Blessings of the Season (15 page)

They were a shining example of a couple that had found the perfect person to spend a lifetime with.

It had to be the Christmas music, the lights, the many smiling friends that made Isabelle want to believe in forever with someone who would love her, someone who wouldn't hurt her. As she turned to go in search of her daughter, her gaze connected with Chad's, and he winked.

That's how she missed the tabby cat slinking across the room. Isabelle tripped over the animal, falling slightly forward and righting herself just before she made contact with a table that held a vase of red roses. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of Chad as he started for her.

The cat she tripped over yowled and ran under the burgundy sofa.

“You okay?”

She didn't look up, didn't meet Chad's gaze. She wondered if he would be concerned or amused. She replayed the moment in her mind and then looked up at him, smiling. Because it really was funny.

“I'm fine.”

“And graceful.”

“Very.” And she was falling over more than a cat. She was falling for a smile, for a man who seemed to know the right things to say.

And that scared her. She had never fallen. She'd been comfortable with Dale, and comfortable with her life here in Gibson, raising her daughter and being a part of this community.

Now, though, she had other thoughts about her future and about life after Lizzie was grown and gone.

“I'm going to see if Jolynn needs help in the kitchen.”

He shrugged and stayed next to her as she left the room. As they passed through the doorway, Isabelle looked up, seeing the mistletoe tacked to the wood frame. She sidestepped, and Chad reached for her hand, trying to pull her back.

She couldn't let him do that. She'd fallen once tonight, maybe twice; she didn't need to fall a third time.

“I think we'll avoid the mistletoe.” She slid her hand out of his, careful to not bring up the fact that there hadn't been mistletoe outside, just light snow and lights.

“I'll help you help Jolynn.”

They walked down the hall aglow with candles in the wall sconces, and his hand reached for hers again. Her heart didn't know whether to freeze up or beat in time to “Winter Wonderland.”

She needed to get a grip. He'd come here looking for a woman who wasn't real, who was just the fictional version of Lizzie's mom. Reality was so different.

“You know, I'm not the person in Lizzie's letters.” She stopped in the hall.

“Really? I thought you were, Isabelle.”

“I'm Isabelle, but I'm real, not the version my daughter fed you. I'm not confident or funny. I'm sure she painted a different picture, tinted everything in pretty colors.”

“I think she was honest. She showed me the Isabelle who loves her daughter and cares about the people in her life.”

“But I'm the Isabelle who has chapped hands from doing dishes. And a gray hair.” She pulled it out for him to see. She knew exactly where it was, because she'd considered yanking it out. “Three days a week I smell like car grease. Four days a week I smell like fried chicken. On Sundays I get to put on lotion and smell like flowers and sunshine.”

“I noticed.” He leaned close to her ear. “I think you have beautiful hands. I love fried chicken. I especially love flowers and sunshine. And I like the real Isabelle.”

She pulled away, because his lips were close to hers. “You like Christmas. You love Gibson, the lights, the people. It's all manufactured emotion because of those things and the fact that you're finding a home to settle down in.”

A throat cleared. “Are the two of you going to lurk in my hall all night?”

“Jolynn. We were coming to see if you need any help.”

Jolynn nodded her head, but her eyes narrowed, and she smiled a little. “Of course I could use help.”

Isabelle hurried away from temptation and into the brightly lit kitchen. The big room had light hickory cabinets, dark granite countertops and stainless appliances. It was a dream kitchen. Tonight the counters were loaded down with food.

Chad walked in a minute after her, tall and not flustered. Since his arrival, his dark hair had grown out just a little. He looked as good in a plaid button-up shirt as he had in that camouflage uniform.

He sat on one of the bar stools and watched as she cut a pie.

Jolynn untied the apron she wore. “I'm going to take a pot of hot cocoa out to the crowd, and then we'll herd them in here to have food. Don't stay in here, Is. This is your little girl's party.”

“I'm not going to hide in the kitchen, just going to get a few things done.” She glanced toward the sink full of dishes. “And wash a few dishes.”

Jolynn was already gone, but Chad had heard. He left his stool and walked around to the sink. As she finished cutting the last pie, he started the dishwater.

“What are you doing?” She walked up next to him.

“I'm going to help wash dishes.”

“Really?”

He grabbed the sprayer attached to the sink. “Stop sounding so surprised, or I'll spray you. I do know how to wash dishes.”

“I'm sure you do.”

He faced her, putting the sprayer back in place. “Isabelle, I do know the real you. Maybe not as well as if I'd spent time here, but I know you. I know that you like it when people offer to help do the dishes.”

“True, but the letter was from Lizzie, and she's the one who really likes it when someone else helps me do the dishes. It means she gets out of doing them.” She rolled up her sleeves, unable to meet his dark gaze. He didn't let her get away with avoiding him. He touched her cheek, turning her face so that their gazes connected.

“I know that you love your daughter more than anything. And I know that she knows that, too.”

“What else did she tell you?” But did she really want to know what secrets her daughter might have shared?

“I know that you love romance, but only in books and movies.”

Okay, that was embarrassing.

“I know that you miss Dale. And Lizzie knows that you still cry at night. I know that you counted on him to always be here for you. I'm sorry.”

Isabelle looked away, because this had gone too far. It had started out as something fun and light, but the emotion felt heavy. It cloaked her heart, weighing her down.

“I'm sorry, too. But those are small details. And Dale—” She took the dishrag from him and scrubbed a pan. How did she tell him about Dale? “Dale and I were best friends.”

“I've heard that's how to have a great relationship.”

She shook her head. “We loved each other, but we weren't in love. We were best friends who promised to keep each other safe. He kept me safe.”

She glanced up, wanting to see the look on his face, to know how he took that revelation. Her childhood was a life he couldn't understand.

“I think I understand.” He took the pan from her and rinsed it. “It's good to have someone who never lets you down.”

She grabbed a bowl to wash. This was so hard, harder than anything she'd done in a long time. “So, now you know the things about my life that my daughter couldn't have shared with you. And I know that you're planning to reenlist. Is there really a point to pursuing this? I mean, you're going to leave.”

She had repeated gossip she'd heard at the diner, something she'd promised herself she'd never do. She
started to apologize but loud voices carried down the hall and a minute later they were joined by the rest of the party. Lizzie was at the front of the group. She glanced in Isabelle's direction, not smiling. Isabelle wondered if it was her imagination, or if those were tears shimmering in her daughter's eyes.

I
t was nearly eleven that night when Isabelle and Lizzie got home. Isabelle was wiped out. She wanted her bed. She wanted to not have to get up at six the following morning. As they walked through the front door, Lizzie hurried out of the room without saying anything.

She'd been quiet all night and hadn't talked during the ride home. Isabelle tossed her purse on the table and went to the kitchen, lit only with a bulb over the sink. She turned on the overhead lights and found a clean glass in the dishwasher.

“Here.” Lizzie tossed a small stack of letters on the counter. “These are his letters. If you read them, you'll know who he is and how much he cares about the people in his life. He's someone you can trust. And I don't think he's going to leave.”

“What?” Isabelle didn't know what surprised her more, the challenge to read the letters or this new attitude of
her daughter's. They'd always been close, always seen eye to eye on most things.

The challenge in Lizzie's eyes was what Isabelle had seen when three-year-old Lizzie wanted candy that Isabelle wouldn't give her.

“Mom, you can't live your life for me. I'm not always going to be here. I can't be your excuse for not getting involved, for not dating.”

“Is that how you see me?” Isabelle filled her glass with water and turned back to face her daughter. “You think I'm avoiding relationships.”

“I think you love romance that is safe. The kind in books or on TV. I think you're afraid.”

“I'm not afraid.”

“Yeah, well, I'm praying you fall in love with Chad.” And that was the twelve-year-old, with her chin up and her eyes overflowing with unshed tears. “That's what I want for Christmas. I want a dad.”

Isabelle took a step toward her daughter but knew that Lizzie wouldn't welcome a hug, not yet. “Oh, Liz, I want to give you everything. I can do the easy things, like ballet lessons and church camp. I might someday be able to afford dance camp. But I can't give you a dad for Christmas. You can't pick a dad that way. And you can't force two people to fall in love.”

“No, but what if this is what God planned? What if that letter to Chad was God putting this all into place for us?”

Isabelle didn't have an answer. How many times had she told her daughter to trust God's plan and to see God in the unexpected things that happened in their lives?
And now something unexpected had happened, and Isabelle didn't have an answer.

“Lizzie, I don't know God's plan. But I'm sure we'll know it when it happens. As much as you want this, you can't make it happen.”

“Read his letters. Please.” Lizzie kissed Isabelle on the cheek and walked down the hall.

He was going to reenlist. Lizzie had to get that.

Isabelle could hear the normal sounds of her daughter getting ready for bed. Water running as she brushed her teeth and then washed her face, the alarm clock being set and then the radio coming on. She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to make sense of what had happened to their lives, their relationship. She touched the small stack of letters from Chad Daniels, lieutenant colonel, U.S. Army.

Closing her eyes, she could see his face, his smile, the kindness in his eyes. She could remember what it felt like when he held her, and when their lips touched.

She remembered what life felt like when someone hurt her. She remembered the pain of abuse. She remembered the foster family that had decided to leave the state and to not take her with them. Dale had been the constant in her growing-up years.

And then he'd been gone. But she'd had Lizzie to raise and Jolynn to lean on. She'd found faith and a Heavenly Father who never walked away and who accepted her as she was, faults and all. She didn't have to be the perfect child to gain His love.

So where did Chad fit into their lives?

 

Chad drove past his farm the next morning, slowing at the drive, but then going on, because he didn't want to think about what if this had been a mistake. The farm, coming here, Isabelle. He'd never realized before, but he was pretty bad at life outside of the military. That had become clear in the last couple of weeks. In his job he'd known what to do every day. He knew what was expected of him. He knew the people around him and what they wanted from him.

Not that surprises didn't happen. He was trained to handle the unexpected.

Nothing in his training had prepared him for Isabelle and Lizzie Grant. They were a package deal. That was a heavy thought and one that a guy couldn't take lightly, especially when he had just gotten out of the army and he had been single all of his adult life.

He had lived twenty-three years of having his days, weeks and months planned. He liked being organized. He liked knowing what tomorrow held for him. And yet there was something about this civilian life, the not knowing, that challenged him.

He pulled up in front of the Hash-it-Out and parked, but he didn't get out. This town had been in Lizzie's letters, luring him here, to community and people he knew only from her descriptions. Being here had added dimension to their personalities.

Someone rapped on the truck window. He jumped a little and turned. Jay Blackhorse nodded toward the diner. Chad pulled his key out of the ignition and followed the other man, a cowboy who had always been
a cowboy. Chad felt a little like an impostor in his boots that were still new and unscuffed.

“What's up with you this morning?” Jay opened the door and walked through, holding it for Chad to follow.

“I have a few things to think through.” Chad thanked the hostess who led them to one of the few empty tables. Conversation droned in the busy restaurant, and the people he knew waved or said hello.

It hadn't taken long to become a part of this community.

Jay scooted his chair out from the table and sat down. Chad did the same, turning his cup so the waitress could fill it with coffee. She smiled at him like she knew a secret, and when she walked away, it was as if she owned the whole world.

Chad shook his head, wishing he knew the secrets she knew. Maybe it would help him make the right choice. But prayer was probably a better option.

“Jay, I'm thinking about that offer to reenlist.”

“You can't take care of cattle if you're in Germany.”

“No, that's something I can't do.”

“If this is about…”

Chad raised his hand. There were too many people sitting too close to them, and he didn't want the rumors to get started. Or get out of control. Since Isabelle knew, it was a pretty sure thing there were already people talking. How could they not? He was the guy that came to town because of letters a twelve-year-old had written. A twelve-year-old posing as her mother.

“This is about me not being sure where I'm supposed to go. I'm going to drive down to the base and talk to
some people. And my parents called and asked me to fly down there for Christmas.”

Fly to Florida, where the temperatures would hover around sixty degrees, and Christmas dinner would be at the clubhouse restaurant. That didn't appeal to him at all.

The only real tradition his family had was the conference call every Christmas. That was the one time of the year they touched base and caught up on what was happening in each other's lives.

The thought left him a little cold this year, especially with memories of Friday night still fresh. Jolynn's house, the fresh-fallen snow and people who weren't related but loved one another. He'd had times like that in the army with the people in his unit. In the military they did become family to one another.

He hadn't had kids of his own, but there were a few soldiers he felt as if he'd helped to raise. And he'd learned from a few of them, too.

“Well, you know you have people here who would like to spend Christmas with you.” Jay leaned back in his chair, picking up the menu to browse. And Chad knew that the menu didn't matter. Jay had the same breakfast every morning. He had poached eggs, a slice of ham and juice.

Chad had gone for a two-mile run that morning, and he felt a little better about ordering the biscuits and gravy that he had every morning. The gravy was the real stuff, not a powdered mix. The biscuits were Jolynn's specialty.

“I know that I can stay.” He returned to their conversation after the waitress left. “But I need to make sure this is what I'm supposed to do.”

The cowbell on the door clanged. He shot a look in that direction, and almost everything he believed to be right fled, because Isabelle Grant was beautiful, even in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair in a braid.

“Yeah, you're not a guy whose guts are tied up in a neat little bow, compliments of a waitress and her daughter.” Jay laughed, not caring about the look Chad shot him. “I think maybe you're running scared.”

Nothing was tied up in a neat little bow. And if he said he wasn't scared, he would sound like a four-year-old arguing that the dark didn't scare him.

 

Chad barely spoke to her that morning at the Hash-it-Out. When Isabelle got home, she was still reliving the look in his eyes, the way he'd said goodbye when he left. The look had been one of confusion. She knew how he felt.

She didn't have time to think about it. That was what she'd been telling herself, and she knew it was true. Trying to figure out a man was exhausting. Raising a daughter, also exhausting. Missing him—she wasn't even going to go there. She wouldn't miss him when he was gone.

Tonight she had to wrap Christmas presents while Lizzie was working at Jolynn's. It was the perfect opportunity to get something accomplished. She made herself a pot of coffee and walked into the living room. But the tree was there, the one Chad had helped decorate. She stopped at the doorway between the dining area and living room, looking at the tree, the star on top. God had planned the birth of the baby they cele
brated each Christmas. She closed her eyes, knowing He had a plan for her life, for her future. He knew the emptiness in her heart and the way it felt different now, because of the man who had shown up in their lives just a few weeks earlier.

A man who might be leaving to go back into the army.

Pointless, these thoughts were pointless. She hadn't planned on a man in her life. She hadn't invited this one to show up. And she knew that she'd be fine when he was gone.

She went into the bedroom to drag out the bags of gifts, wrapping paper and tape. She glanced at the letters on her nightstand and glanced away, resisting the temptation to read them.

Instead, she dumped the gifts on the bed. Most were small items that Lizzie had wanted. Hair stuff, face stuff and nail stuff. A cute purse and jeans from the mall—a special treat on their budget. Girls were easy that way. Lizzie was easy. She'd never asked for a lot.

And she'd missed out on so much.

But not love. Isabelle reminded herself of that one major detail. Her daughter had never had to wonder if she was loved. Lizzie had never felt that aching emptiness of rejection.

But she wouldn't be going to dance camp, not this year.

Isabelle picked up the tech gadget that Lizzie had wanted for the last year. Downloadable music. She shook her head, because the world had changed a lot in fifteen years. Isabelle had wanted a boom box as a kid.

Christmas gifts were a special part of the holiday, but feeling loved, that was what counted. Isabelle knew
from experience. As a foster child she'd been given gifts, sometimes dozens. But the gifts had often, not always, been empty gestures without love.

She knew that Lizzie had written that first letter to a soldier because she had wanted some young man in Iraq to know that someone cared about him, someone was praying for him.

She remembered the two of them praying together that Lizzie's letter would reach the right soldier. That memory was hard to relive, especially with his letters in her hands. Letters he'd intended for her.

The door opened. She jumped a little and hurried to cover the gifts. But they were all wrapped. Lizzie laughed.

“What are you so jumpy for, the letters or the presents you're trying to hide?” The cheeky kid stepped into the room, eyeing the gifts.

“Shouldn't you be at work?”

“It's six o'clock, time to be home and have dinner with my mom. Are we having soup?”

“No, I thought I'd order pizza.”

“Wow, a special occasion?”

“No, a guilty mom who didn't get dinner cooked.”

“So, you're going to read the letters?” Lizzie sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing the patchwork quilt that an older lady in church had made. One for Isabelle, and one for Lizzie.

“I have to order pizza.”

“I'll order it in thirty minutes. That gives you time to read the letters.” Lizzie kissed her cheek. “He's a pretty neat guy, Mom.”

Isabelle nodded, because she already knew that.
Lizzie slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. For twelve she was too grown up. Of course, she was nearly thirteen. Lizzie liked to remind her of that. As if Isabelle could forget.