A Hickory Ridge Christmas (12 page)

Her head popped up, and she scrambled down from his lap.

“Then you can get married.”

“You see, it's not that simple.” But even as he said it, he wished it could be.

“Then we could all live in the same house, and you wouldn't have to live in your apartment, and we could get a dog.”

“A dog?” Todd threw his head back and laughed. “That's what all of this is about? A dog?”

Rebecca slumped in the chair next to his and crossed her arms. “At Max's house, they got a puppy for Christmas. His name is Rudy. Max's mommy got married last year…” She let her words trail off to signify that she'd made her point: marriage first, then dog.

“Honey, even if your mother and I did get married, that doesn't mean we could get a dog.” When those eyes started to fill, he considered telling her that even kids who lived with one parent sometimes had dogs. Still, realizing that a comment like that might make Hannah angry enough to remain a single parent indefinitely, he kept that bit of trivia to himself.

“But I
want
a dog.”

A giant tear rolled down her cheek until Todd reached over and brushed it away. After a few more followed it, he pulled her from the other chair back into his lap.

Was this really about a dog or about other things in her life that were just as out of her control? If only he knew. This feeling of helplessness was a part of the parenting experience. Hannah had explained that much
to him. Would he always feel the need to hang the moon for his little girl and be frustrated when he couldn't?

Well, he would never be able to guarantee that life was perfect for Rebecca, but the one thing he could do for her was to love her mother. He was becoming really good at it. And if he had anything to say about it at all, he would make sure that Rebecca's parents were married, and they were all living together—with or without a dog—by next Christmas.

T
he scents of pine and melting wax wafted through the darkened church sanctuary as candlelight cast the bowed heads in shadow. Todd realized he should have been praying, too, spending some time in quiet meditation as a brand-new year approached, but he couldn't keep his eyes closed while the woman he loved sat next to him, already an answer to his prayers.

In the candlelight, Hannah looked so beautiful and serene as a strand of her hair that she'd worn loose fell forward over her cheek. It looked like spun gold, and he knew if he brushed the hair back from her face, it would feel like it, too.

He shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking thoughts like these, especially here in church. But then where could he go that he wouldn't think of Hannah? She lived with him at home, at work, in his dreams, even in his prayers. He had to tell her that,
to make her understand that they were meant for each other.

Nervous tension flooded his system, making him shift in his seat. What if after all the time they'd spent with each other, she didn't agree that they should be together? Still, his need to connect with her was stronger than his misgivings, so he closed his hand over hers.

Without opening her eyes, she leaned toward him. “You're supposed to be praying in the new year,” she whispered.

“I pray better this way.”

He laced their fingers, resting their hands on the pew between them. It felt like such a significant statement to hold hands with her in church—like an announcement of their connection before the whole Hickory Ridge community. Already they'd stood sharing a hymnal, which he'd always considered a statement in itself.

Because he expected her to pull away, to be uncomfortable with the message they telegraphed to the rest of the congregation even in the low lights, his heart warmed as her long, elegant fingers pressed into the back of his hand. It made what he intended to say later tonight seem even more right.

“Amen,” Reverend Bob said into the sound system on the lectern, ending the period of quiet meditation. “Now that we've prepared our hearts and minds, please file forward to accept Communion in silence.”

Todd leaned close to Hannah. “Do you think Rebecca's asleep by now?”

“Mary promised she would put her to bed by ten.”

“It was nice of her to take Rebecca overnight again so we could attend the service.”

“She's like that.” She glanced up at her father and back at Todd. “Now hush, will you?”

After the solemn service and Andrew Westin's inspiring closing prayer, the holiday event ended just after the stroke of midnight. Church members filed silently out of the dark sanctuary into the lighted vestibule before sharing cheer and good wishes to celebrate the arrival of the new year.

While the church building emptied, Todd retrieved both of their coats from the rack. A gray-haired man approached them, already wearing his coat.

“Todd, have you met David Littleton?” When he shook his head, Hannah turned to the other man. “Deacon Littleton, this is Todd McBride.”

The two men shook hands, but the older man kept his gaze focused on Hannah. “I'll let you know about that other thing, okay?”

“Call any time if you need help. I mean it.”

Deacon Littleton nodded and continued past her.

“What was that all about?”

“Oh, tax season begins. The questions come from everywhere.” But she continued to watch the older man as he left, a perplexed expression on her face.

When Hannah reached for her coat, Todd rested a hand on her arm to delay her. “Can we go somewhere? I'd like to talk to you about some things.”

Her eyes widened, and she glanced through the glass doors into the night. “You want to go some
where in that? It's New Year's. It's probably crazy out there.”

As if to punctuate her comment, the multiple pops of firecrackers being set off in a nearby neighborhood drifted in as someone opened the church door. Somewhere in the distance, someone shot a rifle into the air.

Standing next to them in his Michigan State Police jacket, Brett Lancaster grumbled. “Let the 9-1-1 calls begin. When will people ever realize that firearms, illegal fireworks and holiday celebrations don't mix?”

His wife, Tricia, came up beside him. “Don't mind him. I just have to go home and relieve the sitter, but he has to go into work tonight.”

“Sorry to hear that, Brett.” Todd patted his shoulder. “Stay safe on patrol, okay?”

“Better pray that the rest of the drivers on the road will stay sober and safe.”

“I'll pray for that, buddy.”

Todd was relieved when the other couple continued past them to shake hands with Reverend Bob and Andrew. Making polite conversation was difficult when he was anxious to get Hannah alone and say things that needed to be said.

Turning to Hannah, he gestured toward the sanctuary, still illuminated only by candlelight.

“You want to talk in
there?
” she asked.

She chewed her bottom lip in the nervous way he'd come to recognize. If she was flustered at the prospect of a serious conversation with him, he could just imagine how she would act if she knew what he
was going to say. He did know, and he was nervous enough for the both of them.

“I doubt we'll get in trouble for talking in there since the service is over.”

“I didn't mean—” She rolled her eyes yet seemed to relax a little. “Okay.”

He led her past several stained glass windows with candles in their sills and past the candelabras near the rounded stage platform and the altar. In the front pew, opposite the organ, he sat and motioned for Hannah to join him.

Her gaze darted toward the lighted vestibule. “Dad will want to lock up soon.”

“Hannah, don't worry. There are still a few people out there. And even if there weren't, Reverend Bob would give us a few minutes to talk.” He patted the seat next to him. “Please sit.”

With a sigh, she lowered herself into the seat. “You sure are persistent.”

“You bring that out in me.”

Hannah wore a small smile, but she focused on her wringing hands. “I'm sorry about that.”

“You bring out all kinds of feelings in me.”

Her hands stilled, and slowly she looked up at him, her eyes searching for answers.

He didn't know how to phrase it, where to start, but he couldn't keep it bottled up any longer, either. “You know how much you matter to me, don't you, Hannah? You understand that I returned with this grand scheme to win you back.”

He didn't even pose the last as a question. If she'd
been watching or listening to anything he'd done or said in the last few weeks, she had to know. “And then you told me about Rebecca.”

Hannah lowered her gaze to her hands. “We don't have to do this. Rehashing it isn't going to change history.”

“I'm not talking about history.” He paused, the sound of his heartbeat so loud that she had to hear it. “I'm talking about the future.”

“Future?” Her head lifted slowly.

He couldn't decipher her tight expression, but he couldn't stop now. She needed to know how he felt. He desperately needed her to know. What she did with that knowledge was up to her.

“I told you once that I loved you, and then I promptly disappeared from your life.”

“Todd, what you are trying to say?”

“Oh, right. I said I wasn't going to talk about the past.” He paused long enough to take her hands. “This isn't
in
the past. I care so much about you. I always have. And I'm not going anywhere this time.”

Slowly, he returned her hands to her lap.

“I just wanted you to know that.”

“That's it?”

Hannah looked as shocked as he was that she'd spoken those particular words.

“What were you expecting? A proposal?” He couldn't help it. A chuckle bubbled up in his throat, deflating the air of romance he'd hoped to build with all that candlelight.

“Yes. No. I don't know.” She turned and covered
her face with her hands, but pretty soon she chuckled, too.

It felt so surreal, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder with Hannah in the front pew of the darkened room, laughing until their eyes grew damp. But then he and Hannah had never been about candles, flowers or greeting cards with someone else's flowery words on them. They'd always written their own poetry of simplicity, a natural accord that couldn't be squeezed into a box of chocolates.

Laughter was intrinsic to the time they'd spent together, years ago and today, so it was only right that it would echo off the walls at a moment like this. Still, the melodic sound in her throat stopped the moment he slipped his arm around her shoulders.

“Now don't misunderstand me. I have every intention of asking you to marry me someday soon, when the time is right. We belong together…as a family.” He tried not to notice how her shoulders tightened slightly under his touch.

“You can think of this as fair warning. I'd like to think of it as my commitment for the new year.” He held his breath, waiting for the answer that could bolster his hope for the future or dash it before they'd really even tried.

“Don't you worry…that it's too late for us?”

The catch in her throat startled him as much as what she'd said. She hadn't begged him to propose today and be done with it, but she hadn't told him to forget asking, either. It was something.

When he turned to face her, he saw something
more. Tears glistened in her eyes, and one traced down her cheek. The tears were his undoing. With his thumb, he wiped her cheek, and then he cradled her face in his hands.

“No, it's not too late. It can't be.”

Two more tears escaped her stronghold, but she didn't answer. Maybe she couldn't. As Todd brushed the tears away with his thumbs, he couldn't help reaching slightly farther to feather a touch across her lips. They were just as smooth as he remembered. Just as perfect.

“I would really like to kiss you right now, but I want it to be your decision, too. May I kiss you, Hannah?”

For several heartbeats, she said nothing, did nothing. Dread clawed at the edges of his consciousness. Would now be when she told him that it would never work between them? Would he have to continue facing her every week while he planned outings with their daughter, knowing she would never be his?

She nodded, and his whole world shifted.

With utmost gentleness, he drew her to him and pressed his lips to hers. He remembered this—the softness of her lips, their sweet taste—but his memories paled in comparison to this moment. Kissing her here in church felt like a promise before God, a preview of the day, if she allowed him to, he would finally make her his wife.

Todd lowered his hands to her shoulders and touched his lips to hers a second time, just a brief caress but one with which he offered his heart as a gift. “Happy New Year, Hannah.”

“Happy New Year.”

And it would be a happy one. He just knew it.

The flash of the overhead lights coming on in the sanctuary caused the two of them to jump apart. Reverend Bob stood just inside the door, his hand on the switch.

“Oh, you two are in here?” the minister asked too innocently.

“Yeah, Dad, but we were just leaving.”

“Oh, no hurry. I just need to put out those candles before I lock up.”

Todd popped up from his seat. “Here, we'll help with those.” He climbed the steps to the platform and lifted the brass snuffer to extinguish the flames in the candelabra.

“Yeah, we can help,” Hannah said as she stood.

“Thanks, you two, but Hannah, it would help me more if you could go out to the Family Life Center and check the locks on the rear doors.”

She shot a nervous look at Todd, but she nodded and ascended the side aisle to the exit.

Todd didn't waste any time waiting for the minister to approach him. His crossed to the row of stained glass windows where Reverend Bob was working.

“I take it you'd like to talk to me.”

“You'd be right.” Bob turned to him and met his gaze directly.

“I have an idea what you saw, but I can explain.”

“Do you have something you feel guilty about?”

Todd shook his head. “No, sir, I don't.”

“Good. I'm glad.”

“You have to know that I love your daughter.” He waited for the minister's nod before he continued. “I came here planning to win her back—even before I knew about our child.”

Bob extinguished another candle before he turned to him. “What are your plans now?”

“My intentions? They're honorable, I assure you. I'd rather die than hurt her or Rebecca.”

“You've done it before.”

“I never will again.”

“See that you don't.”

“See that he doesn't do what?” Hannah called out from the door at the rear of the room.

Both men turned to look at her guiltily, but neither answered.

“All right then,” she said, wearing a frown that said it was anything but all right. “If you two are finished discussing me behind my back, I'm ready to leave now.”

Todd moved up the aisle toward her. “Don't get mad, Hannah. Your dad's just concerned about you.”

Still, she turned away from him to focus her frown on her father instead. The minister shrugged, unrepentant.

“I'm not a child anymore, Dad.”

“You'll always be my little girl,” he said simply.

“You think he's bad. Your dad's a pushover compared to what I'm going to be like the first time some teenage boy asks Rebecca out. I'll put a little fear in him.”

Bob chuckled. “I feel sorry for that young man.”

“Me, too,” Hannah agreed. Her expression had finally softened. “Rebecca and I don't need any pity, though. I think we both have pretty great dads.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Hannah stood on her front porch with Todd, nervousness and anticipation combining with the brand-new January chill. Would he kiss her again? She hoped so. She'd never felt so safe as she had tonight in his arms. If only she'd been brave enough to tell him the feelings in her heart. But, as always, she'd been a coward.