One Imperfect Christmas (31 page)

Over her uncle's shoulder she glimpsed the block lettering on the glass door of the entrance. Mentally, she changed GARNER & PEARCE to GARNER & GARNER. She gave a squeal of delight. If she cleaned up her act and buckled down, her dream might still come true.

18

L
issa perched on the edge of her bed and glared at the silent telephone. Panic knotted her stomach. “Deannie, you freakin' creep.”

They had been so close to getting Mom out of the office and back home, the crucial first step in getting her and Dad back together. At least one part of the plan remained on track. Today Grandma would leave the nursing home and go home to the farm. Surely Granddad wouldn't have checked her out if she weren't improving.

Lissa relaxed slightly as she remembered the day she'd taken the watercolors to her grandmother. In that tiny second when she detected recognition in Grandma's eyes, in those moments as Grandma's pale, bony hand reached for the paintbrush, gripping it with determination, Lissa's whole world had tilted. If she hadn't already been late for school, she'd have stayed and helped her grandmother paint something—a tree, a flower, anything. If she could only revive in her grandmother's frail body the smallest memory of her awesome talent, the rest would follow. It
had to.

And when Mom said Grandma had actually tried to paint on her own? Chills tingled up and down Lissa's arms. Grandma would get better. She'd paint the new star for the manger scene. Mom would wake up to everything she'd been missing all these months and take Dad back. They'd be a family again. A real family.

A tear slipped down her cheek. As she reached for a tissue to blow her nose, guilt snaked up her spine.
Okay, Lord, I admit it. I did some horrible things. But you didn't seem to be doing anything. I'm sorry. I really want to trust you, but can you just give me some little sign?

The slamming of the apartment door interrupted her prayer.

“Liss? You home?”

“In my room, Dad.” She tossed the tissue in the waste-basket and followed thumping and rustling sounds to the kitchen, where she found her father putting away groceries.

“Here, catch.” He tossed her a package of peanut butter cookies. “Early Christmas present.”

“Oh wow.” She faked a grin. “If this is a sample of what's to come, I can't wait till Christmas morning.”

“You know what a big spender your dad is.” With a laugh, he set a perspiring gallon jug of two-percent milk on the top shelf of the refrigerator.

Lissa slid her fingernail under the edge of the cellophane wrapper and tore open the cookie package. The tempting aroma of peanut butter filled the air. She shook out two golden-brown cookies and popped one in her mouth.

“Hey, don't spoil your lunch.”

She wrinkled her nose as Dad set two cans of pork and beans by the stove. “If that's what we're having, I'll stick with cookies.” Dusting crumbs off the front of her cable-knit sweater, she went to the cupboard for a glass. “How come we can't go with everybody to help move Grandma home?”

“Granddad didn't want too much commotion the first day. The move will be stressful enough.” Her dad folded and flattened a brown paper grocery bag. He wore a thoughtful look as he reached into the next bag and set two boxes of cereal in the cupboard beside the stove.

Straightening, he turned to Lissa. “I, uh, heard something interesting this morning.”

“Oh, yeah?” She retrieved the milk jug and filled her glass.

“I ran into Mrs. Garner at the market and she—”

“Deannie's mom?” Lissa stiffened. Her fumbling fingers would hardly work to screw the lid onto the milk jug.

“No, her aunt. Jeff's wife. She started rambling about what Jeff's going to do when your mom leaves the company.” He shrugged, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “Did you have any idea she was even thinking about it?”

Lissa took a slow slip of milk and hoped Dad didn't notice how her hand trembled.
It was happening!
She let the cool liquid slide down her throat while she worked to control her excitement. “I knew Mom planned to take some time off from work over the holidays to help with Grandma.” She looked askance at her father. “Mrs. Garner really said Mom's leaving the print shop?”

“Not in so many words, but she implied it's been a hot topic of discussion around their dinner table this week.”

Lissa turned away and swept a hand across her cheek. “But Deannie never said … ”

Her father stuffed the folded grocery sacks next to the trash can under the sink. “What about Deannie?”

“Oh, nothing.” She forced a light tone and a smile. “I'll be in my room for a while.”

Her thoughts were in a jumble as she trudged to the bedroom. Surely, Deannie would have said something if she'd known. After all, Mom's resignation had been their primary goal from the beginning. But if it were true, wouldn't Mom at least have mentioned it to her or Dad?

Pacing between the bed and dresser, she glanced at the clock. The red digital numbers read 11:48. Mom had probably left the office by now to meet Granddad and Uncle Hart at the nursing home.

But she had to know … and right away! She grabbed the phone and punched the number for the print shop.

Deannie answered on the second ring. “Garner and Gar—I mean, Garner and Pearce Printing and Advertising. May I help you?”

“Hey, it's me. And I caught that little slip, by the way.”

“Lissa.” Deannie released a nervous giggle. “What's up?”

“I just heard a rumor about my mom leaving the company.” Her tone dripped sarcasm. “Want to fill me in here,
Miz
Garner?”

“Huh? Are you sure?” To Lissa's dismay, the surprise in Deannie's voice sounded genuine.

“My dad heard it from your aunt in the grocery store this morning. Yeah, I'd say my source is pretty reliable.” She thrust her hip out and planted her fist on it. “Come on, Deannie, you've got to help me out here.”

Deannie sputtered into the phone. “What am I supposed to do, just walk into Uncle Jeff's office and ask? Under the circumstances, can you imagine what that would sound like to him? Uh-uh, no way.”

“Okay, if you won't ask him, I will. Transfer my call to your uncle.”

“You're crazy,” Deannie shot back, but a moment later Lissa heard several clicks as Deannie transferred the call.

“Jeff Garner,” came the distracted greeting.

“Hi, Mr. Garner, it's Lissa Pearce.” Her stomach knotted, but she forged ahead. “I … I'm so sorry to bother you, but I have to ask you about something.”

“Hi, Lissa. How are you? Bet you're looking forward to having your grandmother home. I know your mom is sure excited about it.”

“Yeah, we're all very happy.” Lissa ran her fingers through her hair and then twisted the ends. “Mr. Garner, has my mom said anything to you about quitting her job?”

Silence fell. “You mean she hasn't told you?”

It's true!
Lissa scrunched her eyes shut and clenched her fist in a tiny victory dance. She took several shallow breaths before replying. “Well, not officially. But I, um, heard she was thinking about it.”

“Then I don't think it's my place to tell you anything more.”

“That's okay. I understand.” She thanked him and said good-bye. His hesitance didn't matter. She already had the answer she wanted.

She pumped her arms.
Yes, yes, yes!

Daniel dumped the pork and beans into a saucepan, retrieved a couple of hot dogs from the refrigerator, and sliced them into the beans. The smell reminded him of Boy Scouts and scorched meals over campfires. He pursed his lips. No wonder Lissa would rather eat cookies.

While the beans warmed, his thoughts returned to his conversation with Mrs. Garner at the supermarket. How many times had he questioned Natalie's decision to go into business with Jeff? She was an
artist,
for crying out loud. She shouldn't be sitting behind a desk pushing papers and getting eyestrain and carpal tunnel syndrome at a computer. But the idea that she'd alter her whole life—
again
—based on false assumptions galled him beyond belief. Even worse, facing her mother's inevitable death might only drive her deeper into withdrawal and denial.

He couldn't let that happen. Leaving the slice of buttered bread on the counter, he scribbled a note to Lissa on the back of the grocery receipt and tacked it under the Pete's Pizza refrigerator magnet—not their most efficient means of communication, but it served her right. He turned the burner off under the beans, yanked his jacket from a kitchen chair, and stormed out the door.

His Bronco still radiated warmth from his trip to the supermarket. Checking his watch, he figured if he hurried, he could arrive at Hope Gardens about the time everyone else did. Maybe he could pull Bram aside and convince him to be honest with Natalie before they moved her mother, before Natalie's hopes rose any higher—as if they weren't over the top already. He didn't blame Bram for wanting to bring his wife home to the farm for her last days, but Natalie deserved to go into the new arrangement with her eyes wide open.

As he approached the Hope Gardens turnoff, he caught sight of Hart's pickup and Natalie's silver Saturn parked behind an ambulance near the front entrance. Bolstering himself with a deep breath, he parked the Bronco nearby and marched inside.

He almost collided with a young, aqua-uniformed nurse carrying a food tray from the dining room. “May I help you, sir?”

“I'm Belinda Morgan's son-in-law. I'm looking for—”

“Oh, yes, they're preparing to transport her.” She nodded in the direction of Belinda's room.

Daniel knew the way. As he rounded the corner, he saw the entourage emerging from Belinda's room. With Hart in the lead, two ambulance attendants guided the gurney on which his mother lay. Bram and Natalie followed.

“Hey, bro,” Hart said, catching Daniel's eye with a look of surprise. “Didn't expect you.”

As the group neared, Daniel's pulse quickened. He fell in step beside Hart. “I know,” he said, “but I thought … ” He glanced over his shoulder at Natalie but after a quick smile, she broke eye contact. Bram, his stoic face etched with weariness, cast him a knowing, almost apologetic look.

A flicker of something else shone in Bram Morgan's eyes, something that drew Daniel up short. He moved aside, leaning against the wall as the group passed. Poor old Bram hadn't given up hope either. To tell Natalie the truth would mean he'd have to admit it to himself, and the elderly, careworn man, obviously still deeply in love with his wife, simply could not do it.

Raking a hand through his hair, Daniel pushed away from the wall and started down the corridor, the ache of discouragement dogging every step. He pushed through the front doors into bright December sunlight in time to see an ambulance attendant close and latch the double doors at the back of the vehicle.

“Dan, you coming out to the house later?” Hart called as he walked around to the driver's side of his pickup.

“No, I'll stay out of your way for now.” He paused on the sidewalk, his shoulders caving around the lump of defeat settling in his chest. The hurried trip to Hope Gardens had been a mistake—a waste of time, hope, and energy. Hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, he trudged toward the parking lot.

As he passed Natalie's car, she looked up from unlocking her door and offered a tentative smile. He'd fully intended to let things drop, to go on his way and try once more to trust that somehow the God he'd always believed in would work things out. But, suddenly, he couldn't help himself. He stopped, straightened his shoulders a little, and smiled at the slender, blonde beauty who was still his wife—for how much longer he would not hazard a guess. He didn't even attempt to disguise the look of love in his eyes.