01_Gift from the Heart

by Irene Hannon

  “No. He said it was okay if you got a few new things,” Clare assured her.

  “It’s really different than the stuff I usually buy.”

  “But you like it, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. A lot. It kind of makes me think of some of the clothes you wear.” Clare was saved from having to think up a response by Nicole’s next comment. “You should have gotten something for yourself.”

  Clare smiled. “I have enough clothes.”

  “But you wear the same stuff a lot.”

  Clare couldn’t deny that. She’d left some of her clothes in storage in Kansas City, but she’d disposed of much of her wardrobe at a resale shop when she’d moved into her apartment. Dennis had frequently encouraged her to buy new things, and she’d done so because it seemed to please him. But her interest in clothes had been marginal at best, and it had completely waned with his death. So she’d kept some of the more classic, well-made things that would wear well and stay in style, and gotten rid of the rest. Besides, her new lifestyle didn’t call for designer suits and cocktail dresses. And the money she’d made from her closet purge had come in handy.

  Clare turned to Nicole and grinned. “Are you saying my wardrobe is boring?” she teased.

  Nicole smiled in response. “No. I like what you wear. But new clothes are fun.”

  “And just where would I store them? Have you seen the closet in my apartment? It was made for a Barbie doll.”

  Nicole giggled. “It is pretty small.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year,” Clare said wryly as they stowed their packages in the car and settled in for the drive home. “It’s a good thing I left some of my clothes in Kansas City.”

  “So were you always a teacher when you lived there?” Nicole asked.

  For the briefest second Clare’s hand froze as she fit the car key in the ignition. “No. For a while after I got married I taught, but then for a long time I didn’t work outside the home.” She put the car into gear and began to back out of the parking spot.

  “How come?”

  Clare swallowed. It wasn’t that she purposely kept her past a secret. But it was so hard to talk about. And there’d been no reason to bring it up. Until now. “I—I had a baby. And I decided to stay home with him.”

  Nicole’s head swiveled toward her and her eyes grew wide. “Wow! I didn’t know you had a baby! You never told me that. Where is he?”

  “He died.”

  There was a long moment of silence, and when Nicole spoke again her voice was more subdued. “Dad told me that your husband died. He didn’t tell me about your baby.”

  “He doesn’t know. I don’t talk about it much.”

  “Why not?”

  Because it was my fault. And the guilt overwhelms me when I think about, Clare silently cried. But her spoken words were different. “It still…hurts too much.”

  Nicole turned to look out the front windshield. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I still miss my mom a lot. It’s like I still kind of expect her to come back, you know? Because she wasn’t sick or anything. She just went out on a boat with her friends and I never saw her again.”

  “That’s the same way it happened for me. Only it was a car accident.”

  “How old was your baby?”

  “He wasn’t a baby anymore then. He was eight.”

  “What was his name?”

  “David.”

  Silence filled the car as Nicole digested that. “It must have been really hard for you to lose two people you love. I just lost one. And at least I still had my father, even though he isn’t very good at being a dad. Did you have anybody?”

  “I had my sisters.”

  “But they didn’t live near you, did they?”

  “No.”

  Nicole sighed. “That’s hard. It’s like, with my dad, even though I don’t talk that much to him, at least I know he’s around. That helps a little, you know? But I still get lonesome sometimes.”

  “I’m sure your dad feels the same way.”

  “I don’t know,” she said skeptically. “He’s always so busy, I don’t think he has time to be lonesome.”

  Clare thought about the helpless, hungry look she’d seen in Adam’s eyes when he watched his daughter. He desperately wanted…needed…her affection. And she thought about the other look she’d sometimes seen when he thought no one was watching, a look that spoke of deep, soul-wrenching loneliness.

  “You might be surprised. Some people just hide their loneliness very well,” Clare said softly.

  “Are you lonely?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “So what do you do?”

  “Find something to keep me busy. Or maybe talk to God.”

  “Yeah. I tried that, too. But He doesn’t listen.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because nothing ever changes.”

  Clare was still trying to think of a response when Nicole spoke again, this time more thoughtfully. “Well, maybe that’s not really true.”

  Clare sent her a quick, curious glance. “What do you mean?”

  “Things did change when you came. I told God that I hated my new life, and I asked Him to fix it. I wanted Him to make my dad move back to St. Louis, so I could be with my friends again. I asked and asked for a long time, but when nothing ever happened I finally figured praying was a waste of time. So I quit. But maybe He was listening. Maybe instead of making Dad move back to St. Louis, He sent me you instead.”

  Nicole’s insight jolted Clare. She’d often learned from her students, and today was certainly no exception. Clare thought about her own sporadic prayers, and how she’d felt much the same way as Nicole—unheard and desolate. The only difference was that Nicole had had hope when she prayed. Clare, on the other hand, had known all along that there was no way God could fix the mess she’d created for herself. Her prayers had been a nebulous plea born of desperation for something…mercy, peace of mind, strength, forgiveness. She’d never put a name to her request. And she’d never felt it had been answered.

  But maybe Nicole was right. Maybe God had heard her. Maybe Aunt Jo’s legacy was the answer to her prayer. Maybe, with Nicole and Adam, He was giving her an opportunity to redeem her mistake by putting her in a position to help another family get the second chance her own would never have.

  It certainly wasn’t the answer she’d expected. Or wanted.

  But it was an answer.

  And a challenge.

  Because even though she felt she’d made some progress with Nicole, and laid some groundwork to strengthen the relationship between father and daughter, she knew there was still a whole lot of work to do before those two lonely people could be called a family.

  “What do you think, Nicole?”

  Nicole studied the tree that Adam was propping up for their inspection and gave a nod of approval. “It’s perfect.”

  “Mission accomplished,” Clare pronounced.

  “Good! I don’t know about you ladies, but my fingers are starting to turn numb,” Adam said with a relieved grin as he signaled to one of the attendants on the lot and handed over the Fraser fir for bundling. “How about we go get some hot chocolate?”

  “Sounds great to me,” Clare agreed.

  Nicole chatted excitedly with Clare as they drove back into town, and even included Adam briefly in the conversation.

  “So can we put the tree up when we get home?” she asked him.

  “Sure.”

  “Clare and I got some stuff for it. Bows and tinsel and lights and glass ornaments. You can help us decorate it, if you want.”

  Adam felt his throat tighten, and when he spoke his voice was a bit rough at the edges. “I’d like that.”

  A short time later he pulled into a parking spot in the town square and they piled out of the car. A few snowflakes had begun to drift down lazily, and the crowd—or what passed for a crowd in Hope Creek—seemed to be in good cheer as residents ambled around, stopping to sample cookies and hot cider at
the shops of the various merchants who were taking part in the festival. Carolers sang in the gazebo in the middle of the square, accompanied by a local brass band.

  Adam glanced at Nicole. She seemed totally caught up in the festive scene, and her eyes were shining. He smiled and turned to Clare. She looked especially lovely today, he realized, as he tried to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. Her dark-blue earmuffs and matching scarf brought out the azure color of her eyes. A few delicate snowflakes clung to her golden hair, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. Her breath came out in frosty clouds through softly parted lips.

  Adam felt his pulse begin to pound. He’d glanced her way to see if she’d noticed Nicole’s good spirits. Instead, he’d noticed her.

  Clare wasn’t sure what to make of the expression on Adam’s face. It had started off as merely friendly, and she’d been prepared to respond in the same way. But it had rapidly changed to something intense and more than a little unnerving. She felt her heart stop, then race on, as the warmth in his eyes enveloped her. It wasn’t the kind of warmth produced by a blazing fire that boldly vanquishes everything in its path. It was more like the deeply buried, white-hot heat of a smoldering ember just waiting for the right moment, the right circumstance, to ignite it.

  “Hi, Nicole.”

  With a supreme effort, Clare looked away from Adam and glanced down. Candace was standing a few feet in front of them with a couple of other girls. Nicole seemed so taken aback by her classmate’s greeting that it took her a moment to find her voice.

  “Hi.”

  “Is that your tree?” Candace pointed to the car behind them.

  “Yeah.”

  “It looks nice. We got ours last week.”

  “We’re going to decorate it later. We just stopped to get some hot chocolate.”

  “Ben’s has a stand over by the gazebo. They have awesome hot chocolate.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “See you Monday.”

  “Yeah. See you Monday.”

  Nicole watched the girls walk away, then looked up at Clare with an awed expression. “Candace stopped to talk to me,” she said in a hushed voice.

  “I noticed.”

  “She’s never done that before.”

  Clare put her arm around Nicole’s shoulder. “Maybe she’s had a change of heart.”

  Her face alight with hope, Nicole looked back at the girls, who were quickly disappearing among the other holiday revelers. “Yeah.”

  Adam watched the exchange, knowing he was missing something significant. But the nuances were lost on him. He doubted they were lost on Clare, however. So he’d just have to rely on her to fill him in later.

  As they made their way toward the gazebo, it suddenly occurred to him that he was beginning to rely on Clare for a lot of things. Which wasn’t necessarily good. He was immensely grateful for the small but important changes that she had already brought to their lives, of course. But he needed to remember that this was not a permanent arrangement. Clare would be with them for six months. Actually, closer to five now. He had spoken about the time limit of the arrangement with Nicole when he’d told her about Clare’s offer, but he needed to remind her periodically so she didn’t become too attached. Otherwise, Clare’s departure at the end of May would be devastating.

  And he needed to remind himself, as well, he acknowledged. Or he had a feeling that Nicole wouldn’t be the only one who was devastated.

  “Now I remember why I hate tinsel,” Adam grumbled good-naturedly as he draped a few more strands over a sturdy branch of the Fraser fir.

  “Stop complaining,” Clare chided with a smile. “Tinsel is what makes a tree magic. A tree without tinsel is like…like a hot fudge sundae without the hot fudge.”

  “We never had tinsel,” Nicole offered. “And Mom and I never decorated ourselves. Some people always came and did it for us. Our tree looked different every year, too. One Christmas it was all white.”

  Clare couldn’t imagine having a totally different tree every year, but she kept her thoughts to herself. For her, Christmas was all about tradition. About taking out treasured ornaments and sharing memories of where and when they’d been acquired, and about the warmth and caring and laughter of family holiday rituals.

  “So did you always have a real tree?” Nicole interrupted her thoughts.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’m going to grab some cookies. Anybody want some?” Adam asked.

  “You’re just trying to escape the tinsel job,” Clare accused with a smile.

  “Guilty as charged,” Adam admitted with a grin.

  “I’ll take a couple,” Nicole told him.

  “Clare?”

  “None for me, thanks.”

  “And did you always have tinsel?” Nicole asked, resuming the previous conversation.

  “Always.”

  “Did David help you decorate?”

  At the sound of shattering glass, Adam sharply turned from the doorway. Clare had dropped one of the round glass ornaments on the hardwood floor and it lay broken at her feet. She stared down at it, her face suddenly pale.

  Nicole moved beside her and gently touched her arm. “I’m sorry, Clare,” she said contritely.

  Adam watched as Clare struggled to compose her features, noting the tremor in her hand as she put her arm around Nicole’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Just chalk it up to my clumsiness.”

  Hardly, Adam thought. Clumsy and Clare were not words anyone would ever use in the same sentence. Nicole’s question had obviously upset Clare deeply. Unfortunately, Adam hadn’t really been listening very closely to the exchange as he headed for the kitchen. He thought his daughter had mentioned someone named David. But Adam was pretty sure that Seth Mitchell had told him Clare’s husband’s name was Dennis. So who was David?

  Adam didn’t have a clue. But Nicole obviously did. And he intended to get the answer to his question at the earliest opportunity.

  “That was another great meal, Clare. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” She smiled, but some of the light had faded from her eyes since they’d decorated the tree earlier in the afternoon.

  “You look a little tired. Why don’t you let Nicole and me handle the dishes tonight.”

  Nicole looked at him in surprise. “You never help with the dishes.”

  “You’re right. And I’m wrong. The cook shouldn’t also have to do the dishes.”

  “Really, Adam, you don’t have to do that,” Clare protested. “You work all day. And you’re tired when you get home. I don’t mind.”

  “I didn’t work today. And I’m not tired tonight. You, on the other hand, look like you need some rest. Go climb into a hot tub with a good book or a cup of tea. Doctor’s orders.”

  She managed a tired grin. “The hot tub part sounds good, anyway. Are you sure you don’t mind? Just for tonight?”

  Her quick capitulation told him more eloquently than words that his assessment had been correct. But he suspected Clare’s exhaustion was more emotional than physical. “Not in the least.” He rose and began clearing the table as if to demonstrate his point.

  “Well…okay. Nicole, don’t forget to finish that reading assignment tonight.”

  She groaned. “Do I have to?”

  “Absolutely. Promise me you’ll do it.”

  “Okay, okay. I promise,” she grumbled.

  Clare glanced at Adam as she passed and nodded toward Nicole.

  “I’ll make sure she finishes it,” he said quietly.

  He waited until the door shut behind Clare before he turned to Nicole. “How about you scrape the plates and put them in the dishwasher and I’ll work on the pots?”

  She hung back warily. “I have to finish my homework.”

  “It can wait a few minutes. Or I could see if Clare would come back and help. But she looks pretty tired.”

  His ploy worked. “I’ll help.”

  They worked in silence for a few minutes as Adam struggled to
find a way to broach the subject of David.

  “The tree looks nice,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  Silence.

  “Did you have much luck on your shopping trip yesterday?” he tried again.

  “Yeah.”

  More silence.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Why wasn’t there a book on how to talk to teenage daughters? None of his medical texts had ever addressed this issue.

  “So did you and Clare buy some clothes?”

  “I did. Clare didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “She said she has enough.”

  “Well, maybe she does.”

  Nicole gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t you notice anything? She always wears the same stuff.”

  Adam couldn’t argue with Nicole, because he really didn’t pay that much attention to what Clare wore. He just knew that she always looked good.

  “So are we going to get her a Christmas present?” Nicole asked when he didn’t respond.

  Adam looked at her in surprise. “Do you think we should?”

  Nicole gave a long-suffering sigh. “Of course. You’re supposed to give stuff to people you like. And she probably won’t get anything else, except maybe from her sisters.”

  “Okay. What do you think we should get?”

  “Clothes.”

  That seemed a little too personal. “I don’t know. How about a cookbook?”

  “Good grief, Dad. You are so out of it!”

  “What’s wrong with a cookbook?”

  “She already knows how to cook. Real good, too. If you give her a cookbook, she might think you don’t like her cooking.”

  He frowned. That certainly wasn’t his intent. But now that Nicole had pointed it out, he could see how the gift might be misinterpreted. “You may have a point,” he conceded. “So what kind of clothes did you have in mind?”

  “I saw her looking at this pretty blue sweater with beading around the top at the mall in Asheville. I think she really liked it, but it was kind of expensive.”

  A sweater. That didn’t seem too personal. So it would probably be safe. “That sounds like a good idea. Do you want to go with me to get it some night this week?”