A Child's Christmas Boxed Set: Sugarplum HomecomingThe Christmas ChildA Season For Grace

by Linda Goodnight

  Lana glanced up. He put all the sincerity he could muster into his expression. He’d never wanted to be a hypocrite, one of those in-name-only Christians who talked a good talk but treated people shabbily.

  “We’ll see,” she answered. He knew then, from the quiet hurt in her eyes, that she’d guessed. And he felt like a total jerk.

  “I’ll go empty the wheelbarrow,” she said.

  He had to give her credit. Other than short breaks, she’d stayed with him, working every bit as hard as he.

  “Thanks.” Troubled by his confusion and the voice of his sister in his head, he didn’t watch Lana leave though he heard the rumble of the wheelbarrow.

  The kids remained, observing with the curiosity of children and asking too many questions.

  After a bit Davis sat back on his haunches and waved at the corner where he’d laid the first pieces of tile. He’d planned out a design pattern with diamond accents, already visible. Cutting each piece took extra time but Lana had especially liked the look in his portfolio of photos. “What do you think?”

  The trio studied the tile as if they were experts, making him smile.

  “Pretty, Daddy,” Paige said. “You’re the best tile putter-downer in the world.”

  “How about you, Sydney?” he asked. “This is your house. What do you think? Like it?”

  Sydney’s head bobbed. She wasn’t a big talker but her expressive blue-green eyes said plenty. At the moment, they sparkled. “Yes.”

  “Ever had a fancy diamond pattern in your house before?”

  Her small, oval face grew serious. “We never had a real house before.”

  The admission struck him in the heart. “Where did you live before moving here?”

  He knew he was prying, but Lana was about as forthcoming as the Sphinx about her years away from Whisper Falls.

  Sydney bunched narrow shoulders. “Sometimes in motels or other places. Sometimes in the car.”

  Whoa. What kind of other places? And what was a child doing living in a car?

  Stomach rolling, Davis wanted to press for details but Lana chose that moment to return, wheelbarrow clattering against the hall floor.

  As he looked up into Lana’s pretty face, Jenny’s voice echoed in his head. What kind of mother was Lana Ross?

  Chapter Eight

  Monday morning Lana dropped Sydney at school, and then stopped at the newspaper office, relieved to pick up another assignment. Afterward, with a renewed determination to learn more about this writing stuff, she drove straight to the Whisper Falls Public Library.

  Unfamiliar with libraries in general, she was glad to see a row of computers, a desk manned by two women and more books than she’d known existed. Nothing weird or confusing. Surely, she could find help in here.

  She approached a thirtyish redhead with stunning posture and a face that belonged on magazines.

  “May I help you?” the gorgeous woman asked.

  “I’m looking for Meg Banning.”

  Absolutely perfect teeth smiled at her across the desk. “I’m Meg. What can I do for you?”

  This was Meg? No wonder Davis hung out at the library!

  Somehow she managed to stutter around her surprise. True to reputation, Meg led her to a section of books and offered to order others through inter-library loan.

  “Do you have a library card with us?” Meg asked.

  “Do I need one?” She hated feeling this stupid but libraries had never been on her list of hangouts.

  “The application is short and easy.”

  “Will I be able to check out a book today?”

  “Sure, though we limit you to two books per visit for the first three trial months.” Meg led the way back to the desk where she withdrew an application from beneath the counter. “Here you go. Fill out all the contact information, add two references, preferably local, sign the bottom and you’re good to go.”

  With a sinking feeling Lana worked her way through the easy part. Name, address, phone, employment. But at the reference lines she was stuck. Who in this town would vouch for her?

  Finally, she scribbled two names.

  “I moved here recently,” she said as she handed the application back to Meg. “I’m not that acquainted yet but I think these two references will be okay.”

  Meg glanced at the names. Her beautiful face lit up. “You know Davis Turner?”

  “He’s my neighbor.”

  “Great guy and a terrific dad. You’re lucky.”

  Was Meg the Beautiful interested in Davis? The notion gave Lana a funny feeling under her rib cage. Was Davis interested in Meg, too? Why should she be surprised that other women found him attractive? Any sensible woman would be thrilled to call Davis Turner her man.

  Another patron approached the desk and Lana moved away to the stacks and shelves of books, shaking off the odd sensation. She wasn’t jealous. She couldn’t be. She and Davis were just friendly neighbors.

  As she perused one volume Meg had recommended, several people moved past her, scanning titles. She shifted her position and, focused on the book, was paying no attention to the other browsers when a whispered conversation caught her ear. The speakers, hidden on the opposite side of the wall of books, were unknown.

  “Did you see her at the football game? She was all over Davis Turner.”

  “Just like in high school. She probably slept her way around Nashville.”

  “I wonder what happened to her big singing career?”

  “Singing? Is that what they call it these days?”

  A giggle. “Retta, you’re awful.”

  Lana’s stomach churned. To her consternation, tears stung at the back of her eyelids. She spun away from the whispers and started down the aisle to escape the ugly gossip. One of the speakers was Retta Jennings, who had never liked her, but the talk still hurt. She wanted to scream, “I’ve changed. I’m not that girl anymore.” Instead, she pressed a hand to her mouth, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths through her nose, trying to recall her counselor’s wise words, “You’re a new creation in Christ. You know. He knows. But the rest of the world will need some time to catch up.”

  “Lana?”

  She jumped at the sudden hand on her forearm. “Haley!”

  Haley Carter, in a fleece-lined jean jacket and long corduroy jumper, stood in front of her, toddler in arms, compassion in her expression.

  A hot flush of embarrassment rose on Lana’s neck and spread over her face. “You heard?”

  Haley nodded. “Don’t let them get to you.”

  She let out a long breath. “I’m trying. No one seems to believe I’ve changed.”

  “No one?”

  “Well...some don’t.”

  “Only a few, Lana, and they don’t matter. Don’t let them matter.” Haley shifted the baby to her hip. The pretty little girl grinned at Lana. “Want to go get some coffee and talk?”

  Not that talking would help but she liked Haley and the Lord knew she could use a friend. “Let me check out this book first. Okay?”

  “I have one, too.” Haley hoisted a large volume of photographed artwork. Baby Rose grabbed the edge and tried to gnaw it. The young mother gently eased the book away.

  They checked out at the desk and left the library, walking the few blocks down Easy Street to the Iron Horse Snack Shop. They took their time, letting Rose toddle along in her tiny baby steps. She was dressed warmly, a knit cap over her dark hair, and a soft fleece coat zipped to her chin. A beautiful child, Rose was happy, too, and clearly adored by her mother.

  Lana stifled a regretful sigh. Haley was a blessed woman to have a child and a husband who loved her. In Lana’s teen years, her thoughts about marriage and family had mostly been negative, impacted by her parents’ constant battles. Today...well, today she didn’t know. With her background, what worthwhile man would want her?

  The day was cold and clear, the streets quiet. In the five-block swath that made up most of the town, they passed the Tress and Tan Salon where Ca
ssie Blackwell pecked on the glass and waved a hairbrush. That simple act of friendliness made Lana feel better. Haley was right. Not everyone in Whisper Falls bore her ill feelings.

  She waved back. “I met Cassie at church yesterday,” she told Haley. “She and her brother and sister-in-law.”

  “The Blackwells are great people, not like some I could name.”

  “Yeah.” The negative feeling returned.

  “I know how you feel.” Haley’s voice was quiet as she stooped to lift Rose into her arms. Her skirt pooled around her boots.

  “Oh, Haley, I don’t think so. You’re so sweet. I can’t believe you ever did anything bad in your life that would make people hate you.”

  “I had an...unorthodox upbringing. Some people looked down their noses at me.” Haley tossed her hair back and laughed. “And let’s face it, I’m a little different. Creed calls it ‘artistic’ but those who don’t love me have used terms such as ‘weirdo’ or ‘flaky’. In fact, Creed called me Flaky Haley for a long time.”

  “He did not!” Lana couldn’t help laughing.

  “Yes, he did. I know what it’s like to be...well, different. Kind of an outcast. Things have changed since I married Creed, but now I don’t really care. I like who I am. Creed likes who I am. Most importantly, God likes me.”

  “My counselor keeps telling me that.”

  “Your counselor?”

  Lana flinched. She hadn’t intended to say that. The less anyone knew about her time in Nashville, the better chance Sydney would have for a normal life. “A mentor, really. Amber took me under her wing after I met Jesus and turned my life around.”

  “Things were bumpy in Nashville?”

  “You could say so.” And that’s really all she wanted to say on the subject.

  “Do you miss it? Your music, I mean?”

  Like I’d miss my right arm. “That part of my life is behind me now. Sydney is my focus.”

  “Rose and Creed are my focus, too, Lana, but there’s room for my art, as well. Having one doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the other.”

  Haley had no idea what she was saying. Painting and sculpting were private art forms. Make a mistake and simply start over. Singing was make-or-break every single time she went on stage. Failure was one wrong note away.

  Now, the only time she could sing was at night with only her guitar and her pen and pad for company. Alone, where no one would know the fraud she’d been.

  But she was a long way from telling anyone what had happened to her singing career. A very long way.

  Thankfully, they reached the Iron Horse, a snack shop connected to the historic train depot and museum run by Digger and Evelyn Parsons. Inside, the smell of cinnamon and apples filled the air, a result, she knew, of Miss Evelyn’s almost-famous apple pie. A handful of small, square tables, unchanged in all these years, scattered around the small space while a counter with bar stools lined one end. A few customers sat here and there. Haley spoke to a couple of them, introducing Lana.

  Along one wall of the room were an office door and an exit leading out to the train. The depot, which harkened back to the early days of the railroad, still displayed the rustic wood, antique green lanterns and other train paraphernalia.

  Miss Evelyn came bustling toward them, her cheeks rosy in a round face. “Got some apple pie fresh from the oven.”

  Lana and Haley exchanged glances.

  “Pie and coffee?” Haley asked.

  “Sounds good. I’m chilled.”

  “Do you have a banana for Rose?” Haley said to Miss Evelyn.

  “With a cup of milk?” the older woman asked.

  Haley smiled. “Perfect.”

  “Coming right up.” Miss Evelyn moved away in her characteristic rush, a sharp contrast to her amiable husband who never hurried. She returned with the order, lingering briefly to chat until another customer lifted his coffee cup.

  “Awk. I’ll be glad when Annalisa feels better. I don’t know how we ever managed this shop without her. She runs the place now so I can do my work with the town council. When she’s not here, I’m in a dither. With Thanksgiving just around the corner and the Christmas bazaar to plan, I really need her.”

  “Is Annalisa sick?” Haley asked. “She looked fine at church yesterday.”

  “Fine one minute, sick as a dog whenever she smells food cooking.” Miss Evelyn pumped her eyebrows and grinned. “In a few months, she’ll feel right as a summer rain.”

  With that pronouncement, she hurried away to the coffeemaker.

  Haley’s eyes widened. She peeled the skin from Rose’s banana and broke the fruit into bite-size pieces. “The Blackwells are having a baby?”

  A twinge of longing surprised Lana. “Sounds that way.”

  “I’m so happy for them. There is nothing in the world better than your own precious child.” Haley bent to the high chair and kissed her baby on the forehead, receiving a banana-coated pat on the check in return. “Didn’t you feel that way when Sydney was born?”

  Lana dropped her gaze to the steaming apple pie. Guilt pressed at her conscience. Even though the deception was for Sydney’s sake, she felt guilty for lying about the relationship, especially to someone like Haley who’d befriended her. “She was a wonderful baby.”

  She cut a bite of the pie and blew on it before tasting. Her answer wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

  She chewed, expecting the pie to be delicious but it tasted like ashes on her tongue. Even a half-truth had a way of sucking the joy out of a situation.

  “I never dreamed I would ever have a child of my own,” Haley was saying.

  “Why not?”

  “I was afraid of getting too attached, of loving too much, of getting hurt.”

  “You? But you’re such a great mother.”

  “It was only when I thought I was going to lose her that I woke up. Even though she wasn’t mine by birth, I loved her. She was worth anything, even risking a broken heart.”

  “Rose isn’t yours?”

  Haley paused in wiping her daughter’s face to give Lana a stern look. “Adopted means she’s as much my daughter as Sydney is yours.”

  More so.

  Again, the opportunity to tell the truth arose but the friendship was too new, so Lana kept quiet.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “No offense taken. Creed is adopted, too, so he thinks adoption is the way to go. I’d like to be pregnant some day, but if it doesn’t happen, I have the daughter I want, the child God intended me to have.”

  “And a pretty great husband, too.”

  “Absolutely.” She pointed a fork at Lana. “So what gives with you and Davis Turner?”

  “Nothing. I told you that at the game.”

  “I don’t believe you. Neither does Creed. He said Davis couldn’t take his eyes off you even when you and I went to the concession stand.”

  “Stop.” Lana gave a short, embarrassed laugh. “He’s a nice neighbor, taking pity on me. That’s all.”

  Haley rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Whatever.”

  “Really, Haley. Even if I was interested, I wouldn’t stand a chance. He is so out of my league.” And it hurt to admit the truth. Davis Turner occupied her time and her thoughts way more than was prudent.

  “Is he dating anyone else?”

  The question gave her pause. Hadn’t she wondered the same thing? Davis had been working on her house nearly every evening after dinner. Some nights they ate together, usually a pizza delivered from the Pizza Pan, while planning strategies for the old house or talking about town events and football play-offs. If Whisper Falls won another game, they’d play for the state championship. Exciting stuff in a small town and especially for a stringer reporter who only made money when she wrote a story.

  “Is he?” Haley pressed, hoisting her coffee cup.

  “Not that I know of. But he’s really busy with work and his kids. It doesn’t mean he’s interested in me!”

  “But it
doesn’t mean he’s not either.”

  Oh boy. Just what she needed. Another misguided matchmaker.

  * * *

  “Davis, you will love her. Tara is the sweetest girl ever. She’s only been working for Chuck a short time, but he’s mad about her.”

  After a hard, extra long day on the job, Davis was worn slick, grimy and ready to head home to the shower and a little time in front of a televised basketball game. The last thing he wanted was to be nagged about his single status. Again.

  “Maybe Chuck should date her.”

  Jenny whacked Davis on the arm and growled like a bear. “Only if he has a death wish.” She bared her teeth in mock anger. “My hubby is as faithful as that old dog we had when we were kids.”

  “Patches? Not flattering to compare your successful CPA husband to a Heinz 57 mutt.” He gave up expecting to grab his kids and head home. Jenny was on a mission and he might as well sit down on her couch and endure her good intentions.

  “Loyalty, Davis. Loyalty.” She perched on the edge of the couch a couple of feet down from him, her back straight as an arrow, her dark blond hair fresh from the beauty parlor. “Now stop changing the subject. Tara Brewster is perfect for you. She’s pretty and funny and smart as a whip. And she’s new in town. Act now before some other smart man discovers her.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for the whole dating thing, sis.” Hadn’t they had this conversation at least five times lately?

  Jenny put her hand on his knee, her face filled with love and concern. She loved him, worried about him, even if he didn’t want her to. “You know I loved Cheryl, but she’s been gone a long time, Davis. You are young and good-looking—” When he flexed an arm, she pursed her lips and swatted him again. “Don’t get the big head.”

  “Look, sis. I know you mean well, but I’d prefer to find my own dates.”

  “You aren’t doing a very good job of it.”

  “I can’t risk choosing wrong and messing up my kids.”

  “Which is exactly what you seem to be doing.”

  Her tone got his back up. “Are you talking about Lana?”

  “I admire you for being a good neighbor. Even for bringing her to church. Lord knows, she needs it, but you can’t let her get the wrong idea.”