A Hickory Ridge Christmas (8 page)

Setting his own cookie cutter aside, Todd moved the newest creation from Rebecca's hand to the pan among the other stars, Christmas trees and Santa
shapes. On his black turtleneck and black jeans, he wore nearly as much flour and sprinkles as his daughter did. Hannah's fingers itched to grab her camera again, but she'd already taken several pictures, and even Rebecca was sick of posing.

“What color frosting are you going to put on it after it's baked?” Todd asked her. “Green, white or red?”

Rebecca squinted and studied the cookie for several seconds before coming to a decision. “Blue.”

Todd nodded as if seeing the finished masterpiece the way Rebecca envisioned it. “Blue sounds great.”

“You mean we need to make
more
frosting?” Hannah put on her best stern expression when she asked it. Really, she didn't mind a bit that they would use up all the flour, confectioner's sugar and food coloring in the house and that she would be scrubbing cookie dough off the tabletop, cabinet doors and laminate kitchen floor for days.

“More frosting. Yum!”

“You were right, Becca.” Todd nuzzled his messy little girl under his chin. “This was a better idea than sledding.”

She poked his nose playfully and squirmed out of his grasp. “You wanted to make cookies, Daddy.”

“But you were the one who thought it sounded like fun.”

Hannah swallowed a chuckle as she took the three-step walk back to the counter where she'd been whipping frosting of various colors. She'd suspected that cookie making had been Todd's idea, but now they'd confirmed it. Rebecca and her father could have
gone sledding together as they had on Sunday, but he'd made a point of including Hannah this time in the fun. Gratitude filled her that he had. Maybe someday she would learn to enjoy the solitude while her daughter spent time with her father, but at this point, the apartment felt too empty, her heart too lonely.

To keep her hands busy, Hannah pulled her last mixing bowl from the cabinet and measured one-third cup of butter for her fourth recipe of buttercream frosting.

Rebecca must have recognized that the new project left the other bowls unattended because she slipped over to the counter, pulled a bowl down to her level and scooped a dollop of green frosting with her finger. She had that finger in her mouth before Hannah could turn off the mixer.

“Rebecca Faith Woods.” Hannah pretended to threaten her child with the business end of a rubber spatula and earned a round of giggles for her trouble.

Todd glanced over from the table, but his mouth was tight. At first, his reaction confused Hannah until she realized she'd spoken their daughter's last name aloud. That name wasn't McBride.

She was beginning to imagine how uncomfortable that had to make Todd and how important it would be to him for his child to carry his name. Hannah met his gaze and smiled at him tremulously, hoping it reassured him. The name would be another thing they would discuss in the weeks to come.

Todd smiled back at her, and the strangest thing happened. Oh, she remembered it, all right. Knees
like gelatin without a proper mold. Pulse pounding out a Latin beat. With Todd, she'd felt this strange sensation so many times—a tickling electricity, a sense of being more fully alive. In the last five years, she hadn't felt anything like it.

Not until Todd came back.

Hannah drew in a sharp breath that she covered by clearing her throat. As a distraction, she flipped the mixer back on and whipped the butter until it was fluffy.

But the spinning beaters only seemed to underscore the thoughts whirling through her mind. When had her anger against him cooled? When had she come to see him as anything besides an obstacle to her independent life with her child? She couldn't say. More disconcerting than that, now that the first of these unacceptable thoughts had escaped her tight hold, she couldn't make them stop.

As if he was unaware of the battle of wills inside Hannah and the wide berth he should give her because of it, Todd leaned close and nabbed the container of red frosting off the countertop.

He shrugged when Hannah batted her spatula at him. “I have to make sure the red tastes okay, too.” He popped a fingerful into his mouth and made a humming sound of approval low in his throat.

“It's good, isn't it, Daddy?” Rebecca said.

Hannah grabbed the bowl of white frosting before either of them decided to double-dip with their germ-covered fingers. She frowned at Todd.

“Some example you are.”

Perhaps he wasn't a great example for healthy
baking techniques, but he was a really good dad. He seemed to have donned the role so easily, and he wore it well. In one side of the strong, confident man he'd become, Todd had maintained a childlike sense of play and an ability to laugh at himself.

Hannah couldn't help watching him with Rebecca, as he laughed genuinely at jokes from a four-year-old and made a game out of creating the ugliest cookies ever. In a tender moment, he brushed Rebecca's gummy hair back from her face, the flour on his hands only adding to the mess.

“I do my best.”

Hannah shot a sidelong glance at him as he returned to the table and helped Rebecca back into her chair. He was responding to her remark about his eating the frosting, but it almost felt as though he'd read her thoughts and had answered them instead. Without looking up, Todd rolled out another ball of sugar cookie dough. His daughter stuck a bell-shaped cutter right in the center, just as she had done the last three times, and still he laughed.

Todd covered his daughter's tiny hand with his, her fingers so dwarfed by his that they seemed to disappear. Hannah found she wasn't jealous of that special touch between father and daughter. No mother would deny her child the opportunity to smile like that.

Still, Hannah couldn't help remembering the warmth of Todd's hand when he'd covered her fingers with his own. She'd felt safe and precious in his arms. Would it ever be possible for her to be on
the receiving end of his caring again? And, more importantly, would she ever want that?

Returning her attention to the bowl in front of her, Hannah mixed the confectioner's sugar into the butter and added vanilla and milk before squeezing in about half a tube of blue gel food coloring. The result was a bowl of cornflower-blue frosting—not a color she would normally have associated with Christmas.

“How many more days until Christmas, Mommy?”

Hannah took a few seconds to calculate. “Just five. It won't be long now.” She smiled, knowing full well that to a four-year-old, five days was a lifetime.

“Can Daddy come to our house for Christmas?”

Hannah's cheeks grew warm. “We've already discussed this, sweetie. You're going to your daddy's apartment for dinner on Christmas Eve, and then we'll all go to the service together Christmas morning. It's Sunday this year.”

She glanced at Todd, realizing suddenly that she didn't know what further plans he had. With no family around and no time to have made close friends, Todd would probably be spending the holiday alone. No one should be alone on Christmas, and her heart squeezed with the sense that Todd might be.

Rebecca was shaking her head when Hannah looked back at her. “No, Mommy. When I get up. Can Daddy come when I open my presents from Santa?”

Hannah paused, waiting for the bite of jealousy to sting. This would be their first Christmas in their own apartment. Hannah had looked forward for months to having this private morning to mark their
move to independence—just the two of them. But the only thing that struck her was a sense of rightness. Of course, Todd should be there when Rebecca opened Miss Gabrielle, for so many reasons beyond his special gift.

“Sure, he can…if he wants to.” After washing her hands, she wiped them on a dish towel and turned back to him. “Todd, would you like to join us for Christmas morning and breakfast before church?”

He didn't hesitate. “That sounds great.”

“You could come to Christmas dinner, too, if you like. It will be at my father's. His…friend is cooking dinner.”

“Thanks, but I've already agreed to have dinner with the Westins.”

“Oh, you'll enjoy that. We've spent several holidays with the Westins.”

Her disappointment was as quick as it was bewildering. She turned back to the sink to rinse blue frosting off the beaters. It should have come as no surprise that Andrew and Serena had extended an invitation to Todd. They usually planned a big celebration, inviting all those who might otherwise have a lonely holiday.

She was disappointed for Rebecca's sake, she tried to tell herself. It was too difficult to admit that at least part of her frustration had nothing to do with her daughter.

Over her shoulder, Hannah found herself saying, “Well, maybe you could drop by for dessert then.”

When Hannah turned back from the counter, Todd
had stood up from the table and was studying her, his eyebrows drawn together. His gaze found hers and held it. So many emotions danced in his eyes, and he seemed willing to bare them all—regret, frustration and hope.

Rebecca, oblivious to the unspoken conversation, stood up, as well, and slipped her sticky hand into her father's.

“Please, Daddy. Please eat dessert with us.”

Todd glanced down at her and smiled. “For you, sweetheart…anything.”

C
hristmas dawned clear but frigid as rare, winter sunshine glinted off ice-covered branches and snow-flocked evergreens. Todd didn't even mind that he could see his breath inside his car as he drove to the morning festivities at Hannah's apartment. He hadn't been this excited for Christmas morning since he was a little boy.

He had only parked his car by the curb and stepped out into the snow when Rebecca threw open the door.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy. Look, Mommy curled my hair.” She shook her head, sending the cascade of tight blond ringlets flying.

“Merry Christmas. I like your hair.”

“I have a new dress, too.”

Rebecca spun in the doorway, making the full skirt of the velvety red dress pouf out around her.

“It's very pretty.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It itches.”

Before his daughter could run out into the snow and launch herself into his arms, fancy dress, black buckle shoes and all, Todd hurried up the steps. Balancing the shopping bag filled with gifts in one arm, he nabbed Rebecca and propped her on his hip.

Todd pressed his cheek to hers, breathing in the clean, baby shampoo scent that he'd come to associate with his daughter. She looked so sweet and pretty this morning. If only his parents could have come for Christmas. He would have loved to have the chance to introduce his daughter to them today, but part of him was equally glad that it was just the three of them this special Christmas morning.

“We've been waiting all morning for you, Daddy.”

Todd closed the door, setting the shopping bag aside. “All morning? It's only seven-thirty.”

“Yes,
all
morning,” Hannah called from down the hall. Her tired voice suggested just how early Rebecca had awakened for Christmas morning.

Lowering his daughter to the floor, Todd hung his coat on the coat tree in the entry and waited. He expected to see some of that exhaustion on Hannah's face as she entered the room, but she looked serene in an elegant black dress that smoothed over her trim figure and fell nearly to her ankles. She'd worn her hair long today, the tresses turned softly toward her face, and around her neck she'd draped a strand of shimmering pearls.

Time paused for a few seconds as Todd forgot to breathe. Hannah was so beautiful. Her hair, that skin, those lips—he'd tried so hard these last four weeks
not to see, not to remember. But here she stood about eight feet from him, giving him one of those smiles that used to take him down like a bat to the back of the knees. Clearly, it still could. All those feelings he'd worked so hard to bury came flooding back.

He needed to look away from her, but he couldn't help watching for a few seconds longer. Hannah continued to watch him, too, though she blushed prettily just as she had so long ago. Maybe he hadn't imagined the connection he'd thought they'd made the other night at Hannah's apartment. Maybe…no he had no business going there. It was reckless to hope.

“Can we open presents now, Mommy? Please.”

Startled, Todd and Hannah glanced down at the child now standing in the space between them, looking back and forth and wearing a confused expression.

Hannah was first to recover. “I did tell her she could open her gifts as soon as you got here.”

“It's Jesus's birthday, but we get presents, too,” Rebecca told him.

“Oh, really. Why do you think that is?”

Rebecca pursed her lips and squinted her eyes in concentration before answering. “Because God wants us all to have fun.”

“It's really more than that,” Hannah began, but then she stopped. “Maybe I should wait for a more teachable moment on that one.”

“Why? Does someone want to open gifts right away?”

“I do! I do!” Rebecca chimed.

“Are you sure you don't want to wait until after
breakfast, Becca? Maybe some pancakes or eggs and bacon?”

The child's sunny expression fell. “No, thank you.”

“Well, since you said it so politely…” Todd looked to Hannah for confirmation.

Instead of answering, Hannah lowered her gaze to the shopping bag by the door. “More presents?”

“I held back last night.”

“Not enough when you were shopping, apparently.”

“Guilty.” Todd raised his hands, palms up, but he refused to be sorry. “I couldn't help myself.”

“Oh, well.” Hannah frowned. “Rebecca, do you want to hand out the presents?”

Their daughter didn't waste any time rushing into the living room and digging several packages from under the tree. The collection wasn't large, but Hannah had made each package special by adding curly ribbons, bows and candy canes to the bright holiday wrapping paper.

Hannah crossed the room and sat on the sofa next to her camera bag. Todd sat in the recliner opposite her.

“This is mine.” Rebecca set a small package in the center of the floor before retrieving another from the tree. She went back to the tree several times and returned to add packages to her little pile.

“She's reading already?” Todd asked, his chest puffing up with fatherly pride.

“A little. They learn to recognize their names from their badges at preschool.”

Glancing back from the tree, Rebecca grinned and held out a small package wrapped in homemade
paper that was covered with Christmas stamps. “This one says ‘Mommy.'”

“She made that at preschool, too.”

Rebecca scrambled over to hand the present to her mother and then rushed back to the tree. The next package she lifted was identical to the other. “This one says ‘Daddy.'”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Rebecca asked her teachers if she could make two gifts. Wasn't that nice?”

Todd could only nod. His throat became dry. His eyes burned. It wasn't as if he hadn't considered that his daughter might give him a Christmas gift, courtesy of her mother. But this was special. It was Rebecca's idea.

“Put your dad's pile right by his feet.”

Having missed her father's strange reaction and her mother's effort to cover for him, Rebecca continued happily digging behind the tree and pulling out the last few packages. After asking her mother to read the name on the two final boxes, including one that she struggled to carry, Rebecca placed them next to Todd. He peeked at Hannah, who only looked away shyly.

“What about those presents?” Rebecca pointed to the bag by the door.

“How about I pass those out?” Todd stood and stepped over to the door to retrieve the bag.

The first two he placed in Rebecca's pile, and the remaining four he set at Hannah's feet.

“You weren't supposed to do this.”

“Why? You did.”

Her gaze fell on the two presents in Todd's pile. “Mine were just— Oh, never mind.”

Twin pink spots appeared on her cheeks again, but a small smile lifted her lips, as well.

To Todd, her reaction felt like a gift in itself. This was the Hannah he remembered: the girl who got a kick out of sunsets, who could be excited about a gift box without even caring what was inside. That Hannah had been open to the world's surprises without constantly guarding herself against its pitfalls. He was so pleased to know a part of that girl remained in the woman she'd become.

“I'm youngest,” Rebecca announced. “I get to go first.”

When nobody argued with that, she tore into the first package. Soon the floor was littered with paper and ribbon, and a felt board play set, a princess dress-up outfit and a doll diaper bag were piled next their daughter.

Though Todd had wisely saved only the less-glamorous gifts of books and a puzzle for Christmas morning so as not to rain on Hannah's parental moment, he couldn't wait for Rebecca to choose the big package on the bottom of her stack. She saved that one for last.

“Mommy, Daddy!” she shrieked. “Santa brought Miss Gabrielle!” She hugged the doll to her, box and all, and posed for the camera with her new best friend.

“Oh, Rebecca, she's so pretty. Santa has good taste.” Hannah exchanged a secretive glance with
Todd and nodded her approval, as if she'd decided the doll wasn't such a bad purchase after all.

“Well, look at that.” Todd realized his smile was probably bigger than even Rebecca's, but Todd didn't care. He loved seeing her this happy and knowing he'd had a part in this wonderful surprise.

Everything about his being a father had been a surprise, from the reality of it to the joy he'd found in it. He'd known Rebecca for such a short time, and yet he couldn't imagine his life without her.

Though he had no doubt she was her own person and would flex the muscles of her independence more and more as she grew, Todd was pleased to know that she demonstrated the best in both of her parents: her mother's spirit and enthusiasm and her father's dry wit. Rebecca made him proud and humbled him at the same time. God had given them all a special gift when He'd brought this child into their lives.

“Mommy, can you help me open it?”

“I just don't know why she didn't ask me for help,” Todd said with a feigned frown.

“From what Rebecca told me, her new fashion doll lost most of its hair last night when you took it out of the package.” Hannah knelt next to Rebecca, opened the box and made quick work of removing the plastic ties that held Miss Gabrielle captive.

He stepped behind her and examined her work over her shoulder. “Hey, you got the easier packaging. Houdini couldn't have escaped from the one I had.”

Hannah straightened, taking on an air of superi
ority. “Maybe I just make it look easy.” She held the straight face for several seconds before it folded into a grin. “It gets easier. Really. But you've already figured that out all on your own.”

After her last words, Hannah looked up at him, making it clear she meant more than just the parental headache of wrestling with toy manufacturers' packaging. She seemed to speak of parenting in general, and, unless he was mistaken, she had just encouraged him and maybe even complimented him on his growth as a dad.

Todd cleared his throat and looked away to fight the emotion building inside him. “You go next, Hannah. We have to hurry. If you don't mind, I have a story I'd like to read before breakfast.”

“Sounds great.”

Hannah unwrapped the giant white-chocolate candy bar, the leather-covered journal and the Detroit Pistons plaque, inserting an embarrassed “you didn't have to” right after each “thank you.”

“You see? I couldn't help myself.”

It had been a balancing act, choosing inexpensive gifts that wouldn't seem too personal for their tentative relationship but would be symbolic to Hannah. Todd could tell from the way she chewed her lip and didn't make eye contact with him that the favorite things of her past still meant something to her now.

As she opened the last gift, a Christmas ornament for the collection she'd been amassing since she was a little girl, Todd wondered if he'd gone too far. It was a simple glass ball ornament with a painting of the
Madonna. Why hadn't he considered that the token he'd purchased as a tribute to both Hannah's late mother and the mom Hannah had become might just be a stark reminder of all she'd lost?

For a few seconds, Hannah covered her face with her hands, but then she spread them aside. Though her eyes were shining with tears, she was smiling. Pain did fade, it appeared…over time. Perhaps, just perhaps, anger faded, as well.

“Thanks, Todd.” She tilted her head to the side and coughed into her hand. “That was sweet.”

“It's your turn, Daddy.”

Rebecca scrambled over to the pile of gifts next to him and lifted the smaller of the two packages up to him. Inside it was a navy wool scarf.

“It's to keep you warm,” Rebecca explained.

“The winter's going to hit you pretty hard after a few years near the Equator.” Hannah indicated with a nod of her head for their daughter to hand Todd the second, much heavier gift.

As Todd pulled a thick photo album from inside the box, he glanced over at Hannah.

“I thought you deserved your own copy of history.”

On the first page were the words “Rebecca's Birth Day.” In one picture, Hannah stood in a hospital gown, her hands resting on her full, rounded belly. Those that followed were the first pictures of a wrinkly and bald baby being cradled by her mother, grandfather and a woman Todd recognized from church.

A few pages further into the book, the photos began to change. Instead of snapshots alone, there
were incredible black-and-white images—of the baby sleeping under a spray of sunlight, a toddler splashing water at the beach. Todd turned a few more pages, but those obviously professional pictures continued to be mixed among the candid shots.

Remembering, Todd glanced over to the Christmas tree and the framed artistic photos on the wall behind it. He shot a glance back to Hannah.

“They're yours, aren't they? You're the photographer.”

She nodded, smiling. “It's a hobby mostly. A photographer and an accountant—a strange combination, don't you think?”

“Not strange. Anyway, you're a great photographer.”

“It brings in a little extra money.”

He studied the framed photos again as his thoughts were drawn to another place, another time. “You used to take pictures all the time. I hated it.”

He chuckled with the memory of the wrestling matches that had resulted from his efforts to remove that camera from her hands…and the embraces that usually ended the game. Hannah must have remembered, as well, because she suddenly looked away, embarrassed.

“Thank you.” He waited for her to look back at him before he continued. “It's great. I love it.”

“I'm glad.” She cleared her throat.

“Do they have Christmas at your old house, Daddy?”

Todd glanced up from the photo album. “You mean in Singapore?” At her nod, he continued. “It's
an island, you know. Some people there celebrate Christmas just like us. But they don't have snow like we have here. It's very hot, and it's rainy sometimes.”