Holiday Homecoming (15 page)

“You do too much, and you keep everything inside. Just like me.” Kristin took the bowl from her mom and glanced over to check on Emily, who'd helped herself to a handful of M&M's and was eating them one at a time by color. She handed the bottle of antacid to her mother. “Take a few, and then let me make you a cup of tea. You rest, I'll finish up here.”

“What about Emily?”

“She can help me, right, Emily?”

Emily's mouth was too full of chocolate to answer, but she looked agreeable enough.

“See? We're more than capable.” Kristin's stomach took a tumble. Mom was really pale. And the bruised circles beneath her eyes told of her stress. While she'd refused to talk about what happened in Hawaii and what happened between her and Dad since, she clearly wasn't sleeping well.

“Go upstairs, that's an order. I'll bring you up a cup of tea as soon as it's ready.”

“But the potato salad—”

“I'll follow the recipe. I have a college degree. I know how to read.” Gently, she kissed her mom's ashen cheek. “Please.”

A knock thundered at the back door.

“Who'z it?” Emily hopped off the chair.

“I'll get Emily
and
answer the door. Sit down.” Kristin knew who was standing on the other side of the door. Even if she couldn't see him through the glass panes, she could feel his presence and his determination.

The little girl stood on tiptoe, using both hands, but she wasn't quite tall enough to turn the knob. With one swoop, Kristin hefted the toddler onto her hip and opened the door.

He stood there, as dark as the night, soaking wet. “We have to talk. I want to finish this. I need to.”

“Now's not a good time.” She glanced at her mom, who had sunk into one of the breakfast bar chairs. Her head was in her hands. “Mom?”

“Oh, I'm just not feeling well. I'm tired, that's all.” Mom's voice came thin and breathy. A few beads of sweat clung above her upper lip. “I just, oh, need to go lie down, I guess.”

“What is it, Mrs. McKaslin?” Ryan was at her side in a second, his jaw tense, his gaze concerned. “Been working too hard, huh? What seems to be the trouble?”

“Upset stomach. I took some of these tablets my doctor recommended.”

“How long ago?” Ryan sounded casual, calm.

He wasn't. Kristin could feel his tension. She closed the door, afraid to move as Ryan gently took Mom's hand in his and felt her wrist. Waited as he timed her pulse.

“Any dizziness? Does your jaw hurt? Or your neck?”

“My neck. It's nothing, just my stomach, you know how pain travels.”

“Yes, I do. Kristin, get me a bottle of aspirin, would you? And call for an ambulance.” He could have been asking for a cup of tea, he didn't seem alarmed at all. But when his gaze met hers, she knew that he was.

Something was wrong with her mother. Keeping a tight hold on Emily, she rummaged through the cupboard, knocking aside vitamin containers until she found the aspirin. She tossed it across the counter to him, reached for the phone and hit the numbers without thinking. As she anxiously waited for the county dispatch to pick up, it seemed to be an eternity between the first ring and the second.

“Just lie right here on the floor, that's right.”

“Goodness, there's just nothing wrong that a good night's sleep won't cure.” Mom argued, even as Ryan helped her to the floor. “Oh, I
do
feel weak.”

“That's because you're probably having a mild heart attack. At the very least an angina attack. Just relax. I'm here. I'll take care of you.”

“What a good man you grew up to be,” Mom said shakily as she placed her hand on Ryan's big capable one. “It's my stomach. There's no need to fuss.”

“Just humor me.” Ryan's kindness shone like a rare light.

“Hello—9-1-1. What is your emergency, please?” came a woman's capable voice across the line.

It was a blur, time taking on a strange slowness as she verified the address, and held the line as Ryan held
Mom's wrist, keeping track of her pulse, keeping her calm. Ready and vigilant.

Where was Dad? Why wasn't he in the house at this time of the evening? Kristin couldn't hang up to try the outside shop or barn lines. She could only wait until the ambulance arrived and the medics poured into the house, with their equipment and their gurney and their squawking radios. Emily started to cry at the noise, and trying to comfort her, Kristin made a few quick calls. No answer. Where was he? What if Mom…
died?

No, she couldn't think about that. Or how pale and weak Mom looked, surrounded by men and monitors as they rushed her out of the house and into the night. Lights flashed, cutting through the rain as the firemen and paramedics took her mom away.

Praying as she went, Kristin turned off the ovens, grabbed the car keys and Emily's diaper bag. She was shaking so hard, she couldn't get Emily's coat zipped, so she left it, huddling the little girl against her for warmth.

Her sisters. She had to call her sisters. Trembling, she took a steady breath, wiped the rain out of her face, and saw Ryan. He was in the back of the ambulance, his gaze like a force that drew her.

Without a word, she
knew
. She could count on him to do his best for her mom. She knew, too, as lightning raced across the sky, that she wasn't alone. God was watching over all of them on this dark, hopeless night.

Easter Sunday

The McKaslin family gathered in the ICU waiting area. Ryan wasn't surprised to see everyone there but Kirby, who'd stayed behind to keep watch over the children. Only the adults were there—the sisters and their husbands, the grandmother and grandfather, in various states of dress. Those who had been pulled out of their beds wore pajamas underneath their coats.

The oldest sister, Karen, still wearing the fuzzy slippers she'd received Kristin's call in, spotted him first. She clung to her husband's steadying hand, fear stark on her face.

Kristin, holding a sleeping Emily, rose quietly, careful not to waken the child in her arms. It was a sweet sight. Ryan's hopes warmed. Yeah, he had hope. Because there was only one outcome to this. And he was going to do whatever it took to make it right between him and Kristin.

“We haven't heard anything.” She kept her voice a low whisper. “No one's said anything. Dad is trying to get some answers, but he's not back yet.”

“I saw him. He's talking to the doctor, who should be out to talk to you all shortly. She's all right.”

Relief shuddered through her. He felt it, just as he could feel her pain. And her love. “It's because of you. You were there. You knew what to do.”

“I'm handy to have around. I was hoping you might have noticed that by now.” Gently, because now wasn't the time, he ran his hand over her hair. He'd never seen
her look so disheveled. Her hair was tangled and had dried however the wind had last left it. Her mascara was smeared away and her eyes were red from tears.

He'd never loved her more.

“Just relax, okay?” He inched close enough to rest her cheek on his chest, loving the way she leaned against him.

It was sweet, holding her. And Emily, too, sleeping so soundly. He just opened his heart to the moment. To Kristin. And he felt the love inside, intense and brilliant and overwhelming.

Love of a brighter hue than he'd ever imagined. So radiant, his soul ached with the power of it.

As if she felt it, too, her fingers curled into his shirt. She held on to him as if she never wanted to let go.

E
very minute that had passed since she'd pushed away from Ryan's arms was torture. And it had only worsened after Zach offered to take Emily with him to drop her off with Kirby who was watching all the children. At least when she'd had Emily to hold, she had someone to think about besides Ryan. But the little girl was probably tucked in for the rest of the night, and Kristin wished she could feel as safe and insulated.

Mom's condition could worsen. She could die. And then what? Just thinking of that possibility for half of a nanosecond brought suffocating black pain that made it hard to breathe. Would she lose Mom, too?

Sitting on the edge of the hard plastic chair, Kristin swiped the wetness from her eyes.
No, don't even think like that. Mom is going to make it.
She'd had a mild heart attack, and the doctor who'd been treating her came out to assure them she was stable. They were very pleased how well she'd responded to their treatment.

What if their prayers and the doctors' care weren't
enough? What if she had another attack? A thousand horrible possibilities flashed through her mind. Frightening scenarios. She
so
wanted to slide into the vacant chair next to Ryan, lean her head on his shoulder and soak in the comfort of his strong arms tightening around her. Shivering with panic, she couldn't sit still for another minute. She was terrified a doctor was going to come around the corner and tell them that Mom was gone.

She darted past Ryan and kept on going. She could feel his questions—why was she going, where was she going, why hadn't she turned to him? Although his gaze was like a magnet pulling her back, she didn't stop until she was safely around the corner and out of his sight. Then she slumped against the wall, the faint beep of monitors echoing down the sterile corridor.

Had Ryan felt the same shifting in his soul when they kissed? The same harmony when he held her? The link between their souls? She wanted to stay in his arms forever. With everything inside her, she fought to stay where she was instead of running around the corner to him. To know the sweet perfection of holding him.

She'd done it once. Twice would be too scary to think about.

A prickle of awareness flitted through her, and she heard the pad of his boots coming closer. He was coming after her. She was way too vulnerable, her every nerve exposed. Panic had her zooming down the hall before he could find her. Afraid because she yearned for this man with all the deepest parts of her soul.

She whipped around a second corner, knowing all
she'd done was buy herself time. She had to deal with wonderful, tender, incredible Ryan. There could never be a future for them. No way—

She skidded to a halt on the tile floor. The sight of a lone man sitting on a chair jerked her out of her thoughts. He sat with his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands, his fingers anxiously combing through military-short graying hair. The man looked so grief-stricken as he lifted his head to swipe at his eyes. Tears stained his cheeks. Blind in his sorrow, he lowered his face again. He was wearing a flannel blue-plaid shirt and old jeans with a rip at the hem.

“Dad?” Fear racked through her. Shaking, she made her wooden, quaking legs carry her to the man's side.

The man who looked so alone. When he looked up at her, there was no light in his blue eyes. There were only the shadows and dull darkness of a man who had lost everything.

Mom's dead.
That was the only thing that would make Daddy look like that. Kristin knew, sinking to the floor, remembering the last time she'd seen him like this when Allison died.

Had they lost Mom, too? The tile was cold, the overhead fluorescent lighting a bright surreal shine that blurred as tears roared upward with the pain of complete loss.

“Oh, Kris.” Dad's deep voice broke. “They said I should g-go on in and sit with her. She needs me to c-comfort her.”

Comfort her? Hot tears scorched her throat and
burned her eyes as relief took the last of her strength. Mom was alive. She was okay.
Thank you, Lord.
She still had her mother.

But not her father. Her dad was breaking apart. Pinching the bridge of his nose to hold back the wetness pooling in his eyes.

“I can't go in there.” Dad's mouth trembled. Fighting to hold everything in. “I thought when I buried Allison, that's it. I just can't take any more. It killed me, I tell you. It killed your mother, too. She kept trying to hold on to me, and I just kept moving back. I know she needed me, you girls needed me. But I loved you all so much. I couldn't take any more.”

“Oh, Daddy.” Kristin's heart broke although it was in pieces already. She gazed at her quiet father who'd felt so deeply but had kept it bottled up inside for so long.

“I don't think I thought it all out, but I know this for sure. I couldn't take another loss like that. The Good Lord had his reasons for taking Allison home. She was so good and pure, like every one of our girls. Why wouldn't He love her so much, He wanted her with Him? But I was just a dead man walkin'. Walkin' and workin', and barely gettin' by. And I thought, this is what comes from loving. So I guess I just stepped away. Figured it was the best way.”

“I understand, Dad.”

“I thought you would. You're like me in a lot of ways, Krissie. But listen to me. I'm sitting here choking on my own sorrow. I kept safe, that's what I did, and
the grief is just the same. Only this time around, I see the truth. I've got nothing but regret. All that time I wasted. For the years I could have loved that woman and was too darn afraid. Now, all I've got is the same killing grief and no love in between.”

“Oh, Dad.” Kristin laid her hand on his. He was cold and trembling, his pain etched deeply on his face. “Just go in and sit with her.”

Dad struggled to blink back his tears. “It didn't stop me from this hurtin'. I didn't wind up loving that woman any less. But it did stop me from living life with her.

“Don't make my mistake, baby girl. That man there—” Dad nodded toward the end of the hallway. “He's come with his love to offer you. You can't stop life from happening, it happens just the same. But take what care you can with these fragile blessings God has given you. Love with all your heart. It's all there is. It's everything that matters.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Kristin wrapped her arms around her middle. The knot of tears wedged in her throat broke apart. She hung her head as her father stood and walked away. But he was really walking toward something. To Mom. To life. To true love.

Kristin closed her eyes. Laid her face in her hands. Every part of her hurt. Daddy was right. She knew he was. But how could she risk it? There was so much to lose

So much to have, if she could reach out.

Ryan.
She felt him draw nearer, for her soul turned
like a season, like the ice of winter cracking away to expose the tender new earth beneath.

Her tender, fragile heart ached from the brightness, but she turned toward the light, toward Ryan's love. He came to her and gathered her to his chest. It was like coming home to stay forever after a painful eternity spent in the cold. What would it be like to be held by him forever?

“He's a wise man, your father.” Ryan's lips brushed her forehead. “I think you should take his advice.”

“And love you with my whole heart?”

“As I will love you for the rest of my life. And beyond.” His kiss was perfection. A promise of commitment and honor and quiet evenings spent beside him. Of love through good times and hardship. “You are my everything. That's what this is between us, this bond, this down-to-the-soul love. Will you marry me?”

It was there, his endless love for her, in his eyes, in his touch, in his dreams. She lost her heart. It was gone. No longer hers. “Yes, I want to marry you. I love you so much.”

When he claimed her lips with his, she saw the fragile blessings yet to come. She saw their future. Their God-given love was like the joy of a warm spring day. Ever blooming and ever precious. Strong enough for this life and ever after.

“C'mon. Let's go check on your mom.” Ryan helped her stand, wiping her tears with this thumb.

They walked away hand in hand.