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Holiday Homecoming
Jean C. Gordon
The Pastor's Christmas MatchPastor Connor Donnelly is done with romance. After proposing to his high school sweetheart, Natalie Delacroix, five years ago—and being turned down—he's putting all his time and energy into his community. He's determined to make the Christmas pageant he's directing a success. But family and friends are set on fixing up the good-looking bachelor in time for the holidays. And now that Natalie is back in Paradox Lake—and helping with the pageant—they might just succeed. Because working so closely with Natalie stirs up old feelings…and Connor starts to hope for a second chance with the one who got away.


The Pastor’s Christmas Match
Pastor Connor Donnelly is done with romance. After proposing to his high school sweetheart, Natalie Delacroix, five years ago—and being turned down—he’s putting all his time and energy into his community. He’s determined to make the Christmas pageant he’s directing a success. But family and friends are set on fixing up the good-looking bachelor in time for the holidays. And now that Natalie is back in Paradox Lake—and helping with the pageant—they might just succeed. Because working so closely with Natalie stirs up old feelings…and Connor starts to hope for a second chance with the one who got away.
“You don’t want to work on the pageant?” Connor asked her.
Natalie avoided his gaze. “It’s just… Isn’t it awkward for you? Wouldn’t you rather be working with someone else?”
“We’re both adults. Anything between us ended a long time ago. I agree with your mother that you’re the best qualified person to step in for her.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she reminded him.
He wasn’t sure he could. “I want the best person we can get for the choir director. You’re good.”
He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “What happened?” he asked suddenly. “Why are you really back?”
Connor was uncertain whether he thought it would help to talk about the elephant in the room.
Her eyes clouded. “This isn’t easy to talk about.”
“You don’t have to. That was just counselor Connor kicking in. You know, all that listening and conflict resolution training I had at seminary.”
“No, you’re right. Talking will help us start over—as friends—so we can work together on the pageant.”
Something in him rebelled at the way she emphasized as friends.
JEAN C. GORDON’s writing is a natural extension of her love of reading. From that day in first grade when she realized t-h-e was the word the, she’s been reading everything she can put her hands on. Jean and her college-sweetheart husband share a 175-year-old farmhouse in Upstate New York with their daughter and her family. Their son lives nearby. Contact Jean at facebook.com/jeancgordon.author (https://www.facebook.com/JeanCGordon.Author) or PO Box 113, Selkirk, NY 12158.
Holiday
Homecoming
Jean C. Gordon


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“For surely I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.”
—Jeremiah 29:11
To my family for being the anchor of my life
and putting up with my love of
celebrating holidays, any holiday.
Contents
Cover (#ufa45249f-d08d-5092-b895-fe8b0339cefa)
Back Cover Text (#ucdb55e86-1a60-5ce1-86d8-fda9b94215fb)
Introduction (#u68e88791-f32e-5fe0-bdd9-b968a9582a1e)
About the Author (#udaf1edf1-f6b3-5d3f-a07d-d69751df6008)
Title Page (#u8ba9efcc-69d2-57a0-82b8-8990b9871c75)
Bible Verse (#ue8fe71db-60eb-5ba6-a342-c0d85bd2b1f6)
Dedication (#u37fef402-1fad-5215-aa6d-109caecbb0b8)
Chapter One (#ulink_0cd17cee-756a-55b5-9f00-997a47209d04)
Chapter Two (#ulink_812b4766-5e67-5dce-ba34-5b9aac94c6b0)
Chapter Three (#ulink_3260fede-b348-5cbb-9130-ffd9329effb8)
Chapter Four (#ulink_b27e31c5-46b2-5f19-ba03-183442d0ed11)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_04c66794-14c2-5611-8d1d-c5ca7efee1ef)
If one more person tried to play matchmaker with him, Connor Donnelly didn’t know what he’d do, but it might not be pastorlike.
Connor flipped his jacket collar up against the cold night air as he left the parsonage for the Christmas pageant practice he was supposed to be directing. Even his older brother, Jared—the man least likely to marry—had gotten into the matchmaker act since his wedding last summer. Connor shuddered at the memory of last weekend’s blind double date.
Jared and his wife, Becca, had set him up with the younger sister of her college friend, who was in Ticonderoga on business. Becca had failed to tell the woman he was a minister. When it came up at dinner, she’d clammed up and made her exit as quickly as she could without being blatantly rude. It wasn’t that Connor would mind being married. He’d just rather do the choosing and hadn’t found a woman he cared strongly enough about, except...
Pushing that thought from his head, he drove the short distance from Hazardtown Community Church to the Sonrise Camp and Conference Center, where the practice was being held. He had more immediate things to occupy his time than his lame love life, like finding a replacement for Terry Delacroix, his church organist and the music director for the Paradox Lake churches’ annual Christmas Eve pageant and ecumenical service. His church was sponsoring the service this year, making him the production director. Acing the production would help to solidify his standing with the small faction of his congregation who still weren’t convinced Jerry Donnelly’s son was the right pastor for Hazardtown Community.
As he opened the door to the newly built camp auditorium, he caught the end of a conversation between the twelve-year-old Bissette twins, who were standing in the hallway off the entry.
“She deserves a nice Christmas present, especially since Mom says she’s getting her act together now. I think Pastor Connor would be perfect.”
“Ye-e-es!” The second twin fist-bumped her sister.
Terrific, now the kids were getting in on it. He wasn’t even going to speculate who the girls thought he’d make a perfect gift for.
Piano strains of “What Child Is This?” drifted from the auditorium, lifting Connor’s spirits. It sounded like Drew Stacey, Sonrise’s director, had gotten him a replacement. He owed his friend big-time. Connor strode into the auditorium anxious to see whom Drew had found.
“Pastor Connor,” the twins called in unison, waving him to the front.
“Do you know our aunt Natalie?” Amelia asked.
“She’s going to take Grandma’s place for the pageant,” Aimee finished for her sister.
The music stopped abruptly with a discordant sound. Natalie turned slightly on the piano bench and looked out at Connor, an anxious expression on her face. When her gaze caught his, he tripped, grasping one of the seat backs to keep his balance.
Natalie Delacroix. The woman who’d broken his heart when she’d chosen her career over him and his marriage proposal.
That was five years ago. Ancient history, he mused as he walked the rest of the way down the aisle to the front of the auditorium.
“Hello, Natalie.” The cool tone of his words surprised him, considering the battle of emotions that was going on inside him.
“Connor.” Now that he was at close range, she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“You guys already know each other,” one of the twins—Aimee, he thought—said.
“We went to high school together.” And a lot more.
He glanced sideways at Natalie. She was staring at the sheet music in front of her as if the pages would disappear if she turned from them.
The other twin, Amelia, rolled her eyes. “We should have figured that.”
The auditorium door opened. The girls squealed the name of one of their friends and went to join her, leaving him and Natalie alone.
“Are you visiting for the holidays?” he asked, again surprised at how calmly polite he sounded. The conflict-resolution training he’d taken in seminary was proving its worth.
Natalie gathered the sheet music and tucked it in a folder on the piano music stand. She was every bit as beautiful as she’d been that Christmas Eve five years ago, with her jet-black hair curling against her fair skin. Except something was missing.
“Dad and Mémé asked me to come and help Mom.” She lifted her shoulders in a Gallic shrug he’d seen her French-Canadian grandmother use many times. “You know how much work the farm is for Dad and Paul, and Mémé isn’t that well herself. Andrea’s busy with her family and part-time job. Dad wanted someone with Mom during the day.” Natalie tapped her fingers on the piano bench as she ticked off the reasons her other two sisters couldn’t help. “Claire has her work at the research farm and she’s taking grad courses, besides having used up most of her vacation time for the year. And it’s not like Renee could take off from the mission in Haiti.” She stopped tapping. “I had time. I’m between jobs. The station I was working at changed formats and didn’t have a spot for me anymore.”
Natalie spoke the words in a monotone. That was what was missing. Natalie’s spark was gone. He looked at her more closely. Her features were sharper. She was thinner. Too thin. Faint slashes of blue under her eyes emphasized the tired look they held. His heart ached, as he wondered what was behind the changes. If she was simply one of his parishioners, he’d say something, see if she wanted to talk later. But with their history, he didn’t know if he could help, or—even more—if she’d want him to.
He put on his professional face. “We’ve all been praying for your mother’s speedy recovery. I’m sure she really appreciates your being here to help out.” Like he would have appreciated Terry telling him Natalie was coming back to Paradox Lake for the holidays when he’d visited her in the hospital the day before yesterday.
“Thank you,” Natalie said, holding herself straight-backed on the bench. “I’m glad I could come and help.”
Connor shoved his fingers in the front pockets of his jeans. “Is she home from the medical center? I know she and your dad had a real scare with the postsurgical infection that caused her to be readmitted.”
“Yes.”
He could almost hear the silence following her terse reply. This was the same girl—woman—who used to chatter to him for hours, punctuating her words with animated hand motions?
“Connor,” Drew Stacey called from the back of the auditorium, relieving him of having to try and make any more small talk. “I see you’ve met Terry’s replacement.”
The note of helpful pride in Drew’s voice was unmistakable.
“From what Terry said, you and Natalie are old friends.”
Connor nodded. Were friends, and a whole lot more.
In the silence, Natalie seemed to shrink into the piano bench.
“People are arriving. I’ll get out of your way so you can get started,” Drew said. “I’ll be in the utility room working with the youth group on the stage settings. Give me a yell when you’re done, and I’ll lock up.”
“Sure thing,” Connor said. Drew’s words made Connor aware of the din of people talking and moving in the auditorium behind them.
Drew turned to Natalie before he left. “The production is a little behind schedule. Practices usually get started the week before Thanksgiving, but your mom probably told you that. You still have a month. I’m sure the two of you can pull it off.”
Natalie looked from Drew to him, her eyes full of question. Evidently, her mother hadn’t told Natalie he was directing the pageant. Connor swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He’d worked hard to forgive and forget Natalie. Now here she was, her mere presence scratching through the top layers of self-protection he’d built. He had a feeling this December might be the longest month of his life.
* * *
Connor Donnelly. Her breath hitched. At one time, she and Connor had been so attuned to each other she could practically read his thoughts before he voiced them. Either he had become a lot better at controlling his expressions or she’d lost her touch. She had no idea what was going through his mind, except that she didn’t think it was anything good. She waited for him to say something.
“I take it your mother didn’t tell you that I’m directing the Christmas pageant,” he said.
“No.” So much for her hopes that being in Paradox Lake for the holidays would bring her some peace so she could start putting her broken life back together. Working with Connor would be anything but peaceful. Her mother had to know that. “I guess I assumed that since the pageant was here at the camp, Drew was in charge.”
“Drew’s just letting us use the camp auditorium. The local association of churches sponsors the pageant. The churches decided a few years ago that we’d get a better turnout for early Christmas Eve services if we combined forces with an ecumenical service for the young families, rather than having separate ones.”
“That makes sense. How’s it working?” she asked, hoping making small talk would calm the wildfires leaping from nerve ending to nerve ending.
“Good.” His face became more animated. “We, the pastors, take turns directing.”
Natalie felt a pinch of envy at his statement. She didn’t belong anywhere anymore, not even with her family. But she was glad he was part of something. Growing up with an alcoholic father who was frequently the center of local gossip, Connor and his two brothers had often felt they didn’t fit in.
“It’s my turn this year. We’re going alphabetically by church.” Connor stopped his explanation. “If you don’t want to do this with me, say so.”
Obviously, she’d failed in her efforts to pretend she could carry off a normal conversation with him.
“Your sister Andrea said she’d play if we couldn’t find anyone else.”
“No, it’s fine. I told Mom I would.”
Natalie searched his eyes to see if he’d thrown out Andie’s name as a challenge. Quitting now and letting Andie swoop in to take over would be one more failure for Natalie in the eyes of her perfect oldest sister. But Connor wouldn’t know that. He hadn’t been around for her sister’s regular phone calls lecturing her on how she and her lifestyle—or what Andie had pretty well perceived as Natalie’s lifestyle—was hurting Mom and Dad. The calls hadn’t started until after she’d broken up with Connor and followed her college mentor to Chicago to be a television news reporter.
“You know how I love Christmas music,” she quickly added.
His mouth twisted in a half smile she couldn’t decipher.
“Natalie! Is it really you?” Her high school friend Autumn Hazard—Hanlon now—rushed up to the front of the auditorium, relieving Natalie of having to continue to face Connor alone.
“It’s me,” Natalie said, glad to see Autumn, but embarrassed that she’d cut off contact with her the past couple of years. She only knew Autumn had married because her mother had told her.
“Aunt Jinx and Drew said you were filling in for your mother.” Autumn grabbed Natalie’s hands and pulled her to her feet. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming for the holidays?”
“It was a last-minute decision. Dad called, said he and Mom needed my help, and I came.”
“I’m so glad to see you.” Autumn hugged her.
Over Autumn’s shoulder, Natalie watched Connor move away to join a group of people congregating in the aisle. He hadn’t changed much since she’d last seen him. His dark blond hair was respectably shorter, the shoulders she’d leaned on maybe a little wider, and his facial features were more chiseled, making him resemble his oldest brother, Jared, and his father, rather than his mother, whom he’d looked like when he was younger. In other words, he looked good.
She couldn’t say the same for herself, Natalie thought as Autumn stepped back to look at her.
“It’s been way too long,” Autumn said. “What, the summer after our sophomore year of college?”
“Probably,” Natalie agreed. “I had an internship at WTVH in Syracuse the next summer, and after graduation, I moved to Chicago for work.” The job she’d thought was her foothold into a career in television news that had turned out to be the path to the destruction of her career and personal life.
A loud whistle penetrated the din of voices in the room. “Time to get started,” Connor said. “Sunday school kids, you can go out into the hall with Mrs. Donnelly, and she’ll explain the parts she has available. Parents, after tonight, Becca will be having rehearsals on Saturday afternoons and one day after school, rather than at night. She has information she’ll give the kids about transportation provided by the participating churches for anyone who needs it.”
Becca led a swarm of kids and parents out of the auditorium. Natalie remembered her as Mrs. Norton, her high school history teacher. Strange to think she was Connor’s sister-in-law now.
“Everyone else, up on the stage bleachers, bass in the back, then tenor, alto and soprano.”
“I’ll catch you later,” Autumn said. “Our leader has spoken.”
Natalie sat back down on the piano bench and watched the way everyone responded to Connor taking charge. He had a quiet command about him that she hadn’t seen before.
“Many of you probably remember Natalie Delacroix.” He pointed down at her and fifty or sixty sets of eyes followed his gesture.
Natalie forced herself to hold her head high and pasted her best onscreen smile on her face, wondering how much they knew about her and her fiasco in Chicago and what they might be thinking.
“Natalie has graciously agreed to take over as music director for her mother, who, for those of you who don’t know, had emergency surgery the week before last. And be rest assured our music is in good hands.”
She kept her gaze on the sheet music as Connor proceeded to tick off her qualifications.
“Eastman School of Music offered Natalie a scholarship before she decided to pursue a degree in broadcast journalism, and she minored in music at Syracuse.”
Natalie bit her lip. She’d applied to Eastman to appease her mother, not because she’d wanted to pursue a music career. Music was something she did for fun. Unlike her career, music had always given her joy.
Someone started clapping and the whole group joined in. Natalie nodded her thanks. There was no way she could back out now.
“I know I asked you to line up according to your voice type, but for Natalie’s benefit in choosing her accompaniment, please raise your hand when I say your voice type.”
Connor ran through the four types and Natalie noted the numbers. It seemed like a fairly equal distribution, plus a few undecided.
She stood. Time to stop being a shrinking violet and start being the music director. Natalie pitched her voice to carry up to the back of the stage. “Those of you who aren’t sure where your voice falls stop and see me after practice, and I’ll have you test sing then or before our next practice if you can’t stay tonight.”
“Everybody got that?” Connor asked. “Natalie, your mother went over the selections the pageant committee agreed on?”
“Yes.” She sat down and opened the music folder to the first song.
“Take it away, maestro,” he said.
Natalie lifted her fingers and flexed them. “We’ll warm up with ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.’ I’ll run though the first couple of stanzas. When I go back to the beginning again, you all join in.”
She waited for Connor to leave now that the practice was beginning. Instead, he climbed the bleachers to the tenor section and stood in front of his brother Jared. A small tremor ran through her hands as she placed her fingers on the keyboard, remembering the rich timbre of his singing voice. Until she’d turned down his proposal Christmas Eve of her senior year, they’d driven to and from college together singing to the radio the whole way. The man could really do justice to a slow country ballad. She stopped a sigh. For whatever reason, she’d expected Connor to leave.
Natalie began to play, trying to lose herself in the music. But her mind kept running over ways to avoid being caught alone with Pastor Connor again.
She finally finished the program’s closing song. “I think that’s good for tonight.” She paused. “Unless Connor has anything else.”
“No, nothing except a reminder that the next practice is next Tuesday, same time.”
Aweek. That gave her a week before she’d have to see Connor again. Except—the thought struck her—at church service. She shook off the feeling of uncertainty. What was with her? There wasn’t anything between her and Connor anymore. She was a big girl. She could maintain a pastor-parishioner relationship with him. But he wasn’t any ordinary pastor, and considering some of the stuff she’d gotten herself into the past couple of years, she was a far cry from his typical parishioner.
As she waited for choir members to check in with her about their range placement, a chuckle from Connor rose above the chatter, drawing her gaze to him. She followed his progress down the bleachers. The confident way he carried himself and the cordial expression on his face as he talked to those around him told her that Connor had finally found himself. Her heart warmed. She was happy for him. She could only pray that coming back might help put her on a calmer path, too.
Natalie tensed as Connor left the group and walked to the piano. She looked furtively for someone, anyone else, heading her way.
“Thanks again, Nat,” he said, slipping into the familiar nickname only her family and friends in Paradox Lake used. “See you next week.” He raised his hand in farewell as he walked past her and the piano.
“I’ll be here.” She released a pent-up breath and her anxiety about having to deal with him one-on-one flowed out with it. His short, politely distanced words were exactly what she wanted from him. So why did she feel a little more empty with each step he took away from her?
* * *
“So, what’s with you and the piano player?” Jared accosted Connor as he headed toward the utility room to let Drew know that the choir was done.
“I can help with that one.” His other brother, Josh, seemed to appear from the shadows. “Natalie was Connor’s first love.”
The mocking tone Josh put on the last two words ignited a spark of anger. “Where’d you come from?” Connor asked, forcing himself to ignore the taunt. This was Josh, after all. The man who’d never dated a woman long enough to have any feelings for her.
“I stopped by to help Drew and the kids with the settings. He gave me the key to give to you to lock up.” Josh handed him a key ring. “Now, back to the beauteous Natalie Delacroix...”
Natalie was beautiful, and Josh was no longer mocking. Still, Connor had a childish urge to demand Josh “take that back,” the kind of demand that had resulted in more than one teenage brother brawl.
“I think the lady dumped our baby bro their last year of college,” Josh said.
“Something like that,” Connor mumbled, glad that Josh didn’t know the full story. Even though the two of them were close, Josh had a reckless streak that had stopped Connor from telling him beforehand that he was going to ask Nat to marry him, despite Connor having been certain at the time that she’d say “yes.” That move had saved him from the embarrassment of having to share being shot down.
“You guys still on for helping me with the cottage Saturday morning?” Josh asked.
For once, Josh’s habit of making things all about him didn’t bother Connor.
“We’ll be there,” Jared said. “Brendon can’t wait. I got him his own scaled-down tool belt.”
Connor admired the way his oldest brother had bonded with his stepson and went out of his way to be a father to him in a way their father had never been to them.
“Connor?”
“Sure, as long as nothing more pressing comes up.” Connor couldn’t think of any reason right now that he wouldn’t be able to help Josh work on the decrepit lakeside cottage he’d bought to fix up and sell. He was being contrary. Josh had a way of bringing the worst out in him.
His brother frowned.
“Like an emergency with one of my parishioners.”
“Right. See you Saturday.” Josh left.
“I’m going to do a walk around to make sure everything is turned off before I lock up,” Connor said to Jared. “Catch you at Josh’s Saturday.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” Jared said. “I need a lift home. I told Becca if she finished earlier than we did to go ahead home, and I’d get a ride from you.”
“Pretty sure of yourself.”
“Yeah.”
Connor tossed his car keys at his brother. “Make yourself useful and go run the heater so the car’s warm when I get out.”
A couple of minutes later, Connor joined Jared. He put the car in Reverse to pull out of the parking space.
“Natalie Delacroix,” Jared said out of nowhere. “I knew I recognized her.”
Connor hit the brakes harder than necessary and skidded on the icy parking lot. Recognized her from where? She would have been eleven when Jared left Paradox Lake for the motocross circuit.
“When I was racing in the Midwest, she was a reporter on one of the local stations,” Jared said.
Connor shrugged and put the car in Drive. “She had a mentor her senior year who was an anchor at one of the Chicago affiliate stations. He was a guest instructor at Syracuse. She’d talked about him helping her get a job when she graduated.”
“No, this was a smaller, local station. But I’m sure it was her.”
“Maybe. After we broke up, I didn’t keep track of her. It was part of my ‘get Natalie out of my system’ program.”
“That bad?” Jared asked.
“That bad.” Connor considered telling him about his proposal, but thought again.
Jared nodded and went quiet for a couple of minutes. “Kirk Sheldon. Was that her mentor?”
“Sounds right.” Connor knew it was right.
“You can take this for what it’s worth. I only know what I read on the ‘People’ page of a suburban Chicago newspaper.”
Connor glanced sideways at his brother. Jared looked like he was weighing whether to continue. “Since when do you read gossip pages?” he asked to fill the lull.
Jared glared at him. “Since my publicist suggested it. The page had a story about me that she’d wanted to make sure I read as a lesson in what I shouldn’t be doing.”
Connor snorted. “You’re going to tell me there was a story about Natalie, too?”
“Do you want to hear this or not?”
He wanted to put his hands over his ears and shout no. “Go ahead,” he said.
“It was before I caught her on TV that time. I didn’t connect the two until now.”
“I don’t need background. Just the details.” And the fewer, the better.
“The news anchor was estranged from his wife, an overseas correspondent, and apparently dating Natalie.”
Natalie and her professor? Connor clenched his jaw. She’d gone on about Kirk this and Kirk that. He’d thought it was her usual chatter. Had she been two-timing him? The man had to be fifteen years older than them. He gripped the steering wheel until his hands hurt.
“I know the paper blew it all out of proportion. They always do.” Jared stopped again. “To cut to the chase, the news anchor and his wife reunited and he publicly apologized for his indiscretions. Natalie was his latest. He stopped just short of naming names, but the writer insinuated that he was involved with Natalie. The story covered the reconciliation. ‘Local anchor breaks love triangle and reconciles with wife,’ or some such garbage. Natalie was collateral damage.”
Poor Natalie. Despite his fresh hurt that she might have been interested in Kirk before they’d broken up, he wasn’t going to judge. Only God could do that.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” Jared said. “But I’d take care.”
Connor got the implied “concerning Natalie.”
“Much as I hated the bad press I got when I was on the motocross circuit, parts of it were true. And the reputation I got from those stories hurt Becca. Your contract is up for renewal at the end of the year. Some of the members of the congregation are still warming up to your being Jerry Donnelly’s kid. And I know how much serving here means to you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m a big boy. I can handle my own life.” Connor yanked the steering wheel to turn into Jared’s driveway and brought the car to an abrupt stop.
“See you Saturday,” Jared said. He stepped out of the car and closed the door without waiting for Connor’s response.
Good move on Jared’s part. At the moment, he was inclined to blow off Saturday.
Connor drove home, parked his car in the parsonage garage and stepped out into the frigid night air. A vision of Natalie’s drawn face and empty gaze shadowed him into the house. He knew he should give her a wide berth, not so much to protect his ministry at Hazardtown Community Church, but to protect his heart. And he would, starting tomorrow, once he’d gotten control over the concern for her that Jared’s story had raised and his almost overpowering need to seek her out and shelter her in his arms.
Chapter Two (#ulink_8564c8bf-98d6-5914-99cd-ec7b6085b177)
“Mom, sit down and let me do that.” Natalie walked across the kitchen and lifted the spatula from her mother’s hand. “What happened to your sleeping in and letting me take care of breakfast? Where’s your walker?”
“By the table. I woke up and didn’t see a light on in your room yet. Since I was awake, I thought I’d get things started.”
Natalie looked at the clock over the kitchen sink that had been there as long as she could remember. Ten after five. “I would have been up in five minutes, anyway, if I hadn’t heard you and gotten up.”
“I’ve got bacon in the broiler and have already started cracking eggs to scramble. I’ll just finish them.”
Natalie took her mother by the shoulders, surprised at how delicate she felt under her hands, and helped her to the kitchen table. “Sit. I suppose you make breakfast for Claire, too, when she gets up for work. Seriously, you could set the coffeemaker and let them fend for themselves.”
“I’ve been telling her that for years,” her father said from the doorway. He walked over and kissed her mother on the cheek. “Not that I’ve had much success. How’s it going for you?”
Natalie motioned to the table. “I have her sitting.”
“I knew calling you was the right thing.”
“Right back at you, Dad.” She looked at her mother and father, who were still obviously in love after thirty-five years of marriage and six children. A warm cloak of safety wrapped around her. She could have used some of that inner security last night with Connor. If only it was something she could pocket and take with her when she left the house.
Natalie turned to the stove and finished breaking eggs into a bowl. She beat in some milk until they were smooth and sunny yellow.
“Oh, no, you’re not letting Natalie cook.” Her younger brother, Paul, one male half of the two sets of Delacroix twins—Paul and Renee, and Marc and Claire—walked in and sat at the table.
“And good morning to you, too.” She poured the egg mixture into an iron frying pan.
“The last time I remember you cooking breakfast, you almost burned down the lodge at Sonrise.”
“I did not,” she protested.
“Sure you did. You volunteered to get up early and make pancakes for the church youth group at our annual campout. Mr. and Mrs. Hill were the leaders then.” He prompted her memory. “A fawn or bird or something distracted you and you let the pancakes burn. The kitchen filled with smoke.”
She remembered all too well. It wasn’t a fawn or bird that distracted her. It was Connor splitting wood for the campfire planned for that evening. Contrary to Paul’s embellishments, she didn’t cause any fire, or fill the kitchen with smoke. However, the stack of blackened pancakes and Mrs. Hill stepping in to finish cooking breakfast were enough to win her razzing for the rest of the day. Connor had made it better, sitting with her at the campfire and stealing a kiss—their first—when the Hills weren’t watching.
She suppressed the nostalgic longing for that more innocent time. “That was more than ten years ago. I’ve perfected my breakfast cooking since then.” A faint whiff of well-done bacon drifted from the stove. She quickly opened the broiler and took the pan out.
“So I smell.” Paul got in another good-natured dig. “You know I’m only teasing. We’re all glad to have you home for the holidays.”
“I’m glad to be here, too.” Natalie placed the bacon on a plate, gave the eggs another stir and scooped them into a bowl.
“Dad and I are going to go cut a Christmas tree Saturday morning. Want to come along?”
Natalie smiled to herself. The annual trek to the local Christmas tree farm to find the perfect tree had always been one of her favorite holiday activities, one she’d missed the past few years. Last Christmas, she hadn’t even bothered to put out the small ceramic table tree she had.
“Claire’s coming,” Paul said, adding Natalie’s next oldest sister to the outing. “I don’t know if Andie and Rob and the kids are.”
“You don’t have to talk me in to it,” Natalie said. “You know I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss Pharaoh Mountain Farm’s mint hot chocolate for anything.” Even Andie being there.
“Paul,” their dad said, “if you have your social schedule all worked out, want to finish your breakfast and get to work?” He winked at Natalie.
Paul and his twin, Renee, were the most social of her and her five siblings, not that she and the others weren’t social. Or at least, she had been social.
They guys polished off their food and left to start the morning milking.
“Want another cup of coffee, Mom?”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s not like I can’t get up and walk over to the counter.”
Natalie ignored the edge to her mother’s voice. “I’m getting one for myself. I can refill yours. You should make the most of the special treatment. Who knows when you’ll get it again?”
“You’re right.” Her mother handed over her coffee mug. “I have to admit that I’m not missing having to go to work every day, except for the people.”
Natalie filled both mugs. “Any chance you could go part-time when you go back? You already have an almost full-time job with the farm books and business management.”
Her mother pressed her lips together, making Natalie wonder if she’d overstepped the child-parent boundary by edging into her parents’ financial situation.
“Milk prices have been uncertain, although the new yogurt plant in Amsterdam may help keep them more even. I figure I might as well hang on full-time until I can collect Social Security benefits.”
That was more than ten years away. She wished she could help financially. That had been part of her dream of being a network news reporter, although she suspected her parents wouldn’t accept help, even if she had the means to give it. At least she’d had enough money left from her cashed-out retirement plan account to come up with her share for the Hawaiian trip she and her siblings were giving their parents for Christmas. They had everything covered, down to someone to help Paul with the farm work. She couldn’t remember the last time Mom and Dad had been away.
“Here you go.” She handed her mother her coffee.
“Don’t worry about us,” her mother said. “You know your Dad wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”
Natalie knew that, but she was more concerned about Mom.
“And Paul has some good ideas, like getting in on the yogurt deal, and he’s taking over a lot of the management work I’ve always done.”
“Good.” She reached over and squeezed her mother’s hand. “You need to concentrate on getting better.”
Her mother squeezed back. “So, how did choir practice go last night?”
“About that.” Natalie looked at her mother over the edge of her coffee mug. “Why didn’t you tell me that Connor is the pageant director?”
“Because I was afraid you’d say no if I had. Right?”
“Maybe. Probably.” She put her coffee down. “Drew Stacey said that Andie had offered to play if he couldn’t find anyone else. Why didn’t you let her? Connor. Me. You know what happened.”
“Andie doesn’t play or sing nearly as well as you do. I’m hoping you’ll do the solo. Besides she has enough on her hands with the kids, helping Rob on the farm and her part-time job.”
Her mother’s last words stung, even though Natalie knew she didn’t mean them in a hurtful way. Mom was stating fact. Until she found a new job, figured out her life, what did she have to do?
“And—yes, I’m interfering—you and Connor have some unfinished business. Working together might help you finish it.”
Natalie’s stomach churned as if her last swallow of coffee had been one too many. Yes, she and Connor did have unfinished business—at least she did with him. But she wasn’t sure she had enough strength left in her to finish it. Nor was she certain anymore that God would give her that strength.
* * *
Connor stomped through the fresh dusting of snow that had arrived overnight to cover the parking lot of Pharaoh Mountain tree farm. With the clear blue sky and temperatures up near freezing, it was a perfect day to get a Christmas tree for the parsonage—for someone who wanted to get a Christmas tree. He, personally, hadn’t had a tree ever. He knew it was childish, but Natalie refusing his proposal in front of the tree they’d just finished decorating together in her Syracuse apartment, complete with the Christmas star he’d given her for the top, had killed any interest he might have in putting one up for himself.
Last year, when Jared had been living with him, he and their then six-year-old half sister Hope had gotten one for the parsonage, and Becca and her kids had come over and helped decorate it. His only input had been to insist they put something other than a star on top. He couldn’t see a flashing star atop a tree or anywhere else without seeing Natalie saying, “I’m sorry...” This year, he’d thought he was home free until the women heading up the church’s hospitality and evangelism committees had decided it would be a good idea to have a community-wide open house at the parsonage the weekend before Christmas. All Connor had to do was supply the tree. They’d take care of the food and the rest of the decorating.
He gripped the saw he’d found hanging in the parsonage garage. He couldn’t tell the women that he didn’t want a Christmas tree in his house. So when Josh had canceled their workday to go into the office, Connor figured he might as well get it over with.
“Connor,” someone called from behind, pulling him out of his morass. Claire Delacroix jogged up beside him, her cheeks turned rosy from the cold, just like Natalie’s always had. “Picking up your Christmas tree?”
“That and some wreaths and boughs and stuff for the parsonage. The hospitality and evangelism committees are going to decorate for the open house.”
“Want to join us? We’re getting the tree for Mom and Dad’s house.”
“Sure,” he said before considering who “we” might include. He hesitated. No, Natalie would be home, wouldn’t she? In case her mother needed help.
“We’re meeting at the chocolate hut,” Claire said. “That’s what we call the outbuilding where you pay for the trees.”
His lack of knowledge of the tree farm must have shown on his face.
“You haven’t been here before.”
“No.” At their house growing up, the tree had appeared Christmas Eve after they’d gone to bed. When he was older, he’d assumed Mom picked them up at a discount somewhere on her way home after she’d finished her Christmas Eve shift at the diner.
“They have the best hot chocolate with mint. Free with every tree. Don’t tell Mom and Dad, but that’s really why I got up early on a Saturday morning to come.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t sure what all the excitement about hot chocolate was. His plan had been to get in and out as fast as possible.
Claire waved as they tromped toward a building the size of a large shed that looked like a miniature log cabin. Both of her parents, along with her brother Paul and Natalie, were standing in front.
“You should probably go ahead without me. I don’t want to horn in on what sounds like a family tradition.”
“Since when?” Claire laughed. “You used to be at the house so much, Mom called you her middle son.”
“That was back in high school.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his ski jacket, fighting the old feeling of being an outsider that he’d thought he’d shed when he’d left Paradox Lake for college.
“Come on. It’ll be a lot more fun with us than by yourself.”
He walked over to the building with her. Fun wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting.
“Hey, look who I found in the parking lot,” Claire said.
Almost in unison, Natalie’s parents and brother gave him an enthusiastic greeting. Even Natalie smiled.
“I’m picking up a tree for the parsonage,” he said. Lame. Why else would he be at a Christmas tree farm?
“For the open house.” Terry nodded. “Where are you putting it? In the living room or the dining room? With the high ceilings at the parsonage, you’ll want a tall tree.”
Connor hadn’t thought about the best place to put it. He just wanted to get the job out of way. “Last year, Jared and Becca put the tree in the living room.”
“That’s probably best,” she said. “You’ll have the buffet set up in the dining room.”
The ladies will have the buffet set up. He was trying to stay as much out of the event as he could, putting his efforts where they belonged—on his Christmas church services and the pageant.
“The girls can help you.” Terry’s eyes twinkled with mischief, just as Natalie’s used to. “They’re both almost as good at picking out the right tree as I am. I’m going to wait here.” She tapped her walker. “No hiking the hills for the perfect tree for me.”
“I’ll stay and keep you company,” Natalie said. “Four people are enough to cut two trees.”
Even though he’d been looking for an out minutes ago, hearing Natalie say the same thing sharpened already painful memories.
“And miss the fun? No way. Go ahead,” Terry urged. “I’m fine here with my hot chocolate.”
Natalie opened her mouth and closed it.
“The taller trees are in the back,” Natalie’s father, John, said. “That’s where we’re headed.”
Connor fell in step with Natalie’s brother at the opposite side of their little group. “How’s it going, Paul?”
“Not bad.” Paul glanced at his father, who was talking with the girls. “I talked Dad into getting in on the deal supplying milk for the new yogurt plant. Andie’s husband, Rob, is in, too.”
“Great.” Connor knew how much Paul was working on making his partnership with his dad more of a partnership.
“And with Natalie here and Marc and his family coming Christmas Eve, we’ll all be home except Renee.”
Connor caught a note of sadness when Paul said his twin’s name. “Are you going to be able to use Skype to talk with her?”
“Yep, we’re planning to Christmas morning.”
“Here we are. Take your pick,” John said when they’d reached the far end of the farm.
“Natalie, why don’t you help Connor? It’ll give you two time to catch up,” Claire said. “I’ll make sure these two guys don’t go overboard on tall.” She motioned to her dad and brother.
Connor glanced at Natalie. She quickly turned the grimace her sister’s words had caused into a facsimile of a smile. He crushed an ice ball from one of the trees that had fallen in his path. Her stifled displeasure affected him far more than it should. What did he care if she didn’t want to come with him? She had no hold on him. He was over her, had been for years.
* * *
“Sorry about that,” Natalie said as soon as her family was out of hearing range. From his expression, Connor might be even less happy about her family throwing them together than she was apprehensive about it. Not that she blamed him.
“I’m used to it,” he said. “People are always trying to match me up with single women.”
And that’s all she was, one more potential match pushed at him. She shivered despite having bundled up for the weather. Had any of those matches worked? She hadn’t heard he was seeing anyone. Unjustified jealousy shot through her. She shook it off. Any chance she’d had of being anything to Connor, even friends, had died five years ago when she’d chosen her career over his proposal. They’d been so young. She felt decades older and knew now that it hadn’t had to be an either/or.
“What kind of tree are you looking for, long or short needle?” she asked.
“You’re the expert.”
The lopsided grin that had replaced his frown went straight to her heart. How many times had she succumbed to that grin and agreed to watch the movie he wanted to see or eat out at his favorite restaurant or help him clean his apartment?
“Well, the short-needled trees tend to hold their needles longer. But if you like the looks of a longer needle...”
He touched the sleeve of her navy peacoat. “It’s okay. I was teasing. I know you’re as uncomfortable as I am.”
Uncomfortable. He sounded so clinical. And she was being oversensitive. Connor was handing her the olive branch she should be giving him, the branch she didn’t even know how to offer him. Memories flooded her head. Them in the parking lot of the big-box store near her apartment in Syracuse looking at the meager selection of trees left for sale. They’d chosen a long-needled white pine that had started shedding its needles before they’d even set it up. Her making him laugh with stories of tree mishaps she remembered from her childhood as they decorated the tree.
She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, she’d give away emotions she didn’t want Connor to see, that he probably wouldn’t want to see.
“Since the tree will have to make it through at least a month, I’d better go with something with short needles,” he said.
“The short-needled balsam firs are to the right.” She pointed in the direction her family had gone, thankful that Connor was back to business. They walked over to the row of trees.
Connor stopped in front of the first one. “This one looks good.” He started to squat to cut it.
“No, wait.” She should let him go ahead and be done with it. But she couldn’t without walking around it to inspect the tree from all angles. Too many tree-cutting trips with her mother stopped her from letting him cut the tree.
“What?” A note of impatience sounded in his voice.
She walked around the tree, telling herself this was the parsonage tree. She was being fussy because it needed to be right for the church, not because she wanted it nice for Connor.
“No good,” she said as she rounded back beside him. “It lists to the side. You’ll have trouble keeping it up, and I noticed some holes in the branches in the back. The trees at the end of the row are probably less picked over.”
He straightened. “Lead on.”
She stepped in front of him and walked slowly down the row, eyeing each tree, the scent of pine bolstering her spirits. Picking out a perfect Christmas tree was something she’d always liked, enjoyed sharing with her mother. Natalie stopped at the far end of the row.
“This one?” Connor asked.
“No.” Her gaze traveled to the next row. “There.” A twinge of excitement bubbled as she pointed. Without thinking, she grabbed his arm to pull him over.
He stilled for a moment, his blue eyes clouding.
She dropped her hand to her side.
“Which one?” he asked with what sounded to her like forced enthusiasm.
“Next row, second one in.” Natalie rushed over and circled the tree. “It’s perfect.”
Connor laughed, sending a ripple of remembrance through her.
“I’ll have to move all of the furniture out of the living room and cut a hole in the ceiling to fit it in,” he teased.
“No, you won’t. All you’ll need to do is trim some of the wide branches on the bottom and take a foot or so off the trunk, like you had to with the tree at my apartment.”
Connor’s stance stiffened. Why did she have to go and say that when they’d finally reached a friendly comfort?
Without a word, Connor attacked the tree trunk with the saw he’d brought. Natalie watched his shoulders work as he pulled back and forth, and she lifted a silent voice rusty with disuse. Dear Jesus, Iknow I have to talk with Connor, clear the air between us if we’re going to work together on the pageant to glorify Your birth.But I have no idea how to do it.
Chapter Three (#ulink_f43bc1d8-c070-5345-b2d8-5964e0de77eb)
When Connor got back to the parsonage, he stuck the tree in a bucket of water in the far corner of the garage. No need to have it in the house until the church women came to decorate.
His cell phone pinged. It was a text from Josh: Got done early. You still up for some demolition?
Definitely, he texted back. Ripping out wallboard with his bare hands sounded like just what he needed to work the memories Natalie had dredged up this morning out of his system. He grabbed his toolbox and headed over to Josh’s place.
A while later, his little sister, Hope, skipped into the room of the cottage he and Josh were gutting. “Hey, Connor, I’m going to hang out with you tonight.”
“Hope, hon.” He stopped her halfway across the debris-covered floor. “It would be better if you stayed back in the other room. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Jared appeared in the doorway. “Hope,” he said in a much sterner voice than Connor had used. “I told you to wait for Brendon and me.”
She blew her bangs off her face. “But I didn’t want Connor to make other plans before I told him I was having a sleepover at his house tonight. If he has his cell phone, someone could have called him while I was waiting.”
Connor couldn’t argue with her seven-year-old logic.
“Hope,” Jared repeated.
Connor brushed the plaster dust off his jeans. It bothered him that Jared often ended up playing the bad guy to their sister because she lived with him and Becca, while he and Josh got to be the fun brothers. Although Jared was Hope’s legal guardian in their missing father’s absence, they’d agreed to share responsibility of the motherless girl when her guardian grandmother had died last year.
Hope retraced her steps back to the doorway where Jared stood. “So is it okay, Connor?” she asked. “You’re not doing something else?”
“Not a thing. What do you say we pick up subs on our way home for supper?”
“Can I pick out my own kind? At home, Ari and I have to take turns choosing since we always have to split one.”
“Life is tough at the Donnelly household,” Jared commented.
Not anywhere near as tough as it had been at theirs growing up.
“As long as it’s not the veggie one, since I’m the one who’ll have to finish the other half if you can’t.”
Hope wrinkled her nose. “Never. And I brought some games and stuff to do.”
“Great.”
Her expression turned serious. “Josh, don’t feel left out. I can come to your house next Saturday.”
Connor had to work at not bursting out laughing as he watched Josh struggle to keep a grin off his face.
“It’s a date,” Josh said. “We can go to the Strand and catch a movie.”
“Bro,” Jared said, “you’ve been spending a lot of time at the movies. Or is that a lot of time with the theater owner?”
Josh shrugged him off. “What can I say? She lets me watch the movies from the projection room.”
“Cool! Can we do that next week?” Hope asked.
“I’ll check with Tessa,” Josh said, “but I don’t see why not.”
“Hey, guys. I thought we were here to work, not discuss Josh’s love life,” Connor said in an effort to deflect Josh before he decided to move on to him and Natalie. Connor had ignored, not missed, the gleam in Josh’s eye when he’d filled in Jared on his and Natalie’s former relationship the other night.
“Yeah,” Josh said. “I want to get this room walled in today. It’s Saturday, and some of us who aren’t old and married have plans for the night.”
Connor guessed Josh’s plans were more adult than his. His insides hollowed. Maybe he should start taking up some of his parishioners on their matchmaking, if for no other reason than to get some woman other than Natalie in his thoughts.
“Brendon, set Hope up with her art stuff in the other room,” Jared said, “and we’ll see what Uncle Josh has for you to do.”
His brothers would probably laugh if they knew how much he liked Becca’s son and her daughter, Ariana, calling him Uncle Connor instead of Pastor Connor. It gave him a feeling of family that he hadn’t had growing up in their too-often chaotic household.
“Josh, don’t you have something I can do, too?” Hope asked.
“No, you’re too little,” Brendon said in the true fashion of an older brother, even though he actually was Hope’s nephew by marriage.
“It just so happens I do,” Josh said. “The box with my nails and screws and bolts is a mess. You could sort through them and put the ones that are alike together in the different compartments.”
Jared gave a thumbs-up behind Hope.
“Brendon, it’s in the back hall where you came in,” Josh said. “You can carry it for Hope.”
“Thanks, guys,” Jared said after the kids had headed to the hall. “Ari went home with a friend after play practice this morning, and Brendon’s staying over at his friend Ian’s tonight. Hope was feeling left out.”
Jared didn’t have to add what the three brothers were all thinking. Iknow how that feels. Connor learned young that because of their father, they couldn’t have friends over. His behavior was too unpredictable. And not being able to ever reciprocate made for fewer invitations to other kids’ houses.
“And I’ll have you know, Josh,” Jared said, “since us old marrieds are kidless tonight, I have some Saturday night plans, too.”
Josh threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I concede, maybe you aren’t all of the way over the hill. Yet.”
Connor grabbed the broom from the gutted wall beside him. He swept a section of the floor large enough to roll out and cut the batt insulation. If not for his little sister, he’d be left out—again.
Brendon popped back in the room. “So, what can I do?”
“You can help Uncle Connor measure and cut the insulation.” As usual, Jared took charge. “Josh and I’ll staple it up.”
Relegated to the easy job as he always had been, being the youngest. Connor stalked across the room, heaved a roll of insulation on his shoulder and crossed back to the spot he’d swept. He let the roll drop to the floor.
“Think fast.” Josh shot a tape measure at him. By reflex, Connor reached his hand above his head and caught it. He was acting as childish as Hope, only she had reason to. She was a child. He pulled out the tape and let it snap back in. He was a grown man, secure in his profession, secure with who he was. Or he had been until Natalie had returned.
She’d caught him by surprise, and that surprise had somehow stripped him of all the confidence he’d built in himself at seminary through prayer and hard work. It had also washed away the foundation of the wall he’d put up to keep her out of his thoughts. Natalie was seeping in them all too often. Like now.
“I don’t get to use tools or anything?” Brendon complained.
“Hey, bud, you don’t need hammers and staple guns to do a man’s work. Our part of the job is the thinking man’s part. Jared and Josh’s is just grunt work.”
Brendon eyed him.
“If we don’t measure and cut the insulation right, it won’t work right and the room will be drafty.” Connor sliced the roll open with a utility knife.
Brendon probably bought that as much as he bought his plan to keep Natalie out of his head by avoiding her as much as possible outside of the pageant. Look at how well that had worked this morning.
* * *
“Nat, you have to do me a favor.” Andie had started the phone call without even saying hello. “You have to fill in for me this afternoon decorating the parsonage for the open house. Robbie is sick.”
Natalie’s nephew had seemed okay an hour ago at church service. Was her sister purposely trying to make her uncomfortable by pushing her to go help Connor decorate his house?
“He’s had the sniffles, but now he’s spiked a temperature. If it goes higher, I’m going to have to take him to urgent care.”
Natalie twisted her hair around her finger, her throat tightening with concern for the four-year-old. She was doing what Andie often accused her of—making it all about herself. “Sure. What time?”
“Two thirty.”
That only gave her an hour to prepare herself. “Will Connor be there?”
“I don’t know. Probably. You’re not still carrying a torch for him after all these years, are you? You lost your chance when you let him get away in college.”
No, no torch. Only regrets for her callousness. But leave it to big sis to go right for the jugular without even meaning to. “I need to check a couple things with him about the pageant music.”
“Oh. Thanks for doing this. The twins were going to come with me, so I’ll have Rob drop them off at the parsonage. That way you don’t have to come out of your way to pick them up. You’ll just have to drive them home. Dad was right when he said having you here for the holidays would be a help for us all.”
Natalie was sure Andie’s take on Dad’s words wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. “Hope Robbie feels better,” she said, then ended the call.
“Bad news?” her mother asked.
Natalie almost dropped her phone. “Mom! I thought you were resting.”
“I tried. It doesn’t feel right, lying in bed during the day.”
“You need to be careful not to put too much stress on your knee. Sit down at least.” She helped her mother from her walker onto the couch.
“You’re changing the subject. Something’s wrong. You didn’t get called back to work, did you? You said it was no problem to take family leave.”
No, no problem at all. Natalie didn’t know how to start. “I don’t have a job,” she blurted.
Her mother patted the spot beside her. “They called you on a Sunday afternoon to tell you that?” Outrage colored her words. “You’re on family leave. I thought that gave you job protection.”
Natalie dropped onto the couch. “I lost my job several months ago.”
Her mother hugged her shoulder. “More downsizing?”
Good old Mom, always thinking the best of her, of all of them. It wouldn’t occur to her that Natalie would be fired or quit a job without having another one lined up.
“Sort of,” she said. “This time, the station was sold and the new owners wanted a different format with different people.” Natalie scraped her nail against the knobby fabric of the armrest. Might as well get it all out. “I didn’t lose the one before that because of downsizing. I was fired for not doing what was asked of me.”
Her mother knit her brows. “That doesn’t sound at all like you,” she said, concern clouding her face.
“You don’t know what was expected.”
“Tell me.”
Natalie’s chest tightened until she could barely draw a breath. “I can’t. I made a poor choice in my personal life, and I paid for it.” Connor’s face flashed in front of her. Acouple of bad choices.
“We’ve all made bad choices, and God forgives us for every one of them.”
Natalie couldn’t imagine her dear mother making the choices she’d made.
“How bad is it?” Mom asked.
She might as well tell all, at least as much as she could bear to share with her mother. “I had to give up my apartment a couple of months ago, and I used the last of my savings for my plane ticket here and some Christmas gifts.”
“You didn’t have to bring gifts. Having you here is enough for all of us.”
“Thanks, Mom, but I wanted to, especially for the kids.” And for you and Dad.
“If I’m not prying, where have you been living?”
“A friend from the women’s Bible study at church invited me to move in with her.”
Mom nodded. “I’m glad you’ve been able to hang on to your faith.”
“I’ve been trying, Mom. It hasn’t been easy.”
“It often isn’t. When I’m having trouble hanging on, I quote Lamentations 3:24-25 to myself. ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him. The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him.’ Waiting has always worked for me.”
She hugged her mother, feeling for the moment that she was safe from the ruthless world she’d left to come home, that she was somewhere she belonged.
Her mother patted her back as she drew away. “So why were you frowning at your phone when I came in?”
Natalie released a laugh that bordered on maniacal. “Andie called and asked me if I could fill in for her helping the women from church decorate the parsonage this afternoon. She thinks Robbie is coming down with something.”
“I hope not,” her mother said. “I’ll call her later to check on him. And you’ll have a good time helping decorate. It’s a younger group of women than what you’d remember. Autumn and Becca and some other girls you may know from school will be there.”
“It’s not that.” Natalie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s Connor’s house.”
Her usually perceptive mother cocked her head in question.
Natalie’s throat clogged. “I treated him badly. Every time I see him, I feel like I should apologize, do something to make it up to him.” She waved her hands as if grasping for an answer. “But I don’t know how, what.”
“You’re not the only young woman who’s turned down a marriage proposal, and you’re not the only one who’s had second thoughts afterward.”
Natalie chose to skip over her mother’s last words. “But I wasn’t nice about it. In my eyes, he’d become too small-town, and I had cities to conquer. I’m sure I made him feel that being a television reporter was more important than anything he could offer, that he and his proposal would get in the way of my career.”
A raw laugh caught in her throat. Some career. She’d been so naive. And in the far recesses of her mind, she’d harbored the thought that he’d always be there for her to fall back on. She hadn’t seen him again after that Christmas Eve until the other night at the pageant practice.
“I’m going to let you in on a secret. I turned down your father’s first proposal. He asked me on my birthday, just before our high school graduation. He had it all mapped out. We’d move to Cobleskill and I’d work while he did his two years of agriculture school. Then, we’d come back and he’d work the farm with your grandfather.”
“But...” Natalie started. Her parents had gotten married the summer after Dad had finished his two-year ag degree.
“Let me finish. I had bigger things to do, like make the US ski team. And I would have if I hadn’t torn up my knee,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “But God had other plans. Despite my refusing his proposal, your dad was with me as much as he could be after that surgery, as he has been with this one.” She motioned to her knee brace.
“Connor’s and my situation is different.”
“I don’t know. I was hurting. You’re hurting. Talk with Connor. See where it goes.”
Mom meant well, but Natalie knew where it would go. Nowhere.
I’m not the girl he wanted anymore.And Connor has become everything I’d expected he’d become and rashly thought I didn’t want.
* * *
Connor sawed the trunk of the evergreen above the pail-shaped block of ice and attacked the lower branches to expose enough trunk for the tree to sit securely in the tree stand. He probably shouldn’t have left the tree in the pail of water overnight. But who knew the church women could organize their work day so quickly? One of them must have seen Natalie and him cutting the tree yesterday. An email was waiting for him when he and Hope had gotten home from Josh’s asking if there was any problem with them decorating this afternoon.
He partially sawed the last branch. Sometimes he thought his parishioners took advantage of his time, thought he was always available because he didn’t have a family. He ripped the branch from the tree. But he was supposed to be available. That came with the job. He glanced at Hope, sitting on the steps from the house into the garage watching. He did have a family. After she’d heard him announce the parsonage decorating at church, she’d asked him if she could stay today, too.
“What do you think?” He held the tree upright for Hope.
“It’s big. We don’t have a tree yet. Becca said we’ll get one next weekend when everyone is home and can go. Since I’m going to help decorate your tree, do you want to come over and help us decorate ours?”
Connor didn’t want to participate in decorating this tree, let alone another one. “I’ll see. I never know when I might be called to help someone.”
“I know,” Hope said with a deep sigh. “Cami Hill’s grandmother—remember, she was my old day-care teacher before Jared and Becca got married—said you could really use a helpmate.”
Add another church member to the “get Pastor married” brigade.
“What’s a helpmate?” Hope asked.
“Someone who helps you do stuff,” he answered, knowing Karen Hill’s definition was really a wife.
“I can be your helpmate today,” Hope said.
His heart warmed. “Yes, you can, starting with helping me move these tree branches out of the garage and into the woods behind the house.”
Hope hopped off the steps while he lifted the garage door.
“Hi, Pastor Connor.” The Bissette twins walked up his driveway as their dad’s truck pulled away.
“We’re here to help decorate your house. Dad had to drop us off early. One of the cows hurt her leg, and he has to get back to meet the vet.”
“Me, too,” Hope said. “I’m being Connor’s helpmate. Do you want to, too?”
Aimee and Amelia giggled, reminding him of their conversation he’d overheard at the pageant practice saying he’d make a good Christmas present for their aunt Natalie. He rubbed his neck under the collar of his ski jacket, glad for the blast of cold air that blew into the garage. He must have exerted more energy than he’d thought cutting the tree branches.
“We need to haul these branches out back,” he said, belatedly realizing the twins were alone. “Your mother didn’t come?”
“No,” Aimee said. He identified her by her name knitted into her ski cap. “Robbie is running a temperature.”
“So Mom’s making Aunt Natalie come,” Amelia finished for her sister. “We’re supposed to meet her here.”
“Making Natalie come” was probably right. After yesterday’s tree cutting, he couldn’t see Nat volunteering to come and decorate his house. He also had trouble with the idea of Natalie doing something she didn’t want to because Andie had told her to. The Natalie he used to know, at least. Thinking back, though, had he really known her then, either?
“Grab some branches,” he said. “I want to get the garage cleared out and the tree in the house before everyone else gets here.”
Several cars were parked in the driveway and women were milling around the garage when Connor and the girls walked back around to the front of the house. A quick check didn’t find Natalie among them. He flexed the tightness out of his shoulders. Maybe he’d have time to escape to his office before she arrived.
“Hi. We were hauling the branches I trimmed from the tree out back. You could have gone in. The door’s open.” He bounded up the stairs and held the door open for his parishioners and the girls. “I’ll get the tree and be right in.”
He stared at the tree, his stomach flip-flopping in an all-too-familiar way, as it had when he’d gotten off the school bus as a kid and seen his father’s truck in the driveway, not knowing what condition he’d be in. Connor grabbed the tree and dragged it through the kitchen and dining room to the living room.
“I see you brought down the tree stand,” Karen Hill said. “Did you get the decorations, too?”
He didn’t know there were any decorations. He’d thought Jared and Becca had used their own decorations last year.
“There should be a big box or two of decorations church members and former pastors and their families have donated over the years.”
“I’ll go check,” he said, glad for the escape.
“I’ll help you,” Hope volunteered. When they’d gotten the tree stand down yesterday evening, she’d been fascinated by the attic, from the trapdoor in the upstairs hall to the pull-down ladder stairs.
“Okay.” He and Hope could get the decorations, and then he could make his excuses and go work in his office. Karen and the twins would be more than happy to keep an eye on Hope.
When they got upstairs, he opened the outer trapdoor, unfolded the ladder stairs and climbed up two so he could reach the latch on the inner insulated trapdoor. The second door had been installed as an additional heat barrier when the attic was insulated several years ago. He pulled it open, making sure he snapped the lock brace so it wouldn’t close on them while they were in the attic. With all the insulation, any calls for help might be so muffled no one downstairs would hear them.
“You go first,” he said. “Hang on to the rails.”
Connor followed Hope and quickly found the box of decorations, along with another box marked “manger.”
“Here’s another one,” Hope said, holding up a small box marked “Christmas.” “I’m getting good with my reading, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. I’m going to take the three boxes down. Then you can come down.”
“But I’m going to carry my box down the real stairs,” Hope said.
He stacked the boxes in order of size and maneuvered his way down the ladder, placing them on the floor so his hands were free if Hope needed help. They carried the boxes down to the living room.
He placed the decoration and manger boxes next to the tree, which the women had already put in the stand while he was upstairs. “Karen, would you mind keeping an eye on Hope? I have some work to do in my office.”
“Making a run for it?” Karen said.
He was that obvious?
“I’m teasing,” she added.
His expression must have given away his guilt. After all, it was his house, his tree. A piece of him felt he should be a part of the decorating, despite the toll on his equilibrium.
“It’s no trouble,” she said.
“We’ll help,” the twins said.
“We’ve taken the babysitting class at the library,” Amelia added.
“Thanks. If you need me for anything, give a shout.”
As he made the turn at the stair landing, he heard one of the twins say, “Aunt Natalie, finally,” sounding a lot like Natalie’s oldest sister. The knot in his stomach that had been tying and untying all afternoon loosened, replaced by his inner voice repeating “coward” with each step he climbed away from her.
* * *
“Look what I found in the attic,” Hope said, lifting a silver-and-blue star from a box.
Natalie’s heart stopped. It was the star Connor had bought for her Christmas tree. She hadn’t had the heart to use it or throw it away. It must have been in one of the boxes of stuff she’d brought home from college before she’d moved to Chicago. A few years later, she’d told Mom to go ahead and donate or give away anything in the boxes. It hadn’t occurred to her Mom might add it to the parsonage Christmas decorations.
“Plug it in, Aimee,” Hope said. The star twinkled with diffused light. “It’s beautiful. Connor is going to love it.”
“No,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “I mean that’s an old decoration. Wouldn’t you like to go with Connor and help him pick out a brand-new one?” Several of the women looked at her strangely. But she couldn’t let Connor come down and see that star on his tree.
“No,” Hope retorted as sharply as Natalie. “It’s beautiful, like the one my grandmother and me had, and Connor is going to love it.”
“Sweetie...” Natalie touched Hope’s shoulder.
She pulled away. “Leave me alone.” The little girl jumped up and ran upstairs, hugging the star to her chest.
Natalie rose, helpless to corral her emotions into any action that would make sense to the women around her.
“Let her go,” Karen said. “Connor has a room that’s hers upstairs. She’s probably overtired. Hope was telling my daughter-in-law in Sunday school class that she and Connor had a big night last night and he let her stay up way later than Jared and Becca do.”
“All right.” Karen knew more about kids than she did. Natalie set to work untangling the intertwined strings of lights, a nice mindless job.
A while later, Amelia tracked down Natalie in the kitchen as she was getting a bottle of water from a cooler of drinks one of the women had brought.
“I went upstairs to see if Hope wanted to come back down and help decorate the tree and I couldn’t find her. I think she went up to the attic. Someone left the ladder down.”
“Did you look for her there?”
“No, you have to climb a ladder. Remember, I’m afraid of ladders.”
Amelia had fallen off the ladder to the hay mow when she was a toddler and broken her arm. But it surprised Natalie that she still had a fear of ladders.
“Does Co— Pastor Connor know?”
“No, I didn’t want to tell him. We said we’d watch her.”
“Where’s Aimee? Can she check the attic?” She hated that she couldn’t stop herself from coming up with ways to avoid going upstairs where Connor was.
“She went with Autumn to get some more tree boughs.”
“Okay, I’ll look in the attic.” If Hope wasn’t there, she was probably in Connor’s office with him. It was unlikely she could have come downstairs and gone outside without anyone noticing.
Natalie put the unopened water back and walked unnoticed through the living room and upstairs, giving her second thoughts about Hope not being able to slip outside. Her heart pounded as she passed the closed door that must be to Connor’s office. Afraid that Hope wouldn’t answer if she called up to her, Natalie climbed the ladder. “Hope,” she said as she stepped from the ladder into the room.
“Natalie?” Connor’s voice came from behind a stack of boxes on the other side of the room.
Her heart slammed against her chest. “Amelia told me she thought Hope was up here.”
Connor crisscrossed the maze of boxes and furniture to her. “She told me the same thing, and that she’s afraid of ladders.”
“The ladder part may be true.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he said in as angry a tone as she’d ever heard from him.
Before they could move, the inner trapdoor slammed closed, followed by a muffled giggle.
Chapter Four (#ulink_1bd68f7a-bb4d-58b8-bfd2-7413de26dd77)
Connor sensed Natalie hovering behind him as he pressed his palm against the trapdoor. It didn’t budge.
“You can open it, right?” she asked.
He didn’t know, but hearing the strain in her voice, he wasn’t going to say that. He straightened and pulled his Swiss Army knife from the front pocket of his jeans. “Your niece must have flipped the latch. I’m going to see if I can unscrew the hinges.”
Natalie stood next to him and glared at the trapdoor. “I don’t know what’s gotten in to Aimee and Amelia.”
Connor unfolded the screwdriver tool from the knife and kneeled on the floor. “The twins think I’d make a good Christmas gift for you.” He placed the screwdriver in the slot of the closest hinge screw.
“What?” she said so loudly that if the attic wasn’t so well insulated, everyone downstairs would have heard her, and they wouldn’t have to worry about getting out of the attic.
“I overheard them before the pageant practice the other night,” he said.
As she crossed her legs on the floor, her knee brushed his leg. His knife slipped out of the screw. Not that the slight contact had rattled him. No, it was a Phillips screw and the knife had a slot screwdriver tool.
“I’ll talk to the twins and to Andie.”
“No need to make a big deal about it.” Her lack of any reference to what the twins had said hit him in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know why he’d even said anything. What did he expect her to say—best Christmas giftever?
“I could talk with Andie about taking over directing the choir, too.”
Connor torqued the screwdriver to the left. It slipped out of the groove again and he grazed his knuckle against the metal hinge. He started to lift his hand to his mouth and stopped. “You don’t want to work on the pageant?” Or you don’t want to work with me?
She avoided his gaze, resting her elbows on her knees, chin on her crossed hands, eyes focused on the trapdoor. “It’s just... I mean...isn’t it awkward for you? Wouldn’t you rather be working with someone else?”
“We’re both adults. Anything between us ended a long time ago. I agree with your mother that you’re the best qualified person to step in for her.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
No, he hadn’t.
She lifted her head as if to challenge him to.
He wasn’t sure he could. “The pageant and church service are my job. I want the best person we can get for the choir director. You’re good. You could have majored in music, probably been a professional pianist if you’d wanted to. What more could I, Hazardtown Community Church and the Paradox Lake Association of Churches ask for?” He gave the screw another hard twist and the screwdriver snapped.
“Maybe I should have majored in music and saved everyone a lot of grief.” She lowered her gaze to the trapdoor, her thick black lashes brushing her cheeks.
He scooped up the broken screwdriver tool before she could see it. The quaver in her voice told him it wasn’t the time to tell her they were trapped up here. He shoved the broken tool in his pocket and lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Was it that bad? What happened?” Connor was uncertain whether he thought it would help to address the elephant in the room, or if he was hoping to hear her disprove what Jared had told him.
Her eyes clouded. “This isn’t easy to talk about.”
“You don’t have to. That was just Counselor Connor kicking in. You know, all that listening and conflict-resolution training I had at seminary.”
“No, you’re right. Talking will help us find grounds for starting over—as friends—so we can work together on the pageant.”
Something in him rebelled at the way she emphasized “as friends,” as if she could wash away everything that had been between them by telling her story, and they could pick up being the friends they’d been back in high school. It might normally be his job, but he didn’t want to be her confessor. She wasn’t one of his parishioners. She was his first and, so far, only love. The woman who’d trashed his heart. He clenched his jaw, waiting for her to continue.
“First,” she said, chipping at what was left of the pink polish on her thumbnail, “I need to apologize for the thoughtless way I turned down your proposal.”
Need to, not want to. It was only semantics, but in Connor’s mind, Natalie’s word choice made the situation all about her.
“You caught me by surprise. I hadn’t realized you were that serious about us. We were so comfortable with each other.”
Comfortable. Not exactly the top way he’d choose to be described. Connor sat back and stretched his legs out across the trapdoor.
Concern flickered across Natalie’s face as she looked from the door he’d been trying to open to him. “It was because of something Kirk—Kirk Sheldon, my professor—said.” She seemed to choke on his name.
“I remember him,” Connor said without showing any of the rancor he felt, despite the twist of anger in his gut.
“He’d been talking to the class about the anchor job he had waiting for him in Chicago and how the station expected to be hiring an entry-level news reporter. I wanted that job, and he stopped me after class to suggest I apply. He said I had a good probability of getting it, that he’d write a reference for me. I wanted to surprise you with my news.”
“And I surprised you with my proposal before you could.”
“You did. You knew how much I wanted to be an on-camera newsperson. I’d thought you’d understand my hasty response once I told you about the possible job in Chicago. But you cut me short before I could tell you the details.” She bit her lip. “You still had two years of seminary. I’d figured I could get some work experience before we got that serious. When you didn’t seem to understand, I was confused and frustrated. You’d always understood before when no one else did.”
Connor’s guard went up. What had she expected? She’d refused his proposal. He hadn’t been in the most understanding of moods.
“I was afraid. The future with you that flashed in my head had me tied down in some small town just like Paradox Lake. I wanted something different, more.”
“So you told me we needed a clean break,” he ventured, “that you had better things to do than to be a small-town pastor’s wife.” His words tasted as bitter as they sounded.
“I’m so sorry. I wanted to hurt you as much as it hurt me when you didn’t want to hear about the opportunity I thought the Chicago job would be.”
And she had. He stared at the attic wall behind her.
“I didn’t return your calls when I got back because part of me was afraid I’d give in to you and miss out on the opportunity.”
And he avoided seeing Natalie in person because he hadn’t wanted to risk her rejecting him again because he wasn’t good enough. Connor realized that their breakup hadn’t been entirely one-sided. He’d still had issues about being Jerry Donnelly’s son that he hadn’t worked out. He’d fallen back on his old defense of closing down, depending only on himself.
She shook her head. “It probably wouldn’t have made a difference. My family wasn’t as encouraging about the job in Chicago as I wanted, either. I thought you were all against me. I wanted to prove you all wrong. I know now that Mom and Dad were reserved about it because they didn’t want me to be too disappointed if I didn’t get the job. Kirk seemed to be the only person who had faith in me.”

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