Twelve Days (12 page)

Rachel frowned. What a joke that was. How long had it been since she'd lavished her husband with any kind of love?

"Are you okay?" he asked, finally looking at her.

"I will be," she claimed, an optimistic boast at best.

"Come inside. It's freezing out here."

And she followed him inside, trying to fight off that sense of melancholy, trying to live in the moment—the children, Christmas—instead of what was sure to follow.

* * *

It turned into a good day. They all finished decorating the house together, something usually accomplished with a good deal of order and precision, all of which was lost with two children helping them. Zach wanted to pull everything out and examine it, and he had his own ideas about where things should go. He was also determined to climb the biggest ladder they had. Sam pulled him off of it three times, only to find him right back up there a second later. Finally, Sam put Zach on his shoulders with the white lights they put on the fir tree in the front yard. They went round and round, circling the tree with lights, Zach cackling with delight as they went.

Emma and Rachel twisted red ribbons onto the branches once the lights were up, Grace hanging quite contentedly from a backpack like thing on Rachel's back. She seemed enthralled by all the colors and made cooing sounds and sucked on her fingers through her gloves, which perplexed her greatly. She found Rachel's ear and tugged on that, on Rachel's hair, wouldn't leave a cap on Rachel's head.

They laughed more in that day than Rachel could remember in months. Even Emma, somber, serious Emma, had laughed. Sam was still hiding behind the gruff exterior, still seeming a bit uncomfortable, but even he had cracked a smile or two when he and Zach had gotten into a scuffle in the drifting snow.

Finally satisfied and freezing, they'd all stood on the sidewalk in front of the house, staring up at it and deciding all their hard work had been worth it.

"It's just like in the book," Zach said. He finally believed he was living in the Christmas house. Maybe he still believed in magic, just a little bit.

"Come on," Rachel said. "We've got to get inside."

"I'm not cold," Zach said.

"I am," Rachel insisted.

They went to the back door, she and Sam brushing the snow off the kids as best they could before they all traipsed inside and made a mess of the laundry room, with wet boots and coats and hats and gloves everywhere.

Rachel insisted that Zach have a hot bath, and Emma volunteered to give him one. Rachel sent them up with hot chocolate, and a moment later, her middle sister, Gail, dropped by with hot homemade soup and fresh bread. Gail who had four children of her own, the youngest of whom just started school this year, and a husband, Alex, whose work as a pharmaceutical salesman kept him on the road a good bit. She'd been a bit lost herself lately, and Rachel found herself wondering how her sister had coped.

"Thanks," Rachel said.

"It was nothing. I was just so excited for you, and I had to see the kids. Besides, it's tradition. You always bring me food when I have a baby."

It was true. She cooked for both her sisters when they had new babies. Still, "I didn't have a baby."

"You have one right there," she said, pointing to Grace, who was sleeping happily in Rachel's arms.

"But I can't keep her. She has a mother somewhere, and Miriam's going to find her."

"Couldn't I just hope this works out for you? Finally?"

"It would be easier for me if you didn't, because I'm trying to be very careful not to."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't," Gail insisted. "I don't like it that you always expect the worst."

Rachel thought about telling her sister that life had always brought her the worst, but it wasn't true. She'd had bad times—maybe more than her share—but there'd been good, too. Seeing these children made her realize that. It had her thinking of the value of hope. Did that include letting herself be hopeful about these children, that...

"No," Rachel said. "I can't forget that they'll go someday. I can't..." Sam and the children were both going.

"Are you okay? There's nothing else going on? Ellen said you seemed strange at the store."

No surprise there, either that Ellen had told her or that Gail had rushed right over here to see what she could find out, and, granted, to help if she could. "Look, just forget it. It's been an odd day, but I'll be fine. And thanks for the meal."

"Of course."

Because there was nothing Rachel could say to dampen her sister's optimism, she finally gave up trying and accepted the hugs, the good wishes, and the prayers, and then Gail went home to feed her own family.

Chapter 6

On the third day of Christmas, Rachel's father showed up to watch the Christmas parade with them and to stay for dinner, something he did at least once a week.

"Hi, Daddy," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"How's my baby girl?" he said in his big booming voice. He was sixty, a retired insurance agent who was almost always happy, if a bit lost since her mother died, and he still called her his baby girl. Her whole life, he'd lavished her with love.

"I'm fine," she said.

"That's not what I hear."

"Oh?" she asked, not surprised. "Ellen?"

"I may have talked to your sister. And I wanted to see this one," he said, coming closer until he could see Grace's face, which was pressed against Rachel's shoulder. "Now there's a beauty for you. Almost as beautiful as you were when you were a little thing."

"Do you want to hold her?"

"Well, I guess I could do that. Your arms are probably tired by now."

Actually, they were. She wasn't used to having a baby in her arms for any length of time. She passed Grace off to her father, who made himself at home in the rocking chair in the corner and settled in to fussing over the sleeping baby.

A minute later, Zach came bursting down the stairs at full speed, practically skidding down the last three but somehow not landing in a heap on the floor. Rachel held her breath and managed not to yell. He'd scared her half to death. He walked right over to her father and said, "Hi, I'm Zach."

"Hi," her father said, "I'm Frank. I'm Rachel's father."

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Getting acquainted with your sister."

Zach wrinkled up his nose and said, "She's not much fun to play with. She can't do much of anything yet. She can't even walk."

"Oh?" her father said, the sides of his mouth crinkling into a smile.

"I can do lotsa stuff," Zach bragged.

"I'll bet you can."

"I'm gonna watch the Christmas parade later. San'a's comin'. Right here!"

"Zach, he's coming past the house. He's not stopping or coming inside, remember?"

Zach frowned. "But I gotta talk to him."

"We will. Just not tonight, okay?"

"Okay." He turned back to her father, obviously disappointed. "Wanna see my cars?"

Her father agreed, handing over the baby and letting Zach take him by the hand and lead him from the room. They seemed to be the best of buddies when she glanced into the room twenty minutes later on her way to the kitchen to set the table for dinner.

A few minutes later, her father came into the kitchen. "That's some boy."

"Isn't he?"

"They seem to be taking this well. When I heard what they'd been through... Well, I wondered what you were getting yourself into, little girl."

"They're good kids," she said.

"I can see that for myself, and I'm proud of you for taking them this way."

"Oh, Daddy." Rachel stopped in the middle of setting the table. He just didn't know how bad things had been, how badly she'd handled it all. If Miriam hadn't barged in with the children two days ago and shamed Rachel into taking them, she'd still be sitting here lost in her own misery. He didn't even know about Sam yet. He was going to be so worried about her and so disappointed.

"It's a good thing you're doing," he said.

"No, I'm not," she told him. "Everyone's said that, too, how kind we're being, how generous, but the truth is, they're helping me much more than I'm helping them, because they've finally made me see what I've been doing with my life. I've been so wrong, Daddy, about so many things."

She fought with everything she had not to cry. It had to stop sometime, and she'd cried too much already.

"You're doing a very good thing, Rachel, and I'm proud of you. And I can't think of anything you've done that's been so wrong."

"I've been selfish, and..."

"No. Your sister told me you were spouting off some crazy talk like that, and I'm not going to listen to it."

"I have. I haven't been thinking of anyone but myself for so long."

"You've been grieving," he said. "And maybe it's gone on for a long time, but it's hard to lose people, baby girl. I know that. And you've lost so much. I wish I could have spared you that, but don't let anyone tell you that you've been selfish or that any of this has been your fault."

"I just been feeling sorry for myself, and it's gone on too long."

"Rachel, I don't recall anyone telling me I'd spent too much time grieving for your mother. Nobody tried to rush me into getting over her, and don't you let anyone push you, either."

"No one's pushing me," she said. Except maybe for Miriam, but she thought Miriam was justified in what she'd done. Rachel should probably thank her. "I just need to get on with my life. I need to figure out what I'm going to do with myself. I started thinking the other day that I really need to find a job."

Her father eyed her sharply at that. "What kind of nonsense is that. You have a job."

"Taking care of the kids, for now. But once that's over..."

"Rachel, I'm not talking about the kids. I'm talking about everybody. You take care of everybody. You always have. It was kittens and baby birds that fell out of that nest in the big tree in the backyard when you were growing up, and now it's everyone around you."

"It's not a job." It was just what she'd always done.

"Of course it is, and it's an important one, too. Maybe it's not the kind of job where people see you heading off to work every morning and where they give you a paycheck once a week. But it's much more than that. When your grandfather got sick, I didn't know what we were going to do. Your mother had spent a lot of years taking care of this whole family, but she wasn't as young as she used to be and maybe she was already sick herself and we just didn't know it at the time. But I worried that she'd wear herself out taking care of your grandfather and I didn't want her to do that. I didn't want you to have to do it, either, but you stepped in and did, and I have to tell you, it was a relief to me and your mother. You and your grandfather had always been so close, and you and Sam were here, and... Well, after the baby, I thought you needed something to keep you busy, someone to take care of, too."

"I did." It had been hard, but it had given her a reason to get out of bed every morning, and she'd needed one back then.

"He needed you, and you were there. You were there for your mother, too. Did you know that your sister Ann almost dropped out of college? Thinking that someone had to be here to take care of your mother, and she didn't think it should be you after all you'd gone through with your grandfather?"

"No. She never said anything about that." Everybody had helped in that time, but Rachel had been the one who was there day after day. She'd felt like she had to be, that there was nowhere else she could have been while her mother was so sick.

"And that's just what you've done for the immediate family," her father said. "That doesn't begin to cover what you've done for the whole town, from Meals on Wheels to the art classes at the community center to the work you and Sam have done with the Chamber of Commerce to put this town on the map. I'm very proud of you. I always have been, and don't you dare let anyone say you haven't spent your life doing a lot of very important work."

Rachel had never thought about it that way. In truth, she'd always been busy, had always tried to help out in any way she could. But still...

"It's a gift, Rachel. The way you try to make things easier and better for everyone around you. I don't want to think about the kind of place this world would be without people like you. You know, you," he added, "are your mother all over again. You know all that she did. You know how much she added to your life and to everyone's lives around her."

"She did," Rachel agreed. Everyone loved her mother. Everyone depended upon her.

"She'd be proud of you, too. In fact, if she were here, she'd be able to say this a lot better than me. But I did my best."

"Oh, Daddy," she said. He was the best. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby girl."

She turned weepy on him for a moment and just let him hold her, and then got herself together and called everyone to dinner.

* * *

Sam slipped in the back door just in time for dinner, finding his father-in-law still here. Sam had seen his car in the driveway and wondered if Frank was staying for dinner. It looked like he was. He was deep in conversation with Zach, Zach eating up every word, when Sam came in and took his seat at the crowded table in the kitchen.