One Imperfect Christmas (33 page)

Her mother wiggled two fingers as if asking Natalie to hold her hand. Natalie squeezed gently, feeling the warmth against her palm. Mom gave a soft cough and angled a glance toward the Bible in Natalie's lap.

Natalie released her mother's hand and opened the devotion booklet. The day's reading was from John 14, where Jesus told his disciples, “In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

Words that should have brought comfort only chilled Natalie. Again, she had the sense of some truth lurking just out of reach. She slid her gaze from the page to her mother's serene profile. Another weak cough resonated from Mom's throat. The midmorning shadows gave her skin a bluish cast.

Footsteps sounded on the stairway, and Natalie fumbled for the tissue she'd stuffed in her jeans pocket. She wiped the moisture from her eyes a moment before her father appeared in the doorway, looking dapper in his gray Western-cut Sunday suit, polished black boots, and string tie. He glanced at the Bible in Natalie's lap and smiled his approval. “Reading to your mom, sweetie? I know she appreciates it.”

Then his gaze swept over her. Disappointment clouded his face. “I was hoping you'd go to church with me, Rosy-girl.”

Natalie shifted self-consciously in her scruffy jeans and sweatshirt. “I'd rather spend this time with Mom. Maybe next Sunday.”

“Sure.” Dad went to the bedside and bent to give his wife a tender kiss on the cheek. Her eyelids lifted heavily in response. “Mornin', angel. Sleep well?”

Carolyn returned just then, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a knitting bag in the other. She set her things by the narrow recliner that had been delivered with the hospital bed. “She was a bit restless last night, but I know she's glad to be home.”

“Good. That's good.” Dad's Adam's apple vibrated as he stroked Mom's arm. “Belinda, honey, you won't mind if I leave you for a bit to go to church, will you?”

Mom's drowsy gaze cleared momentarily. One corner of her mouth curled in the beginnings of a smile.

“I've got so much to be thankful for,” Dad continued, “especially having you with me again. And everybody in our Sunday-school class will be asking about you—can't let them down. I'll come straight home after the service, I promise.”

Mom blinked twice and then her chest rose and fell in gentle sleep. Natalie smoothed a strand of her mother's gray hair. “She looks happier already, don't you think, Dad?”

“I reckon so.” He gave a loud sniff before he kissed Mom again and strode out of the room. A few minutes later the back door closed with a thud.

Mom slept off and on the rest of the morning, while Natalie prepared Hart's old room for Lissa's arrival. That chore done, she stood at the foot of Mom's bed, arms folded across her ribs. The
click-click
of Carolyn's knitting needles played counterpoint to Mom's soft, snuffling breath, the only sounds in the sunlit room.

A sense of urgency prickled Natalie's insides. She'd so hoped for a stronger response from her mother, a clearer indication that coming home would spark the rapid recovery the whole family had been praying for. She tried to reassure herself that Mom just needed to regain her strength after being moved from the convalescent home.

But Christmas would be upon them in only two days. What if Mom didn't come around enough to be able to paint the fiftieth star? Lissa was right—that one simple act meant everything. Even if it took Dad, Hart, and Natalie to help Mom sit up and hold the paintbrush, she had to paint that star.

Carolyn began to hum softly, one of those catchy arrangements of a Christmas carol Natalie had heard playing endlessly on Deannie's radio at the print shop. An idea burst into her troubled thoughts. She spun around and hurried to the living room, where she selected a couple of Mom's favorite Christmas CDs from the storage carousel. She slid them into the stereo and hit the play button. In a moment the majestic chords of “Angels We Have Heard on High” poured from the speakers. She played with the volume knob until she found a level she thought could be comfortably heard down the hall in her mother's room. Surely, the Christmas music would lift Mom's spirits and help her find her way back to them.

And a little Christmas tree for the bedroom, that's what Mom needed. Somewhere in the attic Natalie's father had stored the small artificial tree she had decorated for her own room as a young girl, and there were plenty of extra lights and ornaments.

Half an hour later she had retrieved the dark-green, dust-covered plastic storage bag and emptied the misshapen tree and all its parts onto the kitchen floor. The stand had become so rickety that only duct tape held it together, but she could disguise the sticky gray layers by using one of Mom's extra Christmas tablecloths for a tree skirt. She wedged the metal tree trunk into the stand and then straightened and realigned the crushed branches. Wear and tear over the years had left them rather sparse, but lights and ornaments would fill in the gaps. In the hall closet she found the leftover decorations and soon had the little tree looking presentable.

With a ceremonial flourish, she carried it into her mother's room. “Carolyn, can you help me? I want to set this on the dresser where Mom can see it when she wakes up.”

The nurse offered a cheery smile as she set aside her knitting. “I'm enjoying the Christmas music too.” She moved a lamp and a stack of magazines to make room for the tree and helped Natalie arrange the brightly colored tablecloth around the base and find an outlet for the light cord.

“Do you think Mom can hear the music?” Natalie paused at the foot of the bed and gazed uneasily at her mother's sleeping form.

“I'm sure she can.” Carolyn touched Natalie's arm. “Your mother may not be able to express it, but I know she's grateful to be in her own home again, with her family around her.”

When are you going to face the truth, Natalie?
That annoying little voice in her head refused to be silenced. She squeezed her fists until her nails dug into her palms and turned toward the brown-haired nurse, keeping her voice low. “You honestly don't think she's going to get better, do you?”

Carolyn's shoulders sagged. She signaled Natalie to join her in the hallway. “I could give you my professional opinion. I could tell you what her doctor has written in her chart. But I'm fairly certain that isn't what you want to hear.”

“Probably not.” Natalie inhaled a shivery breath and leaned against the doorframe. “But it's Christmas, right? Miracles happen.”

The nurse offered her a sad smile. “Yes. Sometimes they do.”

Daniel sat next to his daughter at the 8:30 church service, but his thoughts were anything but worshipful. He barely mumbled the words to the hymns, and when the pastor finished his sermon, Daniel knew he'd be hard pressed to recite any of the central points. He couldn't help but notice his daughter seemed equally preoccupied.

While the ushers collected the offering, he gave in fully to his wandering thoughts. Getting up early on Sunday morning was not his favorite thing to do, especially after a full week of school, usually with late nights and long weekends devoted to practices and games. But after Natalie left him, he couldn't bear the awkwardness of running into her at their usual eleven o'clock service. Lissa had put up a fuss, but Daniel insisted she'd have to settle for seeing her mother and the rest of the family during the Sunday-school hour.

Today, however, Lissa had talked him out of staying for Sunday school. The fidgeting girl simply couldn't wait to get back to the apartment to finish packing for her stay at the farm. Not that Daniel felt much like sitting through the adult singles class this morning. He'd never quite felt he belonged there, but he wasn't exactly half a couple any longer, either.

Leaving the sanctuary, they met Lissa's grandfather on his way to the senior adults' class. Lissa raced over and hugged him and asked how soon she could come out to the farm.

“Anytime you're ready, Grandma will be waiting.” Bram gave his granddaughter a hug back and a smile that carried more sadness than joy.

Daniel wondered at seeing his father-in-law at church this morning and said so when Hart, Celia, and the twins arrived moments later.

“You know Dad,” Hart said as they stood talking in the parking lot. “He'd have to be on his deathbed to miss Sunday services.” He cringed at his own choice of words.

“Dad, can we go now?” Lissa tugged on his coat sleeve. “I need to finish packing.”

“In a minute,” he snapped, instantly regretting how the curt response must have sounded to Hart and his family. Willing a calm he didn't feel, he aimed his key remote at the Bronco and pressed the unlock button. Lissa flounced past him, climbed into the vehicle, and cast him a hurry-up glare through the tinted glass. He pretended not to notice, saying to Hart, “I just hope your dad uses his worship time to pray about how to help Natalie face the truth about her mother.”

Hart glanced toward Celia. As if reading his mind, she ushered their lanky twin sons toward the church building. Then Hart shot Daniel a scathing look. “Lay off him, okay? You're so focused on Natalie, you're not seeing the big picture. Can't you see Dad is grieving? Don't you care what this whole thing is doing to him?”

“Of course I care. But it isn't doing anyone any good to deny the truth.” Daniel glanced over his shoulder at his daughter, her arched eyebrows screaming her impatience. “Lissa's expectations are even higher than Natalie's, if that's possible. I really dread taking her out there this afternoon.”

Hart kicked at a loose stone near the curb. “You just came from worship, right?”

“You know I did.” Daniel shot his brother-in-law a confused look.

“And you wouldn't be here if you didn't believe in Almighty God.”

His irritation grew. “Of course not.”

“Then act like you believe. Quit trying to take matters into your own hands and let God do his thing. Who knows? He might surprise us all.” Hart narrowed his eyes at Daniel as if daring him to respond. A moment later he stalked away, leaving Daniel stewing over the truth of his brother-in-law's words.

On the way home, he stopped at a gas station to fill the tank and run the Bronco through the automatic car wash. The delay only added more fuel to Lissa's seething impatience. They picked up a fast-food brunch of poached eggs and sliced ham on English muffins and returned to the apartment, where Lissa immediately wolfed down her meal and began hauling enough luggage to the door for a whole army of teenagers.

“Dad, come
on,”
she urged from the top step.

He dragged himself out of his recliner and played pack-horse, helping Lissa lug her things down to the car. Rolling Lissa's massive wheeled suitcase, he looked up to see her heave an overstuffed duffel bag into the Bronco. By the time he reached the car, she'd already run back for the last two bags and tossed them inside. Scowling by the open tailgate, she tapped her booted toe.

“All right already.” He hefted the suitcase and wedged it into the slot Lissa had saved for it in the back of the Bronco.

Getting in behind the wheel, he shut his eyes for a moment. Hart's words in the church parking lot still rang in his ears, and the truth stung. When had he gone from passive forbearance to pushing everyone to handle things his way? What made him suddenly think he had all the answers?