by Jillian Hart
“I understand, Dad.”
“I thought you would. You’re like me in a lot of ways, Krissie. But listen to me. I’m sitting here choking on my own sorrow. I kept safe, that’s what I did, and the grief is just the same. Only this time around, I see the truth. I’ve got nothing but regret. All that time I wasted. For the years I could have loved that woman and was too darn afraid. Now, all I’ve got is the same killing grief and no love in between.”
“Oh, Dad.” Kristin laid her hand on his. He was cold and trembling, his pain etched deeply on his face. “Just go in and sit with her.”
Dad struggled to blink back his tears. “It didn’t stop me from this hurtin’. I didn’t wind up loving that woman any less. But it did stop me from living life with her.
“Don’t make my mistake, baby girl. That man there—” Dad nodded toward the end of the hallway. “He’s come with his love to offer you. You can’t stop life from happening, it happens just the same. But take what care you can with these fragile blessings God has given you. Love with all your heart. It’s all there is. It’s everything that matters.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Kristin wrapped her arms around her middle. The knot of tears wedged in her throat broke apart. She hung her head as her father stood and walked away. But he was really walking toward something. To Mom. To life. To true love.
Kristin closed her eyes. Laid her face in her hands. Every part of her hurt. Daddy was right. She knew he was. But how could she risk it? There was so much to lose
So much to have, if she could reach out.
Ryan. She felt him draw nearer, for her soul turned like a season, like the ice of winter cracking away to expose the tender new earth beneath.
Her tender, fragile heart ached from the brightness, but she turned toward the light, toward Ryan’s love. He came to her and gathered her to his chest. It was like coming home to stay forever after a painful eternity spent in the cold. What would it be like to be held by him forever?
“He’s a wise man, your father.” Ryan’s lips brushed her forehead. “I think you should take his advice.”
“And love you with my whole heart?”
“As I will love you for the rest of my life. And beyond.” His kiss was perfection. A promise of commitment and honor and quiet evenings spent beside him. Of love through good times and hardship. “You are my everything. That’s what this is between us, this bond, this down-to-the-soul love. Will you marry me?”
It was there, his endless love for her, in his eyes, in his touch, in his dreams. She lost her heart. It was gone. No longer hers. “Yes, I want to marry you. I love you so much.”
When he claimed her lips with his, she saw the fragile blessings yet to come. She saw their future. Their God-given love was like the joy of a warm spring day. Ever blooming and ever precious. Strong enough for this life and ever after.
“C’mon. Let’s go check on your mom.” Ryan helped her stand, wiping her tears with this thumb.
They walked away hand in hand.
Epilogue
Christmas Day, two years later
“Kristin!” Gramma called from the kitchen door. “We’re waiting for you, honey. The girls have the game board all set up and ready to play in the dining room. Come and bring the cookies with you.”
“Sure.” The last snap fastened, she smiled down at her freshly diapered son. Matthew, two weeks old, scrunched up his face, the same way his daddy did before he yawned hugely. “Nap time for you, little one.”
“I’ll take him in with me.” Ryan’s hand settled on her shoulder.
Together they gazed down at their baby. His dark hair was Ryan’s. He had eyes so blue, Kristin knew they would deepen into her family’s trademark violet-blue.
“I don’t think it’s ever too early to expose him to foot ball.”
“Football? That’s not nearly as important as starting him out young playing Monopoly. Maybe I’d better take him in with me.”
She loved that she made her husband chuckle, low in his throat. He rewarded her with a tender kiss. Her soul moved, as it always did. As it always would.
“No way, babe. The third quarter is about to start, and I don’t want him to miss the kickoff.” With care, he scooped his son into his big protective arms. Love for Matthew shone deep in his eyes, as did his love for her.
The love she valued more than anything, for it had changed her life. Changed her.
“Kristin!” Michelle stood in the doorway this time, her new baby, Brittany, in her arms. “We’re waiting!”
“Okay.” She brushed a kiss on her son’s forehead, so sweet and soft and perfect. Pure love lifted her up as she watched her husband and son head off for the exciting second half of the game.
“Excuse me, Aunt Kristin.” Allie, in grade school now, held up one end of a blanket. “Are you done? Cuz I gotta finish makin’ our tent.”
“Sure.” She hefted the diaper bag out of the way as the slim little girl who looked so very much like their dear sister Allison, studiously secured the end of the blanket, successfully finishing the huge tent beneath the wide round oak table.
“Okay, everyone, it’s all done!” Allie flipped the edge up that was to serve as the door, and children came running. Michael, a tall sturdy preschooler, abandoned his racecar track. Hauling their baby dolls, Emily and Anna were the first to crawl into the tent.
Kristin stepped around Kirby’s twins, both little girls struggling to push the same toy vacuum cleaner around the kitchen. Too cute. She snatched the cookie tray from the counter, sidestepped Gabriel, who was happy throwing his Play-Doh on the floor and at the twins, who stopped vacuuming to throw it right back.
The football game blared in the living room as the men gathered around the big screen, shouting encouragement and advice and reprimanding the refs. Mom sat next to Dad, contentedly crocheting on her latest afghan. Their love renewed.
Ryan must have felt her presence because he turned from the game, their new baby drowsing against his wide chest. Their gazes met and the link between them, soul to soul, brightened. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you back.”
“Kristin.” It was Karen this time come to steal the cookies away. The pictures on the wall caught her attention. She nodded toward them. “Look. Mom has your little Matthew’s picture framed and up already. There are a lot of us now.”
“Yeah.” Kristin noticed the pictures that were missing, but the past couldn’t be changed. Only laid to rest. And her love for Allison didn’t have to stop. “She’s watching over us, don’t you think? At least checking in to see how we’re doing.”
“I’m sure. We’ll see her again one day, you know. That’s why it’s called heaven.”
Kristin swallowed hard to hold back the tears. The sounds of family, of laughter and playing children and the groan of the men at an unfortunate interception rose and fell. The tides of life, of homecoming, of all that was important in this world rushed through her.
The room shifted, and it was memory she saw. Grade-school girls crowding around the dining-room table, baby Michelle toddling after them, cookie crumbs everywhere as they hurried to start the Monopoly game Santa had brought them for Christmas. In the next moment teenage girls, laughing and disagreeing just to disagree as properties were traded and money lost.
The past dissolved, leaving the present. Kirby and Michelle setting up the game. Kendra, expecting her second daughter next month, sorted through the tokens and lined up all of their usual ones on the Go square. Karen joined them, trying to distract Kirby by offering her a cookie, so she could try to grab the bank’s money.
“Hey!” Kirby protested good-naturedly. “No fair. I get to be banker this time. Mom!”
“Girls, girls!” Mom scolded from the couch. “Don’t make me come over there.”
“I’ll be good.” With a wink, Karen successfully stole the box with the money in it. “Just tell Kirby it’s my turn.”
The old disagreement had them all laughing. Some traditions w
ere more treasured for all the ways they stayed the same.
There was nothing like coming home. Kristin swiped the tears from her eyes, took her place at the table and rolled the dice.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8391-0
HOLIDAY HOMECOMING
Copyright © 2004 by Jill Strickler
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.
® and TM are trademarks of Steeple Hill Books, used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.SteepleHill.com
*The McKaslin Clan