A Hickory Ridge Christmas (14 page)

“But you'll call me if you need anything?”

“Of course.”

As reluctant as she was to leave, Hannah crossed to the door she'd entered. Her father returned to gazing out the window or, as she suspected, talking open-eyed to his God.

From the pulpit and in his home, Reverend Bob had always taught Hannah not to hate, but she was having an awfully hard time following his example. If Olivia Wells was guilty of the crimes they suspected, she'd hurt Hannah's father in ways beyond his social life. She'd attacked the church community he'd loved and nurtured. She'd struck him right in the heart.

 

With her arms stretched like an airplane, Rebecca took timid, wobbly steps along a balance beam that rested squarely on the gymnastics center's padded flooring. Todd willed her on each step as he watched through the window of the viewing area. Her parents cheered when she reached the end and took the six-inch jump to the ground.

Their little girl beamed, looking like a true gymnast in that sparkly little leotard she'd been begging to wear every day until her gymnastics class began. At least one of them was having fun.

He glanced sidelong at Hannah, who had pasted on a smile and was giving their daughter the two-thumbs-up.

“You can tell me what's wrong now,” he told her.

“There's nothing—”

“And you can stop denying it, too.”

Hannah opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her shoulders slumped, and she covered her face with her hands, exhausted eyes peeking out between her splayed fingers.

“There was a problem at church today. It's a mess, and it involves my dad.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

Dropping her hands, she turned her head to face him. “You knew?”

“Brett wanted to know the last time I'd seen Olivia. He filled me in on the details.”

“If you knew what was wrong, then why have you been pressing me from the moment you picked us up?” She straightened in her seat and turned back to stare through the window into the gym.

“I wanted to hear it from you. We've seen each other every day since New Year's, and we talk on the phone at least once a day while we're not together. With something as important as this, you might have called.”

If she'd noticed the annoyance in his voice, Hannah pretended she hadn't. “I just didn't want to bother you at work. I planned to tell you about it tonight.” She pointed to the glass. “Oh, look what Rebecca's doing now.”

His jaw tight, Todd turned his head back to look through the window. Their daughter was standing on top of a cube-shaped foam form, while her instructor helped her into the correct position to do a forward roll down the incline of the triangular-shaped form next to it. With assistance, she managed the move on the first try.

Rebecca lifted both arms in the air, having mastered a gymnast's “ta-da” bow just as easily. Again, her parents clapped, presenting the perfect, happy fan club.

As soon as they stopped applauding, Todd leaned in close to Hannah. “You know I would have come.”

“I know. That's why I didn't ask.”

Couldn't she understand that it was exactly why she should have asked?
Need me,
he wanted to shout, and yet he hated how pitiful that sounded. Hannah's family was in crisis. She had enough to worry about without having to balance on eggshells not to hurt his feelings.

“How's your father doing?”

“Probably better than I would be in the same situation.” She paused to glance at Rebecca, who was taking her turn swinging on the thick rope that dangled from the ceiling, before she turned back to him.

“For Dad's sake, I hope this turns out to be a mistake. If it's true, if Olivia really did this to him and our church, I pray that she's arrested and convicted.”

“I hope your dad isn't hurt by the scandal. He helped Olivia get her job, didn't he?”

“Yes, he did,” she said, her hands coming up to rub her temples. “I don't know what Dad and I will do if…” She let her words trail away as if she couldn't bear to complete the thought.

“You mean what
we
will do, as in all of us, right?” Todd didn't realize how harsh his comment sounded until she drew her eyebrows together and stared at him.

“What?” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Oh. Right. That's what I meant.”

“Of course.”

Hannah turned her attention back to the class, but Todd couldn't stop replaying the conversation in his mind. She planned to
tell him about it,
but he wasn't invited to get involved. Maybe her comment wouldn't have bothered him so much if distance weren't so endemic to their relationship. He was allowed to spend time with Hannah and Rebecca as long as he stayed at arm's length. He could love them as long as he didn't get close enough to hurt them.

H
annah frowned at Todd's profile as they went through Rebecca's bedtime routine two hours later. He'd been brooding all night, through the ride home from gymnastics, their daughter's bath and her bedtime prayers. Hannah had tolerated his moodiness at first, but now she'd reached her limit.

She dropped a kiss on Rebecca's brow, tucking the blankets under her chin. “Sweet dreams, honey.”

On the other side of the bed, Todd snuggled up to his daughter, cheek to cheek. “Sleep tight, Becca.”

Their last smiles of the night were for their daughter as they shut off the light. As soon as they closed the bedroom door, Hannah tugged on Todd's arm, directing him toward the kitchen. Once inside it, she pulled the pocket door closed and whirled on him.

“What in the world is the matter with you?”

“Were you really going to
tell me about it
tonight?” He slumped into the seat at the kitchen
table where he'd hung his coat earlier and stared up at her, accusation in his eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“You would tell me, but you never had any intention of letting me help you or your dad.”

She blew out an exasperated breath, dropping into the seat across from him. Usually, she would have sat next to him so he could reach for her hand, but she wasn't in the mood to be touched. She could tell by the way he studied her chair that her move hadn't gone unnoticed.

“It's not that big a deal. We didn't need—”

“That's right. You don't need me or want to need me. That would be too much risk for you.”

Hannah blinked, startled by his accusation. “I don't understand you. Don't you think I have enough to worry about right now without you bringing this up?”

His gaze narrowed, making him look far angrier than he should have been for something as trivial as her neglecting to call him after the meeting at church.

“When do you suggest I bring it up?”

“Sometime when my family isn't in an uproar.”

“Your family?
Your
family?” His voice had climbed an octave by the second time he said it. “You're
my
family. Can't you see that?”

She shook her head, exasperated. “Of course I see that.”

“Then would you finally let me in?”

It was Hannah's turn to be angry. “Let you in? That's all I've been doing since you came back here.
First, into my house, then into our lives and into my heart. What more do you want?”

“Ever since I came back, you've been holding me just out of reach. The thing at church today is just the symptom of a larger issue. It's just like before, when you were pregnant. You wouldn't let me help then, and you won't let me now.”

“This situation isn't anything like before. It isn't really even about me.”

“Isn't it?”

“No. And besides, I haven't been holding anything back from you. I even told you that I love you.” She heard the sharp, accusatory tone in her voice, but she couldn't help herself. Didn't he realize how much that admission had cost her?

“But you don't trust me.”

She opened her mouth to dispute his words, but he raised a hand to stop her.

“Sure, you trust me to show up for dinner on Friday and not to be late when I have plans with Rebecca, but when it comes to your hopes and your fears, you're not willing to let yourself fall into my arms. You're afraid I won't catch you.” He gripped the edge of the table with both hands. “You don't trust me at all.”

“Can you blame me? You left!” she shrieked. “I'll probably never be able to trust you completely.”

The second the words were out of her mouth, Hannah was sorry she'd spoken them, even sorrier that she'd ever thought them. But she couldn't take them back now that the words hung between them,
heavy and permanent. Worse than what she'd said, no wishing could change the fact that she'd spoken the truth. He would have to understand that, but they could find a way to work past it, couldn't they?

Todd flinched as if she'd struck him with her hand rather than her words. The wound, she surmised, would have been less grievous if she'd just hit him.

Planting his elbows on the table, he leaned his head against his folded hands and squeezed his eyes shut. He stayed that way for what felt like an eternity. Though a few minutes before she'd avoided touching him, she longed to reach across the table, squeeze his hands between both of hers and tell him they would find a way to make everything all right. They had to.

Only when he looked up at her again, pain and resignation so clear in his eyes, did she begin to realize what she'd lost.

He shook his head, a self-deprecating laugh emanating from deep in his chest. “I had all these great ideas when I came here. I would win you back, and we would begin the life together that I had imagined before you'd even realized we were more than friends.”

Hannah drew in a sharp breath. “We can still have all that…in time. That doesn't have to change.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers but only briefly before he reached back for the coat hanging on the chair behind him. Out of the pocket, he produced a satiny white box. “I've been carrying this ridiculous ring around in my pocket since before New Year's.”

Turning it toward her, he popped open the box, re
vealing a sparkling marquise solitaire diamond. Hannah coughed, swallowing the sob that scaled her throat with angry claws. He stared at the ring, the fluorescent kitchen light fluttering over its facets, before he snapped the box shut and stowed it in his pocket.

Todd smiled, perhaps at a pleasant memory, though certainly not at her. “I even had it with me during that New Year's Eve service at church. I knew it was too soon, but I had to buy it anyway. It was this silly, romantic notion that I'd be beginning the new year with our future all planned out.”

Without looking at her, he continued, perhaps as much to himself as her. “That night, I was so tempted to slip off the pew and propose right then and there in the candlelight. The only thing that stopped me was this sense that God was telling me to wait.”

He reached behind him again, his hand closing over the pocket where the tiny box rested. His lips formed a grim line. “I wonder what the return policy is on engagement rings.”

Hannah's eyes burned, and her chest felt as if a horrible weight had been placed on it, cutting off her oxygen, her hope. “Please don't give up on us, Todd,” she begged, hearing the desperation in her own voice.

“But don't you see? I have to. For my own survival.” Todd reached across the table and squeezed her hand just once before pulling away. “You never really forgave me for deserting you, even though we both wanted to believe it when you said you had. You aren't able to forgive me, and I can't live with the truth that you can't.”

“But, Todd, I have…” Hannah let her words trail away, surprised by how unconvincing she sounded.

“I know you tried. Just as I tried to earn your forgiveness. But I finally realized something.” His smile was a sad one. “Forgiveness from someone you've hurt is like God's forgiveness. It isn't earned. It's a gift.”

Tears filled Hannah's eyes and spilled over before she could control them. “I'm so sorry.”

Again, he touched her hand, just a brief squeeze of comfort that he might have offered any friend who mourned as she did now. “I'm sorry, too. But I can't marry you. We'll always have some kind of relationship as Rebecca's parents, but I can't build a life with you.”

“I…love…you…Todd.” Each word seemed to emerge on its own wave of agony. Impotent words, their message moot.

He covered his face with his hands, and when he pulled them away, his eyes were damp, his raw pain visible.

“And I love you. Until a few weeks ago I believed that knowing you loved me would be enough for me.” He shook his head as if to emphasize how wrong he'd been. “But now I realize that I have to have your forgiveness, too. I have to have your trust.”

Todd backed his chair from the table and stood. Clearly, he recognized as she did that there was nothing else for them to say. Hopelessness filled her at the thought of the impasse they'd reached. Loving Todd wouldn't be enough to keep him with her.
Another truth, though, produced a fresh ache inside her: Her heart had been broken by her own unwillingness to bend.

 

Reverend Bob stared at the computer screen the following evening, Sunday's sermon still no more than a title on the screen. “The Tithe.” But how could he give the annual message to his congregation about sharing their financial gifts and talents with the church community when he was responsible for bringing in someone who'd stolen from them?

He had a headache and his shoulder was hurting again, but neither of those things should have surprised him after the day he'd had. Even though no one had mentioned the investigation since yesterday's meeting, he could think of nothing else.

He'd been holed up in his office all day with the intention of writing his sermon, but he'd gotten no further than looking up the word “tithe” in his concordance and searching for fresh Scriptural references in what church members often considered a tired topic. Already, it was past five, but he wasn't in any hurry to leave the security of his office and to face the uncertainty of his life.

The sound of a file drawer closing in the next office told him that Andrew was making a long day of it, as well. The youth minister wouldn't press him, but Bob felt comfort in knowing his friend was there if he needed him.

“Lord, what am I to do?” he whispered. “How do I make this right?”

It wasn't as if he expected an immediate answer. God always answered prayer in His own time, and His answers were perfect. Still, the tick of the flashing curser on the computer screen seemed to taunt him like a series of questions marks with no answers in sight.

His office suddenly felt so warm. He peeled off his gray wool sweater and unfastened the top button of the shirt he wore beneath it. With his handkerchief, he dabbed at the perspiration dotting his brow.

This crime, and he was beginning to be convinced that a crime had been committed, would hurt the Hickory Ridge community so deeply. Where would they come up with another twenty-five thousand dollars to replace the missing funds?

He would claim responsibility for the fallout. He was the one who'd introduced Olivia to the Deacons' Board and convinced its members she would be a good candidate for the church office position. Her résumé had been solid, but he'd been too distracted by her physical beauty and her passion for God to check her references. That beauty had been on the surface only, and even her faith had probably been only a masquerade.

Had he helped her at least in part because he wanted to impress her so she would see him socially? He shook his head. No, Olivia had definitely been the one to pursue him from the day she'd first shown up at the church's Christian Singles United program and then at morning Bible study.

At the time, he'd found her interest flattering. Now that he knew her real motivation for visiting Hickory Ridge, it only compounded the humiliation he felt for letting the whole church community down. Perhaps he deserved the shadow of suspicion this case would cast on him and on the ministry he'd built at Hickory Ridge over the last fifteen years.

He would probably be forced to resign now. Who could blame the deacons for making that decision? Would he ever be called as a head minister of a church again?

The last thought was too much for him to take. His eyes and nose burned as emotion clogged his throat. He removed his glasses and would have wiped them with his handkerchief, but his left hand felt strangely numb. No rubbing seemed to awaken his slumbering fingers. He was still staring down at it, still wondering at the sensation when he felt a strange pressure, like a weight, on his chest.

Realization settled just as heavily as that weight. He clutched his chest.
Lord, help me.

“Andrew.” He couldn't tell if he'd yelled or only whispered, but he tried once more. “Andrew…help.”

The computer screen, the unfinished sermon and the portraits on his desk wavered in and out of focus. He had to get help…reach the door…call to Andrew. Bob struggled to his feet, holding himself steady by gripping the edge of his desk. He could do this. He was close to the door. So close.

Turning away from his desk, he took that first
step toward the door. There wouldn't be a second step as darkness swept up from the floor and swallowed him whole.

 

The phone rang the moment Hannah entered her kitchen with four plastic grocery bags slung over her arms. She planned to let it ring and deny yet another telemarketer the opportunity to invade her home during the dinner hour, but Rebecca got to the phone first.

“Hello.” The little girl shook her head. “No, this is Rebecca…. My mommy?…Yeah, she's here.”

“Here, honey, let me talk, okay?” she said, making a mental note to warn her daughter about answering the phone, and especially about identifying herself to strangers. She accepted the handset, mentally preparing herself for the sales pitch about a great new long-distance plan or a low rate on a home-equity loan, but the voice on the other end of the line startled her.

“Hannah, it's Andrew.”

She drew in a breath. Had Olivia been arrested? Had the embezzlement been more far-reaching than they'd first imagined?

“What's wrong?” she immediately asked, though Andrew had phoned to check on her and Rebecca many times over the years. His tone didn't suggest a social call.

“It's your dad. We think he's had a heart attack.”

“Heart attack?” A million thoughts—all dark and devastating—slammed through her mind at the same time. “Is he—”

“No, he's alive, but I think it's serious.”