A Daughter for Christmas (12 page)

Rachel shook her head. “But he's asked me to help him.”

“That's a good start. It was nice seeing him in church today. I've got the feeling he's here in Tallgrass for a reason beyond working with Kevin.”

“You do?” Rachel studied her mother's face, a thoughtful expression in her eyes.

“I think we can help him. Or at least you can. He's hurting. I see it sometimes when he doesn't think anyone is looking.”

If her mother only knew.
She didn't want to say anything to anyone until after the DNA test results came back. No sense alarming her family if there was no reason to. “I'll try to do my best.”

“I noticed you took off your wedding ring. Does this mean you're interested in him?”

“No.” Yes, but his revelation changed everything. “Don't you think it's time I said goodbye to Lawrence?”

“It's only time when you're ready. I do think Will and Sam could use a father figure.”

“You didn't think that when Jordan and I were growing up. What's changed your view?”

At that moment, Kevin's Cadillac pulled into her mother's driveway.

She smiled. “He has.”

“Oh, no. First Granny, then Jordan and now you. Am I going to have to suffer through you all trying to fix me up with a man?”

“Nope, dear. I would never do that to you.” Her mom sauntered toward Kevin, who climbed from his sedan and greeted her with a light kiss on the mouth.

Rachel strolled toward Max's house, where her
children circled him, all staring down at a stake. Max held one of the tethers in his hand.

“Did you find out what happened?” she asked as she crossed his yard.

He pivoted, his face crumpled into an angry expression. “The lines were cut. At least three of them. One snapped, I guess in the wind. I've been sabotaged!”

“Mom, who would do something like that?” With one hand on her hip, her daughter scanned the houses on the street, upset as if it had happened to her.

At that moment, Rachel saw Mr. Olson park his black truck in his driveway and get out of it. He glanced toward them, smiling, and waved, then headed toward his porch. She thought she saw a skip to his walk.

Max came up to her and whispered, “He wouldn't, would he?”

She shrugged. “No way to tell, but I wouldn't let it bother you. I've got a solution. My offer of lights still stands.”

“You don't think I should go out and buy something?”

“I've got more than enough for you. Remember, we're neighbors and neighbors help each other in Tallgrass.”

“I'm not sure Mr. Olson got the memo.”

“If he's responsible for this, he has to live with that.”

“Forgive and forget?”

“Much easier on your stress level.” Rachel shifted toward Taylor. “Hon, you know where we keep our extra outdoor lights in the garage. Will you get the red and green ones for me? We're going to help Max fix his yard up.”

“Can we help?” Sam asked, hopping up and down as though they hadn't been sick a few days ago.

“I thought you were going to help Granny bake Christmas cookies this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah. She needs a taster.” Will grabbed hold of Sam's arm and tugged him toward Granny's house. “We'll see when she wants us.”

“Now that we're alone, what should I really do about Mr. Olson?” Max asked, glaring at the man's place as though his look could burn it down.

“Exactly what I said. Let it go. I actually feel sorry for Mr. Olson, who thinks Christmas is about how big his decorations are. He doesn't understand Christmas is a time to welcome Jesus into our lives. To reaffirm what Christ wants us to do, love our neighbors as ourselves.”

“Does this mean you forgive me for keeping the reason I came to Tallgrass a secret for a month?”

“Being angry at you won't change the facts. If it could, I would. Instead, we'll have to figure out what to do when we know for sure. I don't want a court battle if possible. But I won't lose Taylor, either. I'll do what I need to.”

“So will I.” A grim twist to his mouth whipped through her like the chill to the wind blowing.

The progress they'd made the past few days suddenly slipped away. She glimpsed Taylor coming back across the street carrying a box with the word
lights
in big, black letters on its side.

“Please for our sakes and Taylor's, let's agree to forget about it until after the holidays and we get the results back.”

He swung his attention toward Taylor, grinning. “A deal. Believe or not, I don't want to fight, either.”

Rachel blew out a breath slowly as if she were defusing herself.

“Mom, there's another box in the garage.”

“I'll get it.” Max loped toward her house.

“Where are we gonna start?” Taylor placed the carton on the ground.

“Let's alternate red and green lights and string them along the sidewalk that leads to his porch. Then we can put some along the porch. After that, we'll see what we have left.”

“I'm gonna miss the Jolly White Snowman.”

“Not me. It was an eyesore.”

Taylor stared at her. “You didn't cut the lines, did ya?”

“If only I had thought of it.” Rachel chuckled.

 

A few days later, Max mounted the steps to Rachel's porch, but instead of ringing the doorbell, he swiveled around and looked across the street at his place. He never dreamed he would be living in a house in a small town with red and green lights hanging from it, blazing in the night. He had to admit it gave his home a festive look. The best part of decorating his lawn had been spending time with Rachel and Taylor and even Will and Sam when they'd brought out some of Granny's cookies for them to sample.

“Admiring our handiwork?” Rachel asked from the other end by the swing.

He spun around, making out her form in the shadows. “What are you doing out here?” Moving toward her, he saw her bundled in a blanket.

“I'm giving Taylor some time to finish her schoolwork. I thought if I came out here I wouldn't be tempted to lose my patience with her again today.” Scooting over, she made room for him on the swing.

“Bad day?”

“Oh, you could say that. She decided this morning after working an hour she was finished for the day.”

“She said that.”

“Well, not in those words but she might as well have. Every time I went to do something like pick up Will and Sam from the church I would come back to find her playing on the computer, listening to music. Anything not to work.” She twisted toward him, huddled in the warmth offered by the blanket.

The urge to embrace her and warm her inundated him. He locked his arms to his sides.

“She's complaining all I do is make her work. That she can't have any fun. It's close to the winter break for the Tallgrass public schools, and she demanded to know if she was going to get a vacation like all of her friends. She's doing so well with her reading program and today she decided she didn't want to do it anymore. She—”

He laid his fingers over her mouth to still her words, the caress of her lips tingling a path down his length. Quickly, he dropped his hand away. “Shh. It'll work out. Everyone gets tired of what they're doing and needs a break. And that includes you. You've been putting in a lot of time with Taylor. I could help this evening and check on her progress.”

“But you came over to help with the food packages.”

“Yeah, and I'm going to help, but I thought this project was for everyone. That includes Taylor.”

“I can't back down. I told her she had to finish her history before she could do anything else and that includes participating in preparing the boxes.”

He framed her face, again acknowledging the danger
of touching her but not able to resist. “Let me take over. When she's through, we'll come into the kitchen to help. Please, Rachel. I would like to do this.”

Covering his hands on her, she sighed. “How can I refuse? I don't have the energy to argue and maybe a different approach will work.”

“Thanks.” He leaned toward her and brushed his lips across hers.

The brief contact bolted such an awareness through him that it robbed him of thought. His mind blanked as he pulled back and stared at Rachel, the glow from her white Christmas lights stressing the flush to her cheeks, the surprise in her eyes.

“Why did you do that?”

“I don't know. It just seemed right at the time.”

“With Taylor's paternity up in the air, it probably isn't a smart move.”

“Shh. Remember we decided to forget that until after the holidays.”

He moved again to sample her lips, slipping his arms around her to bring her up against him. She went into his embrace willingly, returning his kiss with fervor. His heart thudded against his rib cage, and he was sure she felt each beat.

When she finally parted, laying her forehead against his, she murmured, “You know this complicates everything.”

“For once, I'm tired of thinking things through first. I want to enjoy your company with no thoughts of the future.”

“Seize the moment.”

“Why not?”

She inhaled a deep breath. “Well, I must say I feel
much better than when I stomped out here to cool down after fighting with Taylor.”

Reluctantly, because he wanted to continue holding her, he released her and rose. “I'll go work with her for a while.”

“Those are the sweetest words you could say. Taylor and I need a break from schoolwork. I knew this might be a problem with homeschooling, especially with Taylor's lack of discipline and focus when it comes to academic work. But there are times I have absolutely no patience with my daughter.”

“Is she in the dining room?”

“Yep. The boys are in the den. There's no way she can work in there when they're in the room. That's another problem I didn't think through. Keeping them occupied and Taylor focused. I can't be in two places at once, but there are days I need to be.”

Max entered the house and headed for the dining room, where he found Taylor staring off into space, her features molded into a frown. She tapped her pencil against her history book.

“Do you need any help?”

Taylor didn't respond. He moved to the table and took a chair near her. She blinked and finally looked at him.

“Need any help?”

She sighed heavily. “Yeah, talk Mom out of making me do this assignment.”

“I can't.”

“I don't understand why I have to learn history. What good is it? I can't change it. It's about a bunch of people who are dead. Nicholas can study it all he wants, but I don't want to.”

“I remember saying that very thing to my parents
when I was growing up. It didn't help. They still insisted I do my best in history. And you know when I quit fighting it, it wasn't so bad.”

“I don't care about the Revolutionary War.” She chewed on the end of her pencil.

“It's a good way to see how our country started and why. When I see what our ancestors went through so that we could have all our freedoms, it made me appreciate how fortunate I was to live in America.”

“Yeah, yeah, I've heard all of that.”

“There are some good video series about some of our founding fathers—George Washington, John Adams. Maybe if you watch some of them, you'll get a feel for what those men were like. That might help you understand the times and what they were trying to do. I can say something about that to your mom if you want me to.”

Taylor's expression glowed as if she switched on the Christmas lights. “Videos. Yeah. Anything is better than reading this boring stuff about battles.”

“That doesn't mean you shouldn't read it.”

Her features morphed into a frown again. “Did you know that Mom wants me to read to the old folks at the nursing home?”

“And you don't want to?”

“I can't read out loud to others! I make mistakes. I…”

“Did you tell her?”

“Yes. She told me everyone makes mistakes.”

“But to you, reading out loud is a big deal?” His gut fisted at the memory of how he'd felt.

“You bet. That's why I hated school. Some teachers made me read out loud, and I heard some of the kids
snicker when I did, so after a while, I refused. I got a detention from one teacher because I wouldn't.”

He'd been in the same situation as a child. He remembered dread making him physically sick, especially in one particular class. “I can understand.”

“Did you feel that way?”

“Yep.”

“Did you ever get over it?”

“To a certain extent but not totally. I ended up practicing at first by myself then later with my mom and younger brother. Once I felt comfortable with them I was better. At least I didn't panic when I was asked to read out loud. I used to break out in a cold sweat.”

“You did? So do I.”

“If you ever want to read to me, I'd be glad to listen.”

“Maybe.” She began tapping the pencil against the book again. “What do I tell Mom? I want to volunteer but not for that.”

“Ask your mom for other suggestions for volunteering. I think she just wanted you to get a lot of practice reading.”

“That's practically all I do. Read science. Read stories for English. Read history. Maybe that's why I like math. Not as much reading.”

He pointed toward her history chapter. “What do you have left to do?”

“Mom wants me to summarize what I read. I'm thinking of making a list of battles. That's about all that has happened.”

“Let me see. This first section is about Valley Forge. What's important about that?”

“It was cold.”

“True. What else?”

“I don't remember. It's been a while since I read it.”

“You might want to read a section, write what was important then move on to the next part.”