That Christmas Feeling

by Catherine Palmer

  They ate their breakfast, intermingled with conversation, until the crowd thinned, and Rose motioned toward the doorway. “I’ll take the children to their Sunday-school classes. You can meet me upstairs for church.”

  Paul agreed and followed the worshipers to the sanctuary. Soon Rose arrived, and they found an empty pew. The service began, but Paul’s thoughts drifted to his new feelings for Rose. He wished he could put a finger on them. He knew he felt gratitude and—

  The truth settled over him. For the first time since Della died, he was looking forward to Christmas. Rose had been the catalyst. They’d become friends. Their lives had become entwined. Blest be the ties that entwine. The words twisted in his head.

  As they’d spent more time together, Paul had sensed a kind of like-minded spirit they shared. The painting came to mind. They’d both been drawn to it immediately. But it was more than that. He felt comfort in her presence. She exuded compassion and evoked from him a new tenderness.

  The congregation rose for the Gospel, and Paul yanked himself upward, aware that he’d been daydreaming.

  “Today we will hear a lesson from Paul’s letters to the Philippians, chapter two, beginning with verse one.” The pastor’s rich voice filled the air. “‘If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from His love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.’”

  Paul’s heartbeat accelerated. Hadn’t those same words entered his thoughts moments ago—tenderness, comfort, compassion, like-mindedness? He’d been thinking of Rose, but these words applied to Jesus and to faith.

  Marriage was about being united, but being united in Christ was beyond his imagination. Make my joy complete. Was that what made Christians optimistic in the depths of despair? They found blessings in failure and joy in sorrow? His mind whirred with questions.

  He slid a glance at Rose with her chin tilted upward, her eyes straight ahead, her lips curved at the corners. She was beautiful inside and out, and he was blessed to have her touch his children’s lives—blessed having her touch his life.

  Make my joy complete. Rose’s face brightened his thoughts.

  Snow illuminated by the porch light drifted past the dining-room window. Rose slid the chairs beneath the table and replaced the centerpiece. Everything seemed in order. She’d worked hard to keep Paul’s lady friend out of her mind. He hadn’t brought her home. He hadn’t mentioned anything about her. Rose needed to leave well enough alone until the day came when she’d have to move on.

  Tonight the children had settled on the living-room carpet, playing a game while Paul read the newspaper. The house seemed cozy and comfortable, but not her. She had to drive to her apartment alone.

  She drew in a lengthy breath and snapped off the dining-room light. Turning toward the kitchen, she was drawn again to the snowflakes settling on the shrubbery outside the window. She stepped back and gazed at the wintry scene. In the darkness, the minute patterns glided downward like confetti from heaven. White and perfect. Beautiful.

  “Are you leaving?”

  Paul stood so close behind her, she jumped at his voice.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

  He didn’t step back, and she stood where she had been, feeling the heat from his body and his breath rustling her hair.

  “I was thinking how beautiful it looks.”

  He rested his palms on her shoulders. “I like looking at the snowfall, but I’m guessing a full week of driving in it will be about all I’ll want.”

  She felt the warm pressure of his hands and struggled for something lighthearted to say. “Everyone dreams of a white Christmas.” Another song rippled through her mind. “Did you ever roast chestnuts on an open fire?”

  Paul chuckled and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “No, but there’s always a first time.” He lowered his hands. “If this keeps up, we’ll have a white Thanksgiving.”

  The holiday caught her attention, and she spun toward him. He caught her shoulders again and stood so close her pulse quickened. She stepped back before she could draw in enough breath to speak. When she moved, Paul dropped his hands to his sides.

  “Are you planning to have Thanksgiving dinner here?” she asked.

  “I thought so.”

  “Will you want to invite guests? Your aunt Inez?”

  “I hadn’t given it any thought, but why don’t you call her? Invite friends from church, if you’d like.”

  His offer surprised her. “This is your family’s Thanksgiving, not mine.”

  Paul shook his head. “You’re part of this family. Don’t forget that.” His gaze captured hers as if he’d read her mind.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, lowering her eyes.

  She could hear him breathing, and she waited for him to walk away. When she found the courage to lift her head, she saw that he was studying her face as if searching for something.

  Rose watched his hands rise, this time capturing her arms as they hung at her sides. The warmth of his touch rolled down her limbs.

  He looked desperate. “If you would just tell me…”

  She felt his hands tense against her arms as he drew her closer. Stunned, she searched his face, his eyes heavy lidded, his chest rising and falling in deep breaths. He lowered his head and his lips parted. Paul’s mouth neared hers, and her chest ached with the waiting.

  “Daddy, Colin won’t let me play.”

  Kayla’s voice invaded the room like an alarm signal. Paul jerked backward, and Rose gulped for air.

  Kayla bounded toward them with Colin on her heels.

  Rose shifted away. In the kitchen she pulled her coat from the back closet and located her handbag. Before she could call good-night, Paul stood in the kitchen doorway.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll give Aunt Inez a call in the morning. I’m sure she’ll be pleased.” She stepped toward the back door.

  “It’s probably slippery out there. Are you sure you want to drive into town tonight with this—”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  “If you’re sure.”

  As she put her hand on the knob he said her name, and she turned toward him.

  “I suppose we should invite Gretchen for Thanksgiving dinner. She’s away from home.”

  “Sure thing,” she said, giving the door a push. The wind caught it, and Rose struggled to keep the door from tearing from its hinges. She stepped from the porch into the wet snow. It sifted into her shoes and covered her ankles.

  “Be with me, Lord,” she whispered, not sure if she were talking about the drive home or about what had happened inside the house.

  Chapter Eight

  Paul hadn’t felt normal since the night he’d nearly kissed Rose. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment and asking himself over and over what he’d been thinking. The answer was always the same. Rose and her smiling eyes.

  He hadn’t been able to loosen her image from his thoughts, not since the night at Historic Log Village when he’d seen her face illuminated in the candlelight. Even before that. Days seemed to meld together like a collage of wonderful moments. Rose had brightened their lives.

  But now he had to decide what to do about it.

  Struggling with his dilemma, Paul let his gaze drift to the sleeve of photos he’d taken in the backyard weeks earlier. They’d been lying on the table, and he hadn’t looked at them since Rose had brought them home.

  He opened the packet. Emotion washed over him. He gazed at the twins mugging for the camera, their faces shining in the autumn sunlight, their clothes sprinkled with leaves. He shifted the top photo and, beneath, sat his own picture with his beautiful children beside him.

  Next he saw Rose cuddling the twins while love filled her eyes. He paused, afraid to look, afraid to see what was coming. He inched the top photo away and looked. Rose again. Each one touched hi
s heart—her smile, her happiness, her face glowing with contentment. He slid a photo into his shirt pocket and placed the rest back into the sleeve.

  Paul stood and moved to the window. Outside, the leaves were gone. Beneath the leaden sky the earth looked cold and hard, but his life had been warmed by a woman who’d been his children’s nanny for nearly two years. What would he do now with these growing feelings?

  He’d been blind.

  The scent of turkey filled the air as Rose removed the potatoes from the burner. She’d been in a daze for the past three weeks, trying to make sense out of Paul. She’d truly thought that he was about to kiss her that night. The ride to her apartment had been a nightmare, between the unfamiliar slippery streets and the events that had brought on a tangle of fantasy, reality and disbelief.

  She and Paul hadn’t spoken of it since that evening. So often, Rose wondered what might have happened if Kayla hadn’t barged into the room. She’d been prepared for his kiss. She longed for it, yet she knew it wasn’t meant to be. It could only have added to the confusion already in her heart, especially since she’d learned Paul’s friend was a woman. Now she was coming for Thanksgiving dinner.

  When the doorbell rang, Rose let Paul answer it. Voices drifted in from the foyer, and Rose’s heart lodged in her throat. Prayer had helped her with the struggle. Only God promised to be faithful forever, and Rose couldn’t blame Paul. He’d asked her to be his friend—nothing more than that. And she’d realized this woman might also be only a friend—maybe a beautiful, shapely friend, but those were things Rose couldn’t control.

  “Rose.”

  She straightened as Paul’s voice sailed through the dining room. She could see their shadows moving across the white table linen before she saw them.

  “Rose,” Paul said again, coming through the doorway. “I want you to meet Gretchen Thomas.”

  Rose managed a smile.

  “Gretchen, this is Rose Danby, my right arm…and my left one, too.”

  When she saw the woman behind Paul, Rose clamped her jaw to avoid showing her surprise. Rose had expected a young, shapely woman. Instead standing in front of her was a tall, large-boned woman whose hand was extended toward her.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Rose said, accepting the woman’s handshake.

  “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you,” Gretchen said.

  Shame washed over Rose as she gazed at the woman’s once-blond hair, now streaked with gray. She’d never thought Gretchen would be a woman executive in her fifties, but Rose could only guess that’s what she was. “I’m glad you could come. Eating alone on Thanksgiving isn’t easy.”

  “I’ve had to do it since my husband died,” she said. “We were married nearly forty years.”

  Nearly forty years. Rose did her math. Unless the woman had married very young, she had to be in her sixties. “It must be difficult.”

  “We can get used to anything as long as we have our faith,” Gretchen said.

  “Can I help you do anything?” Paul asked.

  Rose shook her head. “We’ll be eating shortly. I’m just about ready. You go ahead.”

  Paul took Gretchen’s arm and steered her back through the dining room. Their voices faded to a distant hum.

  Ashamed of herself, Rose leaned her back against the kitchen counter and covered her face. “Lord, what can I do?” She’d judged a situation that she’d known nothing about.

  Living with distrust and jealousy was destructive. She’d become too involved in the family and knew she needed a life of her own, a husband and children. She’d never have these staying in Little Cloud.

  If she couldn’t get her emotions under control, she had no choice but to leave. Jan had told Rose she was always welcome if she decided to return to L.A., and Rose truly missed her friend. Maybe this was God’s way of pointing her back to California.

  While Paul was giving Aunt Inez a ride home with a bag of turkey-dinner leftovers, Rose helped the children with their baths, then convinced them it was bedtime. They grumbled until she teased them about the broom, and they giggled as they obeyed.

  The scent of turkey filled the house, giving her a homey feeling. The meal had gone well, and she had finally settled her ragged emotions and enjoyed Gretchen’s company. She could see why Paul respected and admired the woman.

  She settled on the sofa, recalling her fluttering heart as her arm had brushed against Paul’s while they worked in the kitchen. They’d been preparing dessert—he making coffee, she whipping cream. Since the night of the near kiss, they’d become like strangers at a bus stop, apologizing for getting too close and avoiding each other’s eyes. The change felt frightening, but it made her think.

  Tonight she decided to talk with Paul if she could find the courage and the opportunity. The chance would arise when he returned from his aunt’s. In a way she felt better having made the decision.

  By the time Paul arrived, the house was quiet. Rose had her legs curled beneath her and a blaze in the fireplace.

  “Thanks for the fire,” Paul said as he came through the doorway. His coat was littered with newly fallen snow. He slipped it off and shook it, then vanished.

  Rose heard the entry closet door open and close, then footsteps as Paul came back into the room. “It’s snowing again?” Rose asked, uncurling her legs and rising.

  He nodded. “Just a few flakes, though.”

  Paul settled into a chair by the fire while she remained standing. He grew more handsome every day, and the reality broke her heart. Tonight his light brown hair looked disheveled from the wind, and his close-cut shave had begun to shadow. She longed to touch his jaw and feel the prickles of the whiskers that bristled on his cheeks.

  “Are you leaving?” he asked.

  She motioned toward the window. “If it’s snowing, I probably should go.” But that wasn’t what she’d planned to do. Her commitment to talk to him niggled in her mind.

  Instead of leaving, Rose returned to the sofa. “Do you have time to talk?” She sat on the edge of the cushion.

  “Talk? Sure.”

  She lowered her gaze, not knowing where to begin. The words clung in her throat, unwilling to leave until she forced them out. “We don’t usually talk about personal things, but I want to tell you something so you understand why I react as I do.”

  “Is this about the other night?” he asked.

  It was the first reference he’d made to the incident, but she didn’t want to start there. She had too much to explain before that ever happened.

  She shook her head. “When I first came here, you said you needed a friend. I certainly needed one. I had no way to make friends, since I wasn’t working in the community. But sometimes I’m not sure…” She faltered, knowing she had to back up to start the story where the problem had begun.

  When she looked up, Paul was giving her a questioning look. “I hope you didn’t misunderstand me,” he said. “I never meant anything inappropriate when I asked you to be my friend. I—”

  “I know that, Paul.” Suddenly she felt foolish. Why confess the humiliating experience with Don? “Never mind. Let’s forget it.”

  He leaned forward. “No, please. I want to hear what’s bothering you. I thought it was the proposal or something else I’d said or done. The other night when—”

  “It’s a combination of things,” she said. She sent a quick prayer that the Lord would help her tell the story without bitterness or embarrassment. She so often felt guilty for what had happened. Yet she had been faithful, as God commanded. Don hadn’t.

  She began, controlling the old hurt that clashed with the present. She made it brief, and when she stopped she studied his face. “So you can understand why I have a problem with trust…and judgmental people.”

  “Yes, and thanks for trusting me. I understand now. I know you have a strong faith and high morals. I’ll always respect that.”

  He stood and crossed the floor, sinking beside her on the sofa. “But I wish you’d told me
before. You’ve been suffering in silence, and I’ve probably stepped on your toes a million times without knowing what you had gone through.”

  She shrugged. “It just takes me a while to come to grips with most everything.”

  “You needed a friend you could trust, and then I walked through the door in L.A. and proposed to you without explaining what I had in mind.”

  “That did undo me. Don had been my boss, and I’ve promised myself never to mix romance and work.”

  Paul flinched. “No wonder you were upset.”

  “And I’ve never understood how you could propose to someone you didn’t know well or didn’t care about.”

  Paul pressed his hand against her arm. “Don’t think that, please. I cared very much about you. You were excellent with the twins. They loved you. I admired your ability and respected you as a person. I thought that perhaps—”

  “But you didn’t love me.”

  Paul jolted backward, hearing her words. “No, I didn’t, but I…” After what she’d said, how could he ever tell her now that his feelings were different? He’d spent every waking hour thinking of her and the twins, imagining how they were spending the day, envisioning Rose’s smile waiting for him when he came home, her gentle voice when she met him at the door.

  “You say you respected me, but I don’t see it.”

  “What do you mean?” His pulse tripped.

  “If you respected me, you would have known I would never marry a man who didn’t love me fully. Not for convenience, not for money, not for comfort or security. I’d rather be single.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t say—”

  “I’d rather be childless.” She turned to him. “And I want children more than anything else in the world.”

  Childless? Seeing the look on her face, Paul felt his heart break. He couldn’t imagine Rose single and childless for the rest of her life. One day a man would sweep her off her feet, and lately he’d wished he could be the one to do just that.