Blessings of the Season (9 page)

T
he next day passed quickly for Addie, what with all the rush of congratulations and the rearranging of everybody's Christmas plans and the fact that she felt that her heart now actually had wings.

Nate had caught her up on the decisions that had been made at the dinner between the Goodwins. Maimie and Doc intended to become the boy's legal guardians. Though they knew they couldn't take on raising him, they would assume responsibility for his needs and set up a trust fund for him. Meanwhile Nate would continue to care for him, and after they were married and ready for the responsibility, the Goodwins hoped they would take the boy to raise themselves. Though Nate would have to have help, as he intended to go back to school to become a child and family therapist, in Star City, of course.

As for the future Mrs. Nate Browder?

“I can't believe the Goodwins are putting me in man
agement training,” Addie said as she and Nate and Jesse walked out of the early evening candlelight service at Addie's church together.

“Hey, somebody has to learn the business to teach Jesse here when it's his turn to take over.” Nate ruffled the kid's red hair.

Addie smiled. “Who knows what Goodwin's will look like then? If there will even still be a Goodwin's?”

“If there is, fifty years from now I hope they do a promotion where they show typical life for us now.” Nate guided them toward the sidewalk. “Where the dad raises the kid and the mom runs the business.”

“And the baby Jesus is still the most important part of Christmas,” Jesse added.

Addie gave the boy a hug, then looked up toward the brightly lit houses of her mother's neighborhood. “Mom's caroling party for people who want to walk together to the midnight service doesn't start until ten. Tomorrow morning we're all going to the Goodwins' for Christmas presents and brunch. But I'm not sure what we should do right now.”

“Let's go home and just be a family,” Jesse said.

Nate and Addie looked at each other, not sure what to say except, “Jesse, the three of us don't have a home.”

“Sure we do!” He dug deep into his pocket and pulled free the keys that Doc had given Addie and that Addie had given Jesse to give back to Doc.

Nate laughed. “Do we dare?”

“With Doc's keys we can turn off the alarms and no one will ever know,” she said, beaming up at the man she loved. “And if they do know, who cares?”

And that was how they came to spend Christmas Eve at Goodwin's Department Store, with their love and the joy of family and the wonder of the unexpected blessings of Christmas on display for anyone to see.

Dear Reader,

 

Blessing of the season to you and those you love! I come from a long line of folks who love Christmas and celebrate it to the hilt, so our home is always done up in decor that includes old family treasures from as far back as the forties. The idea for having a couple fall in love in a 1950s setting, however, came from the Johnson County Museum's 1950s All-Electric House, which had a living display of a family Christmas circa that time frame.

It became all the more fun when I imagined using an old department store inspired by one in the real town of Georgetown, Kentucky. Now whenever I go through there I think—Hey, there's Goodwin's! There's the church where they have the Nativity. That's the way to Addie's house! Yes, that's how real the characters have become. Of course, that is thanks in part to the fact that I could give them a spiritual dimension that recognizes and rejoices in the greatest gift of all, the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus.

 

Happy Holidays!

1. If you could experience Christmas in another time period, when would it be?
   
2. Addie and Nate were on display, but they also had a chance to put their faith on display. How do you think their faith showed up in their behavior?
   
3. Do you have a special Christmas tradition that is unique to your family? Please describe it.
   
4. Are you more of the kind of snowflake who likes to stand out or the kind who likes to blend in? What type do you think Addie is? Why?
   
5. Do you have neighbors who decorate as enthusiastically as Bivvy does for the holidays? What do you think of them? How much do you decorate for Christmas?
   
6. Do you have an ornament or decoration that enriched Christmas for you? What is it, and why do you find it so special?
   

Brenda Minton

This book is dedicated to the readers.
Thank you for the encouragement, the letters and
the prayers. Many blessings and merry Christmas.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a savior, which is Christ the Lord.

—
Luke
2:11

“N
o, no, no. If she doesn't see that he's using her, she doesn't deserve him.” Isabelle Grant wadded up a piece of paper and threw it at the television.

“Mom, it's a movie.” Lizzie stood at the door, long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. When she wore it like that, she still looked like a little girl and Isabelle didn't feel thirty-three.

But her daughter was twelve and getting older every day. Lately it seemed as if they had changed roles. Lizzie was forgetting that Isabelle was the mom and she was the daughter. Isabelle clicked off the television and stretched. She had to be at the Hash-it-Out Diner, Gibson, Missouri's one and only restaurant, in thirty minutes, for the evening shift. And Lizzie, as on so many evenings, would be home alone. At least they had a great neighbor in the duplex next door. Mrs. Jackson kept an eye on things.

“I know it's a movie, but the characters should still make wise choices.”

“Yes, wise choices. I remember that lecture.”

“Cheeky kid.” Isabelle hugged the child, who had sat down next to her on the sofa. “I love you.”

“You know, Mom, I think you might be addicted to the Hallmark Channel.”

“That was Lifetime.”

“Whatever. They're all the same.”

“Are not.”

“Sappy movies and docudramas.”

“Okay, so what would you prefer me to watch?” Isabelle drew one leg up and turned to look at the child who was blossoming into a beautiful young woman. She wanted to stop the clock, to keep it from happening.

For a long minute, Isabelle felt alone, really alone. She ached deep inside, reminded that someday Lizzie would spread her wings and fly away to her own life, her own dreams, her own happy endings.

Isabelle prayed there really would be happy endings for her daughter.

“Mom, I don't care what you watch. I just wish your life was about more than those movies. You should go out on a date.”

“I don't need to date.” Because she had loved the best man in the world, and he'd been taken from her.

“You need to do more than work and raise me.”

Isabelle looked hard at her daughter. “When did you grow up?”

“Last year. I'm preteen now, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. And you'll be thirteen in March.”

“And I really, really want to go to the dance camp in Tulsa. I asked Jolynn, and she said I could help her
clean house this winter. She'll pay me. I can save money, and you won't have to work another job.”

Big sigh. Isabelle
so
did not have the money for dance camp. But maybe, if she could do more bookkeeping at home in her spare time, or work an extra day at Ed's Garage on the outskirts of Gibson, where she was a mechanic. But if the extra money went to camp, how would she take care of Christmas, just a month away?

“Mom, don't look so worried. I know we might not be able to afford it.”

“But I
want
to afford it, Liz. I really want to give you everything.”

“You're always telling me that we don't get everything we want in life.”

Isabelle closed her eyes, remembering that lecture, the one she gave when she didn't have the money to give her daughter everything she wanted to give her. Moms didn't get everything they wanted, either. Sometimes dreams were expensive.

“I love you, Lizzie.” Isabelle hugged her daughter close. “And now I have to hurry or I'll be late. Jolynn will have my hide.”

“No, she won't.”

The doorbell rang. The two looked at each other. Isabelle peeked and couldn't see who was on the front stoop. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Nope.”

Isabelle glanced out the window. A truck was parked in the drive. A new truck. “Oh, goodie, I think we've won a new truck. That has to be it.”

She opened the door, leaving the chain in place. Gibson, Missouri, wasn't dangerous, but that didn't mean she had to be careless. A man stood in front of the door. A man in a military uniform. His presence took Isabelle back, but in her memories it wasn't a soldier on her step—it was a police officer. Thirteen years, and she still remembered that night. She could still feel the rip of pain that tore through her heart as the officer told her that her husband had been killed in a car accident.

She could still remember holding her belly, where the unborn Lizzie was safe, not knowing that their world was falling apart. She remembered telling the trooper she didn't have family to call. The officer had called Jolynn, because he'd known her from church.

The soldier on her front step cleared his throat and smiled. Man, he was gorgeous. His dark hair was shaved short, and his skin was tan from too much time in the sun. When a smile broke across his face, dimples split his cheeks and white teeth flashed.

“Surprise!”

She blinked, because, yes, she was surprised, but she didn't have a clue what he meant by that. Maybe she'd won a soldier, not a truck? Behind her, Lizzie gasped, and then her footsteps retreated down the hall to the bedroom.

“Surprise?” Isabelle didn't want to sound like an idiot, but she was clueless. Had she met him before? Had she entered a sweepstakes, and the prize was a soldier for Christmas?

She unhooked the chain and opened the door the rest of the way.

“I brought you something.” He smiled again and held out a bag. “Sand from one of the holiest sites in the world.”

He handed her the bag with a ribbon tied around the top. She blinked a few times and tried to think of something to say. Asking him who he was would have been a start.

“Isabelle, are you okay?”

No, of course she wasn't okay. She had to go to work. Tonight after work she and Lizzie were going to cut down a tree for Christmas. A stranger had just handed her a bag of sand, and he knew her name.

How could this be right?

She looked at the name on his uniform. Daniels. The name sounded familiar but she didn't know anyone in the military.

“I'm sorry, do I know you?” When she asked the question, he frowned.

“Well, I guess you don't, not really. But after a year of writing letters, I guess I thought…”

“Whoa, wait a second. Writing letters?” Isabelle wanted to sit down. She glanced at her watch. She now had fifteen minutes until she had to be at work. She remembered a letter, last year, a Christmas letter. She hadn't written it, though.

“Letters, Isabelle, and packages. I just processed out of the military, and thought I'd stop and say hello.”

“Letters?”

His hazel-green eyes were staring at her like she was a crazy woman. “The letters you wrote to me…or maybe didn't write.”

“Lizzie, front and center.” Isabelle thought about
letting him in, but she wasn't going to let him into her home. She didn't know if he was really a soldier. He might be the crazy one, not her.

Lizzie slunk down the hall. Her face was pale, her brown eyes huge. And she had that look on her face, the one that made her look more like her father and less like Isabelle. The guilty-but-sheepish look.

“Mom, I can explain.”

“Please do.”

“I should come back.” Chad Daniels spoke, backing off the stoop.

“No!” Isabelle and Lizzie said at the same time. The soldier looked like retreat might be his best option. Though he didn't look like a guy who retreated. He looked like a hero to Isabelle. And she couldn't go there.

Isabelle took a deep breath to compose herself. It didn't work. “Wait. We'll figure this out.”

“I'm the one who was writing to you.” Lizzie turned from pale to pink. “Our class sent packages to Iraq, and when we got the letters back, I got a letter from you. And you sounded like a really great person. You sounded…”

The Christmas letter. Realization dawned slowly, and Isabelle wanted to groan as the pieces of the puzzle came together.

She waited for her daughter to finish, but Lizzie didn't. Instead her eyes overflowed with tears, and she bit down on her bottom lip. “I'm really sorry.”

“How did I sound? I mean, other than sounding like a great person.” Chad stood at ease on their sidewalk, tall and with shoulders so broad they stretched the
desert-sand camouflage of his uniform tight across his chest. His gaze, serious but gentle, was fixed on Lizzie.

Isabelle leaned against the door frame and waited for her daughter to answer. Lizzie glanced from the soldier to Isabelle and then back to the ground, her teeth biting into her bottom lip. Finally she looked up. Her brown eyes overflowed with tears, and she sniffled.

“Like you needed a friend.” Lizzie looked from him to Isabelle and that's when she knew what her daughter had done and why.

“Oh, Liz, you shouldn't have.” Isabelle covered her eyes with her hands and wished the ground would swallow her. “I have to go to work.”

“I guess I have to leave.”

“There aren't a lot of places to go,” Lizzie offered, a tentative smile back on her face. “I mean, you could go to Springfield, but you weren't looking for a city, you were looking for a real town, a community. There's a bed-and-breakfast here, just down the road. It opened up last year.”

“Lizzie, stop.” Isabelle stared at the soldier—a man, not a boy.

“I think I'll drive around Gibson and decide what to do.” He smiled again, and he didn't look lost or confused. Those emotions were Isabelle's, obviously. “Lizzie, you're a great kid. I really enjoyed our letters. I'm a little embarrassed now, but that's okay. You did a sweet thing, wanting two people to be a little less lonely.”

He saluted and walked away, long strides, strong and in control. Isabelle's insides were shaking, and she didn't know what to do next.

But she had to go to work. As the truck drove down the street, she turned to face her daughter. “I can't believe you did that. I'm a grown woman, Lizzie. I don't need to have my twelve-year-old daughter arranging my love life.”

The truck turned the corner, and she wondered if she had seen the last of Chad Daniels. Not that it mattered.

But if it didn't matter, then why in the world did it make her feel sad? Only one reason made sense. She felt sad for him. It was nearly Christmas, and he'd come to town thinking he'd find a friend. Instead he found that he'd been tricked. By her daughter.

“You have to apologize.” Isabelle grabbed her purse and gave her daughter a look that Lizzie knew well. “You can't play with a man's emotions that way. It isn't fair.”

Life isn't fair. One of the many lectures she'd given in the past. Sometimes life even hurts. Officer Chad Daniels probably already knew that.

 

Chad drove to the parking lot of a deserted old gas station. The concrete was cracked, and weeds had grown up and then died in the cold of winter. Cold. He liked that feeling. He liked the damp, brisk air that smelled like wood smoke from fireplaces and drying grasses, maybe a little fertilizer from a nearby farm.

But now what? He'd been writing to a kid for nearly a year, believing she was a woman. An adult woman. His face warmed, and there wasn't anyone to witness his embarrassment. He could only imagine what the guys in his unit would say. They would have teased the old guy who had gotten duped by a kid. His face burned a little hotter. He rolled the window down all the way.

Those letters had taken him into the life of a woman he'd never met. Isabelle—dark hair, dark eyes and unspoken dreams that she had never shared. Her husband had died before the birth of their first child, Lizzie.

The real author of the letters, that child.

He smiled a little, because the kid had spunk. He should have seen it in the letters, the sometimes childish scrawl in her handwriting. He should have known it was a girl, not a woman.

But it was Isabelle's story, her life, that had brought him here. The stories of a town that took care of its own had drawn him to Gibson. A town that helped a widow, raised money when someone was sick or provided when a family lost their home to fire—those were the things he wanted.

He had been in a foreign country fighting for towns like Gibson to stay safe, to remain in their peaceful cocoons where Christmas was still about a Nativity in the park and “Silent Night” was sung during a community gathering. He had been fighting to give that freedom to towns in a foreign country, to people who had dreams of their own.

Lizzie might have written the letters, but the town of Gibson was real. He had fallen in love with a community he'd never known before her letters. He wanted to meet Jolynn and eat pie at the Hash-it-Out Diner. He wanted to watch the lights come on during the annual Christmas Lighting Festival, held the first Sunday in the month of December.

Somewhere deep inside he admitted that he wanted to get to know Isabelle Grant, because her smile had been the first thing he thought of when he touched American soil two months earlier.