Blessings of the Season

by Annie Jones

He didn’t want her to feel bad. He wanted her to be a friend. “Okay, if it’ll make you feel better. I heard you make a great roast.”

  “Lizzie.” She sighed, but then she nodded. “Okay, roast it is.”

  Chad watched her walk away and then dug into the chicken and rice, as she’d called his cashew chicken without the cashews. And he thought about Sunday and how wrong it was for him to pursue this relationship. Worse, he kept thinking that he didn’t want to wait until Sunday to see her again.

  Chapter Three

  Isabelle was off work on Fridays. And today, because of morning snow, Lizzie was out of school. It didn’t take much snow for Gibson to call off classes. She and Lizzie had spent the morning doing laundry and cleaning house. Then they’d made chocolate-chip cookies.

  Now it was late afternoon and they were going to watch movies, with the house still smelling like cookies and the spicy scent of the candle Lizzie had lit. Isabelle curled up on the couch and waited for Lizzie to change into sweatpants.

  Isabelle wanted something to take her mind off the man that had invaded her life, eating at the restaurant every day for the last four days—since the day he’d arrived in Gibson.

  “I start my job at Jolynn’s on Monday.” Lizzie plopped onto the couch next to Isabelle. “Chad’s living there, she said.”

  “Yes, he moved in right after he left here.”

  “Don’t you think he’s cute for an old guy?”

  Isabelle flipped through the channels, trying to find something romantic and sweet but safe for a twelve-year-old. “I don’t think he’s old.”

  “He’s forty, and he’s never been married.”

  “Lizzie, you shouldn’t know these things about his life. We haven’t really discussed this, but it was wrong of you to write those letters. Really wrong.” Isabelle’s stomach turned a little at the thought. “It’s wrong, and you could have gotten him in trouble.”

  Lizzie bit down on her bottom lip, and her eyes narrowed with worry. She was a sensitive little soul. “I just wanted you to meet him. He was so nice when I wrote to him, and I told him about you and our life here.”

  “And then I started writing to him.” Isabelle wanted to be amused, but the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach won out over amusement. “It was a lie, and you used that poor man.”

  “He was lonely, too. You’re both lonely.”

  “I’m not lonely. I have you.” Isabelle picked a movie, a teen romance that she’d seen more than once. “I have an entire town of people who love me.”

  And she disliked every activity between now and the new year because she would spend them all alone, or as a single mom. There’d been a few times in the past friends had tried to fix her up on blind dates, and a few offers from single men at church. She’d turned them all down because she was too exhausted with work and being a mom to date. But Lizzie didn’t need to know that.

  “You don’t have someone. Everyone should have someone. I’m not going to be here forever, you know.”

  Twelve. Isabelle had to remind herself that her daughter was twelve. “No, you won’t be. But even when you’re gone, I’ll be fine.”

  “What if I go to camp for a month?” Lizzie’s mouth was a straight line of seriousness.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll work. I’ll have my friends.”

  Lizzie nodded in the direction of the television and the movie just coming on. “You’ll have movies and a box of tissues.”

  Isabelle grabbed the remote off the coffee table, bumping her tea glass and nearly tipping it. She turned off the movie that started with a pretty college student tripping all over herself when a cute guy said hello.

  “Lizzie, no more. We’re not going to keep talking about this. I’m the adult. You’re twelve. I really do know a little about life, and about what makes me happy. You make me happy. Your attempts at matchmaking—not such a happy moment for me. Especially when your matchmaking lures some poor guy to a town where he knows no one. As a matter of fact, I want one last letter from you to him. A letter of apology.”

  Lizzie’s bottom lip was between her teeth, and she nodded. “I can do that. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have interfered. I just wanted…”

  A dad. Isabelle knew what her daughter wanted. And if either of them said it, they would both cry. Lizzie wanted to know the man that she could only identify through old photographs. Dale, a young man with dark hair and a small scar on his cheek. He’d been Isabelle’s knight, a tall, skinny kid who had worked hard and always managed to smile.

  He’d had a habit of finding the good in every situation. A lot like his daughter, Lizzie.

  “When are we going to get our tree?” Lizzie crawled up next to Isabelle and snuggled close. “It isn’t rainy or snowy today.”

  “Maybe tomorrow morning. You know I don’t like to drive on these roads.”

  “Okay.” Lizzie flipped the television back on and changed from the movie to a cartoon. But even the cartoon squirrel had a boyfriend.

  The low rumble of an engine grabbed Isabelle’s attention. She leaned back on the sofa and peeked outside. Chad Daniels, in her driveway. Isabelle shot her daughter a look—in time to catch Lizzie sucking in a smile that had nearly escaped.

  “I hold you personally responsible for this, my little chick.” Isabelle kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Not only have you complicated my life, but you’ve ruined sappy movies for me.”

  “That’s because the real thing is better.” Lizzie did smile then. “You’ve been hiding in those movies for years, Mom. It’s time you experienced real life, and maybe some real romance.”

  “I have a life.” She had already had marriage. Now she had a daughter, two jobs and hands that were dry from dishes and too much cleaning. She also had a gray hair. She’d found it last week when she’d given herself a trim.

  But Chad was knocking on the door, and she didn’t have time to continue the discussion with her obviously unrepentant daughter. Or the thoughts about the life she was convincing herself she possessed.

  This was crazy. Chad stood looking at the green door with the Christmas wreath hung over the window, and he knew he’d lost it. He was forty, his palms were sweating and he had a chain saw in the back of his truck.

  Not because he had gone crazy, but because he had experienced a sudden burst of Christmas cheer.

  “Hi.” Isabelle stood in the doorway.

  It took him a minute to recover, because she was beautiful in sweats and a T-shirt. And she was standing in front of him, her feet bare and dark eyes serious. He had been in town for a few days now, and he knew more about her than any woman he’d ever known. She liked hot chocolate with peppermint sticks, and she cried when the choir sang “Amazing Grace.” He had learned that from Jolynn’s husband, Larry, who thought of Isabelle as a daughter, the child he’d never had.

  “Hey?” Lizzie peeked over her mom’s shoulder, her smile huge. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m, uh…” Floundering. He sighed, because this wasn’t him, this person who had lost control. He had retired as a lieutenant colonel in the army. He had served during war. He knew how to command troops and bring them home safely.

  He didn’t know how to deal with this woman or the child standing behind her.

  “Here for cookies?” Lizzie offered.

  “No. Actually, I came by because I knew you were planning to get a Christmas tree, and I happen to have an extra one in my truck.”

  “You have an extra tree?” Isabelle said in a way that made it incredulous, not a question.

  “I went out to look at the Berman farm today, and Larry and Jolynn asked if I would cut them down a tree while I was there. I went ahead and cut down two.”

  Her dark brows shifted up, and she laughed. “What if we already have one?”

  “I’d give it to Jolynn’s neighbor. Mrs. Sparks hasn’t decided yet if she wants a tree.” He winked, because he enjoyed watching her get flustered.

  “She always waits until the week before Ch
ristmas.” Isabelle motioned him inside, rubbing her arms after she pushed the door closed. “Are you staying in Gibson?”

  Did she care? He wondered if he wanted her to care.

  “I’m thinking about it. I went out to look at the Berman farm. It’s a shame they have to sell.”

  “They’re moving to Springfield. They have kids up there, and it’s getting hard for the two of them to care for that much land.”

  “It would be a lot of work to keep up with a place that size.” One hundred acres and a two-story farmhouse with four bedrooms. He had made an offer. “About the tree?”

  “We can have it. Right, Mom?” Lizzie was hopping a little, peering over Isabelle’s shoulder. “We were going to have to get one anyway.”

  Chad turned his attention back to Isabelle, and he could tell she was struggling with the decision. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, and she was staring past him, where he knew there was nothing to look at. Finally she nodded.

  “Okay, we’ll take the tree. Will it fit in here, or do we need to trim it?”

  “It’ll fit.” He pulled his gloves out of his pocket. “I’ll bring it in.”

  “We can have hot cocoa and cookies while we decorate. Mom makes the best homemade cookies.” Lizzie’s smile split across her face, infectious and sweet.

  “Does she?” He smiled at Isabelle, but she didn’t smile back. “I’m really just here to drop off the tree.”

  “You have to stay and help us decorate. What fun is cutting down the tree if you don’t get to at least put the lights on it?” Lizzie glanced from him to her mother.

  “Lizzie, I’m sure Chad has somewhere else…”

  He shook his head. “No, not really.”

  Decorating the tree hadn’t been part of his plan, but now that he was in her living room, close to her, he wasn’t ready to leave.

  “Okay.” She gave Lizzie a look that he was sure she hadn’t planned for him to notice. “I’ll go find the decorations, if you want to bring in the tree.”

  “I’ll put cookies on a platter and find the star. I think I put it in the hall closet last year.” Lizzie slid out of the room on her stockinged feet. What kid wouldn’t want to slide on hardwood floors?

  “Good idea.” Isabelle’s gaze lingered on the door even after Lizzie was gone.

  “She’s a great kid. I hope you’ve forgiven her.”

  Isabelle turned. “Of course I have. She owes you an apology, though. I explained to her how wrong it was for her to deceive you that way, and the troubles it could have caused. She’s young.”

  “I know she is. But it wasn’t such a bad thing. I’m here, and Gibson is the town I thought it would be. It isn’t a complete loss.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face and groaned, because that hadn’t come out the way he’d planned. The guys in his unit had been right about one thing: he was inept when it came to women.

  Isabelle touched his arm, the gesture surprising him. There was a lot about her that surprised him. Like the fact that she’d remained single. “At least you got the town you were looking for.”

  Her hand moved back to her side, and she walked away, leaving him in the living room, alone. He glanced around, taking it in, this real picture of who she was and the life she’d lived.

  One thing he knew from this room was that she loved her daughter. There were school photographs of Lizzie, one for every year of school. Eight pictures, starting with a five-year-old girl, brown hair in pigtails. On the bookcase was a photo of a young couple holding hands. She wore a wedding dress and had stars in her eyes.

  He turned away from the photograph, because it was too personal. And it connected dots, the things Lizzie had shared in letters signed with Isabelle’s name.

  He walked out the door, thankful for the cold air of early December. He pulled on his gloves and lowered the tailgate of his truck to pull out the tree. Six months ago, this town and this house had come to life, painted by the words written by a twelve-year-old girl. Now he was here, and he didn’t know why he had stayed.

  But then again, maybe he did. Because the real Isabelle, the woman standing at the window watching him, was more captivating than the letters written by her daughter had made her out to be.

  And Gibson felt more like home than any place he’d ever been. No matter how he’d gotten here, it felt like the place where he could live the rest of his life.

  Isabelle opened the door as Chad pulled the tree toward the house. She stepped back, laughing when the monstrous cedar got stuck in the doorway. Lizzie cheered him on, telling him to turn it a little to the right. He grunted and tried her suggestion.

  “Do you think it might be too big?” Isabelle asked as he gave it a heave and pulled it into the living room. She closed the door behind her and pointed to the corner where she’d put down the tree skirt and the stand.

  “I measured it. It’s six feet tall.”

  “But it will be taller once we get it in the stand.”

  “And put the star on top.” Lizzie stood, hovering at the edge of the action.

  “I think it’ll be fine.” He smiled over his shoulder, and Isabelle knew that he didn’t believe it. He knew it wasn’t going to fit.

  “While you get it set up, I’ll untangle the lights.”

  “Untangle?” He pulled the tree to an upright position, lifted and set it in the stand that Lizzie was holding.

  Isabelle held up the strands of lights, but kept a cautious eye on her daughter. Lizzie was screwing the bolts into the tree trunk while he kept it in position. What would Lizzie do if he left? If he decided not to buy that farm or stay in Gibson?

  “We should have put the lights back on the holder they came off.” Isabelle looped the lights back through an opening in the cord. “We never do, though.”

  “That is a mess. If you wait, I can…”

  “I can do it.” Isabelle kept working. “And the tree is too tall.”

  “It’ll be fine. Look at how full it is.” He motioned with his hand, like she’d won the prize on a game show.

  “It’s perfect.” Lizzie looked up from her position on the floor, screwing in the last bolt of the tree stand. She stood, backing up to look at the tree. “There’s a little bare spot, but we can turn it and it’ll be great.”

  She turned the tree and stepped back by Isabelle.

  “Yes, it’s perfect. Here are the lights. I’ll start the cocoa.”

  Because she couldn’t do this with Chad Daniels. She couldn’t stand next to him, stringing lights on a tree, not with the photograph of Dale on the bookcase reminding her of the two Christmases they had shared—and all of the ones without him, when it had been just her and Lizzie.

  Chad smiled at her like he understood. Chad in a red flannel shirt and jeans, his work boots laced up, covered in red-clay mud.

  Mud. She looked at her hardwood floors, the dried mud showing the path he’d taken. “Your boots.”

  He looked down and groaned. “I’m sorry. Get me a broom, and I’ll clean it up.”

  “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll sweep it up. You two put the lights on the tree.”

  He grinned, flashing those white teeth. And his eyes sparkled with humor. “You want out of untangling this mess.”

  “Exactly.” And she escaped, because that’s what it was really all about.

  From the kitchen she could hear their laughter, her daughter’s and Chad’s. He was giving her directions, his voice low and gentle. Lizzie chattered about the decorations they used. The ones they’d bought and the ones they’d made.

  Isabelle stirred water into cocoa, added sugar and a dash of cinnamon and then mixed it into the milk on the stove. She poured in a little vanilla and kept stirring. The aroma of the cocoa lifted as it began to steam. And Isabelle tried not to think about her daughter decorating the tree with Chad, and not her.

  It had always been just the two of them, Isabelle and Lizzie. This had been what they did together for years. Decorating the tree had been their moment, their tim
e and their memories.

  This year Christmas included a stranger, a man brought into their lives through letters her daughter had written. Isabelle turned off the stove and walked back into the living room. She stood at the door and watched as Chad took the star from Lizzie and placed it on the top of the tree. That had always been Isabelle’s job. Things changed. Life changed. She knew that and sometimes even told herself to prepare for it. This hadn’t been one of the scenarios she had played out in her mind—this man, Christmas. Her star.

  He was standing precariously on the stool, and Isabelle had to smile, because he was cute and Lizzie was hovering like she might catch him if the stool tipped.

  “Don’t fall,” Isabelle warned.

  He wobbled a little and grabbed, steadying himself with one hand on the wall. “Thanks. I’ll be careful.”

  He put the star in place, plugged it into the lights and then nodded at Lizzie. She plugged in the cord, and the tree lit up, just lights and a star, no decorations yet. But it was pretty in the dark, shadowy room with the sky outside hovering between gray and white as dusk fell, no sun to set because clouds had kept it hidden all day.

  “Help us hang the decorations, Mom.” Lizzie held out the round bulb that Isabelle hung every year. The one she’d bought the year she turned eighteen, when she and Dale had married.

  They had married the week they left the group home they’d spent their seventeenth year living in. Before that they’d both been bounced around from foster home to foster home. Through those tumultuous teen years they’d kept in touch, keeping one another’s spirits lifted through letters and phone calls.

  She’d been the daughter of a drug addict who overdosed when she was ten. He’d been the son of abusive parents who could never really get their lives together enough to be parents.

  And now, here Isabelle was, a single mom. But she had survived, and Lizzie was having the childhood that Isabelle and Dale had planned for their daughter.

  Chad took the decoration that Lizzie held and handed it to Isabelle. “Come on. I cut it down, you have to decorate. That’s your job.”