One Imperfect Christmas (11 page)

“Lissa, supper's ready,” he called down the hall. “You can come out of your room now.”

The closed door muffled her angry reply. “I'm not hungry!”

Daniel eyed the second dinner hungrily. With a furtive glance toward the doorway, he quickly added Lissa's dinner to his own. He grabbed a knife and fork and the glass of iced tea he'd already poured and started for the living room. No way he could sit down at the kitchen table, hidden beneath Lissa's schoolbooks, his gym bag, a batch of chapter questions he'd barely started grading, and a folder of basketball stats he needed to sort through.

He pursed his lips. Eating meals at the table had gone out with the return of “bachelorhood.” Even after Lissa moved in with him, they'd both gravitated toward the sofa with their morning bowls of cereal. Daniel's unimaginative evening meals—usually hamburgers, TV dinners, pancakes, or omelets—didn't inspire table dining, either.

Chomping down on a tough piece of fake chicken, he regretted turning down a bowl of Bram's homemade four-alarm chili for this.

Far more disappointing, however, was missing the chance to spend the evening with Natalie. Maybe they wouldn't have fought this time. It might have been okay … maybe. He tried to picture Natalie's reaction when she received the flower arrangement. Would she be touched, angry, or worse, completely indifferent?

Thinking of you.
How lame was that? He could have at least signed it,
With love.

Abruptly, he didn't feel so hungry after all. He set the plate on the coffee table and pressed a hand to his chest, willing away the suffocating emptiness. If he couldn't do anything tonight about his marriage, at least he could try to make peace with his daughter. He walked down the hall and tapped on Lissa's door.

“What?”

“Can I come in?” He opened the door a crack. “I really lost it earlier, and I want to apologize.”

He heard the rustle of paper and the squeak of her desk drawer closing.

Finally, Lissa answered with a tremulous, “Okay.” As he sidled into the room, she murmured, “I'm sorry too.” She lay across the bed on her stomach, chin propped on folded arms, her long blonde hair almost hiding her small face.

Daniel's chest tightened. His normally outspoken daughter suddenly seemed so much younger than her thirteen years. He settled beside her on the edge of the bed. On her computer screen a colorful horse graphic with the look of an oil painting caught his eye. He recognized Lissa's unique artistic style. “You just do that?” At her nod, he said, “Cool.”

She grimaced. “Tell my art teacher. She doesn't think computer-assisted art is 'creative.'”

“Bet your mom would disagree.” When she didn't answer, he tried another tack. “Hungry yet?”

“Sort of.” She rolled over and stared with red-rimmed eyes at the ceiling light. “I still think you and Mom are being jerks.”

He winced. “Yeah, you're probably right. What can I say?”

“You could say you and Mom are getting back together.” That quaver again.

His own voice shook as he answered. “I hope and pray we will someday. But the decision is up to your mom.”

Lissa jerked upright, her gaze accusing. “You could try harder, Dad. You could have gone to her party tonight. You could call her more. You could—”

“Stop right there.” Daniel raised a warning hand. “We've already had this argument, and look where it got you.”

“Okay, okay.” She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. “Can I get something to eat now?”

Daniel could tell it was not “okay,” but Lissa's stiff spine as she marched out the door told him their conversation had ended. He didn't know when he'd ever felt so alone and helpless. Even his prayers seemed to bounce off the ceiling and back into his lap.

The phone rang, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. He imagined Natalie on the other end of the line, calling about the flowers. A thousand possible scenarios played through his brain, none of which gave him any peace.

He heard Lissa pick up the kitchen extension. “Dad, it's for you.”

If the caller was Natalie, Lissa's tone gave no clue. He stepped into the hallway, palms sweating. “I'll take it in my room.” He closed his bedroom door and picked up the phone on his bedside table. “Hello?”

“Coach Pearce, this is Dave Arnell, head basketball coach at Langston High. I have your résumé in front of me.”

Daniel's breath hitched. Okay, he'd asked for a sign. Maybe this was it. If Arnell offered him a job, it could mean the time had come to permanently end things with Natalie.

“Yes, sir, Coach Arnell.” He tried to mask the trepidation in his voice, but every nerve had gone on red alert. “What can I do for you?”

The other man chuckled. “Son, the real question is, what can I do for you? One of our assistant coaches just announced he's retiring at the end of this school year, and I'm in the market for a new second-in-command starting next fall. Are you still interested in interviewing for a position at Langston?”

Lissa had intended to hang up the kitchen phone as soon as her father picked up. She knew it was impolite to eavesdrop, but when she heard the caller identify himself, she couldn't resist the urge to listen in.

The job offer stunned her. If Dad said yes and ended up moving to Langston, he and Mom would never get back together.

With tingling fingers she replaced the receiver as gently as possible. Time was running out. She'd have to kick her plans into high gear.

Her toast popped up. She absently dropped it onto a paper towel and spread it with peanut butter. Thoughts spinning, she carried the toast and a glass of milk to her room and sat down at the computer. She closed the graphic design she'd been working on, logged on to her email site, and wrote:

TO: WATERBUG

FROM: LP108

SUBJECT: major bad news

I can't believe this. My dad is interviewing for a coaching job in Langston. If that happens, it's over!!!! You know what I've been praying for. Mom & Dad back together by Christmas. And you know I would do anything, absolutely ANYTHING, to make that happen!! If my grandma would just get well, I KNOW everything would be okay again. The idea I told you about has just GOT to work, so don't let me down, okay? Friday, 5:45 a.m., Sixth and Main, just like we planned. Be there, PLEASE????

She clicked the send button and listened to the computerized chime that indicated her e-mail was on its way through cyberspace.

One item checked off her list, one to go. She logged off the Internet, reached for the phone, and pressed a speed-dial code.

“Hello?” said a sleepy voice.

“Hi, it's me. Just making sure we're on schedule.”

The voice perked up. “
No problemo,
baby. All systems are A-OK.”

8

N
atalie somehow choked down enough chili and corn-bread to quiet the concern in her father's searching glances, but the birthday meal sat like a wheelbarrow of concrete in the pit of her stomach. Dad and Hart cleared the table while Celia set out dessert plates and lit the candles on the birthday cake. Natalie glimpsed the box on the counter with “Lindon's Bakery” stamped in gold script on the lid. Of course, Dad had ordered one of Maeve Lindon's scrumptious red velvet cakes. They'd always been Natalie's favorite and a longstanding birthday tradition—one she would have gratefully forsaken this year, if anyone had asked.

She had no choice but to sit in awkward silence, a stiff smile pasted across her face, while the family sang “Happy Birthday” and waited for her to blow out the candles before they melted into waxy puddles in the creamy frosting. Celia handed her a knife and dished up generous scoops of vanilla ice cream as Natalie served the cake and hoped no one noticed her shaking hands. Hart and the twins gobbled down second and third helpings, while Natalie toyed with her miniscule slice and watched the dark red crumbs float in iridescent pools of melted ice cream.

Next came the cards and gifts. She dutifully opened each one and gave what she hoped were convincing “oohs” and “aahs.” A mint-green knitted cap with matching scarf and gloves from Hart and Celia. A movie rental gift card from the twins. A silver bracelet with horse charms from her dad.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice breathy. She stuffed a wad of pastel tissue paper into a silver gift bag and started to rise. “It was all wonderful, but I have to be at work early in the morning. I should really go.”

“But, sweetie, we're just getting started.” Dad laid a restraining hand on her arm. “With all of us here to pitch in, the decorating won't take long.”

“We could do it another night.” She lifted her brows in a pleading look. “Maybe next weekend?”

Hart spoke up. “You don't want to mess with tradition, do you? We always do the tree on your birthday.”

She cast him a despairing frown. “I know, but … ”

“It's what your mom would want.” The poignant note in Dad's voice stabbed Natalie's heart. “Stay.”

She bent to give her father a kiss on his wrinkled forehead. “Okay, Dad, sure.”

Her father rubbed his hands together. “You go put your feet up for a few minutes while we clean up in here. Then we can get busy on the decorating.”

The kitchen door whisked shut behind her. She settled into her dad's favorite easy chair, its plush velour upholstery comforting her like a familiar hug. Across the room, the wood-stove radiated its warmth, and the subtle, soothing scent of burning oak logs surrounded her. She welcomed the temporary solitude to compose herself for what came next. If only she'd had the foresight to bring up these dreaded birthday traditions with Dr. Sirpless, maybe she could have come away with some slightly more effective coping strategies than “grin and bear it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, one fist knotted so tightly that her nails dug into her palm.
Dear God, for Dad's sake, please let me make it through this night.

All too soon, Celia joined her in the living room and started some Christmas music playing on the stereo. “Dad set aside a container of chili for you. Be sure you don't forget it.”

“Sounds good.”

The soft strains of “Away in a Manger” floated toward her from a nearby speaker. Already she could feel what little self-control she had regained beginning to crumble.

“I took the twins by to see Mom after school today.” Celia took a seat on the sofa. “Every once in a while I'm sure she actually recognizes us.” She gave her head a small shake. “But then the light goes out of her eyes again.”