Christmas in the Air (15 page)

T
hat next afternoon David rang the doorbell of the Chandler household for the third time in as many days. Dreading this visit most of all, he wiped some of the new snow off his coat and stomped the gray slush off his boots.

Lord, please let Allison answer the door instead of Sondra.
He startled, surprised by how easily he'd reopened his dialogue with God, particularly when he needed something. And he needed something, all right. He needed to know what to say when he had to face Sondra again.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to wait for divine inspiration as the woman in question opened the door.

“Hello.” Sondra kept glancing up at him from under her lashes, looking as embarrassed as he felt.

“Sorry I'm late. I had breakfast with my parents so we could exchange gifts.”

She cocked her head. “What are you doing here?”

“Aren't we supposed to clean the oven?”

“I've already started it. Didn't Allison tell you it's self-cleaning?”

She pressed her lips together, the same lips that he'd come so closing to kissing last night. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he still wanted to kiss her, too, right there on the porch. But admitting it was more than his pride could handle.

By now she was wringing her hands and balancing her weight first on one foot and then the other.

“Are you going to come in out of the cold?”

He grinned. “I guess I could.”

Sondra let him in and closed the door behind him, but she seemed to be looking beyond him or beside him. Anywhere but at him.

“I have to get back to the kitchen. Joy's having a snack.”

As if on cue, the sound of metal pounding on plastic poured out of the kitchen.

David recognized the sound. “She has her spoon again.”

“She loves to beat it on the tray.” Sondra led the way into the kitchen where Joy, buckled safely in her high chair, was performing a drum solo with a teaspoon.

Joy paused from beating on the tray and causing Cheerios to bounce to the floor long enough to turn to him and point. “Dabe. Dabe. Dabe.”

“Hey there, kiddo,” David said.

Sondra bent to pick up some of the mess. “Okay, Joy, we're going to have to eat some of these, too. The ones that haven't hit the floor yet.”

David smiled, knowing Sondra couldn't see him and wouldn't ask what he found so amusing. At least they had one safe subject—Joy—in their conversation filled with awkward pauses. He had a pretty good idea that the subjects of their trip to the park and a kiss that didn't happen were off-limits.

Maybe they were better off if they didn't discuss those things anyway. At least it saved him from wondering when he had transformed from a successful social angler to one who could only wonder about the fish who got away.

Even after getting to know him, Sondra apparently still didn't think he was good enough for her. All night the reality of it had eaten at him. But worse than being bothered by it, something inside him made him want to prove her wrong. He wanted to tell her he could be different with her. How could he promise that, though, when even he didn't know whether he would desert her before the never-never land of the third date?

Because that question had no answer and it only exhausted him to search for it, he turned to another safe subject. “Where's Allison?”

“She's resting.” She glanced over at him and lowered her voice. “I think she's still recovering from yesterday's excitement.”

Concern had him stepping closer to press Sondra for the details he craved. “You're sure she's okay?”

Sondra nodded. “I was worried, too, but she assured me she's just tired.”

David felt his body relax. “Well, okay. At least she's taking care of herself.”

She smiled at him, the first comfortable expression since he'd arrived. “My cousin is very fortunate to have a friend like you.”

“She didn't do so badly in the relative department, either.”

“I can't decide if that's praise or not since she didn't exactly choose me.” She tilted her head and studied him. “You were talking about
me,
right?”

When she started laughing, David joined in, and Joy giggled and clapped her hands. They were finally over their discomfort from last night, and he didn't want to cause more awkwardness between them, so he decided it would be best for them to just remain friends. Then when she returned to Kentucky, he could wish her well and get back to his own life.

 

“I'm so glad you talked me into doing this.” Sondra spun around on the sidewalk late that afternoon, holding her hands out to catch snowflakes and feeling like a child seeing snow for the first time. “It's beautiful out here.”

“I just wanted to get out of the kitchen and away from the smell of the self-cleaning oven burning off the pumpkin pie stuff.” He broke into a feigned coughing fit, covering his mouth with one hand and pushing the stroller with the other.

She nodded. “It was pretty bad, but that whole room shone by the time we were finished with it.”

“Joy needed to get out of the house for a while, too.” He glanced down at the baby, who was asleep and covered with a tiny quilt.

Sondra followed his gaze to the cherublike face. “Looks like she's getting a kick out of the outing.”

“The cool air's good for her.” He bent to tuck the quilt up to her chin. “We wore her out with all of those swing and slide races.”

And they had. They'd built a tiny snowman on the neighborhood school's playground and had shown Joy how to make snow angels, and then David had pushed Sondra on the swing with the child in her lap. They'd even taken a few goofy snapshots on David's digital camera to share with Brock and Allison.

The afternoon would have been perfect if only Sondra could have relaxed and enjoyed it. Instead, she'd spent the whole time watching David with little Joy and wishing for things she'd never dared to before. A husband. Children of her own. She'd always believed those things were only for other women—ones who weren't independent, successful businesswomen like she was. Women who didn't have her particular scars.

Her internal arguments, though, had fallen as flat as the farmland surrounding Destiny. Though an unlikely choice, David was the one who'd made her thoughts about as clear as the mud on those fields. When her feelings for him had metamorphosed from rival to friend to something more, she wasn't sure, but they had changed, and she had to decide what to do about it.

“We should get back to the house,” David said as he turned the stroller around. “Allison's probably awake by now and will be getting hungry.”

“My hands are getting numb, too.”

He glanced down at her gloved hands but didn't say anything. Still, words he hadn't said—that he'd warmed her hand the night before—hung heavily between them.

“You've got snowflakes on your eyelashes.” He stopped the stroller, pulled off his glove and reached over to gently brush them away.

Her face tingled where he'd touched her skin, and she didn't seem to have any breath left, so she was surprised she was able to get out a rough “thanks.”

“Glad to be of service.”

Only when he'd pushed the stroller past could she finally begin to breathe normally again. Just being near him made her feel alive in a way she'd never experienced before, as if she could do anything just because he was near her. But could she overcome her fears? Could she put her trust in any man and open her heart to him completely? Was she made of the right stuff to trust like that?

Even if she could trust, was David a man she could rely on? He could be a good friend; he'd proven that with Allison. But the trail of broken hearts he'd probably left in his wake suggested that friendship was the most she should ask of him. Could she risk asking for more?

The house was dark when they reached it as, lately, dusk had started stealing daylight before the dinner hour.

“Allison forgot to turn on the Christmas lights,” David said as they ascended the walk. He parked the stroller beside the porch and took out Allison's keys.

“Maybe she's still sleeping or reading in her room.”

He nodded, but he still hurried to unlock the door. “I just want to check in on her. She's been awfully tired all day.” As he pushed the door open, he looked back over his shoulder. “Have you got Joy?”

“Yeah.” She moved to the stroller and unbuckled the toddler, who immediately awakened with a moan and a stretch. “Go ahead. I'll be right in.”

David didn't wait for further encouragement before he rushed into the house, heading straight for Brock and Allison's room. By the time that Sondra had wrestled Joy's snowsuit from the stroller harness and had reached the room with the still bundled child in her arms, David was sitting on the side of the bed. Allison lay on her side under the covers, her knees drawn up to her middle.

Sondra crossed the room in the three long strides. “What is it? What's the matter?”

“I knew it. I just knew something was wrong,” David mumbled as he patted his best friend's shoulder. “You've been sick again, haven't you?”

Allison grimaced, her hands pressed against her barely rounded tummy. A soft moan escaped her before she finally forced out the word “cramping.”

Sondra blinked. She knew she should do something, but her feet felt rooted to the floor. She should say something, but she didn't have any words. Even with her limited knowledge of pregnancy issues, she knew what cramping signaled: miscarriage. Or maybe something else, equally horrible. After all of Allison's hard work taking care of her body and even after Sondra and
David's battles to be the best care provider to her, she was going to lose her child anyway.

“I paged Brock. Hasn't called back.”

“I should have been here,” David grumbled again. “I shouldn't have—”

“You've got to stop it, David.” Sondra words surprised him as much as they had her. She glanced down at Joy's wide eyes and started swaying so the child didn't cry.

David shook his head, his thoughts appearing to have cleared. “You're right.” He turned back to Allison and pushed her hair back from her face as he might have done to a sick child. “We've got to get you to the hospital.”

“But Brock—”

“We'll call him. He can meet us at the hospital.”

David's clear focus helped Sondra to form a plan of her own. “You get Allison to the car, and I'll see if one of the neighbors can take Joy for a few hours. I'll meet you at the car.”

Having a plan helped her keep her thoughts clear as she jogged out the front door with the toddler in her arms.
Lord, please be with Allison and her baby. Hold both of them in the palm of Your hand. Amen.

Sondra had to knock on three doors before she found someone at home, but Allison's friend down the street offered to keep Joy as long as they needed.

David had her cousin stretched out in the back seat of her car where the infant car seat had been before, and he was waiting in the driver's seat by the time that she
came running across the snow-covered lawn to meet them. As soon as she'd climbed in the seat next to Allison and had gathered her close, David threw the gear-shift into Reverse.

“Be careful,” Sondra told him after he took a fast turn. “You don't want to cause her any more pain.”

“I'm doing the best I can, okay?” Without waiting for her answer, he grumbled under his breath, “I should have been there.”

Allison's grunt of pain interrupted whatever further self-criticism he would have said next.

“Where's Brock?” Allison murmured.

Sondra squeezed her cousin's arm. “Don't worry, sweetie, he's meeting us there.”

“I need him.”

“I know you do.”

Allison's groan filled the car. “Joy?” she managed.

“She's fine. Jill's watching her.”

“The baby…”

At least Allison hadn't phrased the last as a question because Sondra couldn't have answered her if she had. Only God had those answers. Still, she wished there was something she could say to give her cousin hope.

David answered instead. “God's with your baby right now, kiddo. The little one's in good hands.”

Sondra tried not to look at him, tried not to lend too much importance to a comment he'd surely made just to comfort his friend. But she couldn't help hoping that David was listening to his own words and that he was aware that God was there to support him, too.

He was going to need the support only God could give. Already, David was holding himself responsible for something over which he had no control. If something happened to Allison or her baby, he would never forgive himself.

J
ust before midnight Sondra leaned back in a stiff vinyl seat at Cox County Hospital, dangling in that void between sleep and wake. But something bumping against her shoulder made her instantly alert.

Next to her, David's head bobbed again and hit her shoulder harder. He woke with a jolt and shot a glance her way. “Sorry.”

She smiled. “It's okay. Why don't you just rest for a while?” She patted her shoulder in the silent offer of a temporary resting place.

“Thanks. I'm okay.”

It shouldn't have surprised her that David wouldn't allow himself to risk sleep, not when he'd spent the night being strong for everyone else. He hadn't budged from that chair just outside the emergency room entrance since the medical staff had rushed Allison through it. After Brock had arrived to be at his wife's bedside, David had insisted on staying, at least until they
were sure his friend would be all right. Even now he stared at the wooden double doors, as if by doing so he could will them open and could wrestle answers from the closed-lipped hospital staff.

Steadfast
. That was the best word Sondra could find to describe his actions tonight. She would never be able to think of that word again without being reminded of the last few hours. Without thinking of David Wright.

Strange, she didn't even mind that he'd stayed for Allison's benefit rather than hers. He'd been there for her, too. Strong when she'd felt vulnerable. Solid when her hope had been riddled with holes. The least she could do was offer a brace when his wall of strength wavered.

She reached over and squeezed the hand he'd set on the armrest. This time he accepted her support, which surprised and pleased her.

They were still holding hands when Brock pulled open one of the double doors and approached them, his hair sticking up where he'd been worrying it with his hands. Brock's face appeared as wan and exhausted as Sondra felt.

And then he smiled.

“She's going to be all right.” The words spilled from his lips in a rush. “Praise God, she's going…to be fine.” Tears that had been close to the surface from his first word trailed down his cheeks unchecked.

Sondra came out of the seat and gathered Brock into her arms. Another question burned in her mind, but how could she ask it? David stood, as well, and squeezed Brock's shoulder.

Finally, Sondra pulled back, but she still gripped Brock's forearms. “The baby?” Her words came out only as a whisper, but Brock stiffened, signaling that he'd heard.

“Oh.” He stepped back and shoved his hand through his hair again. “He's just fine. The doctor said it was severe dehydration that caused the cramping. They're pumping his mommy full of liquids right now, and they're going to have to spend the night here, but he's a real trouper.”

Sondra was smiling by then and crossed her arms before she answered him. “You mean he or
she,
don't you?”

Brock shook his head and laughed. “After all tests my wife has undergone today, I can tell you that he is a
he.
Joy's going to have a baby brother.”

“Congratulations, buddy.”

The somber mood of minutes before evaporated as David and Brock were shaking hands and trading pats on the back. Usually, such male antics would have annoyed her, but now she only smiled.
Thank You, Lord, for protecting them.
Then, as an afterthought, she added,
And thank You for sending David…to all of us.

 

David returned to the kitchen after transporting Joy from the portable crib at the neighbor's house to her own bed. He would have expected to be relaxed now, to feel exhaustion pooling in his brain like a pothole in a downpour, but he was keyed up instead, his heart and mind racing.

Sondra looked up from the teakettle she was just placing on the stove. “Did she go down easily for you?”

“She grunted a few times, stuck her backside into the air and crashed.”

“I doubt it's going to be that easy for me tonight.” She indicated the teakettle with a tilt of her head. “I thought some chamomile might help.”

“You, too, huh?”

“Would you like to stay and have some?”

“Do you have anything else without caffeine? Chamomile's only for when you're sick, and I'm never
that
sick.”

She pointed to the canister on the counter marked “tea” where he found several herb varieties.

“What a night,” Sondra said on a sigh when she finally took a seat next to him, her mug in her hand.

“You can say that again.”

“What a—”

He raised his hand. “No, don't.”

Still, he smiled. Sondra looked as overwhelmed as he felt. He sensed that she understood him, too, and was surprised that the idea of it didn't terrify him. Neither spoke for several minutes, as words felt extraneous to the situation, but finally the need to share filled him.

“I thought I might lose her tonight. My best friend and her baby.”

Sondra rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers together. “I know.” She didn't have to say it aloud for him to know she'd shared his worries and now shared his relief.

“I haven't prayed the way I did tonight in years.”

“Me, neither, and I've been going to church all along.” She smiled over the rim of her cup. “Did it feel good?”

“Yeah.” He pondered that. Even as far as he'd traveled from God the last few years, the Father had still been there with him, giving him comfort he didn't deserve. “I realized a lot of things tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“I relied on Allison a lot more than I knew.”

Instead of pressing, Sondra took another sip of her tea, giving him the freedom to elaborate in his own good time. It was as if she understood that he was admitting these truths to himself for the first time, too, and didn't want to rush him.

“If I let my friend fulfill my need for companionship, I didn't have to risk letting anyone else in. To get close. It was easy to change women like I traded dirty socks when I knew that Allison would always be there for me no matter what.”

He took a deep breath, as the last was the hardest to admit. “I was lying to myself.”

“I'm pretty good at that, too.”

He'd been stirring honey into the tea he wasn't really drinking, and his surprise caused him to clink the teaspoon on the porcelain.

“Has Allison told you anything about my father?”

He shook his head. “I'd assumed he died when you were young or something like that.”

“Yeah, something like that.” The side of her mouth pulled up, but she still looked sad. “He deserted my mother and me when I was seven. Mom gave up her life
and her dream of being a professor of literature for this over-the-road trucker who couldn't bear the constraints of marriage, both in its requirement of making a home somewhere and in that pesky fidelity requirement.”

The last surprised him, but it also gave him some insight into Sondra's background. He hurt for the betrayal and abandonment she must have felt as a child.

“Mom never really got over any of it,” she continued. “She's still bitter, though she did manage to make a home for us by herself and even teaches literature now at the local community college.”

He knew of another person who hadn't recovered from the man's collateral damage, but he didn't mention it. “So how does all of that make you a liar?”

“I use my father as an example of why I should never let anyone get close. Plenty of men in this world are just like him.”

Not all,
he was tempted to say, so he pushed away the thought. “Your theory sounds reasonable.” And it did. Hadn't he used his family for the very same purpose?

She took a sip of her tea and set it aside. “You know that teddy bear Joy's been dragging around? It's mine. The last thing Dad ever gave me before he left.”

David couldn't stop picturing that poor little girl she probably still was in many ways. A knot lodged in his throat at the thought of that child, clinging to that teddy bear—then and now.

“Where is he now?” he managed when he'd been sure he couldn't speak.

“Letters have come from Chattanooga and Baton
Rouge and even Salt Lake City—usually one every few years or so. But his only true home is the open road.”

“You were better off without someone like him. You probably wouldn't be the strong, capable woman you are if he'd stuck around.”

“I also wouldn't be the dating nightmare that I am.”

They both laughed at that until David finally stopped himself. “You think you're bad. You're talking to a man who's never had a third date with anyone.”

She studied him. “Does a third date feel like a marriage proposal or something?”

Surprise had him drawing in a breath. “Something like that.”

More like
exactly
like that, but this wasn't the time for specifics. Sondra just
got
him. He wasn't used to women who understood him, except for Allison, who'd always been a friend to him and nothing more.

Sondra shrugged. “I've gotten a few dates beyond three, but not too far past it. I know it's silly, but I figure if I'm always the first to leave, then I'm safe.”

“It's not silly.”

He understood and, in a lot of ways, had used a similar plan in his own life. His fear was different from hers though. A part of him always wondered if that fear-of-intimacy gene his parents both seemed to carry was hereditary. Until now, it hadn't mattered so much whether he had it in him to really love someone, but Sondra was different than all the others. She tempted him to try.

David didn't realize how quiet he'd become until he glanced at Sondra and found her studying him. An
amazed expression shaped her features as though she was just seeing him for the first time, and this time, she'd found him worthy. Funny, he'd never felt less so.

“Your dad really hurt you, didn't he?”

Her only answer was a sad smile.

The rush of emotion came so suddenly and with such intensity that David had to draw in a breath to steady himself. He couldn't stop the words, though, because they came from the heart.

“I would never hurt you.”

The need to reach for her was so overwhelming that he had to fist his hands beneath the table to prevent it. He longed to touch her full lips with his, but her refusal from the other night was still fresh in his mind. It had to be her wish that they be together, not just his. So he could do nothing but wait for her to tell him what she wanted.

Sondra drew in an audible breath and chewed her lip. Well, he had his answer, and it wasn't a green light. His disappointment was tinged with other emotions he couldn't define as he gripped the table, preparing to stand.

But the feel of Sondra's fingers covering his stopped him where he sat. “I know” was all she said before she leaned slightly toward him. The trust he saw when he looked into her eyes was his undoing.

Resting his hands on her forearms, he closed the remaining distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. As soon as they touched, he realized his mistake. This was so different from the empty embraces he'd shared with a parade of women. Kissing Sondra felt like
an answer to prayer, and he hadn't realized he'd been praying.

He tilted his head and caressed her mouth again, smiling against her skin as her hands traced up his shoulders to his nape. Even after the kiss ended, she didn't pull away but rested her cheek against his.

David closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of wildflowers in her hair. “I could get used to this.”

“Me, too,” she answered on a sigh.

Because he longed to be a gentleman with her even if he hadn't been one with the women of his past, David came to his feet.

“I'd better get going.”

Sondra stood next to him and raised a hand in protest, but he only clasped that hand and drew it to his lips. Then he leaned over and brushed his lips over hers once more. “Good night.”

She smiled as he pulled away. “Good night.”

Even after David had closed the door behind him and headed out into the frosty night, Sondra remained with him, in his thoughts and in his senses. She'd touched him in a place he'd thought untouchable before—his heart.