by Lori Wick
An awkward moment passed.
"Is there someplace we can talk?"
"We could go back to my apartment," Casey suggested.
Hunter nodded, and they moved to the door. Casey knew that the few remaining people watched her exit, but she didn't meet anyone's eyes. Once in the parking
lot, Hunter followed her to her little yellow car. "Did you drive?" "Not to church."
"Oh, well." Again she felt at a loss. "Hop in." Suddenly Casey couldn't remember how to drive. She fumbled with the clutch and nearly stalled the car twice before gaining the street. The ride to her apartment was a blur, and as soon as she let herself in the
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door, she crossed the room from Hunter and stood like a scared rabbit.
"Sit down," she offered, her voice breathless as she tried to control the pounding of her heart. However, Hunter remained standing. After a moment he said, "Casey, would you rather I hadn't come.''
"No, Hunter, no! I'm glad you're here."
"Then why are you so far away.'' His gentle voice was nearly Casey's undoing, but she spoke with feigned calm.
"Because I think we need to talk before we touch." Where this had come from Casey couldn't have said. In reality she wanted to throw her arms around him, but in her heart she knew this was best.
Hunter nodded, thinking that her level head was one of the things he loved about her. He'd have laughed if he could have heard her thoughts.
When Hunter sat, Casey did also. Another small silence passed, but this one wasn't awkward. Hunter glanced around her apartment and commented on the lovely decor.
"I like it," Casey admitted. "It's not very big, but it's home."
"I've missed you, Casey," Hunter suddenly interjected.
Casey smiled, feeling more at ease by the moment. "I've missed you too. You took rather a long time to contact me."
Now Hunter smiled. "I'm sorry about that. Almost as soon as I got home I removed the ring, but I'd promised myself that our next meeting would be in
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person, not by phone or letter. Then life went nuts with
tour wrap-up. I couldn't get away to come to you." "But you're here now."
"Yes." Hunter smiled again. "I want to tell you that I'm here so we can get to know each other, and that would be true, but I've got to tell you right up front: My feelings for you are serious."
Casey stared at him for a moment and then looked away. She was silent for so long that Hunter shifted to see her face better and spoke again.
"What are you thinking, Casey?"
She took a big breath and admitted, "I've never felt for a man as I feel for you, Hunter, and it scares me." She turned her head to see him now. "I loved Nathan, but I was so young, and I see now what a selfish type of love it was. Now I'm feeling things I never thought I'd feel. No, that isn't true," Casey corrected herself. "I'm feeling things I didn't even know existed, and it's all a bit overwhelming."
Hunter lovingly held her gaze. "Since we're being totally up-front, I'll tell you that I'm head-over-heels
where you are concerned."
Casey bit her lip.
"I'm not here to ask for your hand," he went on, "because you're not ready for that. But as I said before, my feelings are serious. Since your feelings are rather frightening to you, would you rather I stay, or would it be better if I left now?"
Casey's heart slowed to normal at that point, and things became very clear.
"I would like you to stay, but I will ask you the same thing I did before: Please be careful with my heart."
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"That I can gladly do."
He spoke tenderly before he moved to the other end of the sofa, the one near her chair, and reached for her hand. Casey gave it gladly.
They talked for the next three hours until Hunter calmly announced to Casey that he was starving. With much laughter they raided Casey's refrigerator. Twenty minutes had passed when Hunter used a napkin to wipe whipped cream from the corner of her mouth. Casey knew in an instant that Hunter had refrained from kissing it off, and this restraint, more than anything he had said or done, told her that something wonderful was happening between them.
"It's not every brother who would come home early from his honeymoon for his sister," Hunter teased Janelle as she lay in the hospital bed.
Janelle smiled at him but didn't apologize. "Did you see her."
"Yes," Casey told her. "And she's beautiful."
"She's awfully small, but the doctor says she's going to be all right."
"It's really your fault, Casey," Dan interjected. "My fault.'' She said with a laugh.
"That's right. If you had married Hunter on the first weekend he came into town, as I'm sure he wanted," Dan stressed, "early as she was, you'd have been back long before Deana was born."
"Can you believe that logic." Casey asked her husband of eight days.
49 "Well, now," Hunter had caught Dan's teasing eye as he slipped an arm around Casey, "I think he might be right."
"Hopeless," Casey commented to Janelle and earned a wonderful smile, but she was teasing as well.
Dan leaned close to his wife just then, and Hunter took advantage of the time to kiss Casey. Casey" melted in his arms and for the hundredth time thought about how she'd asked him to care for her heart, and how he'd done just that.
A Note from Lori:When I was a teen, I had the opportunity
to attend summer camp in northern California. On two different occasions I met singougsom a PiXie school
ican. I remembered the wonder lh over the way the group sang and thegn th z ha ether. Although "Fe CarOl f?,8 Heart" does not strict cus an the camg and sxxrougs, ? was w?h thousand memories
wrote th sta. B the way, I entual attended the Bible school M?han, and that when [ me6 fell in love, and became engaged to my husband Bob
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Let your fountain be blessed, rejoice in the wife of your youth.
Proverbs 5:18
Ellen Farling walked to the edge of the family room and stood very still. She could just see her husband's gray hair above the paper he held in front of his face. The evening had gone much as it always did. Dinner was over, the dishes were done, and they had taken an hour-long walk. Now they would settle in their comfortable chairs and read until the late news came on.
Ellen moved to her chair and picked up the book she was reading. The book remained unopened. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the back of Stan's newspaper, but he didn't notice. Feeling like a coward, Ellen sighed very gently and finally raised the book to her face.
"That was quite a sigh," Stan said softly, and Ellen shifted the book to see him peeking out at her. She'd have laid money on the fact that he hadn't even noticed her coming into the room; newspapers did that to him.
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"I'm a coward," she admitted.
"About what?"
"About not talking to you."
Stan's brows rose. Their relationship was very open, and he didn't think Ellen had ever been afraid to come to him.
"Have I done something?"
"No, it's nothing like that."
Stan waited, but Ellen didn't continue. Stan folded the paper and set it aside. Ellen wasn't certain that she wanted to have the discussion right now, but it was too late; he was looking at her expectantly, his face kind and open.
Ellen felt terrible for making it sound as though it was his fault that she couldn't talk to him. He didn't even know what she was referring to. She took a breath and plunged in.
"It's about Christmas."
Stan nodded with instant understanding.
"I knew it would come to this, Stan, and I'm fine with it. I mean, all children grow up and establish their own lives, but our being here alone is hard for me. I've even considered the different people we could invite from the church, but with all three kids gone, I thought this might be the year we could do something special, just you and me."
Stan remained silent, but he knew where she was
>
headed; he knew exactly what she wanted to do. "Why would you be afraid to ask me?"
"Because you're such a traditionalist," she said, not unkindly.
"That's true," he admitted, knowing how correct
she was.
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For years Ellen had been asking if they could go to Disneyland for Christmas--not just on the kids' break from school--but on Christmas Day. Stan and the kids had never agreed. Christmas in the Rocky Mountains, with the towering snowcapped mountains that surrounded their home in Colorado Springs, was like something out of a storybook. Stan and the three kids had never been willing to part with the snow and the Christmas morning traditions around the tree. Ellen had never put up a fuss, and she didn't ask every year, but Stan knew better than anyone how badly she wanted to go.
"You hate the idea as much as you always have--I can see it in your face."
"No, I don't, Ellen, but Bunny," he said, referring to their daughter who was still in college, "wasn't certain whether she could be here or not, remember? I think we'd feel terrible if she decided to come home and we had made plans to be away."
"You're right," Ellen agreed graciously, but Stan was swamped with guilt. All these years and she never complained. She would ask, maybe in October or at Thanksgiving, if they could consider it, but she never once argued or pushed the point.
"Now that I think about it," Ellen added, "I haven't even looked at the money side of it. I'm not sure we could swing it this year." Her voice told of her acceptance. There was not even a hint of resignation, and again guilt flooded Stan. He had received a healthy bonus on his last paycheck, and he'd completely forgotten to tell her. However, the guilt was easily put aside when he thought of Bunny wanting to come and their not being there. If he knew for certain that they
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would be alone, he would look into it, but as it was, he felt he had no choice.
"Are you terribly disappointed.'' he asked.
"No," she told him honestly, but she realized right after she said it that she was disappointed and very tired. She knew that this would be the last time. They'd been married for 27 years. The first time she had asked was before their third Christmas together, when the twins had been only a year old. It was time to let the dream go. It wasn't as if they had never gone to Disneyland, but it was Ellen's favorite place, and Christmas was her favorite holiday.
Lost in thought, she eventually picked up her book and began to read. Stan picked up his paper as well, but Ellen wasn't aware of the way his eyes lingered on her for quite some time.
"You look thoughtful," Staffs coworker commented to him a few days later, and Stan looked at her as she stood in the doorway of his office. Bethany had not been
with the firm very long, but she was a valuable asset. "I was thinking about Christmas."
"Ah," she said knowingly. "Bud and I.just had that out last night."
"You make it sound like a fight."
"These days, it is. It's funny--isn't the mother supposed
to be the one who longs to be with her children.'' "But you don't.''
"It's not that I don't want to see them, Stan, but I don't have to see them to have a good Christmas. Bud does. I figure it has to do with the way Bud traveled
55 when the children were growing up while I stayed home. I didn't go back to school until they were all out of the house, so I don't look back with any regrets. I think Bud feels he missed something and is trying to make up for it now."
"What would you want to do?"
"Just stay home and not drive to the kids'. Bud's mother always joins us, and I think the three of us would have a great time."
"So the kids don't come home to you?"
She shook her head. "Not since we moved into the condo; there's not enough room. We usually gather at Katie's in Denver. She'd have a fit if we didn't come, but it would be worth it to me. We'll all be going there for Thanksgiving, but I'm definitely ready to stay home for Christmas this year."
Stan could hardly believe what he was hearing. Why did he think that his wife was the only one who wanted to break tradition? Bethany ached to be at home, even if it meant not being with her children. He knew she had grandchildren, but evidently she could even take a break from them this year.
"So what was the decision?" Stan asked from his desk, knowing it was time to get back to work.
"We're going," she said simply as she moved away from the door, but Stan noticed that there was nothing in her voice--no anger and no joy. Ellen had not sounded resigned, but her face had looked so weary.
What about the kids? Stan's mind argued. Bunny might be coming. But the fight fell flat in his thinking before it could even get started. Yes, he loved Bunny, his twin daughters, Jen and Rene, their husbands, and even his
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little grandson, Ethan, and he praised God for them, but hadn't Ellen been there first? It was a question Stan wrestled with for several days. Ellen was as normal as could be, but Stan was in a quandary.
The sun was shining through the window, and even though Ellen knew the laundry and grocery shopping awaited her, she sat with another cup of coffee. Her Bible was open in front of her, but her eyes were on the snow and the way it sparkled in the early sunlight. After a moment she prayed softly.
"I've been selfish, Lord, just thinking of what I want. I shouldn't have said anything to Stan about Disneyland. He was so quiet last night, and he's been preoccupied for a few days. I think I made him feel terrible by bringing it up. Lay the people on my heart, Lord. the families You would have us reach out to. Maybe the Bickleys or the Johns. I know Stan would have a good time with them too. You planned all this, Lord. You knew that this would be our first Christmas alone, and You also know just how You want us to spend it. It's going to be wonderful, Lord. We won't see Ethan this year, but we can invite a couple with little ones and delight in them."
Her heart at great peace knowing God was going to give them a blessed time, Ellen reached for a piece of paper. She would jot down the names of a few families and run them past Stan when he got home tonight. They would invite whomever he wanted. It didn't matter because Ellen knew that it would be planned by the Lord.
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"Hi, Dad." Bunny's voice sounded cheerful on the other end of the line, the connection good for long distance.
"Hi, honey." Stan answered, pleasantly surprised. "What's up?"
She rarely called the office, which only added to the delight of hearing from her.
"My plans for London fell through. I tried to call Mom, but there was no answer. I'm just calling to let you know that I'll be home after all and probably bringing one of my roomies with me."
"Oh." Stan's lack of enthusiasm immediately caught his daughter's attention. If she could have seen him, she would have also noticed the way his hand
sought a business-size envelope on his desk.
"Is something wrong, Dad?"
"No," he said quietly--and knew in an instant that it wasn't. "It's just that your mother and I won't be home for Christmas."
Stan was met with silence. Dead silence.
"What did you say?" Bunny finally asked in a voice so unbelieving that Stan was shamed.
"I said we won't be home," his voice carrying more conviction with every word. "As much as we'd like to see you, do you suppose you could ask Rene or Jenny if you could bunker in with them for that day and the few days around Christmas?"
"Dad," Bunny's voice took on a teasing quality, "are you running a fever? You should probably be lying down."
Stan laughed.
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"Where will you be?"' Bunny asked when he quieted. "Disneyland."
"Oh, Dad. I can't believe it. Are you serious?" "Very serious."
"Oh, Dad," she said again.
"Bunny, are you crying?"
"Yes, I'm crying! Mom's wanted to go for so long, and we never did." She sniffed loudly. "I just think it'sso neat."
Stan found himself well-pleased with his decision. "When
are you going?"
"We fly out on the twenty-third and come back the twenty-seventh. You can still come home, you know," he added. "We just won't be there."
"I'll come. Right after you get back, I'll come. Oh, Dad . . ." She was crying again, and Stan knew he
would have to get offor he'd be bawling too. "What did she say when you told her?" "I haven't."
"When are you going to?"
"Tonight."
"All right. I'll let Jen know, and she can call Rene, but we'll all stay quiet until we hear from you."
They rang offjust a few minutes later, but Bunny's comments were so heavy on his mind that Stan couldn't concentrate. He did his best to finish up what he was working on and went home for the day.
"Well!" Ellen smiled with pleasure and went to kiss Stan as he came through the kitchen door. "Home early. This is a nice surprise."
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He smiled, slipped his arms around her, and returned her kiss. "I thought we might go to dinner, and I wanted to catch you before you started something."I also had to see your face and hold you because I love you sa much,he thought, but these were words he couldn't say out loud.
"Out to dinner! How fun. My hair was strange
today. Will I look all right?"
"You'll be beautiful."
His tone was so serious that Ellen stopped touching her hair and looked at him. He smiled hugely at her, and they kissed again. He then sent her off with a swat to her blue-jeaned backside.
"Go now. We'll leave when you're ready."
Ellen didn't have to be asked twice. She obediently headed to their bedroom, slipped into one of her good Sunday dresses, and joined her husband just as fast as she could.
The meal was lovely, simple and delicious, and they talked of everything but Christmas. They had gone out early, so the evening was young when they headed to the car.
"Are you up to a little shopping?"
"Shopping? Stan, are you feeling well?"
He laughed but didn't answer, and Ellen was in the car before she took him seriously. He headed straight for the mall. Though not yet Thanksgiving, the mall was already filled with Christmas decorations. Even the air seemed festive with the season. They walked for a time, holding hands and not sharing toomuchuntil Stan headed them