The Christmas Sisters (21 page)

“Uh-huh. That's what makes it so special. When everyone gives a little of themselves, we can build something bigger and better than it would be if we all kept our blessings to ourselves.” He searched her face. “Do you...do you understand that?”

“Is it like when Aunt Collier is cooking and Aunt
Petie
and my mommy come in and add things and change stuff so it tastes better than if Aunt Collier did it all by herself?”

“That's it.” Poor Collier, even the little one didn't let her questionable cooking skills slide. Still he'd noticed no one offered to take the job from her, only to try to improve her work with the little help they chose to offer. Suddenly, Sam felt a great empathy for the youngest Dorsey sister. “You know, though, maybe we had better take a few extra ornaments, just in case someone shows up without any. What do you think about that? About giving a little more than what's expected to help make this the best tree ever?”

“That's a good idea.” From the corner of his eyes he saw Nic come into the room.

“It applies to more than just decking the halls, you know. “ He set the CDs aside and looked at Nic. “When everyone brings their own unique gifts and gives more than they have to, that's when amazing things start to happen.”

She fixed her attention on her daughter. “That's nice in theory but it doesn't always work that way. And some things are just too precious to take any chances with.”

“Are you still talking about Christmas ornaments?” Willa's nose wrinkled.

Sam smiled.

Nic tugged at her sweater.
“Willa, honey, why don't you run upstairs to see if Aunt
Petie
and Aunt Collier will be ready to go over to the church soon?”

“Okay, Mommy. Then can I pick out some extra ornaments to take with us for people who don't have any?”

“Sure, but for now get scooting and don't come back down before your aunts are ready to leave, okay?”

Willa hopped up and ran for the back stairway.

Sam watched the child disappear before he turned to Nic and asked, “Why'd you do that? Why send her off like that?”

“Because I've always taught her to be respectful of her elders.”
Nic folded her arms.

Sam knew she thought that made her look in charge and immovable but honestly, seeing her like that made him want to do whatever he could to melt her icy exterior. He reigned in a grin. “Willa was a perfect little lady with me.”

“Not her. Me.” Her expression went serious. She tipped her head to the right. Waves of glossy brown hair to cascaded to one side. “Children learn by example and I don't want to set a bad one for my child.”

The flicker and flash of the Christmas tree lights that Willa insisted be plugged created twinkles of color on the faded walls and rug around them. The late afternoon light from the window shone in on Nic’s face. It showed both how much she had changed in these past nine years and how little. Her face was prettier, if that were possible, but her eyes more wary and searching. Her lips, however, were just as kissable as they ever were.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he said with a chuckle, trying to focus on what Nic wanted to say to him more than what he wanted to do with her. “What’s bothering you now?”

“I know what you're trying to do, Sam.
You and my sisters and my aunts, the lot of you.”

“Hey, don't lump me in with that group!” He laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Suppose you just tell me straight out what you're all geared up about?”

She glared at him. “Geared up? “

“At least I didn't say 'calm down.'“

“Sometimes it's what you don't say that says it all.”

Sam strained to make that compute.

“You think I don't feel the pressure around this house?
Spoken and unspoken?”

“Pressure?
About what?”

“About Willa.”
Her whole face seemed dark, almost threatening but with a hint of some other emotion struggling beneath the surface to show itself.

He stepped back, physically and emotionally giving her some room as he said in all honesty, “Nic, I have no idea what you mean.”

Her gaze fixed on his for a moment then shifted away. She clenched her jaw, sighed and finally hung her head in what looked like resignation. “I’m sorry… I… I guess it's on my mind so much that I see it everywhere.”

“What, Nic? You can tell me. I'll listen. I want to listen.” He held his hand out to her. “No pressure, I promise.”

She chewed her lower lip, shut her eyes,
then
opened them again. She did not take his hand, but gave a wave as if to dismiss her reaction. “It's all tied in to selling the house and what I want to do for Willa.”

“I see.” He moved around and sat on the edge of the sofa, motioning for her to sit in the chair across the coffee table from him.

“I want to give her every opportunity possible.” She looked at the empty seat.

“Of course.”

“And I can't afford to lose valuable time again if she's in the wrong place and not getting every bit of help she deserves.”

“What do you mean, not lose valuable time
again
?”

The tension in Nic’s face was unmistakable.
The set of her mouth, the crinkle between her brows.
Despite the bright dots of color cast by the tree lights and the warmth of the sun, her face seemed gray with worry.

Sam sighed. “I have no right to ask you to trust me. No reason to think you should. But clearly there is a lot going on concerning Willa and what your family expects you to do. Don't you think talking about it with an impartial third party would do you good?”

She gripped the back of the chair until her knuckles lost all color.

Again, he motioned for her to sit across from him.

Finally her shoulders fell forward slightly. She looked down, rubbed her nose then moved around practically to crumple into the seat. “I wish you had been around when Willa was born.”

He nodded, wishing he had some insightful remark to make to that.

“I mean, I wish I'd had an advisor. Like you
said,
an impartial ear to hear my side and weigh the information that was being metered out over the next few years by people who did not have my, or her, best interests at heart.”

He leaned forward, folding his hands together. He wanted to tell her he wished the same thing but feared it might stop the flow of her outpouring.

“When she was born I can't tell you how much I needed that.” She looked away and said nothing for a few seconds.

“What about your family?”

She still did not look at him. “Can you just picture how impartial they were?
Under those circumstances?”

“No.” He took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped out in faith that she wouldn't close up or run away when he reminded her, “Because I don't even know what the circumstances were.”

“That's right,” she murmured. “You don't.”

He waited for her to say more. He had promised no pressure, after all.

Finally she sat back and sighed. “Let's just say I needed someone who could look at the big picture without making a big deal of everything. I needed someone to be on my side.”

No pressure
. Still, he had one question he could not keep from asking. “What about Willa's father? Wasn't he on your side?”

“Nobody seemed to be on my side back then.” She still didn't look at him as she spoke. “Later I could see that my family really was, but so much had happened by then that it shook my faith in people, even people I should have never doubted.”

Again she had avoided the subject of Willa's father. It did not sit well with Sam. It raised questions and left in him a sense of vague frustration and dissatisfaction. He regretted the promise of no pressure more than ever. And more than ever he knew if he broke his word to her now, he might never get her to lower her defenses to him again. “Nic, I'm having a hard time following this. What does all this have to do with selling the house and what I said about everyone working together to build something better?”

“Because that's what my aunts and sisters think I should do for Willa. That's their oversimplified view of what's best for her and, I suppose, for me, too. They think I should rely on the support of my family more to care for her.”

“That doesn't sound all that far-fetched or unreasonable of a plan to me.”

“But it's not the plan I laid out for her. I've found a school that says it can offer the best education and opportunity for a child with her disabilities. And they even have a scholarship program that they will offer her to discount her tuition.”

“Sounds promising.”

“But even with the scholarships, it's expensive.”

“That's why you want to sell the house so desperately.”

“I have to get her out of the school she's in now. The system is overburdened, and the teachers—God bless them—they do their best, but they can't do what the residential program says it can do.” She pushed her hair back. She rubbed her palms together. She looked toward the low branches of the Christmas tree. “This new place just might be the thing to give her the grounding she needs to make a future for herself.”

Sam followed her line of vision to the small, carved snowbird. He clenched his jaw, shut his eyes,
then
took a breath. “Is this school the
only
way for her to get that grounding?”

“Don't you start with
me.
” She pushed up from her chair.

“I'm only asking.” He stood too. “Not judging, Nic.”

She went over to the box of ornaments they'd already selected for the community trimming and started picking through them.

He waited for her to say more and when she didn’t, he asked, “So why is your family against the new school? Is it the money?”

“No. They'd do whatever they had to do to help with that, I'm sure.”

“I guess agreeing to sell the house they grew up in and kept in the family for so long proves that.”

“Yeah.”
She looked around the room like she was already saying good-bye bit by bit to her cherished surroundings. Sadness gave her beautiful face a heart-touching quality that only deepened as she touched a glittery red bow on a white package and whispered, “They don't want me to send her away. That's what makes it hardest for them.”

“Send her away?
To live at the school?”

Nic nodded. The movement sent a single tear streaming down her cheek. “It's the best of all the programs I could find for her.”

I
could find for her. She hit the pronoun so hard it was like striking a discordant note in a long familiar tune. What
she
could find for her daughter.
Her
experience of distrust for others regarding Willa's birth.
The very words that touched this discussion off about people working together to make things better. It all began to fit and make sense to Sam. She still did not dare trust others when it came to Willa. But she wanted
to,
he could hear it in her voice and see it in the way she wavered in the discussion. She wanted to trust others to help but she just wasn't ready.

Until she was ready, Sam realized, her reluctance would make it virtually impossible for him to do much more than listen, wait, and pray.

“Aunt
Petie
and Aunt Collier say there is a whole box of ornaments in the back bedroom that would be fine for the outdoor tree.” Willa dashed in the room as though her heels had caught fire. “They told me to hurry and get it if I want to ride with them over to pick up Aunt Bert.”

“Pick up Aunt Bert?” Nic took a few steps after her child. “Why can't Aunt Bert drive herself? She does pretty well getting around town when we're not here—and when we are here, too.”

“I
dunno
.” Willa stopped long enough to shrug. “They said Aunt Lula would be coming with Miss Snooty-Britches and Aunt Bert would feel left out coming alone.”

“They did?” Nic didn't like her sisters roping Willa into their ill-fated matchmaking and intended to let them know as much as soon as she got the chance. “Well, you can just tell them for me—”

“Mommy, is that some kind of famous person in our family?” Willa tipped her head and pushed her glasses up.
“That Miss Snooty-Britches?
Like when you were Miss Bode County Butterfly in high school?”

Sam laughed.

Nic scalded him with a look. Well, it did not scald him as much as lit a fire under him.

“You sure you got that right, sweetheart?
Butterfly?”
Sam asked Willa.

“Butter Queen,” Nic corrected, clenching her teeth all the while.

“Is that what you were? Butter Queen?” Sam stroked his chin like he had to think that over to call it up from his memory. “And here I thought you
were,
yourself, one of the finest Miss Snooty-Britches this town has ever seen.”