Love in a Fix (11 page)

After opening the top flap of the box, he pulled out a piece of Styrofoam until the hourglass also came out, wedged into the protective material. He removed everything until he held only the gift, free of all packaging.

Lyndsey reached up and brushed away the small pieces of debris, making the description readable.

“Count it all joy, when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.” —James 1:2-3

“Count it all joy,” he said aloud, reciting the first part.

“Powerful words.”

“Will you pray with me?” An overwhelming need to connect with Lyndsey on a spiritual level at this moment pressed upon his heart.

“I’d like that.”

He took her hands as they prayed. “Dear Lord. Thank You for the reminder You’ve given us today to count all things joy in You, for Your plan is greater than any we could imagine. I thank You for Lyndsey and Josh, and for the joy they’ve brought to my life. Bless them and us as a family. In Your name, Amen.”

At two a.m. on Christmas morning, Lyndsey wrapped the final gift and stuck it in the pile with the others to carry downstairs. Appreciation filled her as she looked at the generous stack of gifts. A few months ago she wouldn’t have been able to afford anything more than a dollar store toy for Josh, but thanks to Shep, Josh would have a great Christmas.

She knew Christmas wasn’t about the gifts, but she wanted to give Josh a magical day. Most of her memories from childhood were long faded, but she could still remember vividly all her Christmases from the age of four to eight, before her parents died and she entered the foster care system.

Her parents had loved Christmas, and she carried that memory with her, holding it close to her heart. They’d always gone overboard for Christmas, from decorations to gifts, but Jesus was always at the center of their celebration. In her family, it truly was the most wonderful time of the year, and if she could recreate just a small part of that for Josh, then she would.

Not all the gifts were for Josh, and they were separated into piles. A few were for Shep’s parents, and brother and sister-in-law. A hefty number within that stack were for his nephews. Beside that was another pile for friends at church whom they’d see tomorrow.

In a separate pile to the side were several gifts for Mark’s parents. A present for each of them that she’d picked out, and then a second each from Josh. They were out of town visiting family, but would be back tomorrow. If everything went as planned, Josh would spend the weekend with them, much to their delight. They'd been thrilled when she’d asked them and relieved that she’d kept her word about keeping Josh in their lives.

Shep walked through the door, shivering. “The swing set is all put together, complete with a large red bow tied to the top.”

“Thank you.” She jumped up and hugged him, lending him her warmth. “You didn’t have to construct it tonight, in the dark and cold. We could have shown him the box, and he’d have been happy.”

“Not in this lifetime.” His cold arms wrapped around her waist. “If you were a kid, wouldn’t you be much more excited to see the set ready to use?”

“Of course, but as a parent, I think the frigid air would convince me otherwise.”

His eyes sparkled. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Among other things.” She laughed and pointed to the presents. “All that’s left is to carry these down and we can go to bed. I filled the stockings while you were outside.”

They each grabbed an armful and carried the towering gifts down the steps and arranged them under the tree. It took them three trips to bring down all the stacks.

The scent of fir and cinnamon mingled. Lyndsey stepped back, remembering the laughter they’d shared when they’d made the dough ornaments last week. Her eyes fell on one of Josh’s, and she smiled. He’d been determined to make it into a star on his own without the assistance of a cookie-cutter, and he’d succeeded. Her little boy was growing up.

Shep had made his ornament in the shape of a heart. He hadn’t said anything, but on the rear side, he’d written both of their initials. She only knew because it had fallen off the tree yesterday, and she saw the writing when she picked it off the floor.

Did it mean what she thought or had he done it for no reason? No, it had to mean something because Shep did everything with a purpose. But if it was true, why hadn’t he said anything? Was it because he’d promised that she’d set the pace and he didn’t want to push? Maybe he was afraid she wouldn’t reciprocate.

That day in the attic a few weeks ago changed everything for her. It was right there in front of her the whole time, but she hadn’t wanted to see it.

A conversation from the day Shep proposed nagged her. They’d acknowledged that they didn’t have it in themselves to love someone again. Had they both been wrong?

She’d find out later in the day when she gave him his gift.

***

“Mommy, Mommy, wake up.” Small hands shook Lyndsey.

Her eyes fluttered open to see Josh in his red and green striped Christmas pajamas. “Merry Christmas.”

“Can we go downstairs and see if Santa came? Please?” He jumped on the bed and climbed over her. “Wake up, Daddy. It’s Christmas.”

“Uh huh, Merry Christmas.” He rolled over, tucking the blanket around him, then shot up abruptly. “It is Christmas.”

Lyndsey smiled to herself. It was the quickest she’d ever seen her husband become alert in the morning. Nonetheless, she didn’t want him pressured to get up when they’d had less than four hours of sleep. “I’ll send him back to bed if you want a few minutes to rest a little longer.”

Shep pulled Josh to him. “Who needs sleep when there are presents to open, right buddy?”

“Right.” Josh gave a definitive nod.

“We’ll go downstairs and you can look at the presents, but don’t touch them yet.” She tossed the covers aside and watched Josh race out of the room in an excited sprint.

“Wait up,” Shep called, jumping out of bed then running after him.

Not many men could do justice to the Christmas pajamas he wore that matched Josh’s, but Shep wore them proudly without sacrificing any masculinity. Though she’d been spared the stripes, she donned new red fleece pajamas with snowflakes printed on them. Not only were they cute and comfortable, but Shep and Josh had picked them out together, which made them that much more special.

She hopped out of bed and trod down the stairs. The sight before her melted any ice that remained in her heart.

Shep sat cross-legged in front of the lit tree, and Josh sat in his lap. They would pick up a present, shake it, then look at each and make a guess of the contents. Both of them wore broad smiles.

They appeared blissfully happy in their moment, and she hesitated to break it up. This Christmas was special, a time for bonding between them. Her role could wait.

She went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Then turned on the oven to preheat and grabbed two breakfast casseroles from the fridge. She’d prepared them last night, so all she had to do this morning was remove the foil and pop them in the oven, which she did despite the oven not being finished preheating. She fixed two cups of coffee, and then joined her family.

Josh remained at the tree, eagerly eyeing the presents, but no longer touching them now that Shep had moved away. “Can I open them now?”

“Just another minute.” She set the two cups on the coffee table and went to the tree.

Shep crossed the room after lighting the various candles she’d placed on the mantel and end tables. “I’ll help sort them.”

The task wasn’t hard since they’d laid them out in an organized fashion last night. Less than two minutes later, Josh sat beside his pile on the floor. Lyndsey sat on the middle cushion of the couch with a small stack beside her. Next to her, Shep sat with his gifts at his feet. There was one gift for him not in the mix, which she’d give him later when they were alone.

“Now?” Impatience touched Josh’s voice, causing her and Shep to laugh.

“Yes, but one at a time,” Shep instructed.

She delayed opening her presents, as did Shep, in favor of watching Josh and sipping coffee.

His exuberance brought sunshine into the room, even with the curtains drawn. A squeal of delight for the toy dinosaurs, a bright smile for the building blocks. He didn’t try to tear through them as she’d expected, but stopped to examine each gift as it was revealed.

When he finished, he ran to her, throwing his arms around her then Shep. “Thank you Mommy and Daddy. This is the best Christmas ever!”

His unadulterated gratitude brought proud tears to her eyes. These were the moments when she knew she must be doing something right.

“There’s one more.” Shep stood, then grabbed Josh’s hands.

Lyndsey let Shep lead him to the back door. The swing set was his idea, and she wanted Josh to associate the gift with Shep. She prayed they’d have many father-son moments playing on it.

“You have to close your eyes.” Moving behind him, Shep covered Josh’s eyes and opened the patio door, giving a straight view to the playset. He lifted his hands. “Now you can open them.”

Josh’s eyed spread wide and his mouth gaped. “Is that for me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve always wanted one.” Josh threw his arms around Shep’s legs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Glimmers of love filled Lyndsey. Not a love that strikes like lightning, but the type reminiscent of a first snow that steadily falls until it covers the dead grass of autumn in a tranquil portrait. She closed a fist over her heart, thanking God for giving them this Christmas.

***

Josh fell asleep early on Christmas night, voluntarily going to bed at seven instead of his normal eight o’clock bedtime. He’d spent the morning playing with toys, and in the afternoon, they’d all bundled up after lunch with Shep’s family and ventured outside to the new playset.

Scraps of wrapping paper littered the room, despite their attempts to clean as they went. Lyndsey bent down to pick up another piece and tossed it in the garbage bag.

“Do you plan on staying up a while? If so, I’ll start a fire.” Shep sidled to her, handed her a torn box.

“A fire sounds nice.” Strong hands pressed into her shoulders.

He rubbed circles, soothing her knotted muscles. “Take a break. You’ve been going all day.”

His breath on her neck made it hard to breathe. “There’s not much left to clean up.”

“Then no one will notice if it’s still there.” One hand left her shoulder and reached around to take the bag from her.

She gave up her resistance and went upstairs. Tucked away in her nightstand drawer was Shep’s Christmas present, the one she’d saved for last.
Please let him understand the meaning behind it.
She wanted to tell him the words, let him know she’d fallen in love with him, but every time she practiced her speech, the words never came.

The envelope burned her fingertips. Her heart pounded and legs wobbled as she walked down the steps.

Shep squatted near the brick fireplace, poking the wood and flames. “Nothing like a warm fire on a cold, Christmas night,” he said without turning around.

Passing the couch, she grabbed the fleece throw hanging over the back. “We can sit by it for the full effect. I’ll even mull some cider.”

When Shep turned around, his brows arched with questions. She knew what he thought. Sitting by the fire was a romantic overture, and she never made those. A hint of a smile appeared. “I’ll pass on the cider and take conversation in its place.”

The envelope fell to the floor when she went to spread the blanket. She hurried to pick it up and stuck it in her jeans pocket. While she situated their sitting spot, Shep turned off the overhead lights and plugged the Christmas tree lights in again, along with the lighted garland on the mantle and over the doors. He grabbed the stereo remote and soon the relaxing strains of Christmas jazz added a dreamy aura to the room.

Lyndsey sat on the floor, resting her back against the bricks and extended her legs straight out. Shep’s gift sat to her left.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” he asked, lowering himself to the floor and sitting closely on her right.

“A great one. Possibly the best.”

He rewarded her answer with a smile. “I can’t remember ever having so much fun. There’s nothing like the excitement of a child on Christmas.”

“Did you hear him singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Jesus after dinner? It was so sweet, I was afraid he’d stopped if I moved to get your attention.”

“I did. You’ve done a great job raising him.”

Silence fell between them. The echoes of her heart beating thrummed in her head. If she didn’t give it to him soon, she’d lose her nerve. Her fingers inched to the envelope, hesitating to grasp it. “I have another present for you.”

His gaze focused on her. Seeming to sense that whatever it was would be a big deal, he didn’t offer banalities, or tell her she didn’t need to get him anything else. He simply accepted the offered gift. “Open it now?”

“Yes,” she whispered, shutting her eyes to block his reaction. Anxiousness strung her nerves too taut to accommodate further weight on them.

Her plan backfired. All her remaining senses intensified when she closed her eyes, and they zeroed in on Shep. The fibers of his sweater brushing against her. The woodsy scent clinging to him from the fire. The sound of the envelope flap being opened. She sucked in a deep breath, holding it until he took her hand in his.

“This is a reservation for a stay at Quilted Pines this weekend.” His tone came in halfway between a statement and a question.

She squeezed his hand, unintentionally, and opened her eyes to him. “I thought it could be our honeymoon.”

“Our honeymoon?” His throat bobbed with a forced swallow.

All the words from her planned speech evaporated. “Do you remember the day you proposed, and we discussed all the reasons why we should or shouldn’t get married?”

“Yes.” He drew the single syllable word into two.

“Are those terms subject to change? Can we change our minds about the reasoning?” Contrasting his slow drawl, her words ejected in rapid fire.