Holiday Homecoming

Chapter Three

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. I know 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. A couple 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.