Coming Home for Christmas (15 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Coming Home for Christmas
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Both she and the baby died before they made it to the hospital.
Chapter Nine
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The First Day of Winter
 
Grace tied the bright red ribbon around the last package, then added a matching bow. She surveyed the mountain of gifts she'd spent the morning wrapping. This was truly going to be the best Christmas Stephanie and her girls had ever had.
She'd bought both girls the latest
American Girl
books along with a special doll of their own: a
Julie Albright
for Ashley and an
Ivy Ling
for Amanda. Both American Girl dolls were going through big changes in their home lives, too. Grace thought the girls would identify with the dolls and the stories that accompanied them. She'd purchased all the extra clothes, shoes, and ribbons that she could find for the dolls. The girls would love changing their clothes and fixing their hair.
She bought Stephanie a new ski suit and jacket because she'd never owned a new one, saying all that she'd ever owned were secondhand castoffs. There were skis, poles, boots, hats, and gloves that promised warmth in subzero temperatures. Briefly, Grace thought of Max. Stephanie had been an avid skier before marrying Glenn. Maybe now that she was putting her life in order, she would find time to take up the sport. Max would've been an excellent instructor for her.
She barely knew the man, yet she couldn't seem to shake the image of him standing at the door when she'd left. It had been barely twenty-four hours, and here she was pining away like a lovesick teenager. Maybe a
lust
-sick teenager. It'd been a while since she'd had a real relationship. Actually, she hadn't had a real relationship since Matt, her college sweetheart, who turned out to be anything but. Oh, she'd gone on tons of dates. There was always a friend of a friend who had a cousin in town, or someone's newly divorced brother who needed a date for his annual company picnic. She liked dating but had never thought too much about marriage. She was thirty-five years old. Marriage might not be in the cards for her. That was okay because Grace was reasonably happy, loved her profession, enjoyed the life she'd made for herself. More than anything, she felt like a proud parent, helping the many women who passed through Hope House. If she didn't accomplish anything else in her life, she knew she was okay with that. Opening Hope House had been her biggest dream. She'd fulfilled it, and anything extra was simply a bonus.
“Are you about to finish in there?” Juanita called out to Grace. “I have a few things I'd like to wrap.”
Grace watched her mother standing in the doorway. Hope House had six available bedrooms. With Stephanie and the girls as her only “guests,” just two of the other bedrooms were in use. Grace had turned the smallest bedroom into a temporary wrapping station, where she could wrap presents without being caught. She loved surprises and couldn't wait to see the look on the girls' faces Christmas morning.
“It's all yours, Mother dear,” Grace said. “Promise not to peek, okay? Some of those silver-and-gold packages are yours.”
“Why don't you put them under the tree?” her mother suggested.
“I am. I just wanted to wait so Amanda and Ashley could help. They're having their hair washed right now.”
“That's a grand idea, darling. You certainly know how to treat those girls. Too bad you don't have any of your own.”
Oh no
, Grace thought,
the marriage talk
. Surely, her mother wasn't going to do this to her again. Not at Christmas.
“Mom, we've talked about this before. I'm not getting any younger. If a child and marriage aren't in my future, then please allow me to spoil and love those I can.”
Juanita looked at her daughter, tears filling her matching green eyes. “I don't know how I raised such a wonderful and wise woman, but I did. Come here,” her mother said. Grace stepped into Juanita's loving embrace.
“I just followed your lead, Mom.”
“Oh, I don't know about that. I don't think I was ever brave enough to do some of the things you do, dear. Have I ever told you how proud I am of you? All the women and children you've helped throughout the years. Your father would be so proud of you.”
“Stop it, or I'll get all teary-eyed and ruin my mascara,” Grace said with a grin. “You know how clumsy I am when it comes to putting on makeup.”
“Oh, go on. Let me get these packages wrapped before Bryce discovers what I'm doing. You know what a sneak he can be.”
“I'll keep him occupied downstairs while you're wrapping. Hide them under the bed when you're finished.”
“Good thinking.”
Downstairs, Grace found Bryce where else but snooping into the fridge. “Is that all you do?”
“What?” He shot her his all-American smile. Bryce was as handsome as their father had been, with his coal black hair and dark eyes. He'd just completed the requirements for his Ph.D. in history, same subject as their father, who'd been a professor at the University of Colorado. Starting in January, he would tackle his first real teaching job at the same college. Seeing Bryce all grown-up would have made her father proud. He'd died of a massive heart attack when Bryce was sixteen.
“Every time I look at you, you're eating,” Grace teased.
“Hey, I'm a growing boy. I haven't had real food in ages. I wish I could cook.”
“Then I'll make sure to get you a cookbook for Christmas.”
“Thanks, Sis. I can always count on you to be practical,” Bryce said between bites of banana nut bread.
“You better save some of that for the girls. And what's that supposed to mean?”
Bryce poured a large glass of milk, downed it, then answered, “Just that you've always been the more practical one. That's not a bad thing to be, Gracie.”
Suddenly, Grace wanted to cry. Good old practical Grace. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Think that's why no one ever . . . well, you know, fell head over heels in love with me?” Grace could ask Bryce anything, and she could count on him to tell her the truth.
“Probably. Or they never thought they were good enough. My money's on the latter.” Bryce winked at her.
“You're a good brother, you know that?” Grace wrapped him in a hug. Though she was older by six years, he was twice her size, a rock of solid muscle. Years on the ski slopes had guaranteed that.
Which made her think of Max. “Remember that guy you used to go all gaga over? The Olympic skier?” Grace wasn't sure if he would remember, but she wanted to see if it was possible if Bryce knew anything about Max, other than what had been in the news during his career.
“Max Jorgenson? Darn straight I remember him. As a matter of fact, some of the guys and I are going to Maximum Glide next week. Jorgenson owns the resort. Why? You thinking of taking up skiing?”
“I might. I was just curious. I don't know if Mom mentioned it or not, but I . . . uh, spent the night at his house.” Grace grinned when she saw how big Bryce's eyes got. They looked like two giant black holes.
“What do you mean, you ‘spent the night at his house'?”
Grace swatted him with a kitchen towel. “Not spent the night like the way you're thinking. When I was coming home from Eagle Valley Friday night, I was detoured by the local cops. The snow was so bad I couldn't see, my cell phone wasn't charged, long story short, I wound up knocking on his door at two in the morning. Amanda and Ashley were with me.”
“Maybe I was wrong when I used the word ‘practical.' ‘Sneaky' might be better.”
“Stop it! I knew you were a big fan when you were in junior high, just thought you might want to know.”
“So that's it? Did you two do . . . anything?” Bryce asked, his eyes downcast, a grin the size of Texas spreading across his face.
“Why you little shit!” Grace laughed so hard she lost her breath. Of course, that was when her mother chose to make her grand entrance.
“Grace, I haven't seen you laugh that hard since you wrote ‘I love you' on all of your brother's Valentine cards.”
“Oh my gosh, I did do that, didn't I?” She folded over laughing as she remembered when Bryce was in the fourth grade. He came home from school swearing he wouldn't ever return because all the girls thought he liked them. It'd been a rotten thing to do, but Grace and her mother both had told Bryce a dozen times to write out his Valentine cards for his classmates. When Grace offered to do them for him, she decided to play a joke by writing ‘I love you' on all the cards for the girls in his class. He'd never let her live it down.
“Yes, and to this day Ramona Clark still has the hots for me.”
“What's wrong with that?” Grace asked.
“She weighs about four hundred pounds, that's all. Nice girl, but not my type.”
“What is your type, Bryce? Mother and I would love to know. Wouldn't we, Mom?” Grace asked teasingly.
“Well, I suppose this is one of those times when I need to leave the room. So I can eavesdrop.”
They were all laughing when Stephanie brought the girls to the kitchen. “They're hungry again, Miss Grace. I don't know how I'll ever repay you. The food bill alone will take me years. They just might eat you out of house and home.”
“Nonsense! They're growing girls. I was just telling Bryce what a pig . . . how nice it is to see someone eat all these baked goods.” She winked at Stephanie.
“How about peanut butter with strawberry jam on a slice of banana nut bread?” Grace suggested.
“Yummy, Miss Grace,” Amanda said.
“Yeah,” Ashley added with less enthusiasm.
Grace made sandwiches for the girls while Stephanie fixed each a glass of chocolate milk. Grace would never allow anyone who came to Hope House to go hungry. Many of the women and children who passed through Hope House came to her not only helpless and beaten down. Often they were hungry as well. In many of the so-called homes, food hadn't been a priority. Grace was sure the girls hadn't had enough to eat because when they had first arrived, they were skin and bones. Though they were still on the thin side, Grace was glad to see some pink in their cheeks, and their eyes were much brighter. It still amazed her how a loving, caring touch could change one's life.
Which brought her back to her conversation with Bryce. Practical? Is that what had turned Max off after that kiss? The kiss that took her breath away. The kiss that was unlike any she'd ever experienced. The kiss that almost knocked her whole world askew. Was she a practical kisser doomed to be denied all the passion and romance she'd secretly read about in all the romance novels she hid in her room? She laughed. Love and romance of that nature was pure fiction.
“When will it be time to decorate the tree, Miss Grace?” Amanda asked when she finished her sandwich.
“As soon as your sister is finished, we'll get started.” Grace smiled at the girls. When they had returned yesterday afternoon from their adventure, she'd taken them to Jingle Bells and More, one of her favorite Christmas shops in Gypsum, where she'd purchased several Dora the Explorer ornaments for Amanda and
High School Musical
ornaments that all her friends back home would love for Ashley. She'd enjoyed seeing the looks on their faces each time she said yes to their, “Can we buy this one?” The trip had cost her a bit more than she'd budgeted for, but the delight she'd seen in their eyes was worth every penny.
“I'm finished,” Ashley called out loudly.
All the adults laughed.
“Then let's get started,” Grace encouraged them.
Three hours later, the twelve-foot spruce sparkled with red, green, and white lights, the ornaments she'd bought for the girls, plus dozens and dozens of her own personal ornaments that she'd collected over the years. She still had the hot pink star she'd made for her mother in sixth grade.
“I think there's something missing under the tree. What do you think, Amanda? Ashley?”
The girls looked to their mother for an answer, but Stephanie just shrugged. Bryce and her mother shook their heads.
“Are you sure you don't know?” Grace inquired.
“Nope, Miss Grace we don't. We never had a tree this big before. We just had one Mommy had from when she was a little girl, but it wasn't real. It didn't smell good either,” Ashley continued. “It was glass.”
Grace's eyes welled with tears when she realized this was the first
real
Christmas tree the girls had ever had.
“Well, since you can't guess, I'm going to tell you.” Grace smiled, wrapping one arm around each of their shoulders.
“I believe we are missing some . . . presents!” Grace emphasized the last word as loud as she could without scaring them.
“Presents? Real presents with sparkly wrapping paper and shiny bows?”

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