Holiday Homecoming (4 page)

“I'm going to let you in on a secret. I turned down your father's first proposal. He asked me on my birthday, just before our high school graduation. He had it all mapped out. We'd move to Cobleskill and I'd work while he did his two years of agriculture school. Then, we'd come back and he'd work the farm with your grandfather.”

“But...” Natalie started. Her parents had gotten married the summer after Dad had finished his two-year ag degree.

“Let me finish. I had bigger things to do, like make the US ski team. And I would have if I hadn't torn up my knee,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “But God had other plans. Despite my refusing his proposal, your dad was with me as much as he could be after that surgery, as he has been with this one.” She motioned to her knee brace.

“Connor's and my situation is different.”

“I don't know. I was hurting. You're hurting. Talk with Connor. See where it goes.”

Mom meant well, but Natalie knew where it would go. Nowhere.

I'm not the girl he wanted anymore.
And Connor has become everything I'd expected he'd become and rashly thought I didn't want.

* * *

Connor sawed the trunk of the evergreen above the pail-shaped block of ice and attacked the lower branches to expose enough trunk for the tree to sit securely in the tree stand. He probably shouldn't have left the tree in the pail of water overnight. But who knew the church women could organize their work day so quickly? One of them must have seen Natalie and him cutting the tree yesterday. An email was waiting for him when he and Hope had gotten home from Josh's asking if there was any problem with them decorating this afternoon.

He partially sawed the last branch. Sometimes he thought his parishioners took advantage of his time, thought he was always available because he didn't have a family. He ripped the branch from the tree. But he was supposed to be available. That came with the job. He glanced at Hope, sitting on the steps from the house into the garage watching. He did have a family. After she'd heard him announce the parsonage decorating at church, she'd asked him if she could stay today, too.

“What do you think?” He held the tree upright for Hope.

“It's big. We don't have a tree yet. Becca said we'll get one next weekend when everyone is home and can go. Since I'm going to help decorate your tree, do you want to come over and help us decorate ours?”

Connor didn't want to participate in decorating this tree, let alone another one. “I'll see. I never know when I might be called to help someone.”

“I know,” Hope said with a deep sigh. “Cami Hill's grandmother—remember, she was my old day-care teacher before Jared and Becca got married—said you could really use a helpmate.”

Add another church member to the “get Pastor married” brigade.

“What's a helpmate?” Hope asked.

“Someone who helps you do stuff,” he answered, knowing Karen Hill's definition was really a wife.

“I can be your helpmate today,” Hope said.

His heart warmed. “Yes, you can, starting with helping me move these tree branches out of the garage and into the woods behind the house.”

Hope hopped off the steps while he lifted the garage door.

“Hi, Pastor Connor.” The Bissette twins walked up his driveway as their dad's truck pulled away.

“We're here to help decorate your house. Dad had to drop us off early. One of the cows hurt her leg, and he has to get back to meet the vet.”

“Me, too,” Hope said. “I'm being Connor's helpmate. Do you want to, too?”

Aimee and Amelia giggled, reminding him of their conversation he'd overheard at the pageant practice saying he'd make a good Christmas present for their aunt Natalie. He rubbed his neck under the collar of his ski jacket, glad for the blast of cold air that blew into the garage. He must have exerted more energy than he'd thought cutting the tree branches.

“We need to haul these branches out back,” he said, belatedly realizing the twins were alone. “Your mother didn't come?”

“No,” Aimee said. He identified her by her name knitted into her ski cap. “Robbie is running a temperature.”

“So Mom's making Aunt Natalie come,” Amelia finished for her sister. “We're supposed to meet her here.”

“Making Natalie come” was probably right. After yesterday's tree cutting, he couldn't see Nat volunteering to come and decorate his house. He also had trouble with the idea of Natalie doing something she didn't want to because Andie had told her to. The Natalie he used to know, at least. Thinking back, though, had he really known her then, either?

“Grab some branches,” he said. “I want to get the garage cleared out and the tree in the house before everyone else gets here.”

Several cars were parked in the driveway and women were milling around the garage when Connor and the girls walked back around to the front of the house. A quick check didn't find Natalie among them. He flexed the tightness out of his shoulders. Maybe he'd have time to escape to his office before she arrived.

“Hi. We were hauling the branches I trimmed from the tree out back. You could have gone in. The door's open.” He bounded up the stairs and held the door open for his parishioners and the girls. “I'll get the tree and be right in.”

He stared at the tree, his stomach flip-flopping in an all-too-familiar way, as it had when he'd gotten off the school bus as a kid and seen his father's truck in the driveway, not knowing what condition he'd be in. Connor grabbed the tree and dragged it through the kitchen and dining room to the living room.

“I see you brought down the tree stand,” Karen Hill said. “Did you get the decorations, too?”

He didn't know there were any decorations. He'd thought Jared and Becca had used their own decorations last year.

“There should be a big box or two of decorations church members and former pastors and their families have donated over the years.”

“I'll go check,” he said, glad for the escape.

“I'll help you,” Hope volunteered. When they'd gotten the tree stand down yesterday evening, she'd been fascinated by the attic, from the trapdoor in the upstairs hall to the pull-down ladder stairs.

“Okay.” He and Hope could get the decorations, and then he could make his excuses and go work in his office. Karen and the twins would be more than happy to keep an eye on Hope.

When they got upstairs, he opened the outer trapdoor, unfolded the ladder stairs and climbed up two so he could reach the latch on the inner insulated trapdoor. The second door had been installed as an additional heat barrier when the attic was insulated several years ago. He pulled it open, making sure he snapped the lock brace so it wouldn't close on them while they were in the attic. With all the insulation, any calls for help might be so muffled no one downstairs would hear them.

“You go first,” he said. “Hang on to the rails.”

Connor followed Hope and quickly found the box of decorations, along with another box marked “manger.”

“Here's another one,” Hope said, holding up a small box marked “Christmas.” “I'm getting good with my reading, aren't I?”

“Yes, you are. I'm going to take the three boxes down. Then you can come down.”

“But I'm going to carry my box down the real stairs,” Hope said.

He stacked the boxes in order of size and maneuvered his way down the ladder, placing them on the floor so his hands were free if Hope needed help. They carried the boxes down to the living room.

He placed the decoration and manger boxes next to the tree, which the women had already put in the stand while he was upstairs. “Karen, would you mind keeping an eye on Hope? I have some work to do in my office.”

“Making a run for it?” Karen said.

He was that obvious?

“I'm teasing,” she added.

His expression must have given away his guilt. After all, it was his house, his tree. A piece of him felt he should be a part of the decorating, despite the toll on his equilibrium.

“It's no trouble,” she said.

“We'll help,” the twins said.

“We've taken the babysitting class at the library,” Amelia added.

“Thanks. If you need me for anything, give a shout.”

As he made the turn at the stair landing, he heard one of the twins say, “Aunt Natalie, finally,” sounding a lot like Natalie's oldest sister. The knot in his stomach that had been tying and untying all afternoon loosened, replaced by his inner voice repeating “coward” with each step he climbed away from her.

* * *

“Look what I found in the attic,” Hope said, lifting a silver-and-blue star from a box.

Natalie's heart stopped. It was the star Connor had bought for her Christmas tree. She hadn't had the heart to use it or throw it away. It must have been in one of the boxes of stuff she'd brought home from college before she'd moved to Chicago. A few years later, she'd told Mom to go ahead and donate or give away anything in the boxes. It hadn't occurred to her Mom might add it to the parsonage Christmas decorations.

“Plug it in, Aimee,” Hope said. The star twinkled with diffused light. “It's beautiful. Connor is going to love it.”

“No,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “I mean that's an old decoration. Wouldn't you like to go with Connor and help him pick out a brand-new one?” Several of the women looked at her strangely. But she couldn't let Connor come down and see that star on his tree.

“No,” Hope retorted as sharply as Natalie. “It's beautiful, like the one my grandmother and me had, and Connor is going to love it.”

“Sweetie...” Natalie touched Hope's shoulder.

She pulled away. “Leave me alone.” The little girl jumped up and ran upstairs, hugging the star to her chest.

Natalie rose, helpless to corral her emotions into any action that would make sense to the women around her.

“Let her go,” Karen said. “Connor has a room that's hers upstairs. She's probably overtired. Hope was telling my daughter-in-law in Sunday school class that she and Connor had a big night last night and he let her stay up way later than Jared and Becca do.”

“All right.” Karen knew more about kids than she did. Natalie set to work untangling the intertwined strings of lights, a nice mindless job.

A while later, Amelia tracked down Natalie in the kitchen as she was getting a bottle of water from a cooler of drinks one of the women had brought.

“I went upstairs to see if Hope wanted to come back down and help decorate the tree and I couldn't find her. I think she went up to the attic. Someone left the ladder down.”

“Did you look for her there?”

“No, you have to climb a ladder. Remember, I'm afraid of ladders.”

Amelia had fallen off the ladder to the hay mow when she was a toddler and broken her arm. But it surprised Natalie that she still had a fear of ladders.

“Does Co— Pastor Connor know?”

“No, I didn't want to tell him. We said we'd watch her.”

“Where's Aimee? Can she check the attic?” She hated that she couldn't stop herself from coming up with ways to avoid going upstairs where Connor was.

“She went with Autumn to get some more tree boughs.”

“Okay, I'll look in the attic.” If Hope wasn't there, she was probably in Connor's office with him. It was unlikely she could have come downstairs and gone outside without anyone noticing.

Natalie put the unopened water back and walked unnoticed through the living room and upstairs, giving her second thoughts about Hope not being able to slip outside. Her heart pounded as she passed the closed door that must be to Connor's office. Afraid that Hope wouldn't answer if she called up to her, Natalie climbed the ladder. “Hope,” she said as she stepped from the ladder into the room.

“Natalie?” Connor's voice came from behind a stack of boxes on the other side of the room.

Her heart slammed against her chest. “Amelia told me she thought Hope was up here.”

Connor crisscrossed the maze of boxes and furniture to her. “She told me the same thing, and that she's afraid of ladders.”

“The ladder part may be true.”

“Let's get out of here,” he said in as angry a tone as she'd ever heard from him.

Before they could move, the inner trapdoor slammed closed, followed by a muffled giggle.

Chapter Four

C
onnor sensed Natalie hovering behind him as he pressed his palm against the trapdoor. It didn't budge.

“You can open it, right?” she asked.

He didn't know, but hearing the strain in her voice, he wasn't going to say that. He straightened and pulled his Swiss Army knife from the front pocket of his jeans. “Your niece must have flipped the latch. I'm going to see if I can unscrew the hinges.”

Natalie stood next to him and glared at the trapdoor. “I don't know what's gotten in to Aimee and Amelia.”

Connor unfolded the screwdriver tool from the knife and kneeled on the floor. “The twins think I'd make a good Christmas gift for you.” He placed the screwdriver in the slot of the closest hinge screw.

“What?” she said so loudly that if the attic wasn't so well insulated, everyone downstairs would have heard her, and they wouldn't have to worry about getting out of the attic.

“I overheard them before the pageant practice the other night,” he said.

As she crossed her legs on the floor, her knee brushed his leg. His knife slipped out of the screw. Not that the slight contact had rattled him. No, it was a Phillips screw and the knife had a slot screwdriver tool.

“I'll talk to the twins and to Andie.”

“No need to make a big deal about it.” Her lack of any reference to what the twins had said hit him in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know why he'd even said anything. What did he expect her to say—
best Christmas gift
ever
?

“I could talk with Andie about taking over directing the choir, too.”

Connor torqued the screwdriver to the left. It slipped out of the groove again and he grazed his knuckle against the metal hinge. He started to lift his hand to his mouth and stopped. “You don't want to work on the pageant?”
Or you don't want to work with me?

She avoided his gaze, resting her elbows on her knees, chin on her crossed hands, eyes focused on the trapdoor. “It's just... I mean...isn't it awkward for you? Wouldn't you rather be working with someone else?”

“We're both adults. Anything between us ended a long time ago. I agree with your mother that you're the best qualified person to step in for her.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

No, he hadn't.

She lifted her head as if to challenge him to.

He wasn't sure he could. “The pageant and church service are my job. I want the best person we can get for the choir director. You're good. You could have majored in music, probably been a professional pianist if you'd wanted to. What more could I, Hazardtown Community Church and the Paradox Lake Association of Churches ask for?” He gave the screw another hard twist and the screwdriver snapped.

“Maybe I should have majored in music and saved everyone a lot of grief.” She lowered her gaze to the trapdoor, her thick black lashes brushing her cheeks.

He scooped up the broken screwdriver tool before she could see it. The quaver in her voice told him it wasn't the time to tell her they were trapped up here. He shoved the broken tool in his pocket and lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Was it that bad? What happened?” Connor was uncertain whether he thought it would help to address the elephant in the room, or if he was hoping to hear her disprove what Jared had told him.

Her eyes clouded. “This isn't easy to talk about.”

“You don't have to. That was just Counselor Connor kicking in. You know, all that listening and conflict-resolution training I had at seminary.”

“No, you're right. Talking will help us find grounds for starting over—as friends—so we can work together on the pageant.”

Something in him rebelled at the way she emphasized “as friends,” as if she could wash away everything that had been between them by telling her story, and they could pick up being the friends they'd been back in high school. It might normally be his job, but he didn't want to be her confessor. She wasn't one of his parishioners. She was his first and, so far, only love. The woman who'd trashed his heart. He clenched his jaw, waiting for her to continue.

“First,” she said, chipping at what was left of the pink polish on her thumbnail, “I need to apologize for the thoughtless way I turned down your proposal.”

Need
to, not
want
to. It was only semantics, but in Connor's mind, Natalie's word choice made the situation all about her.

“You caught me by surprise. I hadn't realized you were that serious about us. We were so comfortable with each other.”

Comfortable
. Not exactly the top way he'd choose to be described. Connor sat back and stretched his legs out across the trapdoor.

Concern flickered across Natalie's face as she looked from the door he'd been trying to open to him. “It was because of something Kirk—Kirk Sheldon, my professor—said.” She seemed to choke on his name.

“I remember him,” Connor said without showing any of the rancor he felt, despite the twist of anger in his gut.

“He'd been talking to the class about the anchor job he had waiting for him in Chicago and how the station expected to be hiring an entry-level news reporter. I wanted that job, and he stopped me after class to suggest I apply. He said I had a good probability of getting it, that he'd write a reference for me. I wanted to surprise you with my news.”

“And I surprised you with my proposal before you could.”

“You did. You knew how much I wanted to be an on-camera newsperson. I'd thought you'd understand my hasty response once I told you about the possible job in Chicago. But you cut me short before I could tell you the details.” She bit her lip. “You still had two years of seminary. I'd figured I could get some work experience before we got that serious. When you didn't seem to understand, I was confused and frustrated. You'd always understood before when no one else did.”

Connor's guard went up. What had she expected? She'd refused his proposal. He hadn't been in the most understanding of moods.

“I was afraid. The future with you that flashed in my head had me tied down in some small town just like Paradox Lake. I wanted something different, more.”

“So you told me we needed a clean break,” he ventured, “that you had better things to do than to be a small-town pastor's wife.” His words tasted as bitter as they sounded.

“I'm so sorry. I wanted to hurt you as much as it hurt me when you didn't want to hear about the opportunity I thought the Chicago job would be.”

And she had. He stared at the attic wall behind her.

“I didn't return your calls when I got back because part of me was afraid I'd give in to you and miss out on the opportunity.”

And he avoided seeing Natalie in person because he hadn't wanted to risk her rejecting him again because he wasn't good enough. Connor realized that their breakup hadn't been entirely one-sided. He'd still had issues about being Jerry Donnelly's son that he hadn't worked out. He'd fallen back on his old defense of closing down, depending only on himself.

She shook her head. “It probably wouldn't have made a difference. My family wasn't as encouraging about the job in Chicago as I wanted, either. I thought you were all against me. I wanted to prove you all wrong. I know now that Mom and Dad were reserved about it because they didn't want me to be too disappointed if I didn't get the job. Kirk seemed to be the only person who had faith in me.”

“Was that the only part he played?” Connor couldn't stop himself from asking, and he wanted to put part of the blame on something other than both of them being childish.

Her eyes widened.

Connor shifted on the hard wooden floor. “Jared said he'd read something in one of the suburban Chicago newspapers when he was racing in the Midwest.”

She hugged herself. “I promise, I wasn't... There was nothing between Kirk and me, except a bad case of hero worship on my part, until I took the job in Chicago. But what Jared told you is probably true. I'm ashamed of my behavior, even though I thought he was divorced, and accept the reputation it gave me.” Her voice caught. “The station director at the next station I worked at after Chicago didn't hire me for my reporting ability, if you know what I mean.”

Compassion for Natalie smashed what was left of the wall shielding his heart. He wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her head on his chest, seemingly oblivious to the rustling Connor heard below them. He should release her, but couldn't.

The trapdoor dropped open. “Here they are.” Natalie's niece's lilting voice carried through the attic. “I told you I thought I saw them come up here.”

Natalie jerked away from him as if burned, and Connor looked down into the faces of most of the members of the Hazardtown Community Church women's group and evangelism committee.

* * *

Horror filled Natalie. She glanced from Connor to the faces below to her niece, who was sneaking away down the hall. “Amelia Theresa Bissette. Stay right there.”

Natalie scrambled down the ladder ahead of Connor. The women parted, giving her free access to Amelia. “What were you thinking?”

“What do you mean, Aunt Natalie?” Amelia said, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

Sympathy for her sister crashed over Natalie. Andie had to deal with this—times two—every day.

“She means, why did you lie to us and trap us in the attic?”

Natalie started at the deep boom of Connor's voice, her heart leaping to her throat before sinking. She could handle her nieces. He didn't need to come to her rescue. The last time she'd let a man intervene for her had been the start of the mess she was in—Kirk and his job offer in Chicago. Natalie straightened to her full five foot five. She knew Connor well enough still to know he didn't have any ulterior motives. Maybe worse, he felt sorry for her, for the situation she'd gotten herself in with Kirk. She didn't need anyone's sympathy. Why hadn't she stuck to her plan not to tell anyone the real reasons she came home for Christmas this year? Now, she'd told Connor about being out of work
and
the fiasco with Kirk.

Connor cleared his throat, waiting for Amelia.

She knew why. Because he was Connor. He'd always been so easy to talk to.

Amelia looked up at him wide-eyed. “Aimee and I didn't mean anything. Don't be mad, Pastor Connor. We really like you.”

Her niece batted her eyelashes.
She batted her eyelashes.
Andie and Rob were in for some interesting times ahead.

“And Aimee and I really like Aunt Natalie.” Amelia beamed at her.

“I like your aunt, too,” Connor said.

Natalie couldn't allow herself to dissect his meaning, even if she wanted to. She had to stop this train wreck of a conversation. “Where is Aimee?” Natalie made a show of checking the time on her phone. “We probably should get going.”

“But Pastor Connor asked me a question. It would be rude to not answer him.”

Connor lifted an eyebrow. Normally, Natalie would agree with her niece.

“Anyway,” Amelia continued, “everyone at church says it's time Pastor Connor thought about getting married.”

Connor cringed.

“And Mom was telling Dad that she wouldn't be surprised if you were out of here in a flash as soon as Grandma is better.”

Natalie's stomach churned. She would be if she had any place to go.

Amelia tipped her face up at Natalie. “We don't want you to leave.”

Her niece's words planted a seed of belonging inside her.

“Mom's getting impossible. She won't even let us wear makeup to school. There's no talking to her.”

The twins were going to be sorely disappointed if they thought she'd be able to sway her older sister, or interfere with Andie and Rob's parenting for that matter.

“We figure, if you stay here, we'll have somebody to talk to. You can give us pointers. You used to have to live with her. She tries to boss you around like she bosses us.”

Connor's mouth twitched. If he lost it, she would, too. An awareness of the church women standing behind them pinched her already jangled nerves. Bursting into laughter was not an appropriate reaction to the situation.

“Answer Pastor Connor's question.”

“All right,” Amelia huffed as if she was really being put upon. “Mom said you and Pastor Connor used to go out before you let him get away.”

Natalie tapped her foot and avoided Connor's gaze.

“If you two could start going out again, maybe you'd want to stick around for a while, and make Aimee and my lives easier. You wouldn't have to get married or anything.”

Natalie and Connor shook their heads in unison.

“Or would you have to?” Amelia blurted before Natalie could say anything. “Our friend Norah lent us one of her mother's romance novels. The vicar had to marry the woman he rescued from a snowstorm because he brought her back to his house, and they were there all day by themselves until his housekeeper came back from her day off.”

Natalie tensed at the muffled laughs behind them.

“No, we don't have to get married,” Connor said, using a tone so stern it left Amelia's mouth hanging open.

While Natalie was appreciative of his support, did his denial have to be quite so strenuous? Her throat clogged. She shouldn't have let down her guard and told him so much.

“Hey, what's going on up here?” Natalie's friend Autumn asked as she and Aimee reached the top step. “We got back from picking up the extra fir boughs and no one was downstairs.”

The hall went silent for a moment before Connor took charge. “Amelia couldn't find Hope. Natalie and I both had the idea she might be in the attic.”

Autumn's gaze moved from Connor and Natalie to the group of women behind them. “Did you find her?” she asked, her voice rising in alarm.