Blessings of the Season (14 page)

Because she had loved her husband too much to let her heart love again? He had spent a lot of time thinking about that, and he thought about it now as the hostess led them to a corner booth. Maybe she had just gotten too busy with work, life and Lizzie to make room in her heart for a man?

She sat down across from him, clasping her hands on the scarred tabletop, once black Formica, now scratched and faded. The seats of the booth were lumpy, and his even had a piece of gray duct tape covering a tear in the vinyl. It wasn't the most romantic restaurant in the world, but he thought it might be his favorite.

He enjoyed breakfast the best, when farmers and retirees gathered at the tables together, having coffee, biscuits and gravy, and usually a good ration of gossip.

“Why are you smiling?” Isabelle was fiddling with the napkin, running slim fingers over the crease she'd made in it.

“Thinking of this restaurant, the people who come here. I think it's at the top of my list of places to eat.”

She laughed at that. “The Hash-it-Out? Not that it isn't great. And Jolynn does make a great apple pie, but really?”

“Really.”

The waitress headed their way, slipping past a couple of guys in cowboy hats and dusty boots who flirted as she walked past them. She knocked the hat off one with red hair and told him to go back on the road.

Chad turned his cup over for the waitress to fill. The
woman was young and her makeup was too dark, but her eyes were kind. She smiled at Isabelle. “Well, Isabelle Grant, couldn't you find a better place to go on a Monday night date?”

“It isn't a date.” Isabelle's eyelids lowered, and she glanced back at the menu in her hands. “We're just friends. I'm going to have a chef salad.”

He glanced up as the waitress gave him a knowing look and mumbled, “Uh-huh.”

After he gave his order, the waitress walked away, giving one last look over her shoulder at the cowboy with the red hair, the one who had been teasing her.

“Your daughter invited me to her dance recital.”

Isabelle looked up and set down the cup of coffee she'd been stirring creamer into. “Oh, that's sweet of her.”

“Do you mind?”

She bit down on her bottom lip, and then she shook her head.

“I don't mind. Of course we'd love it if you could be there.”

“She also invited me to Jolynn's party.” He sipped black coffee and then set his cup down. “I'm sorry, I can tell her no.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Here I am, in your life because of a Christmas letter your daughter wrote to me last year, and now I'm at recitals, parties, and sitting across from you at dinner.”

“I could have said no, but I didn't.” She put her spoon on a napkin. “I think we agreed that we would go out and see what it was like, the…”

She glanced around, her lip between her teeth. He followed the quick glance, and he knew what she was thinking. People would be listening, wondering what was going on between the two of them. Being at the café together should have been enough of an answer.

“Right, we did agree to try this.” He winked. “So far it isn't bad, is it?” He wanted a smile from her, something that said she felt it, too, the unexplainable connection. First date, he reminded himself.

“No, it isn't bad, but let's avoid the mistletoe.” She shot a glance at the ceiling fan in the center of the room, and he saw it hanging there, from the light.

Avoiding the mistletoe was the last promise he wanted to make, so he winked and she blushed.

When they left the restaurant an hour later, he was still wondering how to get her back under that little twig of mistletoe.

“W
hat have you decided about dance camp?” Mrs. Teague, the owner of Gibson DanceTastic walked next to Isabelle as they left the dressing room where the dancers were waiting for the recital to begin.

Isabelle shrugged at the question. “I don't know yet. I'm saving money, but a lot can happen in six months. I don't want her to be disappointed.”

Mrs. Teague patted Isabelle's arm. “Honey, she'll understand. I just wish there was a way that I could help.”

“You're already helping. Where else could the girls get ballet lessons from someone with your experience for what you charge?”

“I'm sure there are places.” Mrs. Teague's gaze shot past Isabelle, and she nodded at someone standing behind her. “Can we help you?”

“I…” A male voice, hesitant and kind of shy. Not at all the way he normally sounded. “I have flowers for Lizzie.”

Isabelle turned, smiling because Chad was a little
red in the face and held the flowers like they were going to bite him.

“You didn't have to bring flowers.” She narrowed the distance between them—two steps, and they were close enough for her to smell the roses.

“This one is for you.” He handed her a pink rose that was wrapped separate from the other bouquet. “For the mother of the ballerina who invited me. I'm not sure if there is some kind of dance etiquette, but I asked Jolynn, and she said flowers would be nice. And she told me I could bring them backstage.”

Jolynn, the troublemaker. Isabelle lifted the rose he'd given her and inhaled the sweet fragrance. “It's beautiful, but we have to go now. They're ready to start.”

“The flowers?” He held them in his hand like a club.

“Relax, you can give them to her after the performance. You act as if you've never given a girl flowers before.”

He blinked a few times. “Wow, now that you mention it, I don't know if I have. Maybe in high school. Doesn't the guy always get the girl a corsage or something for the prom?”

“I don't know.”

She'd never gone to prom, or to a school dance. She swallowed the lump in her throat, leftover pain, bad memories of a childhood that had been spent fighting to survive.

“You don't know?”

She shot him a look and kept walking. They needed to be in their seats, and she didn't have time for him to be clueless now. “We need to hurry.”

“Lead the way.” He switched the flowers to his left
hand and reached for her hand, holding it tight as they hurried down the hall and through double doors into the gymnasium.

“I have seats up front, next to Jolynn and Larry.”

The lights went out. She picked up speed, and they reached the seats just as the lights on the stage came on, pink, yellow and green. She slid in next to Jolynn, and Chad sat next to her.

Next to her. She peeked a glance at him, and he was watching her. He smiled and winked.

No one had ever had that seat next to her. It was reserved for family, and she always brought Jolynn and Larry, sometimes one of the other waitresses at the Hash-it-Out. Tonight it was Chad, and as Lizzie danced across the stage, he applauded as if she were his own, as if that girl on the stage was the most special person in the world. And Isabelle knew that Lizzie saw, that she heard, and that it made a difference.

Not for the first time, she wondered what had made Lizzie write those letters. Was it for Isabelle, because Lizzie didn't want her mom to be lonely? Or was it for Lizzie, because she wanted a man sitting in that seat next to her mom?

The thought ached deep inside as Isabelle watched her daughter, graceful, beautiful and so good. Isabelle's throat tightened, and she bit down on her lip, fighting the tears. A tissue was pushed into her hand. She smiled at Jolynn who had a hankie to wipe her own eyes.

“She's a great kid, Is.” Jolynn's arm went around Isabelle's shoulder, and the hug felt great, lessening some of the pain that had sneaked up on her.

She nodded and watched her daughter through eyes that watered, leaving the vision of girls in black and red a little blurry and soft.

As the dance ended, Chad stood, the lone ovation, clapping loud. Lizzie beamed, her smile growing, because this time the man applauding was there for her. Around the gymnasium people stood, joining his ovation.

Isabelle finally took the flowers from him, for fear they'd be squashed. One pink petal had already floated to the floor in his exuberance.

“She's wonderful,” he leaned to whisper.

“I know.” And it felt good to share that with someone. Someone who didn't have to see how special her daughter was. But he did.

And her heart didn't have to see that as something meaningful, but it did.

“Can I give her the flowers now?”

“Stop being so impatient. She'll be out in just a minute, and you can give them to her then.”

“Hey, you two, Larry and I are going to head back to the house and get things ready for the party. Chad, do you want to go with us, or ride with Is and Lizzie?”

“I…” He shot her a questioning look. “Isabelle?”

“You can ride with us.”

“Okay, see you kids back at the house.” Larry winked at Chad as he and Jolynn walked away.

Isabelle thought about asking what that wink meant, but why bother? She knew how people were. They were always trying to marry her off to someone. And a traitorous voice whispered that Chad wasn't a bad someone.

 

If someone had told Chad a year ago that he'd be in Gibson, Missouri, attending a dance recital, he would have laughed. A year ago he had planned to reenlist at the end of his tour. He had planned on four years in Germany, doing a little traveling, maybe some skiing.

Instead, he was walking through the Gibson middle-school gymnasium with three pink roses for Lizzie. He had led soldiers, faced enemies and lived with the thought of death and danger. But this one kid had changed his life. He was in Gibson, not Germany. He had a farm, and an appointment to talk about reenlisting.

“There she is.” Isabelle pointed, and he followed the gesture, seeing Lizzie as she walked into the lobby, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, a bag over her shoulder and her face freshly washed.

“Mom, Chad.” She hurried toward them, and he faltered a little, because he was one of the two people she was smiling for, hurrying toward.

That made him a part of her life, in a way he hadn't really thought about before. He was the person standing next to her mom. He had cheered for her after the performance. He had flowers, a little less perfect now, but her eyes were wide as he held them out. She brought them to her face, then she threw her arms around him, hugging him hard. He faltered a little as he hugged her back, and his gaze connected with Isabelle's in a moment that meant everything.

When he drove into Gibson at the first of the month, what had he thought about this journey, his reason for
being here? He'd told himself it was about finding a home, a place to settle down, some land.

Maybe it had been about Isabelle and Lizzie; maybe it had been about the land. Now it felt as if it was more about Isabelle and her daughter, less about land. But if he reenlisted?

He wasn't sure he could leave them, or leave Gibson. Not with Christmas just a couple of weeks away.

“You okay?”

He smiled at Isabelle. “Yeah, I'm good.”

“We should go.” She slipped an arm around Lizzie. “Ready?”

“Yep, I'm ready.”

Chad walked next to them, sharing in a moment that probably shouldn't have been his. But he was a part of it, and he wanted more; more moments, more of Isabelle in his life.

Brisk cold greeted them as they walked out the doors of the school. Snow flurries were falling, light and feathery, barely visible. Chad wanted a real snow, the kind that piled up. The weatherman had promised maybe an inch, no more.

“Do you want to drive?” Isabelle tossed him her keys, and he had to think fast, putting his hand up to catch them.

“Sure, why not?”

Lizzie laughed. “It isn't even a real snow, just fool's snow, and she won't get behind the wheel. She can fix a car or change the oil, but drive on roads that might get slick, that she won't do.”

“It isn't nice to make fun of your mother.” Isabelle kissed her daughter's head. “Get in the car.”

Chad unlocked the doors and opened the back door for Lizzie, the front door for Isabelle. She smiled up at him before sliding into the car. He walked around to the driver's side and got behind the wheel of the aging sedan. When he started it, he smiled.

“Surprised?” Isabelle clicked her seat belt into place. “I'm a mechanic, remember?”

“It sounds great.”

“It is great. It's twenty years old, but I bought it from a sweet lady who kept it in her garage most of the time. She drove it to church on Sunday and to quilting on Friday. The rest of the time she walked or rode with friends.”

It was a cherry of a car. A Lincoln with the original paint, original engine and leather seats. It was a boat, but drove like a new car. Chad wheeled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of the Pine Tree Inn.

He drove down the now-familiar streets that were lined with trees bare of leaves and houses decorated with lights of all colors. The headlights of the car captured the falling snow, and next to him he could see the reflection of Isabelle Grant, dark-eyed and somber, in the passenger window of the car.

There were half a dozen cars in the driveway of Jolynn's. He pulled into the space next to his truck and parked. He hadn't expected a crowd like this.

“Wow, Jolynn really decorated the place this year.” Isabelle stepped out of the car and stared up at the house.

Chad walked up next to her, ignoring Lizzie's hidden chuckle as she hurried away from them. “I did this.”

“You did this?”

He nodded and surveyed his work. Candy canes, four feet tall, lined the sidewalk. Lights framed the porch and windows. Spiral trees adorned with lights ran the length of the driveway. In the center of the lawn was Jolynn's Nativity.

“I did this. And don't laugh.” He reached for her hand.

“I won't laugh.” She stopped walking.

It was cold, and the snow was coming down a little harder. Chad stood next to her, wondering why they were standing outside when there was hot coffee and cocoa inside. But he wasn't going to complain, not with her hand in his.

He thought about kissing her, and wondered if her lips would be cold. He wondered if she would slip her arms around him, or stand still, holding her breath. Or if she'd turn away.

With snow falling and Christmas lights twinkling all around them, he bent, touching his lips to hers. She held her breath, but her lips were warm and tasted like the mint gloss he'd seen her swipe across them when they got into her car. She moved, touching her lips to his cheek, and then she stepped back. Her eyes were closed, and a tear slipped down her cheek. He wondered if it was the good kind that came from overwhelming but happy emotions. Or if it was a tear of regret.

“Isabelle, I'd like to take you out again. Maybe somewhere a little more romantic than the Hash-it-Out.”

“Chad, please don't.”

“Don't what?”

“I don't date. I mean, I haven't dated in years. It feels like a tug-of-war, being pulled between building a rela
tionship and raising my daughter. Lizzie can't take the backseat to a relationship.”

“I would never ask that of you.”

“I know, but my childhood.” She pulled the lip balm out of her pocket and neatly swiped her lips again. “I was the child who was forgotten when my mother dated. She dated a lot.”

“Isabelle, I know that you're a package deal. I would never forget Lizzie. How could I?”

“I'm glad you understand. Sometimes I don't know if I understand.” She wiped at her eyes. “I don't know if I've ever had a grown-up relationship.”

“I know you loved your husband.”

“Yes, I loved him.”

He hadn't expected his heart to tighten the way it did when she said those words. She had been another man's wife. His heart had never been involved, not like that.

“We should go in.” He said the only thing he could think of at the moment. It was cold, and the air was damp. Isabelle was shivering in front of him, and he knew that everyone inside would be speculating over what was going on between them.

“That's probably a good idea.” She spoke softly, slipping her hand back in his.

 

Isabelle managed a smile as they walked through the doors of Jolynn's house and into a world that was Christmas and family and laughter. There were more than a dozen people milling around the large living room, standing in small groups, talking, laughing. Isabelle searched the room for her daughter and didn't
see her. But Lacey and Jay Blackhorse stood in the corner near the piano, baby Rachel in Lacey's arms.