Your Dream and Mine (19 page)

T
homasina climbed on a plane half an hour after her last class two days before Christmas, and flew out to Arizona where Flo and Nathan’s children and grandchildren had gathered to spend the holiday with them. They had a Christmas Day picnic and decorated a cactus in the yard. It looked as lovely as the traditional conifer, but its needles were far less forgiving. Thomasina was tweezing one out of her thumb when Winny called to thank her for the present she had left with Antoinette.

“I love the dolly. And guess what, Thoma? It’s just the right size for my new ’partment house.” Winny bubbled with excitement.

“Apartment house?”

“Uh-huh. Trace gave it to me.”

Thomasina’s pulse quickened at his name. “Trace brought you a present?”

“Uh-huh. He made it and he made Pauly a truck. We drew a picture for him ’cause we didn’t have a present to give him.”

“A
picture
is a present,” Thomasina said quickly.

“I know,” said Winny. “You gave him one, too. I saw it in his truck. I looked in the glove ’partment for the little battery what makes the ’partment house doorbell ring.” Winny’s giggle sounded as close as the next room. “You’re wet, Thoma.”

“Wet?”

“In the picture!” said Winny with exaggerated patience.

The picture from the air show. In the glove box of his truck. With his bits of twine and loose screws and other broken widgets. Thomasina’s hopes rose and fell in swift succession.

Pauly came on the line to thank her for the teddy bear. Then Antoinette picked up the extension to confide just how much the gifts had meant. Buying the house, she said, had stretched her budget to the limit.

“I was afraid there wasn’t going to be a tree, much less anything to put under it,” Antoinette admitted, voice dropping to a low hush. “I warned the kids so they wouldn’t be disappointed. Winny said not to worry, that she’d told God just what she wanted.”

“And?” prompted Thomasina.

“The bell rings this morning, and there stands Ricky with a tree, and Trace with a dollhouse. Not just any dollhouse, an
apartment
dollhouse. It was exactly what Winny had asked for, and something I couldn’t begin to afford. She’s wearing your doll out, moving her from apartment to apartment.”

“I know the feeling,” said Thomasina, smiling at Antoinette’s wonder and gratitude. “I keep thinking what if my new landlord decides he wants the whole house, and asks me to move.”

“You know what you tell me—have a little faith!” Antoinette chuckled at the role reversal. “I feel like a new woman, Thoma. I was dreading Christmas, and it’s been
the best ever. It goes to show you just how wrong you can be. And not just about people.”

Thomasina hung up the phone and wiped her eyes.

“Homesick?” asked Flo, coming into the kitchen where she’d taken the call.

Thomasina’s heart was too full to answer.
Stray kittens,
Trace had called Antoinette’s fatherless children. Then God taps him on the shoulder, and he hammers together toys and takes time from his own family to deliver them on Christmas Day. She loved him more in that moment than she had in all the weeks and months of coming to know him. Even if she was nothing more to him than a broken widget.

Thomasina’s return flight the day before New Year’s was uneventful. But the arrival home was not, for Trace’s gift giving was not done. She emptied her suitcase into a clothes basket, made her way to the laundry room and nearly fell as she opened the door between the kitchen and laundry room. Crowded against the door was her dollhouse. To her wondering eyes, the green paint was gone.

“He didn’t! He
did!
What a dear, dear dear…” Thomasina swallowed dears and tears and dropped to her knees, fingers trailing over each nook and cranny of her restored childhood treasure. The woodwork was the same burnished hue as Trace’s hair. She saw his eyes smiling at her from the forget-me-nots on the paper of the miniature parlor.

With trembling hand she dialed Trace’s number. His answering machine picked up the call. She stammered a thank-you after the beep, then obsessed over her halting syllables and prayed lightning would strike his answering machine before he returned home.

Lightning was out of season. It was snowing, making
white elephant drifts of parked cars and bushes and back porch swings. Trace not only received her message, he left one of his own on her machine, acknowledging her call and wishing her a happy New Year. It wasn’t much of an indicator as to what had prompted a gesture more precious than any she could imagine. Thomasina recalled as she played it over, how he had objected to the inequity of his living in the farmhouse while she paid rent in town. Was it okay to be a little encouraged? Or was this just more account balancing?

Uncertain what to think, Thomasina went to Liberty Flats Church on Sunday, closely guarding her emotions. Trace strode in as the prelude began, handsome in a dark suit and tie and a shirt the perfect color for a blue-eyed man. He nodded a greeting and sat down across the aisle.

Thomasina returned the gesture, fixed her gaze ahead and didn’t look his way again until after services. She took her time gathering her coat, gloves, Bible and pocketbook, and still he made no move in her direction. Gathering her courage, she took the initiative and crossed the aisle.

“My machine says your machine says you got my message about the dollhouse.” Her dry mouth matched the fastforward speed of her heart as he crimped the church bulletin between his lean, long-fingered hands. “It’s as beautiful as the day Nathan gave it to me. Thank you, Trace.”

His smile was a mere whisper, there and gone. “I figured I’d better square things up or you’d throw me out,” he said.

“The farmhouse?” Account balancing. Thomasina lowered her lashes to shield her disappointment. “I told you to forget it.”

“I want to be fair.”

“You are,” said Thomasina. “You always have been. About everything.”

Ricky pushed between them. He was anxious to let Thomasina know that his mother had come to church with him. Thomasina scanned clusters of people, searching for her.

“She left with Mr. Orbis,” Ricky explained. “We’re going over to Antoinette’s for lunch. Trace and Deidre and me, too. You wanna come?”

“Thanks, Ricky but I can’t,” Thomasina said swiftly. “I’ve got school tomorrow, and studying to do.”

“If you need your sidewalk cleaned, you know where I’ll be,” Ricky replied, then ambled off to catch up with a friend.

“The youth group kids have been shoveling walks for the mission trip fund,” Trace explained at her puzzled glance.

“Oh! So that’s what he meant.”

“How was your Christmas?” Trace asked. “Are your folks doing all right?”

“Fine, thanks. And yours?”

“The same.”

Thomasina saw him glance across the sanctuary. Remembering his dinner engagement, she shifted out of his path, saying, “Hungry, I bet. I won’t keep you.”

“You’re not.”

His gaze went over her like warm cream.
And her heart, conspicuous as her Christmas red wool suit.
Thomasina ducked her burning face, wished him a happy New Year and hurried away, stopping only to shake the pastor’s hand. She was almost to the door when someone caught her arm from behind. Her heart somersaulted as she turned. But it was Deidre.

“Have you got a second?” she asked. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about helping with youth group.”

“I thought Trace was helping,” said Thomasina guardedly.

“Yes, and he’s great with the boys. But I can’t get him to commit to teaching.” Deidre wrinkled her nose. “He says he is isn’t up to speed on the Bible.”

“He can learn, can’t he?”

“He is. But it takes time,” said Deidre. “Trace doesn’t think he’ll be ready to take over by June. That’s when my furlough is up.”

“Did he suggest me?” she asked carefully.

“No. I thought of it all by myself. But from what I hear, you’d be good at it.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomasina replied with deliberate reserve. “But I’m pretty busy right now.”

Deidre’s perky smile faded. “I should have realized,” she said into a sudden awkward silence. “Don’t give it another thought. I’ll find someone.”

Her graciousness shamed Thomasina all the way out the door. She paused on the steps, and looked back through the glass to see Ricky and another teen from youth group jostle Trace as he stepped up to shake the pastor’s hand. Trace swung around and jostled them back, smiling that hearttipping smile.

Trace, making Kingdom strides as she retreated, mouthing excuses.

Service Pearl-style. Worse than. Pearl, at least, had her heart in the right place.
God forgive me!
Thomasina swung the door open just as Trace was leaning into it. She caught the familiar musky scent of his aftershave as she ducked around him. “I’ve changed my mind, Deidre. I’ll do it.”

“You will?” Deidre clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Did you hear that, Trace? We have a volunteer.”

“I work every other Sunday,” Thomasina warned, keeping her back to him.

“That’s all right. We’ll find someone to be there the weeks you can’t.” Deidre’s gaze shifted over Thomasina’s
left shoulder. “Trace, remind me to mention it to Antoinette over lunch.”

“Antoinette?” said Trace. “What makes you think she’d be interested?”

“She’s been here two weeks in a row, hasn’t she?”

“Yes, but…”

“Never limit what God can do,” chided Deidre with a familiarity born of a lifelong acquaintance.

The affection in her voice clanged against Thomasina’s hastily erected armor. She slipped out the door and willed herself to think no more of what might have been. It was a short-lived sentiment. Midway up the snow-slickened sidewalk, Trace overtook her. His truck was parked in front of her car, half a block away.

“What’s this about Antoinette coming to church without me?” She kept her tone light as he shortened his stride to match hers.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Unless it was Dan’s idea.”

“Dan?”

“Antoinette’s father.” Trace pulled on his gloves as they walked. “Ricky called to let Dan know that his mother was coming to church with him last week. Guess he’s trying his hand at matchmaking.”

“Good way to get your fingers burned.”

“You’re turning into a cynic, Tommy Rose.”

The name fell from his lips with the same ease as her feet sliding out from under her on a patch of ice hidden by fresh-fallen snow. Trace caught and steadied her. The contact, though brief, sent her heart into a tailspin. Fighting the blessed cursed chemistry, she flushed and thanked him, and changed the subject, saying, “Winny called me in Arizona just to brag about her ’partment house.”

“She was pretty cute about it.” Trace scooped a handful
of snow off Thomasina’s back window and asked, “Got a scraper?”

“It’ll melt off. And a truck, too, Pauly tells me.” She returned to the subject of his Christmas gifts. “Did their faces light up?”

“Like floodlights.” Trace packed the snow into a ball and juggled it from hand to hand. “Ricky’s, too. He went with me.”

Thomasina smiled. “I take it there was something for him, as well.”

“A tool belt.” Trace grinned. “You’d have thought it was gold-plated to hear him go on.”

The wind buffeted Thomasina, chilling her legs, whistling down her neck and up her skirt. But she scarcely noticed, having eyes only for him. “You’re a nice guy, Trace.”

“What happened to awful?”

He remembered. The air show. The wiper blades keeping time to a love song on the radio while he shared camping stories and she laughed and said he was awful for scaring poor Tootsie. “Awfully nice,” she amended softly.

Trace barely smiled and what there was of it was guarded. A cynic, he said.
Afraid to trust.
His indictment of weeks ago echoed in Thomasina’s ears as she watched him clean her window, then walk on to his truck.

A plainspoken man. And right about her. No matter how she rationalized her error, the bottom line was fear had ruled. She drove home, and prayed to the One who knew her best and loved her anyway. It wasn’t for a second chance. It was that He would fix the broken part that she might learn to trust.

The meeting that night was well attended. Deidre gave the Scripture lesson, then divided the group, turning the
girls over to Thomasina while Trace took the boys to the other end of the room. The discussion that followed was lively and frank and a challenge for Thomasina to keep on course without overdirecting.

Later, the kids came together again for refreshments and a table tennis tournament. Afterward ensued a free-for-all discussion concerning the mission trip they were hoping to make in the summer. Thomasina enjoyed being a part of it, and was eager for the next meeting.

She said as much to Antoinette later in the week and was delighted that Antoinette wanted to be part of it, too. Deidre, true to her words, had talked it over with her. Antoinette had already asked her boss for Sundays off.

“I may have to find another baby-sitter though,” Antoinette added. “Dad’s got a social life all at once.”

“Ricky’s mom? Trace said you all got together for dinner,” said Thomasina.

“I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea about that,” Antoinette said quickly. “Ricky wanted Trace to come, and it seemed like a good way to thank him for making Christmas so special for the kids.”

“It’s not up to me,” said Thomasina uncomfortably, wondering all the while who had invited Deidre. “We’re not…”

“Just so you understand. I’m no backstabber.” Antoinette’s earrings tangled with her curls. She grinned into Thomasina’s face and in a swift turnabout, added, “Though I wouldn’t trust the preacher’s daughter too far if I were you. She’s always hugging on somebody.”

Thomasina had noticed as much. Yet as the weeks of shared responsibility passed, she grew accustomed to Deidre’s demonstrative ways. Her affection for people was genuine and spontaneous. Few rebuffed her warmth once they came to know her. Thomasina was no exception. Often,
after Trace and the kids had gone home, she stayed and visited with Deidre about the mission work she had been doing in the southwest. Deidre shared her insights, offering tons of practical suggestions and pitfalls to be avoided.