One Imperfect Christmas (38 page)

Lissa spoke softly as the remembered terror of that afternoon ripped a wider hole in her heart. “She said it wasn't your fault. She told you to forgive and learn to love.”

“It's taken me until this morning for those words to sink in. Grandma never once blamed me for not being there to help her the day she had her stroke. But I wouldn't listen to the truth—about what happened to her, about what forgiveness means, about how much you and your dad needed me.” Her voice became breathy. “About how much I needed your dad and you. I didn't believe I deserved to be loved, so I pulled away from everyone I cared about most.”

Lissa sniffled. “I kind of feel that way, too, after what I did to you.”

“Then it's time we both learned that's
not
what families are all about.” With misty eyes Mom glanced toward the nativity scene. “God gave his most precious gift to us by creating a special family. I'm sure it was so Jesus could learn firsthand about loving and forgiving.” Her eyes twinkled. “Even when we really,
really
goof up.”

“I think I get it.” A pleasant warmth spread under Lissa's heart. “Family should mean we don't ever have to wonder if we're good enough or if we're forgiven. Our family loves us no matter what.”

She paused, a hitch in her breath. “Mom, does this mean … ” She almost couldn't get the words out. “Does this mean you and Dad will try to work things out?”

“I hope— “

Before her mother could finish her answer, a knock sounded on the closed living-room door. Uncle Hart's voice came from the other side. “Hey, you two, I don't know what kind of Christmas surprise you're cooking up, but dinner's on the table. Better come now or we'll start without you.”

“Goodness, I lost all track of time.” Lissa's mother started for the door, then glanced over her shoulder with a conspiratorial grin. “Not a word to anyone about the star, okay?”

Lissa gave a firm nod, another rush of pride swelling her heart. As she rose from the ottoman, her toe caught on something propped against the side of the chair. When she bent down to see what she'd hit, her gaze fell on the most amazing oil portrait she had ever seen.

“Oh!” The image of her family so marvelously interconnected filled her with new hope. She lifted her eyes heavenward. “Thank you, Jesus, thank you!”

Natalie sighed with contentment and folded her napkin beside her empty plate. The sight of her family gathered together sent a shiver of delight through her limbs.

Daniel raised his glass of sparkling cider. “A toast to the chef.”

“Hear, hear!” chimed the family.

Natalie smiled her thanks, not trusting herself to speak.

“And that was the best pumpkin pie I ever tasted.” Hart leaned sideways to give his wife a hug.

Celia poked his ribs. “You mash a mean potato, yourself, Dr. Morgan.”

“Why, thank you, ma'am.” He pushed his chair away from the table and patted his full stomach.

Natalie glanced down the table at her father. He had eaten his Christmas dinner in silence, occasionally looking toward the empty chair at the opposite end where Mom should have been. At Natalie's suggestion they had set an empty place in honor of Belinda Morgan. Throughout the meal it had been a comforting yet poignant reminder of the special joy she always took in this holiday.

“Well,” Hart began, “time to make use of my only other culinary talent—doing the dishes.” He started to rise.

“Dishes can wait,” Natalie said. “Dad, what would you say about us moving the rest of our Christmas celebration to Mom's room?” She stood and reached for his hand, a flutter of excitement tickling her insides.

It took him a moment to draw his gaze from Mom's empty chair and focus on Natalie. He looked up at her and smiled. “I think she'd like that.”

“Everyone come help.” Natalie's glance took in the whole family as she gave her father's hand a tug. She led them into the living room and started gathering up the gifts from under the tree. “Kevin and Kurt, would you take Joseph, Mary, and Baby Jesus from the nativity scene and set them on the dresser in Grandma's room? And Lissa,” she added with a wink, “you can carry the backdrop.”

Balancing an armful of gifts, she nodded to Celia to collect a few more. “Dad, Hart, and Daniel, maybe you could grab some extra chairs.”

Before long, the guest room hummed with Christmas cheer. Natalie assured Carolyn they would keep their celebration low-key, but watching them arrange the gifts and nativity scene had already brought an unmistakable sparkle to Mom's eyes. The tilt of her lopsided smile made Natalie's heart sing.

When everyone had gathered, including Sky, the huge Great Dane, Natalie crossed to the dresser and adjusted the star-studded backdrop, making sure to center it just so behind the ceramic figurines of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus.

“Remember how Mom would get up before dawn to paint the star each Christmas morning?” She paused as she situated herself on the foot of her mother's bed. Admiring the starry scene through misty eyes, she went on, “When I was a kid, the first thing I'd do—even before looking for my presents under the tree—was to see if I could pick out the newest star.”

Hart gave a soft laugh. “Yeah, me too. It used to be a competition to see which one of us would find it first.”

“Think you can spot the new star today?” Natalie glanced at Lissa and winked.

“What—how—” Hart's brow furrowed as he looked from Natalie to their mother to the painting.

“I see it,” Dad said, his voice barely audible. He lifted a hand and pointed. “There, the yellowish one near the center.”

Hart moved closer and grinned appreciatively. Hoarsely he said, “Nice work, Rosy.”

“Actually, Lissa painted the star. I didn't think Mom would mind passing the torch this year.” She angled her mother a smile and glimpsed a grateful tear sliding down the wrinkled cheek.

No more words were spoken. None were needed. Stiffly, Natalie's father rose and moved his chair next to the scrawny Christmas tree and the pile of gifts in front of the dresser. Following his usual custom, he selected gifts one by one, read the tag, and handed the gift to the recipient. They took turns opening their presents and expressing thanks, and when all the packages were unwrapped, Natalie stood to begin the task of gathering up the torn paper and bows.

“Hang on, sis.” Hart rose and nudged her back to her place on the end of the bed. “Everybody stay put. I'll be right back.”

Kevin rubbed his hands together and elbowed Kurt. “I
knew
there had to be more presents. Santa forgot our new iPhones.”

“In your dreams, boys.” Celia tousled her nearest son's hair.

Before Natalie could ask if her father knew what Hart was up to, he returned with a small gold-wrapped box and a tall red Christmas bag. He set the packages at Dad's feet. “These are from Mom. She had me hide them in the clinic storage room nearly a year ago, and the secret's been burning a hole in my brain.”

“What in the world?” Dad spread open the top of the bag to peer inside.

“Wait, I think you're supposed to open the little box first.” Hart grinned at Mom, leaned over, and folded his arms across the back of Dad's chair.

Natalie's heart gave a thud. Her mother had been one busy lady before the stroke. Once again, Natalie wondered if Mom had suspected she wasn't well, but this time the thought made her cherish her mother's stubborn determination even more. And she realized something else, that perhaps in her mother's desperate attempt to speak two days ago, she had also been asking forgiveness for herself.

Dad balanced the gold box on one thigh and fiddled with the red-and-gold metallic ribbon until it fell away. When he lifted the lid, Natalie could just see the top of a Christmas ornament nestled in a soft bed of sparkly tissue paper. Her father crooked his work-roughened fingers around the tiny metal hook and lifted out the ornament. As it caught the twinkling tree lights, a collective sigh filled the quiet room.

Happy Golden Christmas,
read the finely painted white script. A shiny gold background shone through the hand-painted lacy filigree decorating the rest of the ornament.

Dad made a choking sound, part laughter and part tears. Natalie hurried to his side and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Daddy, it's beautiful.”

“There's one more gift.” Hart patted his father's shoulder. “Open the bag, Dad.”

While Dad reached inside the bag, Natalie took the ornament and found a prominent spot for it on the little Christmas tree. She turned in time to see tissue-paper wrapping fall away from another poignant painting—Mom and Dad, just as they appeared forty-nine years ago in their wedding photograph.

Daniel came and stood beside her, his hand creeping into hers. “I never realized how much you resemble your mother.”

Her throat hurt too much to speak. She could only lean into him with a happy shiver.

The Christmas music playing on the living-room stereo faded to silence. Dad stood and lovingly set the wedding portrait in his chair. Moisture seeping from his eyes, he paused to admire the painting and then bent over the bed to give his wife a long, sweet kiss. “Thank you, my sweet Belinda, thank you.” Straightening, he draped his arm around Natalie's other side and cast her a grateful smile. “And thank you, too, Rosy-girl. You made this a day we'll all cherish forever.”

Snuggled between the two men she loved most in this world, Natalie wished time would stop. She stretched up to kiss her father's crinkly cheek. “It's Mom who made this a day to remember. She really outdid herself this Christmas, didn't she?”

“In spite of everything.” Dad pressed his head to Natalie's. Releasing her, he returned to the bed to stroke his wife's face. Adoring eyes beamed up at him. “I reckon it's about time for evening chores, darlin'. You rest easy for a bit, and I'll sit and read to you soon as I'm done.”

“I'll help with the horses, Granddad.” Lissa hurried to follow her grandfather out, Sky trotting behind. “Back soon, Grandma.”

Hart, Celia, and the boys went to the kitchen to begin the cleanup there, while Daniel stayed behind to help Natalie restore order to her mother's room. While she gathered the opened gifts, Daniel started carrying out the extra chairs. She caught up with him in the living room as he returned one of the straight-backed chairs to its place beside the library table.

He stooped to reach behind the easy chair where Natalie had been sitting earlier with her father. “What's this?”

Natalie glanced over to see him retrieve the portrait her mother had painted of them. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched Daniel's eyes grow wide. His lips parted in an awestruck grin.

“This is beautiful,” he breathed. “I thought the painting of your mom and dad was awesome. But this one's absolutely incredible. Why didn't you show it to me sooner?”

“Dad brought it to me early this morning. Then everything got so busy with church and dinner and all, I didn't think about it again.” She timidly stepped closer, admiring the painting over his shoulder. Her glance fell to Daniel's extended arms, the cuffs of his white dress shirt rolled up. She noticed for the first time that he still wore his wedding band, and she self-consciously touched the naked ring finger of her left hand.

“Did you notice?” she asked softly, brushing her shoulder against his. “We haven't argued once today.”

“Yeah. It's been nice.” As natural as breathing he slid his arm around her and drew her close, his cheek pressing against her hair.