, with the fact He had come.

  And she was forgiven.

  Rachel slid in beside Taryn and plopped Ethan into her lap. Taryn jumped and grabbed for the small boy before he could slide onto the floor. “Well, hello there.” Just what God ordered. Distraction in the form of cuteness.

  Ethan grinned his sloppy grin and patted a fat palm against her cheek.

  Taryn grinned back and trapped his fingers between her lips, shaking her head slightly just to hear his rolling baby giggle.

  “You looked like you could use a smile, and Ethan’s the perfect weapon. Where’s Jemma?” Rachel pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in her coat pocket, glancing around.

  “Taking in a hem in one of the shepherd’s robes. Isaiah Reynolds keeps tripping. She’s going to stay back there and help them change. She said she can hear enough from the back.” Hopefully. According to the bulletin, the choir was singing her favorite, “O Holy Night.”

  Rachel held her hands out for Ethan, but like he knew Taryn needed the comfort, he snuggled up to her, tucking his head under her chin and stuffing his thumb in his mouth like he was settling in for the long haul.

  “Guess he’s happy there.” Rachel shrugged and let her gaze wander the room.

  “Where’s Mark?”

  “Hm?” Rachel glanced at her and went back to rubbernecking. She was as nosy as Mrs. Jenkins, always wanting to know who was where and who was with whom. “Mark’s on duty tonight at the station in Dalton. He’ll be off for Christmas tomorrow. He’s going to come over in the morning and pick Ethan and me up and take us over to the house.” She grinned. “He put up a tree in our big ol’ empty living room and is bound and determined Ethan will have his first Christmas morning with us there as a family, even if there isn’t any furniture there and we aren’t officially a family yet.”

  Taryn’s heart twisted. “How beautiful. Mark’s a good man.”

  “’Bout time I hung onto him, huh?” Rachel frowned. “I wasted too many years running away. But he never gave up.”

  “Good thing.” Taryn swallowed the tang of jealousy and nuzzled the top of Ethan’s precious head, inhaling tear-free shampoo and the plain ol’ scent of little boy. Her eyes drifted shut, and it was an effort to push away the pain of never having known the feeling. Of never having even held her own baby.

  She forced her eyes open. Her baby, who was better off where she was, with loving parents prepared for a baby when the time came. Parents who chose her baby to love. Their baby to love. Look at Ethan. Rachel and Mark could not be better parents, all because someone made the hard choice.

  With the letter from Sarah last week, Taryn no longer had to know the void of not looking her in the eye. More than anything, she wanted to go to Sarah and build whatever relationship God wanted them to have.

  Peace settled over her soul as the children’s choir filed in. At least for Sarah, Taryn knew she’d done the right thing, and the knowledge was more important than any grief.

  Still, it was almost more than she could bear watching the kids do their pageant. The three wise men were particularly hard to watch, the older kids full of their importance, eleven years old, just the right age. Taryn squeezed Ethan again, and he squawked, then reached for his mama.

  Taryn hefted him over with a smacky kiss on his forehead and settled back in to watch the miracle of baby Jesus coming to earth to save.

  The children spoke their lines, the parents sighed, and the shepherds knelt, then the lights in the small sanctuary came up, blinding against the white walls. Children made awkward bows and filed down the center aisle to change back into their clothes and find their parent
s as the preacher stepped up to the stage.

  Ray Phipps had been the preacher at Hollings Christian for as long as Taryn could remember. Tonight, his grandson was in the play for the first time, a tiny shepherd with a crook almost too big for him. Anyone could see the pride all over Ray’s face as he watched the kids walk out. “Aren’t our kids something?”

  More smattering applause and a few whoops from proud daddies.

  Ray grinned, then grew slightly more serious. But only slightly. “Before we sing a couple of songs and light the candles as is our tradition, I just want to say something.”

  Funny. He usually started the singing, letting the kids do all of the showing.

  “Somebody needs to hear this tonight.” Ray stepped off the platform and stood right in front of the altar. “Love came down at Christmas. You all already know the story.” He walked over to Taryn’s side of the church and scanned the crowd. “Not because we asked for it. Not because we deserved it. But because it’s how God is. Unconditional. No matter what we do.” With a nod, as though he’d done his duty, he stepped back up on the platform and called for the congregation to open their hymnals to “Joy to the World.”

  Taryn’s fingers fumbled. Somebody needs to hear this tonight. It was her. It had to be. It was almost the exact same thing Marnie had said last week. The exact same words had echoed in her head ever since. So what are you saying exactly, God?

  The voice of the crowd swelled around her, but Taryn still heard it. Almost a whisper. I love you. No matter what. I always have. Peace washed over her like never before. She closed her eyes and dropped her head, refusing to cry even here, even now, because there were too many people. But still . . . all along, ever since Justin and Taryn did what they did, she’d felt God’s disapproval. She’d heard her father’s voice every time she prayed. Nuisance. Annoyance. But God had never felt those things. He’d been waiting all along with open arms, waiting for her to hear, and he’d sent Marnie, the preacher, her own heart to tell her. It was the love she’d been missing, the love she hadn’t been prepared to give to her child or to Justin because she wasn’t ready to accept it from God. Her arms erupted in warm chills sending a shudder through her. You are loved. No matter what.