Yuletide Proposal

by Lois Richer

Cory sat on one side, her father on the other. Zac took the place next to Brianna, which wasn’t a hardship. Lately he wanted to sit beside her more and more. Anything just to be near her.

  “Dad, would you say grace?”

  “Yes, of course. Let’s join hands.”

  Brianna blinked. Zac reached out and grasped her hand in his. He loved the way her hand fit into his. His gaze caught and held hers. He smiled. Brianna smiled back.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” he whispered so softly no one else could hear.

  Her father started praying, but when he said, “Let a spirit of thanksgiving and love pervade this house on this day,” Zac tightened his fingers around Brianna’s. He wished he could make it so.

  Because that was exactly what he wanted for her here in her old home. A spirit of love. A time when she would finally be appreciated for all she was. If God gave him the opportunity, he was going to make that happen. Brianna was a special woman who devoted herself to helping others. It was way past time her mother saw that others appreciated her daughter.

  Zac felt her gaze on him. Her smile made his stomach twist.

  Oh, Lord, I am crazy about this woman.

  Brianna withdrew her hand on the pretext of passing food.

  “Mom, this smells so good. I’m starving.”

  “Thanks, honey. I hope you enjoy everything.” Cory’s comment brought a soft glow of joy to Brianna’s face, quickly doused by her mother’s complaint that the turkey was too dry.

  “I don’t want to contradict you, Mrs. Benson,” Zac said quietly, “but I think this turkey is cooked to perfection. And when loving hands prepared it, that makes it taste all the better. Don’t you agree?”

  Mrs. Benson’s mouth formed an O of surprise. She glanced around and quickly nodded. “Yes, that’s true. But the potatoes—Brianna always makes them too soft.”

  “I’m sure that’s because Cory likes them that way. You probably did the same kind of thing, made food her favorite way when Brianna was a child, didn’t you?” Zac asked smoothly. “I know my mom did. I guess that’s what mother’s do. They go all out for their kids, because they love them.”

  And so it went. For every complaint her mother voiced, Zac countered with another about family or love. Determined to stop this woman from ruining Brianna’s Thanksgiving, by the end of the meal he thought he might have succeeded. Mrs. Benson’s complaints had dwindled to almost nothing.

  “I hope everyone left room for pie,” Brianna said, rising to collect plates.

  “I’ll have to wait awhile,” Zac told her as he gathered up serving dishes. “Everything was so good, I ate too much dinner.”

  “Me, too, Mom.” Cory grinned. “I think I ate the most potatoes. They were so good.”

  “Everything was good,” Mr. Benson said. “It was a delicious meal, honey. Don’t you think so, dear?” he asked his wife.

  “Well—” Mrs. Benson began to say something, glanced at Zac and nodded. “Everything was very tasty, Brianna. You did a good job.”

  “Thank you.” Brianna’s hazel eyes stretched as she stared at her mother. Finally she gathered herself enough to say, “You and Dad go relax with Zac. I’ll just clean this up.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m helping you.” Zac took the dishes from her hands as he glanced at Cory. “We all are. You did the cooking, we’ll do the cleanup.”

  “Zac’s right, Mom. We can do it. You take a break. Stay there.” Cory poured her a cup of coffee, added cream the way she liked it, then grinned. “C’mon, Grandma. You can show me the right way to load the dishwasher.”

  “You mean you don’t know?” she asked, frowning at him.

  “No clue,” Cory said with a wink at Zac.

  “Then it’s time you learned. I’m a firm believer men should be able to do for themselves. Look at Zac. He was able to make that salad himself, though I’m not sure the combination of—” She blinked at Zac then smiled. “It was a delicious salad,” she said.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Benson.”

  “Come along, young man,” she said to Cory. She wheeled her chair into the kitchen with an energy Zac had never seen before. A moment later they heard her giving Cory and her husband orders.

  “I don’t believe it,” Brianna breathed. “She said your salad was good.”

  “It was.” He grinned. “I like those flavors together.”

  “Yes, but—” Brianna blinked.

  Zac realized her eyes were full of tears.

  “You’re crying,” he murmured, catching one tear on his fingertip. He slid his hand around her waist to comfort her. “Why?”

  “Happy tears.” She stared straight into his eyes. “I’ve never had a Thanksgiving like this before. Thank you.”

  “Me? I only made the salad,” he said, loving the way she snuggled into him as if she found comfort in his arms.

  “It was a great salad,” she whispered as one hand brushed his jaw. “You’re a great friend.” Her eyes met his, huge orbs of forest green. “Thank you.” Then Brianna stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

  And Zac kissed her back, relishing the feel of her soft lips against his, the touch of her fingers against his neck, the curve of her waist against his hand. She fit. This was right.

  A noise from the doorway disturbed them but when he looked, no one was there and the discussion from the kitchen centered on whether knives should be points up or points down in the dishwasher.

  Slightly bemused, Zac eased back a fraction so he could look into the face of the woman he loved, had never stopped loving.

  “Brianna?”

  “Yes?” She laid her head on his chest.

  “Can we do this again sometime when we’re alone?”

  She froze for an instant, then giggled and drew out of his arms.

  “That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it?” he asked, hating the emptiness he felt at her loss. “I seem to make a habit of saying the wrong thing.”

  “On the contrary, my dear friend. You always say exactly the right thing to me.” And she kissed him again, though this time her peck on his cheek was much less satisfying. “Let’s get out the Christmas decorations. I have a feeling this is going to be an afternoon to remember.”

  Brianna didn’t realize, but it already was, Zac thought, following her to the family room where a live tree waited to be adorned.

  But where was it going? Did Brianna really care for him or was she just being a friend, as he’d asked? Or worse, was this whole day, the kiss, the embrace, simply because she felt sorry for him?

  And why did it matter so much?

  Because, Zac admitted to himself, he was head over heels in love with Brianna Benson.

  Again.

  Still.

  * * *

  Brianna stared at her mother, shocked by the hearty laughter from the woman who’d always seemed so full of anger.

  “You can’t hang those ornaments like that,” she told Zac. “It looks ridiculous.”

  “It does look a little goofy,” Cory agreed.

  “Brianna?” Zac asked, drawing her out of her introspection.

  “What?” She tore her gaze from her mother to study Zac’s work. “Oh, definitely goofy. Some might even say weird.”

  “I would.” Mr. Benson shrugged. “I’d like to support you, Zac, but sideways ornaments are too much for me.”

  The family looked at each other and burst into laughter. At him.

  Brianna realized that for first time she could remember Zac seemed unbothered by that.

  “Everybody’s a critic,” he mumbled as he righted the ornaments. “No vision.”

  “That was more like a nightmare.” Brianna smiled and patted his cheek as she walked by. “But you have great vision in other areas.”

  “They’re going to star
t talking about the church now,” Cory warned.

  “What about the church?” Mrs. Benson glared at him. “Are you changing things in our beautiful old church, too?”

  “I don’t know.” Zac was always honest.

  Brianna held her breath. This had been such an awesome day. She didn’t want it ruined. But then, this was Zac. He knew how to handle her mother.

  “Your daughter has a couple of clients who aspire to get into the construction trade. She thinks they should help with restoration at the church and she wants your husband to teach them.”

  “Hugh? You never told me this.” Mrs. Benson frowned at her husband.

  “Because I’ve decided not to do it. It takes away too much time I want to spend with you.” He smiled as he covered her hand with his.

  “But I won’t be able to spend that much time talking to you. Brianna’s got a quilt framed in my old office. I thought I’d come over and help her stitch it for a few hours a week.” She looked at Brianna hesitantly. “If that would be all right?”

  “Of course, Mom,” Brianna said, her voice sounding wooden even to her. “If you want to help, I’d love it.” However she knew her mother would criticize her efforts on the quilt she was making for Zac for Christmas.

  “I think I would like to help.” The older woman looked at her hands, flexed them. “Of course, there’s no guarantee I can do it,” she said, meeting Brianna’s gaze. “If I make a mess of the stitches, I’ll stop immediately. I wouldn’t want to wreck your work.”

  “You wouldn’t make a mess, Mom.” For the first time in years, Brianna felt a connection with the woman who’d made her life so miserable. She knelt at her mother’s side and slid her hands over her mother’s weakened fingers. “A quilt is special because it’s sewn with love,” she whispered. “Not because of the stitches.”

  Her mother said nothing. She didn’t have to. The harsh critical lines in her face softened. A tiny smile flickered at the corners of her mouth, then grew as she glanced around the room. Her gaze moved back to Brianna.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.”

  As she hugged her mother, Brianna realized that her father’s prayer had been answered. There was a spirit of peace and thanksgiving pervading this house.

  And love.

  If only Zac could be a permanent part of that. But he had other plans. He’d be leaving when he got that state job. Even if he could love her again, a future with him was impossible.

  Because Brianna couldn’t leave. Especially not now that she’d forged the first fragile bonds of reconciliation with her mother. Duty lay here in Hope. Duty to Cory, to her parents, to her clients. She’d run away once, but she couldn’t do it a second time.

  Zac would move on, but she’d given up her chance ten years ago. The realization decimated her but Brianna tried not to show anything as she drew away from her mother.

  “Now, how about that pie?” she said, and hurried to the kitchen so she could dash away her tears before anyone saw them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On Friday evening, Zac collapsed on his chaise longue.

  “Don’t you answer the door anymore?” Kent demanded a few minutes later as he towered over Zac, glaring.

  “Didn’t—hear—it.” That was all Zac could manage as he sucked air into his starving lungs.

  “Jogging.” Kent’s disgusted glare took in his clothes, soaked with sweat. “You’re overdoing it, professor.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  The truth was too stupid to say aloud. Zac had run past Brianna’s home umpteen times in hopes of seeing her, maybe getting invited in for coffee. He hadn’t caught even a glimpse of her, but no way was he admitting that, so he grabbed his water bottle and drank in lieu of an answer.

  “Never mind.” Kent flopped down on another lounger. “I can’t stay long. Jaclyn’s tying up some odds and ends at the hospital. I have to pick her up in a few minutes. The reason I stopped by here is to tell you to get your sorry butt over to the church and help Brianna.”

  “Help her do what?” Zac raised one eyebrow.

  “Cory has been regaling Brianna with her mother’s tales of the church’s past glory at Christmas, so for his sake, Brianna is trying to re-create it.” Kent made a face. “I hid the ladders before I left and made her promise not to climb on anything, but you need to get over there or she’s going to do herself an injury trying to satisfy that kid of hers.”

  “Where’s Cory?” Zac’s lungs began to lose the burning sensation.

  “Working on his ‘project’ with his friends.” Kent frowned. “What is this project, anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” Zac admitted. “During Thanksgiving dinner he finally persuaded me to help his travel club plan a trip to Hawaii at Easter, so I don’t think it’s that.”

  “You had Thanksgiving at Brianna’s?” Kent’s blue eyes darkened at Zac’s nod. “I see.”

  “You don’t see anything,” Zac said, rising. “It was nice. We decorated their tree. Her mother and Brianna made up. Sort of.”

  “And you and Brianna?” Kent said, raising one eyebrow. “Did you make up, too?”

  “In a way. But it’s not what you think.” Sadness almost swamped him as he said it.

  “Do you love her?”

  The soft-voiced question halted Zac’s progress inside. He stopped, turned around and sat down as he faced the truth.

  “Yes,” he admitted quietly. “But it isn’t enough. I’m not enough.”

  “This again.” Kent rolled his eyes.

  “It’s always been this,” Zac told him. “Ever since she walked away. You know my goal. I want that job in curriculum. Kent, my past with Brianna is over.”

  “Who’s talking about the past? I’m talking about the future. A future you and Brianna could have together.” Kent hissed his frustration. “What’s really at the bottom of this, Zac? If you love her—”

  “Yes, I love Brianna. Always have. Okay?” Zac jumped to his feet. “But so what? That doesn’t make me any better suited to being her husband.”

  “What else do you need but love?” Kent demanded.

  “This town, Hope, is your home and you think it’s perfect,” Zac muttered. “But it isn’t perfect for me. I only came back here to take the next step on my journey.”

  “So you’ll let your ambition ruin your relationship with Brianna again?” Kent’s disgust was obvious.

  “We’re friends. We’ll stay friends. But that’s all,” Zac told Kent. “Anyway what she does or doesn’t feel for me isn’t relevant.”

  “Isn’t relevant?” Kent repeated.

  “No, because whatever she feels, nothing can come of it.” Zac watched Kent’s eyes narrow and knew he had only a few minutes to make his point before his buddy would interrupt. “I’ve worked my entire life to get to the top, to prove that I’m not some useless brainy nerd. I’ve worked especially hard to prove it to the people in this town, the ones who made fun of me.”

  “You’ll ignore what you feel for Brianna because you need revenge?” Kent demanded.

  “No, but Brianna and I are on different paths now. I can’t act on anything I feel because I’m not staying in Hope, Kent. Coming here was just a stepping stone onto something better. I need that state job.”

  “To prove you’re not the poor pathetic nerd the kids in school called you?”

  “Something like that.” Zac stiffened at the reminder, the old scar stinging. “Brianna is not leaving Hope. She has her family, Cory has found his grandparents. She’s finally working in the clinic she and her friends talked about half their life. It can’t work between us.”

  “So you’ve decided, huh? Did you even pray about this?” Kent studied him then nodded. “I didn’t think so. Ther
e’s no room in your life for God to work, is there? Because Zac Ender already has his life all figured out, complete with barriers that no one can get through.” Kent’s voice hardened. “This need to prove yourself—it’s a trap, Zac. And getting that state job won’t satisfy you, because inside you won’t have changed. You won’t engage with those state administrators anymore than you did here because you’re too afraid of rejection. But you can’t control everything, Zac. Sometimes you just have to take a chance and trust God to work things out.”

  “Giving up control isn’t that easy for me.”

  “I know.” Kent nodded. “Because fear rules your life. You go out of your way to make sure nobody will reject you ever again, especially Brianna. You’ll withdraw rather than extend yourself and take a chance. But the thing is, to find acceptance you have to be willing to risk rejection.”

  Zac recalled three occasions when he’d pled work as an excuse not to join his friends. He could have taken an hour off to join them but he hadn’t, because he’d felt awkward.

  “You’ve got your eyes focused on yourself, Zac. You talk about killing the apathy in the schools, about opening the kids’ eyes, but yours are closed. You push people away, and then wonder why you’re alone. I’ve known you most of my life and even I have to push my way into your world.” Kent walked toward the gate, dragged it open then stopped to glare at him. “Fortunately for you, I happen to think you’re worth the trouble.”

  “Thank you.” Zac met his friend’s blue stare with a nod.

  “You’re welcome. Now get over and help Brianna. I don’t want her hobbling around with a cast for Christmas because you weren’t man enough to get out of your comfort zone.” Kent slapped on his cowboy hat. “Maybe you might even get to telling her how you really feel?”

  “What good will that do?”

  “Did you hear anything I said?” Kent shook his head in disgust. “You won’t know till you try, will you?” He left.

  Zac showered and changed in record time then drove to the church. He didn’t have to. It wasn’t far to walk. But he needed to talk to Brianna. When he arrived, she was kneeling in front of the manger scene at the side of the church, tenderly straightening the sheet that draped the baby doll.