Holiday Homecoming (6 page)

There was a cadence to the falling snow, and he, like nature surrounding him, leaned forward, holding his breath to hear it. Feel it. The reverence of the hills, as if relaxing to accept their mantle of snow. The mountains rising like awed worshipers, their faces lost in the mist and clouds.

Everywhere, the land felt at peace, as if at prayer, and Ryan had felt it, too. The stroke of God's hand in everything, and then Dad's low baritone, rumbling low out of respect for the Maker, as he leaned close.

“I've always thought that heaven would feel like this, solemn and awesome and so beautiful it makes your eyes water to look at it.”

Ryan cleared his throat, looking away, setting the half-empty soda can on the edge of the counter. Too many emotions. He'd worked most of his life not to remember. Not to feel. Like ice cracking beneath the snow, pain splintered inside his chest.

“Oh, that was Alice.” Mom set down the cordless handset he hadn't noticed she'd even picked up. “She loved my recipe for cranberry jelly. She said it was much better than the recipe she'd used last year. It was the hit of their Thanksgiving dinner.”

“We had a bet going. I told her if she didn't just love it, then I'd treat her to lunch. It's a new recipe I found in one of those fancy cooking magazines, and oh, it's a winner.” Mom beamed with a steady happiness as she
brushed lustrous strands of hair out of her eyes. “Oh, it's so
good
to see you standing in my kitchen.”

“It's kinda good to be here, too.” Okay, here it came. The mushy part. He braced himself. He wasn't one to let his defenses down. He opened his arms and let her walk into them. Let her squeeze him in a bear hug. Warmth glowed inside him, melting away the pain. But love came with its own pain.

“I love my little mom,” he said to make her laugh.

She stepped away to look up at him. “How did my little boy get to be so big?”

“Remember those vitamins you made me eat with breakfast every morning? They worked.”

“I see that.” Tears gleamed in her eyes, eyes that were wise and kind and a beautiful hazel-green. In them, he saw her pleasure at having him home, and noticed something else. No more shadows. She was finally at peace.

She'd worked so hard for them. For him.

Time looped back on itself, in the fluid way of memories, and he saw the kitchen of his youth. The yellowed linoleum floors and the ancient cabinet doors that wouldn't stay shut but would swing open whenever the mood suited them. The red countertop worn white in places from several decades of wipe downs and dripping dishes drying in a rack beneath the window. Mom, hollow-eyed with exhaustion as she worked, humming away to make their meager Thanksgiving Day meal a feast.

It wasn't the poverty that had ever bothered him. It
wasn't the odd jobs he worked for the neighbors to bring in cash to help out, before he'd been old enough to be hired on at the grocery. None of that really mattered. It was the deep yearning for his dad.

If only he could have one more day. Just one more day of wading through the knee-deep snow and listening to the music of snowfall alongside the man who'd always been so tall, seemed so big and strong and everything good in a man. Invincible.

I miss you, Dad.

The ice shards in his chest seemed to splinter into more sharp blades stabbing into his heart. If he let it, it was a pain that could drown him until there was nothing else. He fought it by shutting off his feelings.

“My, it gives me a start to see you standing there.” Mom had turned from checking on the progress of something on the stove, one hand clutching the neck of her shirt. “You look so much like him. Like your father. It's takes me back to when he was alive and standing in my kitchen. Right there at the window, like you are now…”

Don't go there, Mom.
The thought blared in his mind, but he didn't dare open his mouth to speak. He couldn't take any more memories.

“…with shoulders so broad and strong, I felt as if he could handle anything. That nothing would ever hurt me as long as he was there.” Mom's words resounded with true love, like a candlelight hymn, but they bore wounds in his heart as surely as if they'd been bullets blasting into his flesh.

He turned away, thinking of last night's blizzard and how it had shrouded him from the rest of the world. He made himself like that, steeling the walls of his heart.

Mom kept talking, but he wouldn't listen. He just couldn't let her in. He was like a drowning man going down for the last time. Feeling the icy waters welling up from within, he prayed for relief.

As if the angels heard and took pity on him, his cell chirped. His E.R. doc buddy Tim's number flashed on the phone's small screen. You'd better have good news, man, Ryan thought. Because right now he couldn't take any more bad news.

K
ristin entered the post-Thanksgiving dinner calm of the unoccupied dining room, slid the Monopoly box onto the table and sank into a cushioned chair. Yawning from too much turkey, she could put her feet up and sneak in a nap—yeah, as if her sisters were going to let her get away with that.

She could hear their voices throughout the house. Karen and Kirby in the kitchen talking about the family's beloved pony, Honeybear, which they'd all learned to ride on and now was teaching a second generation of McKaslin girls. Their laughter rose higher and fell below the hum of the dishwasher and the clink of pots as they put the last of the hand-washed dishes away.

Kendra, who kept the pony at her riding stable, chimed in with a comment Kristin couldn't quite make out as the roar of the football game in the living room rose into a frenzied crescendo. It wouldn't feel like a holiday without Dad glued to the big-screen TV he'd splurged on and his muttering commentary on the ref
eree's call was a sound she'd heard every game day since she was little.

It was good to know some things would never change. That's what got her through the sadness of sitting at this table where Gramma occupied Allison's chair, which had remained empty for years. With the leaves in the center, the table stretched to nearly fill the entire room. There were so many of them with the additions to their family—her sisters' husbands and kids. It was a good thing she'd decided not to ever get married. Because there would be no room for another man at the table!

Oh, it's good to be home.
Kristin breathed deep, and the warm scents of this day soothed her. The spicy goodness of Gramma's pumpkin pie warming in the oven. The vanilla candles she'd gotten Mom last Christmas burning with a cheery brightness in the corner by the window. The steady comfort of brewing coffee seasoning the air.

She rubbed at the tension in the back of her neck. Wow, her muscles were knotted up good. It was always this way. Allison's loss was like a layer of ice over a cold pond of grief. No matter how many layers of snow covered it, no matter how hard her family tried to reach for that contented wholeness that used to exist, the ice was there. The loss. There was no solid place to stand on.

Youngest sister, Michelle, glowing in the second trimester of pregnancy, padded out from the kitchen with a bowl of rippled potato chips and stacked covered
bowls of different flavors of homemade dip. She unloaded them on the table. “There's no place like home, is there?”

“Nope. It's good to be back.”

“This house used to be so lonely. You know…after Allison.” Michelle peeled back the plastic wrap from the first bowl of dip. “But not anymore. Good changes, don't you think?”

It was the same—the house, the sense of family and the feeling of home. But time had changed the details, added texture. Little kids ran around the living room, now scattered with colorful plastic toys. A baby drowsed in her swing, her blond curls glistening.

Kristin leaned just enough to see through the archway into the living room. The back of Dad's head, his hair thinning and graying, was visible over the back of the couch. But he wasn't alone. Gramma's new husband, Willard, had claimed the recliner. Michelle's and Kendra's husbands flanked Dad on either side. Karen's and Kirby's husbands took up the sectional in the corner.

It was weird to think all her sisters had married. Were wives and mothers.

And mothers-to-be.

“You have another good change coming.” Kristin nodded toward Michelle's thickening waist.

“I know! Gabe and I weren't planning a second child so soon, but, oops!” Michelle stole a chip from the heaping bowl and crunched on it. “During the ultra-sound, we accidentally found out if we're having a boy
or a girl. No, I'm not going to tell you. It'll, like, ruin the surprise for everyone else.”

“How am I going to know what color stuff to buy for your shower?”

“Ooh, and you buy good stuff, too. You're the only sister I have with any fashion sense at all. If I give you a hint, then it's not like really telling.”

“Exactly. I'm a great secret keeper. You know that.”

Michelle pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and stole another chip. “Let's just say I'm not going to be able to use Emily's baby things for this little one. I'm going to need all new stuff.”

That could only mean one thing. A little nephew was on the way. “Michelle. Lucky you. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I am pretty lucky.”

There was no mistaking her happiness. Now. But what about down the road?

Troubled, Kristin grabbed a bowl and flicked off the plastic wrap. “Hmm, French onion. Gramma's secret recipe. I'm glad some things never change.”

“The best stuff just keeps getting better, don't you think?”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” For all her sadness, there was gratitude, too, for the blessings surrounding her. Home and family, health and hope. Everything good in her life was because she'd grown up here, because of the people in this house.

Michelle lifted the tattered lid of their old Monopoly box. “Kirby and Karen are planning on rounding up the
kids and bedding them down in my old room. Once everyone's napping, we'll get started. Sound like a plan?”

“A good one. Are the husbands going to join us, or will it be just us girls?”

“Hmm. Let me think.” Michelle turned to study the strapping men clustered around the television, leaning forward, attention one hundred percent on the game. The big screen showed the quarterback passing the ball to a wide receiver, and the men leaped to their feet, shouting and cheering.

The baby woke up and sniffled.

“Hmm, I don't think we should let dudes who act like that near us,” Michelle decided with a twinkle as she went to rescue her little one in the swing.

“Good decision.”

Kristin considered her brothers-in-law. They all seemed like good men. She hardly knew them, having spent bits and pieces of time with them through her visits home. What mattered to her was how those men treated her sisters. As long as her sisters were happy, then she liked her brothers-in-law just fine.

But marriage was marriage—inevitably love faded, problems and hardship broke the best of relationships. Diminished the greatest romance. Men let women down; yeah, she got that. That's why she was way too smart to ever get married. To put that much trust in anyone. Sisters were one thing. They had bonds that would never break.

But romantic love was a whole different story—
that
kind of love was like a fragile bloom on the hard Montana plains. Short-lived and quick to wither in the bitter north winds.

A movement caught her eye. A man's broad-shouldered shadow fell across the snow in front of the picture window. That profile sure looked familiar. The doorbell rang, although it was hard to hear above the noise of the cranked-up TV and the men shouting like the crazed fans they were in the living room. She alone seemed to notice the visitor's silhouette against the etched glass in the door.

Kristin yanked open the door, glad to see Ryan Sanders blocking the porch light, snow glistening in his dark hair. “Hey, what are you doing here? You clean up real nice.”

“Right. Oh, I shaved.” He ran one hand along his square jaw. “I bring good news and the fudge my mom promised your mom but didn't get a chance to drop by. She said since I was coming over, I'd better not come empty-handed. I need something to bribe my way through the door.”

“We don't let your kind in otherwise.”

When he laughed, dimples framed his smile. He had a great smile, the kind that lit him up from within. And it made Kristin feel bright inside, too. She took the offered tin, topped with an amber-and-orange ribbon.

She breathed in the fudgy aroma. “Hmm, my mouth is already watering. Your mom makes the best fudge in three states. Did you want to come in? Or are you just dropping this by? Did you hear about Samantha?”

“I did. God must have heard your prayers because Tim told me they took a bone spur out of her neck, between C2 and C3 vertebrae. The bone didn't penetrate her spinal cord, and except for a little swelling against the nerve roots, she's fine.”

“And does that mean she's going to be all right?”

“Yeah. They pinned a broken bone in her lower right leg, turned out to be a fracture, but other than that, she's fine. Considering the cold, it could have been a lot worse. It's a good thing we came along when we did.”

It was no coincidence. The certainty of it steadied her. The long events of the last night had happened for a reason. What if Ryan hadn't flown into Seattle for his job interview? Then he would never have been on the flight that was diverted to Boise. And if not for the storm, then he wouldn't have been anywhere near the lonely stretch of road where Samantha Fields had crashed. As the Good Lord would have it, Ryan, a doctor, was there to help when he was needed. He made a true difference in the world.

“Is that football?” Ryan leaned past her to sneak a look at the game in full-color glory on the wide screen. “Man, look at that TV.”

“It's Dad's pride and joy. Don't tell me you like football.”

“Like it? It's only like the most important thing in the world.” He rolled his eyes, which sparkled with humor. “How could you not know that?”

“My mistake. Sorry. Football ranks right above world peace. I should have known. You're welcome to come inside and watch the game.”

“Thanks. Ooh, a fumble!” Ryan's groan matched the series of painful noises rising up in the living room.

“Come in. Stay. There's probably room for you on the floor in the corner. We won't charge you admission
this
time, since you're a friend of the family and all.”

“Kristin, you're fabulous. You know that, right? It's been killin' me not being able to see this game. Mom's satellite is out.” He took a step forward, enough to see the replay of his team's fumble. “That's killin' me, too.”

“Take off your coat before you go gawk at the TV.” She held out her hand.

But Ryan, all his attention focused on the game, shrugged out of his black leather jacket and went to snag it on the coat tree all by himself—and missed. He got it on the second try.

Kristin closed the door against the gentle drift of snow. What was it about men and football? “Do you want something to drink? We've got soda, coffee or juice.”

“Soda, if it's not too much trouble.” He flashed her a wink, friendly and easy, not flirty at all.

Then why did her toes tingle? That was certainly the wrong response. She was not interested in him at all.
Not in the slightest.
So, why wouldn't her toes stop tingling as she sashayed into the kitchen, slid the fudge on the counter and plundered a can of cola from the crowded fridge.

Mom looked up from the corner table where she was sitting with Gramma and doing needlework. She looked far too, well, innocent. As if she was incredibly
surprised by the simple tin on the counter. “Goodness! Is that Mary's fudge? Why, was that her at the door?”

“No, her son is in our living room right now.” Kristin didn't have to turn around. She already knew what Mom was going to say next. “Yeah, I know he's a doctor and I know he's an eligible bachelor. But I'm not
interested
.” She enunciated very clearly so Mom couldn't misunderstand.

Her mother was clearly plotting. There was no way she was going to believe that Ryan just
happened
to come over today, of all days, when the two of them had driven up together in the same car. No, Mom had been on the phone with Mary earlier. “You're not going to fool me, Mother dear. I know Mary sent him over and the two of you are hoping we'll fall madly in love and get married.”

“Married? Why, of course not. What ever gave you that idea?”

Kirby looked up from counting out the good dessert plates from the china cabinet. “Gee, I wonder. Maybe I heard you tell Mary it was a sign from above, the two of them bumping into each other at the airport. Then you suggested that Mary send her son over today, so the kids could get better acquainted.”

“Why, we were talking about the fudge. Surely you misunderstood.” But Mom looked way too pleased with herself. “But since you brought up the subject, then yes. What Kristin needs is to find a nice doctor like Ryan.”

“Mom!” Kristin groaned.

“Mom!” Karen protested.

“Mother!” Kirby chimed in a lighthearted reprimand. “Let Kristin find her own man. I have perfect faith she'll find the right one.”

“Thanks.” How she loved her sisters. There was nothing like solidarity. “Maybe I don't want a nice doctor.”

“Yeah, Mom, maybe Kristin wants a mean doctor.” Kendra spoke up from slicing pie at the counter.

“Any old doctor will do,” Kristin added, kidding.

“Yeah,” oldest sister Karen agreed as she uncapped a pitcher of Gramma's lemon-lime punch. “We wouldn't want our dear Kristin to take her time and find a loving and strong man. No, we want her to take any old guy who comes along. So what if he's mean? Or lazy? Or can't keep a job?”

“Yeah, Mom.” Michelle tugged out clean forks and knives from the silent dishwasher. “Kristin would be married.
That's
what matters. So what if it's to the wrong guy. It isn't the guy that's important. It's the wedding ring. Right?”

“Oh, you girls!” Mom chuckled as she pulled her embroidery thread tight. “All right, you win. I'll stop.”

“Stop?” Kristin wasn't fooled. “No, you'll never stop. You'll just cease to harp on my getting married for about two minutes.
Maybe.
”

“Two minutes?” Karen piled a thick wedge of pie on a dessert plate. “Do you think Mom can hold out that long? I say a minute and a half.”

“One minute.” Gramma set down her crocheting and held up her wrist to stare at her gold watch.