The Gift: A Horse, a Boy, and a Miracle of Love

by Lauraine Snelling

“Ah, good. When?”

  “Would tomorrow be all right?”

  “Could you stay for dinner? My daughter, Dani, is home from college, and I’d like you to meet her.”

  “Good. Four?”

  “Three-thirty. Dani’s been wanting to meet the young man who stole her horse’s heart.”

  “Mac!”

  “I’m teasing. See you then.”

  He hung up as Danielle came back in the room.

  “Who was that?”

  “Rebecca Wilkinson, Jonah’s mother. They’re coming out tomorrow.”

  “What time? I have a date, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Well, you don’t go till later, do you?”

  She nodded and watched him, her face turned slightly to the side. “Is there something going on here, other than a little boy and a horse?”

  “Dani!” He paused and gave a half shrug. “We’ll see?”

  Danielle giggled and held up her ornament, a swaybacked Appaloosa horse on skis.

  “Put it right in front. How funny.” His chuckle made her smile.

  “I hoped you’d like it.”

  “Dani, wake up. It snowed,” Mac announced from the doorway of Danielle’s bedroom the next morning. He glanced around the immaculate room, so different from the chaos of her growing-up years.

  “Good, Dad, it’s snowed in Chicago twice already and there was four feet of snow in Colorado.” She pulled the last quilt her mother had finished up around her ears.

  “But we might have a white Christmas here in Tehachapi.”

  Danielle rolled over and peered outside with one open eye. “Yup, it’s snowing,” she said and flopped back on the pillow.

  Mac chuckled his way down the hall and went back to setting the ribs to boil so he could barbecue them for dinner. Bread was already rising in the bread maker, sending a yeasty fragrance through the house.

  “That’s not fair.” Danielle, her slim body clad in gray sweats, her feet warm in fleece-lined leather slippers, ambled into the kitchen.

  “What’s not fair?”

  “Fresh bread, that’s what.” She inhaled. “Oh man, that smells good. Is there any coffee?”

  “Fresh pot.” He nodded toward the coffeemaker.

  “What are you making?”

  “Ribs for dinner.”

  “When I won’t be here?”

  “You are welcome to stay.”

  “But I promised Wendy.”

  “Your choice.”

  “Not fair.” She took her coffee and sat on the fieldstone hearth, the fire warming her back. “The tree is supremo.”

  “I know.” He clicked on the stereo as he came by and strains of “What Child Is This?” poured forth.

  “The snow does look pretty.” Danielle pointed to the two inches of white that capped the wooden railing around the deck. “Did you feed the birds?”

  “Nope, left that for you to do.” Mac put one foot up on the hearth and leaned on his knee, one hand holding the coffee mug. “Dani, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Ah, when they come, will you take Jonah out to groom and tack up Cody? I need to talk to his mother.”

  “Ah.” Her eyes danced.

  “Now, don’t go getting any ideas.”

  She assumed a most innocent expression. “Are you going to tell me you are ‘friends. Just friends’?” One eyebrow arched.

  “Get outta here, Brat.” He swatted at her, but she ducked and left the room giggling.

  “Anything you say, Dad,” floated back down the hall.

  “Hey, Jonah, I hear you are quite the rider,” Danielle said after they’d been introduced later in the day.

  “I fell off.”

  “I’ve done that lots of times. Sure can hurt until you get your breath back, can’t it?”

  Jonah nodded. “But I rode again.”

  “So I heard. You always have to get back on so you don’t go away afraid. My dad made me do that, too.” She gave her dad a look filled with pure love.

  “Uh-huh. Can we whistle for Cody?”

  “Sure enough. Can you whistle?”

  Jonah shook his head. “Can you?”

  “Of course, come see.” She reached for his hand and away they went.

  “She’ll be care . . .” Rebecca stopped and glanced at Mac before massaging her cheek with her tongue.

  “Yes. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” He motioned toward the house.

  “Ah, this looks beautiful.” Rebecca stopped just inside the sliding glass door to the great room and gazed at the tree. “It even smells real.”

  “The only kind. Have a seat.”

  She wandered over to the hearth and sat down. “I almost didn’t come because of the snow, but then I decided that’s what four-wheel drive is for, if I needed it.”

  “I’m glad.” He handed her a coffee mug decorated with holly and berries and cupped his own in both hands. “You said you had something to ask me?”

  “You know the other day?”

  Which part of it? “Yes?”

  “When you put Jonah back on the horse.” She looked at him, half-hiding her face with the coffee mug.

  “Rebecca. I couldn’t treat Jonah any different than I would my own son. What more could I give him?”

  “But what if he really had been hurt, not just the wind knocked out of him?”

  “But he wasn’t.” Here goes, Lord. Give me the right words. “Rebecca, you can’t live your life in fear of what might have been.” He watched her take a sip of the coffee and cradle the mug in both hands. “You have to give the people you love the chance to do the things they want in life, and trust God to take care of them.”

  “But how do you do that?”

  “Every day, sometimes every minute when your mind insists on worrying, you have to put them back in God’s hands and trust that He will take care of them because He said He would.”

  “But what if . . .” She smoothed a forefinger around the rim of the mug before looking back up at him. “What if you’re not sure . . .” She licked her lips. “. . . Ah, if God really loves like that? I mean, I . . .”

  “Would you let Jonah die to save someone else?”

  She shook her head and glared at him. “Of course not.”

  “God did. He sent His Son to live and die here on earth so that you and I might live forgiven and forever, and so we can trust Him to care for our children.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “Yes.” He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “It is a gift, a gift you only have to open and then it is yours.”

  A tear brimmed over and meandered down her cheek. “In spite of all our losses?”

  “He walks with us through our losses.” He watched questions float through her eyes like clouds blown before a stiff wind. “I am more sure of this than of anything else in my life.”

  “I–I want what you have.”

  “Dad, Rebecca, come see,” Danielle called from the open door.

  “In a minute.” Lord, help her hear.

  “No, now. Come on.”

  Mac and Rebecca snagged their jackets off the chair back as they headed out the door.

  Down by the barn they brushed the snow off the corral rails and leaned on the fence.

  “Okay, Jonah.”

  Jonah led Cody up to the tub, mounted, and clucked the horse forward. He rode Cody around the corral and diagonal, along with turning and going the opposite direction, then brought him to a stop in front of his mother.

  “Hey, Jonah, you did real well.”

  “Danielle said the snow would be a soft landing.” He grinned at the girl now leaning against the fence next to her father. “If
I fall off, I just have to get back on.”

  Rebecca glanced over at Mac, then up at her son. “I guess that’s right. You just have to get back on.”

  Mac leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “And you just have to let go and let God take care of him.”

  Ignoring the warmth his breath caused, Rebecca scooped up a handful of snow and tossed it at him. “Easy for you to say.”

  Twelve

  Pine and candle wax scented the air as Mac entered the church the next evening with Rebecca, Jonah, and Danielle. Christmas Eve always held a magical element for him: the flickering candles along the walls, the glittering tree near the altar, the hush of wonder as the organ played carols written long years before and now more meaningful than ever. Tonight, with the snow falling gently outside, the sanctuary seemed even more welcoming than usual.

  He motioned, first, for Danielle to take their usual pew halfway up the aisle. He filed in behind her, followed by Rebecca and, finally, Jonah. Nodding and greeting those around, he sat down with delight bubbling behind his smile. Having Rebecca on one side and Danielle on the other made him want to give Jonah the thumbs-up sign, but the boy wouldn’t understand. Or would he? Mac leaned around Rebecca, stuck both thumbs in the air, and received the same response, along with a smile that near to ruptured his heart.

  “Thank you.” His smile encompassed them both.

  “For what?” Rebecca’s eyes widened slightly in question.

  “For coming to church with us.”

  “You are most welcome. Thank you for asking us.”

  How could such simple words carry such a chest-thumping impact? Their coming was one of his first and most important Christmas gifts. Other than Jonah’s talking, of course. But then, that had been Rebecca’s wish first. He’d just been privileged to be part of the process.

  Rebecca bumped his arm taking her coat off and they exchanged smiles as he helped her. Way down inside, the desire to take her hand flared until he could think of nothing else. So he took it and squeezed gently, then stroked the soft skin on the back with his thumb.

  Her sigh floated softly on the music.

  “You all right?” He leaned close to whisper.

  “Yes.”

  Danielle nudged him with her elbow, then winked at him when he looked her way.

  Lord, how blessed I am. Thank You for these last weeks. I know Your love came down at Christmas, but I’m beginning to think—to feel that more love is growing right here. Is it possible we could become a family? Is that Your purpose?

  The heat from Mac’s arm warmed Rebecca all over. One more thrill in a week of thrills. She listened to the music that seemed to carry her up so she could look down on the four of them, seated all prim and proper in the pew. What Mac had told her about trusting God made so much sense. All because she’d seen love in action. If Mac could trust God after all that had gone on in his life, she’d thought, why not me? So she’d dug her Bible out of the packing boxes and sat down to read, starting with Matthew and on through the Gospels. Memories of the stories learned in her childhood Sunday school classes came back and, when Jesus said, “except you come unto me as a little child,” she told Him she wanted to be that child.

  Maybe there was more to it than that, but she’d never felt such peace and acceptance before in her entire life. Love, that’s what it was, plain and simple.

  When Mac took her hand, she could scarcely breathe from the love welling up. She hugged Jonah with her other arm, and he leaned against her, a smile lighting his face.

  The processional choir started singing at the rear of the sanctuary and the melody of “Angels We Have Heard on High” led forth up the center aisle and both sides. The altos, tenors, and basses followed, and the music grew on the glorias as they drew together in front and sang in full harmony, “in excelsis Deo.” They sang the second verse and then flowed up into the choir loft to finish with a swell of the glorias again. “In excelsis Deo.”

  When the final notes ceased in all but memory, a deep male voice from somewhere behind them began. “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world.” The truest story ever told continued until he read, “. . . and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger.”

  Opposite the adult choir in their burgundy robes, a children’s choir sang “Away in a Manger,” their voices piping, their faces so serious above their blue robes. Rebecca looked down at Jonah. Next year, son of mine, you’ll be singing with that choir. I’m so sorry I’ve kept you from this.

  The voice continued with the story from Luke, and the congregation responded with the carols that fit. When the last voice trailed off, a spotlight shone on a soloist. A violin played the opening bars of a song Rebecca had never heard, a piano joined, then a flute, and finally the singer. “Love came down at Christmas, in a baby meek and mild. Love came down at Christmas, a precious holy child.” The piano swelled, the violin flowed in, and the flute notes danced on the light.

  Rebecca closed her eyes and listened with all her heart. The final lines, “a gift of love, from heaven above. Love came down at Christmas. Love came down to stay.”

  That’s it, the gift of love, so perfect. The gift is what it’s all about. She wanted to leap and shout, “It’s the gift,” to hug everyone in sight. Love beyond description welled from within her, beyond her ability to hold it in. She glanced around, sure that everyone must be feeling what she was feeling. Sensing. Shouting without words. The violin played the last note and it hung in the air like a wondrous fragrance. The lights were extinguished, and a candle was lit at the front and center of the sanctuary. Two others lit their candles from it and, so, the light passed down through the darkness. From the first one in each pew, the light grew. The organ swelled.

  Danielle lit her candle and then her father lit his from hers. He turned to Rebecca and, as she tilted her candle to his flame, he took her hand to hold it steady. She looked into his eyes and it was all there. He knew the love. His smile, slow and easy, settled around her heart’s abiding place.

  She smiled back, a slight nod, then turned to let Jonah light his candle. All passed in a second—but would last forever. The Gift came to be at Christmas.

  About the Author

  Lauraine Snelling is the bestselling author of over seventy books, both fiction and nonfiction, historical and contemporary for adults and young readers. Lauraine and her husband, Wayne, live in California with a Basset Hound named Winston. To learn more about the author, you can visit www.laurainesnelling.com.

  Copyright

  The Gift

  Copyright © 2002, 2012 by Lauraine Snelling. All rights reserved.

  Previously published by Promise Press, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc. under ISBN: 1-58660-585-2

  First electronic printing in 2012 by eChristian, Inc.

  eChristian, Inc.

  2235 Enterprise Street, Suite 140

  Escondido, CA 92029

  http://echristian.com

  ISBN EPUB: 978-1-61843-169-1

  ISBN MOBI: 978-1-61843-170-7

  Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Agency, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370, www.booksandsuch.com.

  All Scripture quotations are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Mary Bellus. Interior design by Larry Taylor.

  Produced with the assistance of Livingstone, the Publishing Services Division of eChristian, Inc. Project staff includes: Dan Balow, Afton Rorvik, Linda Taylor, Erin Smith, Ashley Taylor, Lois Jackson, Tom Shumaker, Andy Culbertson, and Joel Bartlett.

    Lauraine Snelling, The Gift: A Horse, a Boy, and a Miracle of Love