For Better or Worse (6 page)

“Well, he’s not here now, is he?” Zoey retorted. She wrapped her arms in front of her chest.

Kelly’s heart broke that her daughter still hurt so deeply over Tim’s death, and she empathized with the teen’s pain. But Zoey needed to stop making everyone else’s lives miserable. Kelly shoved the cans into Zoey’s folded arms. “Make the casserole.”

Zoey glared at Kelly. “I don’t remember how.”

“Follow the directions on the fried onion can. It tells exactly how to do it.” She turned and grabbed a glass pan from the cabinet. “We’ll cook it in this.”

“Fine.” Zoey walked to the table and placed the ingredients on top of it.

The three finished Thanksgiving dinner in near silence. Occasionally, her mother would try to talk about school or their Thanksgiving menu, but Zoey would only mumble her replies.

“We’re here.” Kelly’s sister-in-law’s voice echoed through the house.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Ellie, her young niece ran through the living room and into the kitchen. She spied Kelly’s mom and wrapped her arms around her. “Grandma! I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, sweetie.”

While Kelly’s mom bent down to hug the young girl, her dad walked through the doorway from the den. “Did I hear a little munchkin calling my name?”

“Grandpa!” Ellie squealed. She raced over to him and he picked her up. She pushed out her bottom jaw and pulled down her bottom lip. “Look, I lost a tooth.”

“Well, you did,” Kelly’s dad responded.

“She sure did, Dad,” Cam walked through the kitchen, stopping long enough to deposit a couple of pies and give Kelly and Zoey a kiss on the forehead and his mom a hug. “Head on back into the den so she can tell you how she did it. You’ve got the game on, right?”

Sadie rolled her eyes at Cam’s words, and Kelly noted how the arrival of her brother and his family had lightened the mood of her home. She gave her sister-in-law a big hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I bet. I brought two homemade pumpkin pies.” She placed the pies on the counter beside the ones Cam had deposited. “And a homemade pecan pie and a sugar crème pie. I’ve never made the sugar crème from scratch, so I guess we’ll find out soon enough if I did all right.”

“I’d be glad you’re here even if you didn’t bring food.” Kelly glanced over at Zoey, who was arranging fruit on a tray and hadn’t even uttered a greeting to her uncle and family.

Sadie winked and mouthed, “Got it.” She walked over to the table and sat in the chair beside Zoey. “How’s it going, Zoey?”

Zoey shrugged. “All right, I guess. Mom’s making me help.”

“At seventeen, I’m surprised she doesn’t have you cooking the whole thing.”

Zoey smiled. Kelly awed at the way Sadie could soften Zoey. From everything Kelly could see, Sadie didn’t say anything special or specific that would make Zoey respond so positively to her, and yet she did. Maybe it was because there was just a little under a decade between their ages. More than likely, it was simply Sadie’s attitude. The woman never judged Zoey—no matter what she wore, no matter what she said. There were times Kelly wanted to wring her oldest daughter’s neck, but Sadie’s belief remained steadfast that Zoey would be all right.

“Grandma!” Ellie called from the den. “Come here and see the cheer Candy and I made up for the ball game.”

Her mother handed the wooden spoon she’d been using to stir the gravy to Kelly. “Here you go.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “Okay. I’m coming, sweetie.”

Kelly turned down the heat on the gravy. “Harold had better hurry. The food is almost done.”

“Are you kidding me? Harold is coming?” Zoey asked.

Anger welled in Kelly. “Of course, he’s coming—”

“He’s part of the family,” Sadie interrupted Kelly. She placed her hand on Zoey’s. “I really like Harold. He’s been good to your mom.”

Kelly took several deep breaths as Zoey sat back in her chair. “Fine.”

The doorbell rang and Kelly went to open the door for Harold. She hoped Zoey would be nice for the holiday. Her daughter had shown moments of an improved attitude, but with the holidays approaching, Zoey seemed to have sunk back into her shell. Kelly opened the door. “Hey, handsome.”

“And there’s my beautiful, soon-to-be wife.” Harold wrapped his arms around Kelly and kissed her softly on the lips.

She closed her eyes and allowed his warmth to soothe her. Any hint of frustration slipped out of her mind at the tenderness of his touch. He released her, and she opened her eyes. “I needed that.”

Mischief shadowed his gaze. “Well, you need never ask. I’m always available.”

She smiled as she led him into the den. “Harold’s here.”

As her family greeted him, Kelly set the table that was meant to seat eight, but they were going to squeeze in ten.
A problem I’m thankful to have
.

With so many at the table, Kelly decided to leave part of the food on the counter and place the dishes she felt sure the family would eat seconds of on the table. Once everyone had filled their plates to overflowing, Kelly’s dad said grace and the group began to eat.

Several conversations filled the room at one time and Kelly nearly burst into tears of thanksgiving yet again. They had so much to be thankful to God for. Her parents were healthy. Just a little over a year before, Cam and Sadie had married and were wonderful parents to Ellie. Her daughters were healthy, and God had given her the most wonderful man in the world to love for the rest of her life. Tears pooled in her eyes and she wiped them away with her napkin.

“This green bean casserole is awesome,” Harold said. He took another bite. “I’m not usually a green bean fan, but this stuff is good. Who made it?”

Zoey jumped out of her seat. She slammed her napkin on to the table. “Is that a joke?” She peered Kelly. “Did you tell him to say that?” She looked back at Harold. “You are not my father!” She stomped down the hall and slammed of her door.

“What did I say?” Harold looked around the table, and Kelly felt an overwhelming sadness for the man she loved. He didn’t deserve all the problems he’d be getting when he married Kelly.

“I’m sorry, Harold.” Kelly shook her head as the tears pooled in her eyes anew. She could hear Cam explaining that Tim had always complimented Zoey’s green bean casserole, but Kelly couldn’t take anymore. She excused herself and walked into the bathroom. If she loved Harold, she wouldn’t force him to endure all this.

Harold sat on the couch in the den watching the Thanksgiving football game. Cam and his dad took turns rooting on their team and jeering at the referees. He could hear the girls in the living room playing board games. Normally, he would sit back and enjoy the game, but to his knowledge, Zoey still hadn’t come out of her room.

He knew Kelly checked on her. Sadie went back there and talked with her for a long while as well, but the teen still hadn’t rejoined the family.

Part of him wanted to tell her to stop all this nonsense and enjoy time with the family, that he would be a good stepfather to her. The other part of him understood her completely. It was the part that remembered being fifteen when his dad brought home the woman who would replace his mom who’d died only a few months before.
For years, I struggled with accepting that woman. But she was so patient with me
. Harold had lost both of them within months of each other only five years ago.
It’s funny how I miss her every bit as much as I miss Dad
.

Cam’s growl at the ref snapped Harold out of his reverie. He took a long swig of his soft drink. Just sitting there, not really watching the game, but worrying over Zoey was getting the best of him. He pushed up from the couch. “Be back in a sec, guys.”

Kelly’s dad just kinda shooed him out, and Cam didn’t even look up. Harold walked through the kitchen and down the hall toward Zoey’s room. He hesitated a moment. What would he say to her?
I’ll figure it out if she lets me come in
.

He knocked, expecting her to growl or yell for him to go away. Instead, a small voice answered. “Come on in.”

He opened the door. Her eyebrows rose in surprise when she glanced up at him. Just as quickly, she looked down at the small pillow that sat in her lap. She picked at the fringe. In the year that he’d dated Kelly, almost every time he’d talked with Zoey she had a hard edge, an anger that aged her well past her seventeen years. Today, she looked like a wounded twelve-year-old girl, one who’d lost her greatest treasure and could never get it back. He knew at that instant the only thing he needed to do was show her that he’d be there for her.

“What do you want?” Her tone expressed no emotion, simply asked the question with no anger, no frustration, no hope.

Harold shrugged. “Can I sit there?” He pointed to the chair in front of her desk. Sure.”

Being sure to leave the door wide open, Harold pulled the chair away from the desk and toward the door. The last thing he wanted to do was to make Zoey feel uncomfortable. He sat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry, Zoey.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Mom and Sadie said you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t.”

“It was just—that was what Dad used to say. He’d go on and on about how good I made the green bean casserole, that I mixed it just long enough and cooked it at just the right temperature and for just the right amount of time.”

Zoey paused, and Harold held his breath. She was talking to him, and he needed to listen.

“It was silly, really,” she went on. “I knew he was exaggerating. Even as a little girl, I knew that. But I loved the attention. I loved that my dad was so proud of something I’d done.”

She looked at Harold, brushing tears from her eyes. “You don’t look anything like my dad, Harold. You don’t act anything like him, either. Dad was a pencil pusher. He made good money working behind a desk. He was shorter and thinner than you and GQgood-looking.”

Harold swallowed. He’d seen many pictures of Kelly’s first husband. The man was a good-looking guy, and he did make three times the income Harold ever would. Just by looking at his picture, Harold could tell the man didn’t mind being the center of attention. Harold tended to shy away from all that.

“I don’t want another dad, Harold.”

“I know that.”

“But you want to be my dad?” “Actually, yes I do.”

“Why?”

Harold looked around the room, taking in the nearly all dark colors, fabrics, artwork, and furniture. Only a few light-colored things remained—the pillow she held in her hand, a family picture with their father in a white frame on the dresser, and a pink lamp that she’d probably had since she was born. “I guess because I love your mom and every part of your mom, including you and your sisters.”

He leaned back in the chair, praying for God to give him the right words. “Did you know my mom died when I was fifteen?”

“Yeah. You mentioned it.”

“Did you know my dad married my stepmom seven months later?”

Zoey scrunched her nose. “That is not cool.”

“At the time, no, it was definitely not cool. But after I gave her some time, I found that she was a good mom. She couldn’t replace my biological mom. Not really. But she was a good substitute. And I grew to love her. I want to be your, Brittany, and Candy’s substitute. And I hope you’ll grow to love me as well.”

Zoey didn’t say anything, and Harold knew that he didn’t need to say anything else. He sat there for a little while, watching Zoey play with the fringe on her pillow. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but her expression didn’t appear hostile. He assumed she was trying to decide what to do with all that had happened in her life.

Finally, she looked up and pursed her lips in a half smile. “Thanks for telling me all that. I’ll think about it.”

Harold stood and put the chair back under her desk. “You want to come on out and join the family?”

“I will. I just need a minute more. You can leave the door open.”

“Okay.” Harold walked back into the den. Cam and his dad were so engrossed in the game he knew they didn’t even know he’d left.
God, keep drawing that girl back to Yourself. Help me know how to be a good substitute
.

Kelly laid her newly pressed slacks on the edge of the bed. She grabbed the sapphire V-neck sweater off the back of the wingback chair that sat adjacent to the dresser. Her gaze took in the Victorian décor of her bedroom, all mauves and sages, aged lace and porcelain. This room was her favorite in the whole house.

It was her sanctuary—the place where God restored her soul during her quiet times of prayer, Bible reading, and meditation. After a long day she could walk into this room and feel almost instant relaxation. God had held her through many a worry and fear in this room.

In only two weeks, she would share it with Harold.

How she longed for the day that Harold could hold her in his arms. The day they professed their promise to one another as man and wife before their family, friends, and their Lord. The amazing beauty of it all was that her wonderful fiancé had actually mentioned he couldn’t wait to join her in this room—and that he didn’t want her to change a thing.

Lord, how could he have known that I love this room as it is?