A Hickory Ridge Christmas (7 page)

At least they'd agreed to seek further counseling with Andrew instead of him. Too close to the situation, he felt incapable of providing an unbiased opinion. Even agreeing to help Todd in the first place had felt like conspiring with the enemy.

Bob shook his pounding head and kneaded his aching shoulder as he returned to his desk and settled in his well-worn executive chair. That young man wasn't the enemy any more than Todd alone was to blame for what had happened between himself and Hannah. Todd had even proven his integrity as a man by his determination to be a good father to his child, despite Hannah's unwillingness to let him.

Still, there was a difference between recognizing that Todd had grown into a decent man and encouraging Hannah to let him back into her life and into her daughter's life. Bob should have protected his own child in the first place. He should have—

Bob tried to stop himself from listing again the parental failures that he'd enumerated so many times before. The series of what-ifs when history and circumstances had made them moot. If he'd been there more for her. If he'd been able to see past his own grief to help Hannah face hers. If his wife hadn't died.

“Oh, Deborah, why'd you have to leave so soon?” His words came on a sigh. He continued whispering,
as much to himself as to his wife's memory. “I feel so ill-equipped to help her sometimes. You would have known.”

Turning in the chair, he glanced down at the three portraits on his desk and sought out the one with the gilded frame. The image that smiled out at him was of Deborah, the first woman he'd ever loved and the one who still held his heart. Yes, his late wife would have known what to say to their daughter during the dark times over the last few years. She would have directed Hannah with her quiet dignity and inherent grace.

His gaze lingered on Deborah's smiling face and then moved to the other portraits: Hannah and Rebecca. Would Olivia's face ever look out at him from a frame on this desk? Would there come a time when he would put away Deborah's photo as a sign of his moving forward? He shrugged. Maybe not today, but perhaps one day soon.

If he did decide to move on and choose a wife, Olivia was the kind of woman who would make any man proud. The lovely widow had so many fine qualities: from her warmness and caring spirit to her generosity and steadfast faith. He'd witnessed these qualities and more since he'd helped her to secure the job in the church office the year before.

Olivia was such a wonderful addition to the downstairs office, and to his personal life, as well. He hadn't even realized there was an empty place inside of him until she'd stepped inside to fill it. And the way she looked at him sometimes, as if he held all
the answers to her questions—what middle-aged man's ego wouldn't glory in that?

Would he ever be able to love Olivia, or any woman, the way he'd loved Deborah? He shook his head, not only because he was convinced he couldn't but also because it wasn't a fair question to ask. If given the choice, he always would have chosen a life with Deborah, one where their years together would have been chronicled in lines on their faces and the gentle aging of their bodies. But that choice wasn't his. Deborah was gone, and a part of his heart had died with her. Still, God had a plan for him, and that meant continuing his life on earth for now.

He had told the widows and widowers of his church this so many times before. If God wished them to love again, He would open their hearts to the possibility and give them a different love, worthy of the special individual He'd sent their way. Bob wanted to believe the words he'd said were true in his own life.

Bob had noticed that Hannah hadn't warmed to Olivia the way he had hoped she would over these last months. No one could ever replace her mother, he understood that, but he didn't believe Hannah would want him to be lonely, either. Sometime soon he would have to discuss this matter with his daughter, especially if he decided to form a closer relationship with Olivia.

Maybe a discussion would be unnecessary after they had all spent Christmas together this year.
Hannah would have a better chance to get to know Olivia, and his lady friend would have the opportunity to see how she might fit in the Woods family.

The Christmas dinner was Olivia's idea. He wasn't exactly at peace with the idea of having another woman cooking in Deborah's kitchen and serving at the table where Deborah had lovingly set so many wonderful holiday meals over the years. Since her death, Bob and Hannah hadn't once eaten a Christmas, Thanksgiving or Easter dinner at home, always accepting gracious invitations from other church members.

So for him, this dinner was a significant first step in his personal life. He would simply have to pray for the strength to push aside feelings that allowing someone else into his life was abandoning the memory of his wife.

Changes. There were certainly a lot of them in his family this holiday season, beyond this first Christmas dinner at home in years. For the first time since Rebecca had been born, she wouldn't wake up Christmas morning in her grandfather's home. He knew how important it was for Hannah to make this statement of her independence by spending the morning in her new apartment, but he knew how much he would miss watching Rebecca's joy as she opened her presents.

Hannah would deal with some sadness of her own, as, for the first time, Rebecca would spend at least part of the holidays with her father. If loneliness filled him at the thought of his adult daughter being
away from him Christmas morning, he could just imagine how Hannah would feel without her child.

Would they find a way to focus on the glory of the Christ child's birth when they were all so caught up in the drama of their own lives? Bob hoped so. He also hoped he would have the right words for Hannah if she came to him and asked his advice about dealing with Todd.

He sensed that the young man might still have feelings for his daughter, but would those feelings be enough to erase all of the pain and sorrow between them? Or would Todd's reappearance only result in more pain for all of them?

All the questions only made Bob's body ache more. He held his head in the cradle of his hands and closed his eyes. Slowly, a realization awakened in him: Why, when his world felt so heavy, had he been trying to bear it alone? Strange, if one of his church members had been feeling this same weight, he would have suggested that she turn it over to God. What made it so hard for him to follow his own advice?

Father, I'm entrusting all of these questions to Your capable hands. You've known the answers all along. Please share them with us in Your time. Amen.

As he ended his prayer, words from one of his favorite passages, Psalm 27 filtered through his thoughts. He whispered the words in the room's silence. “‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?'”

Bob felt relief for that first time since he'd called Hannah and insisted on her presence at the church that night. Everything would be fine, he suddenly knew with certainty. The situation was safely in God's hands.

H
annah lifted her collar to block the wind, wishing she could as easily warm her insides, but that was unlikely on this night of firsts. Around the three of them, the display windows of Milford's downtown shops were dressed for the season with miniature Christmas trees, garland and twinkling lights. The wind caused the outdoor displays to jiggle and sway as if adding its own layer to the season's air of anticipation. Christmas was only nine days away.

Strange how all of that gaiety seemed distant to Hannah, as if she was extraneous to it, just as she was to tonight's father-daughter outing. Though she understood that this was a good thing, she couldn't help feeling as if she was looking at Todd and Rebecca from outside the glass.

Todd had suggested that Hannah join him and Rebecca on their first outing, even though she'd been at home both times he'd visited in the last week. He
thought Rebecca might be more comfortable with Hannah there, and she'd agreed. Now if she had to spend the night walking on eggshells—or crunching over snow on Main Street as the case appeared to be—she would do what it took to make the night go smoothly for her daughter.

Still, needing something to do with her fidgety hands, Hannah reached down to pull up Rebecca's hood, but her daughter picked that moment to race ahead. The child's unzipped red parka flapped behind her like the cape of “Amazing Rebecca,” out to save humanity once again.

“Look at me. Look at me.”

Hannah was looking, all right, and choking back mom panic regarding slippery ice, strangers and fast-moving cars. “Rebecca, slow down.”

Oblivious to the danger, Rebecca looked back at them and ran even faster, past shoppers with armloads of packages and lighted trees in the downtown sidewalks. Hannah shot a worried glance Todd's way, but he only gave her a mischievous grin before shooting out after their daughter.

“You can't escape me,” he called in his best monster imitation as he captured Rebecca in his arms. He swung her around and around, eliciting giggles though he had effectively ended her escape. When they finally stopped spinning, Todd lowered the dizzy child to the ground and knelt in front of her to zip her coat.

“It's cold out. You need to keep this zipped.” He pulled her hood up over her ponytails and then dug
her mittens from her pockets and slipped them over her hands.

Amazingly, Rebecca didn't even fight his efforts, though as an independent preschooler, she usually refused all assistance with winter wear on principle. Todd appeared more like a relaxed veteran than the inexperienced father he was. His ministrations lacked the efficiency of movement Hannah had learned with four years of practice, but what he lost in style, he made up for in humor. Finally finished, he stood and patted Rebecca's head.

“There. Now doesn't that feel warmer?”

Taking her hand, he strode back to where Hannah stood watching them. He glanced down at the child looking up at him. “You don't want to scare your mother again by running off like that. You could fall on the ice or get hit by one of those cars. They go really fast.”

Hannah couldn't help smiling at the back of his head as Todd stood and turned away from her.
Scare your mother.
Rebecca had worried one of her parents, all right, but for this one, the experience was new and intense.

“Okay, Daddy. Can we look at the toy store now?”

They'd stopped in front of the Village Toy Shoppe's brightly decorated display window, but no one except the child took notice. Hannah's breath caught.
Daddy.
The new title flowed so naturally from Rebecca's lips. How quickly she'd adapted to Todd's arrival and his new place in her life. Todd had heard it, too. Hannah could tell by how stiffly he
stood. He glanced sidelong at Hannah, his eyes a little too shiny in the streetlamp's glow.

Hannah's own eyes burned as she lowered her gaze to the child standing between them. If bliss had a face, it would have been the one looking up at her. A wave of emotion rolled over Hannah, the last of her reluctance floating back to sea with the frothy tide. This was the right thing for Rebecca.

“Can we go?” Rebecca repeated, drawing her eyebrows together.

“Of course we can look,” Hannah answered when it appeared Todd wasn't ready. She used the same phrasing she always used when the two of them entered toy stores. Browsing was usually all the two of them could fit into the budget, except for Christmas and birthdays, and even then extravagant gifts were out of the question.

They took a few steps toward the entrance of the small mall where the toy store was housed.

“Wait.” Todd stopped and turned to Rebecca. “Does this mean you think you might be getting toys sometime soon?”

Rebecca giggled again. “Santa brings me toys for Christmas…if I'm good.”

“Oh, really? You're probably good all the time then.”

Her tinkling little-girl laughter flitted through the crisp air.

“Most of the time, anyway,” Hannah assured him.

“Then let's hurry. We have a lot of toys to pick out.”

“Mommy says it's not nice to ask for too many. God and Santa wouldn't like that.”

The side of Hannah's mouth pulled up. At least her daughter had mentioned God first. She didn't mind Rebecca enjoying the fantastical celebrations at Christmas as long as she knew the real reason for the season.

Todd swung Rebecca's arm as he started again toward the shopping center's door. “Your mom's right. You don't want to be greedy. But that doesn't mean we can't look at every single toy before you pick a few special ones to put on your Christmas list.”

“Will you look at
every single toy,
too?”

“Absolutely. I love toys.” Todd glanced back over his shoulder. “What about you, Mommy? Are you ready to look at more toys than any kid should own?”

“I'm right behind you.” Hannah shook her head, but she couldn't help smiling at the merry prattling of her companions about baby dolls, race cars, plastic dinosaurs and building sets as they stepped inside the mall entrance and continued into the specialty toy shop.

Rebecca and her father were so at ease with each other, no longer strangers, as they'd been a week before, but fast friends. They seemed to share a comfortable, private rhythm, a sign that they were building a foundation for a relationship between just the two of them.

Hannah waited, expecting jealousy to squeeze inside her and to strangle all the magnanimous feelings she'd been experiencing tonight. Todd was an interloper; before, Rebecca's heart had belonged to her mother alone.

To her surprise, Hannah felt only warmth. Her eyes were wet as she stared at the blur of bright colors
from games, toys and puzzles stacked high in the tiny shop. Strange how she didn't feel cramped herself in this new relationship. There seemed to be plenty of room for both Todd and her in Rebecca's heart.

She'd been naive to believe Rebecca didn't need a father in her life. Now she wanted that for her daughter. It had become intrinsically tied to all the hopes and dreams Hannah had for her child: for a strong relationship with God, for a good education, for love, adventure, dreams and joy.

“Mommy?”

Hannah glanced down at the little love of her life, who was pulling on the hem of her parka to get her attention. A packaged collector's doll in a satiny, pink dress rested in her daughter's arms.

“Do you think Santa would mind if I asked for just one doll this year?”

“Sweetie, that isn't really the kind of doll that you would play with.” Or one her mother could afford. That familiar disappointment pulled at her spirit, a reminder of the way that tight budgets warred with Hannah's need for independence in caring for her child.

“But she opens and shuts her eyes and everything.” The child shifted the box to demonstrate before hugging the package to her chest.

“She sure does, but this doll—” Hannah paused to read the name printed on the box “—Miss Gabrielle is the kind of toy you put up on your shelf to look pretty.”

“She is pretty, Mommy. Look, her hair's just like Tessa's.”

Hannah glanced down at the doll's collection of
dark curls, all tidily collected with a bright pink ribbon. That hair would look
exactly
like Tessa's unruly mass of springy curls before they could finish Christmas breakfast.

“You mean Andrew and Serena's little girl?” Todd asked as he came closer to study the doll.

“She's a big girl. Tessa's nine.”

“Ooh, I stand corrected.” Todd said seriously.

“But the doll…” Hannah began again.

“Okay, Mommy. I'll put her back.” Rebecca returned the toy to the shelf with her sister pricey dolls but only after several hugs and a promise to visit. Even after Miss Gabrielle was standing tall next to her sisters, Rebecca stood looking up at her with longing.

Hannah peeked over at Todd, who appeared to be fighting back a smile and losing the battle. He crooked his index finger to call Hannah over to him. Her stance stiffened. He wasn't going to question her parenting, was he? She jumped in before he had the chance.

“Look, Todd, no child should ever have everything she wants. Even if I could afford it.” She glanced around, hoping Rebecca hadn't overheard, and lowered her voice. “I've had to explain this to Dad and to my child-care provider, Mary, but I don't want everyone overindulging Rebecca. They need to understand that I'm the parent.”

“Rebecca has two parents now,” Todd pointed out softly.

Hannah blew out an exasperated sigh. “I know, but…” She let the words trail off because even she
didn't know but
what.
Todd kept a solemn expression when he could have given her the condescending smile she deserved. She appreciated that.

“I know I'm new at this parenting thing, but I just want to be a part of the team, okay?” He squeezed her shoulder and released it quickly.

“I promise not to buy things for Rebecca every time I take her anywhere. And I won't ply her with treats. Buying someone's love dooms a relationship as much as it does a wallet.”

Hannah's body relaxed from the battle that would be unnecessary. Rebecca continued to stare at the doll, having a tough time saying goodbye to her dream. At least this coparenting thing might not be as difficult as Hannah had first imagined.

Todd was a reasonable person. She'd forgotten that about him. His reasonableness had been one of the things she'd liked about him. One of many.

“That said,” Todd began, but stared into her eyes as if gauging her reaction before he continued, “it's Christmas. Can
our
daughter, this one time, have something utterly impractical, just because her daddy wants to indulge her?”

Again, that word.
Daddy.
Images of Hannah with her own father flooded her mind. But those memories of normal activities—of unwrapping presents and removing training wheels—transformed into stark thoughts of a teenage girl and her father standing next to a casket in the snow.

Todd tilted his head to the side and studied her quizzically when she didn't answer. “Please, Hannah.”

Hannah was weakening—she could feel it, but that didn't stop her from pressing her argument once more. “You saw it. That doll is ridiculously expensive.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “Ridiculously. And Rebecca will want to play with it instead of leaving it on a shelf to collect dust. Miss Gabrielle will probably be naked and have messy hair before Christmas day is even over.”

When she glanced at him sharply, Todd shrugged.

“I've seen her other dolls. She seems to prefer them au naturel.”

“If you know it's too expensive and even that she won't care for it the way she should, then why do you still want to buy it for her?”

“It's my first Christmas as a dad. I want to make it special.”

Hannah had opened her mouth to try again, but her teeth clicked shut. Her heart squeezed. For the last few weeks, she'd thought only how their lives—hers and Rebecca's—had changed. Todd's life had been altered just as dramatically, and yet he was relishing the newness. No matter what the difficult circumstances of her birth, Rebecca was blessed to have a father like Todd.

“I'm sure she'll be pleased,” Hannah said finally. “When would you plan to give it to her?”

Todd sent a quick glance Rebecca's way and then turned his sheepish expression on Hannah. “Well, I've already bought a few Christmas presents for her—just a few books, games and stuff. I wouldn't want to give her too many presents, so I was hoping
that this one could be a present she finds under the tree Christmas morning. From Santa.”

From Mommy and Daddy,
he might as well have said. How easily he'd bypassed the delicate subject of affordability. As much as she appreciated that, she didn't want his thoughtfulness to go unrewarded.

“Are you sure you don't want her to know? Each time she plays with the doll, she would remember that it was a gift from you. She'd know you were thinking of her.”

“That doesn't matter.” He glanced up as a very solemn Rebecca made her way back to them. “I just want to see her smile.”

 

“Look at this one, Mommy.”

In her palm, Rebecca proudly held up a tiny star-shaped sugar cookie. Well, it was almost a star, though one of its five points was missing, and the remaining four were far from even.

“That's really nice, honey.” Hannah bent to brush some of the flour off her daughter's face. She didn't know why she bothered. Only a bath could remove all the batter, frosting and colored-sugar sprinkles that had decorated Rebecca along with the cookies.

“Nice? Nice, you say?” Todd wore an incredulous expression as he looked up from the table where he and Rebecca sat, cutting the shapes and putting them on baking sheets. “Now that cookie is amazing.”