by Lois Richer
Connie Ladden was here for Silver. Period.
Wade shoved the printouts into his briefcase and told himself to grow up. He’d faced Bella’s infidelity long ago. And renewed his decision never to let his heart get involved again. There was no reason to falter from that path now just because a beautiful young woman had entered his solitary world. No reason, except that Connie made him think of possibilities, of what could be and not what had been. Connie’s generosity and sweetness drew him like her sugar feeders drew the hummingbirds.
Wade knew he should leave, but something kept him standing there, watching the nanny as she sat behind the desk, clicking the mouse. The light had drained out of her beautiful eyes. She looked alone, desolate and lost. Wade felt a strong desire to help her—as she’d helped Silver, Amanda, even him.
“Would you like company tonight?” he asked on an impulse. “I could go with you to meet this man.”
“But it’s not my night off.” Connie’s troubled gaze rested on him.
“Technically you won’t be off, if that makes you feel better. You could help me choose a Christmas tree. I’ve been putting it off.” He watched expressions flutter across her face as she debated the pros and cons of his offer.
“Surely you want to know what this fellow has to say?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look sure.
“So we’ll choose the tree, arrange for its delivery and stop by the center. I wouldn’t mind going back there.” Maybe he’d see Klara Kramer, or whatever her married name was, again. Wade had been trying to reach her for days without success.
“Why would you want to go back?” Connie’s eyes brimmed with suspicions.
“That boy in the wheelchair—Kris? I think his mother is a draftswoman I once knew. I’d like to offer her a job.” It would put Wade on Amanda’s bad side again, but that couldn’t be helped. Abbot Bridges needed the talents of someone like Klara.
“Really?” Connie blinked. “Well, if you’re sure—”
She left it hanging, as if she suspected he’d back out. But Wade wasn’t going to, because with the arrival of his email he’d realized something. Maybe he did only have this Christmas with Silver before he’d have to let her go. Maybe God had another family prepared for her and this would be the last holiday they’d spend together.
Why shouldn’t Wade make it special for Silver the way Connie said her father had made things special? The way her foster parents had made things special. That couldn’t be wrong, could it? Wasn’t that something God would want him to do for Silver?
“Are you sure about this, Wade?” Connie frowned.
“Not exactly.” He hesitated, then decided to sound out Connie about his plan. “I want to make this Christmas one Silver will remember. I want to have all the trimmings, like my father used to do.”
“And that includes a tree,” she said quietly, one eyebrow arched quizzically. “Even though you realize it’s going to irritate Amanda.”
“I’m not doing it to annoy her,” Wade explained frankly. “I’m doing it for Silver, but I’m hoping it will also help Amanda.”
“How?”
“Ever since Danny and my father died, Amanda shuts down at Christmas. It’s not right. My father loved Christmas,” Wade said. A host of memories swarmed his brain.
“He worked hard to create Christmas memories that were an intricate part of his faith in God. Dad wouldn’t want Amanda to miss out on the joy of Christmas, even though he can’t be here to share it with her.”
“She may not see it that way,” Connie cautioned. “Not that she talks to me that much, but I think she’s struggling to forgive God.”
“Forgive God?”
“It sounds odd, I know, but think of it from her perspective. God took her husband and her son. Why?” Connie’s shoulders lifted and her head bobbed, jiggling the riot of curls she’d pinned to the top of her head. “Amanda hasn’t found a satisfactory answer to that question, and so she won’t let God be a part of her life. She even has trouble forgiving you.”
“You sound like you actually understand her,” he said, marveling again at Connie’s insight into his family’s dysfunction.
“Of course I understand what Amanda feels.” Connie giggled. “I’m the original control freak. Every i dotted and every t crossed—that’s me. I know exactly how hard it is to uncurl your fingers from the controls and let God take over, because that’s what I have to do every single day.”
“Is that what Amanda has to do?” he asked. Connie’s silence made him lift his head and study her face.
“Eventually,” she murmured, “it’s what we all have to do.”
“Well, I don’t dare say that to Amanda,” Wade muttered.
“She’ll only get more angry.”
“Maybe.” Connie studied him thoughtfully.
“What are you thinking?” Judging by the spark in her eyes, Wade wasn’t sure he should have asked.
“Amanda said something the other day that I think you should hear.” Connie waited for his nod before continuing.
“She said, ‘Everyone thinks I should be over it. They don’t understand that I wake up thinking about them and go to sleep thinking about them. I’ll never see them again and nobody understands what I’ve lost.’”
“Believe me, I understand.” Wade glowered. “He was my father. Danny was my brother. I’ve wished a thousand times that I hadn’t gone with them that day or that we’d waited out the storm. I’m sorry I ever got behind the wheel.”
“Have you told Amanda that?” Connie asked.
“No.” Wade wasn’t sure he wanted to share those regrets with anyone. He’d kept them contained a long time.
“Maybe it’s something she needs to hear. Maybe if you apologized—” She held up a hand to stop his protest. “I’m not saying you did anything wrong, but maybe if you said you’re sorry—the way you’ve just said it to me, maybe then Amanda wouldn’t feel so abandoned. Maybe she’d realize that she’s not alone in her loss.”
“Maybe.” Wade thought about that while Connie typed on the computer. Perhaps if Amanda and he could talk openly about his father and Danny, some of the tension between them would dissolve and Silver would feel a tighter connection with this family.
Then maybe that precious girl wouldn’t forget about him completely when she was gone.
Wade began mentally rehearsing ways of opening the line of conversation with Amanda. Eventually he became aware of Connie’s stare.
“Sorry. I was thinking.”
“I know.” She nodded in understanding. “It’s going to take a lot of prayer.”
“And a lot of tact,” he added ruefully. “That’s for later. For now, when would you like to go to the center?”
“Cora went home early. She wasn’t feeling well, so I told her I’d make dinner.” For the first time since he’d met her, Connie looked uncertain. “I haven’t started it yet.”
“We could go out,” Wade offered. “For pizza. I haven’t had pizza since I came back. Maybe Amanda would come, too.” He paused then decided to tell Connie the truth. It was probably silly, but Wade thought Connie might understand his intentions. “I have been trying to be more considerate with Amanda,” he admitted.
“I’ve noticed. And it’s difficult, I know,” Connie said, that blazing smile back in place. “She’s—not an easy person.”
Wade almost laughed at the understatement of those words. But he didn’t. Instead he grinned at the nanny as if they were coconspirators.
“I’ll go and ask her,” he said.
“You might get Silver to go with you when you do. Despite appearances to the contrary, Amanda has a soft spot for Silver,” Connie said with a smile. “Maybe with a child present, she’d find it harder to refuse.”
“Harder than to refuse me alone, you mean?”
Connie said nothing—just gave him an outrageous wink.
“I’ll do that.” Wade remained in place, watching her brisk movements. “I wanted to ask you something else.�
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“Oh?” She paused, hands still.
“I wondered if you had a suggestion of something Silver wants for Christmas.” He flushed, feeling like a fool. “Something she’s been really longing for?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Connie suggested quietly.
Wade opened his mouth to object, but a voice intruded—a soft, sad little voice brimming with yearning.
I want my God to help daddy love me.
Silver’s voice on that first day at the center.
Wade lifted his head, saw the nanny’s face and knew she’d been thinking along the same lines. Though neither Connie nor Silver would ever know just how much he cared for the delightful little girl, perhaps there was a way to show the child love without saying the actual words. Something tangible.
“She wants a dollhouse.” Connie spoke into the silence, her voice almost a whisper. “An original one that’s hers alone.”
“Yes, now I remember her mentioning that. Maybe I could build one?” He began structuring it in his mind. It would be a replica of this house. Maybe he could send it with her when she left. Surely then she wouldn’t forget him.
“I think Silver would love a dollhouse her father built.” Connie smiled.
Not her father. Not since Wade learned from that emailed report that Bella had met her lover before she’d had Silver.
Wade ignored his heart’s pinch of pain and studied Connie.
“You’re quite something, Miss Ladden,” he said, admiration flooding him. “You’ve got all of us branching out, learning new ways to deal with each other. I appreciate your help.”
“I haven’t done anything special.” Connie kept her head bent, but her red cheeks told Wade everything he needed to know. “I’m just the nanny.”
“Hardly,” he said as he walked out of his office to find Silver and speak with Amanda.
He realized how true it was. Connie had become an integral part of all their worlds. For the first time in years, Wade liked coming home, knowing she was there with Silver, ready to fill him in on any details he’d missed in a four-almost-five world. Cora seemed happier than he remembered, too. And Hornby couldn’t stop singing the praises of the nanny who’d offered to do the weeding in the lowest beds so Hornby could save his arthritic knees. Apparently even Amanda had been able to let down her barriers and confide in Connie.
In fact, in a few short months, Silver’s nanny had become necessary to all of them. Connie wasn’t just doing her job. She was enriching their lives.
As he paused in the foyer, Wade recalled his father and the many Christmas surprises he’d announced right in this spot. Why couldn’t he do something similar, something extra special for Connie, to thank her for making their worlds better? He was fairly certain he could do it without Connie turning into a simpering replica of that other nanny. It would be strictly a business thank-you. Nothing more.
Wade had no idea what his surprise could be. But maybe tonight he’d pay more attention to Connie’s discussions with her father’s friends.
His heart considerably lighter, Wade took the stairs two at a time. But the closer he got to Amanda’s suite of rooms where he could hear Silver talking, the slower his steps. He could find a way to help Connie. That would be simple.
Convincing Amanda to rejoin life, on the other hand, was going to require some heavenly assistance.
“Don’t you just love pizza, Grandma?” Silver grinned, displaying white teeth in a face plastered with tomato sauce.
“Probably not as much as you,” Amanda grumbled, dabbing at the mess with one corner of her napkin.
“I think we’d better head to the ladies’ room and clean up before we—go to the center,” Connie said. She’d been going to say “pick out a Christmas tree” but Wade’s shaking head cut off those words. “Come on, Silver.”
“I’ll go with you. Just to make sure I don’t look like her,” Amanda said. She rose and walked beside Connie while Silver skipped ahead. “Wade seems relaxed tonight.”
“Does he?” Connie tried to be totally focused on her charge.
“Yes, he does. And I think it has to do with you.”
“Me? What do you mean?” Connie helped Silver scrub off most of the mess, pretending she was busier than necessary just to avoid Amanda’s scrutiny.
“Did you ask him to invite me along tonight?”
“No! It’s none of my business whom he invites to a meal.” Connie frowned and twisted to stare at her. “Why would you think that?”
“He’s never asked me to do anything like this since…” Her voice dropped away.
“Amanda, this pizza thing was totally Wade’s idea,” Connie assured her, drying her hands on a towel. “Thank goodness. I was supposed to prepare dinner, because Cora wasn’t feeling well. I don’t cook well.”
“You’re kidding? You do everything well,” Amanda said.
“Not cooking. It terrifies me.”
“You know what, Grandma? Daddy said he used to come here when he was little and that his daddy always ordered olives on his pizza. I hate olives.” Silver grabbed her grandmother’s hand and tugged Amanda toward the door while dancing a happy little jig and humming “Silent Night,” accompanied by her ever-present bells.
Connie held her breath. Please God, don’t let anything spoil it. Let tonight be an evening to remember for all them—the first of many.
“It was nice. I haven’t had pizza since—in a long time,” Amanda substituted, with a quick look at Connie.
When the child raced over to her father, Amanda paused, her hand on Connie’s arm.
“I don’t want Wade to pity me,” she said to Connie, sotto voce. “I couldn’t stand that.”
“Why would he pity you?”
“Because I’m cranky and grumpy and bawling all the time,” Amanda sputtered. “Oh, fiddle.” She turned and hurried back to the ladies’ room while dabbing at her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Wade demanded, rising when Connie reached the table.
“Amanda had something in her eye. She’ll be back in a minute.” He frowned, his suspicions obvious. Connie ignored that. “Do you think I could have a little more coffee while we wait? It’s delicious.”
By the time they left the restaurant, it was later than Connie had expected. Privately, she couldn’t help worrying whether her father’s friend would wait for them. Silver picked up on her anxiety and threaded her small fingers into Connie’s as they rode to the center.
“Did you eat too much?” she asked sympathetically.
“No, sweetie. I’m fine,” Connie reassured, but Silver seemed to know she was faking.
“Are you sad about your daddy?”
“Not really. Just feeling a little impatient, that’s all. Like you get about Christmas.” Connie caught Wade’s glance in the rearview mirror, a glance that shared her uncertainty.
“Not much farther,” he said.
When Amanda demanded to know about the center, Wade filled her in. Connie couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat, so she remained silent and clung to Silver’s tiny hand.
The place was crowded when they arrived, but as soon as the director spied them enter, he hurried over.
“Connie, I’m so glad you came. Pete says he’s only in town tonight. He’s got a new job doing long-haul trucking, but he saw your notice and he’s very eager to talk to you.”
“The same for me, Ben,” she whispered, suddenly afraid of what she’d hear.
“You go ahead,” Wade murmured. “We’ll wait as long as you want.” When it looked as if Amanda would protest, he bent and murmured something in Silver’s ear. She grabbed her grandmother’s hand and urged her to hurry and meet Kris. “I’ll be praying,” Wade said for Connie’s ears alone.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She inhaled deeply before facing the director. “I’m ready,” she told Ben.
Ten minutes later, she wondered why she’d been so afraid.
“So my dad didn’t die from the chemotherapy,” she
said, heart thrilling at the news.
“It hit him pretty hard, but Max was still kicking when I last saw him. I think it would take a lot more than cancer to get him.” Pete shook his head. “Never saw a man more besotted with his daughter. Showed your picture to everyone. Connie this, Connie that.” His eyes narrowed. “We kinda hoped you’d come to visit.”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t know where he was.” Connie explained how her father had left her.
“Figured it was something like that,” Pete mused. “Max never did believe the doctors when they said they got all the cancer. And since they took his second leg a few years after they said it, maybe he knew his body better than they did.”
“But if he got through the chemotherapy both times, and was okay, why didn’t he come and get me?” She couldn’t understand what could have kept her father away.
“Oh, honey, he wasn’t okay. Max was a smart man who was used to meeting life head-on. He’s the reason I got my GED and was able to get this job.” Pete sighed. “But over a period of five years, Max lost two legs, probably his dignity and a lot of other things folks who haven’t been through cancer treatment don’t understand.” Pete related a few of his own issues. “Even if they did get all the cancer, and who is ever sure of that? I figure independence is a mighty big thing to a man. Max lost most of his. I heard later that he was having some struggles adjusting to life in his chair.”
“You mean he was depressed?” Pete filled in a lot of blanks for Connie, but he also created many more questions that she needed answered.
“I think so, yeah.” He nodded, his face thoughtful. “Also, another friend, Joey, told me he thought Max’s cancer came back, but that might have just been Joey talking. I can’t say because I lost track of Max and never saw him again. I kept writing to him, but my letters were returned unopened. He never got them.”
“So either he didn’t come back, he was deliberately avoiding you or he died.” Neither of the three was palatable to Connie.
“Guess so.” Pete checked his watch. “I gotta get going, but if I hear any more I’ll send a message to you here. Don’t see many of the guys I spent time with here in those days. If you see Max, tell him to keep checking in here. I’ll try and meet up with him next time I’m through. You just never know.”