One Imperfect Christmas (6 page)

Silence filled the farmhouse kitchen. A warm gust of air billowed the gingham curtains at the open window beside her. She raised her eyes to meet her father's. “Aren't you going to say something?”

The sadness in his gaze said it all. “It's a mistake, Rosy-girl. And you know it.”

“We're only separating—nothing permanent.” At least she hoped Daniel would eventually take her back. “We're fighting too much. We need some space. I've already put a deposit on an apartment.”

“What about Lissa?”

Natalie rubbed her temple. “She's staying with Daniel for now. This is going to be hard enough on her without making her move out of the house.”

Dad rose and strode to the sink. He wet a dishcloth and wiped at imaginary spots on the counter. His shoulders knotted beneath his chambray work shirt. He stopped, leaned over the sink, and pressed his eyes shut. “If your mother knew her illness split up your family, she'd be crushed.”

A river of pain flooded her. She swallowed a sob before it could escape. Mom had always done so much for her—selling paintings to help pay for Natalie's art supplies and classes, her riding gear and horse show entry fees, and then …

“
Natalie, didn't you hear the weather forecast? I won't leave you alone on the farm with a bunch of nervous animals.”

On top of all her other sacrifices over the years, Mom had risked everything important to her in that one act of selflessness. Yet Natalie kept making one wrong choice after another.

Now things had gone too far, and she could see no way back. As a tear slipped silently down her cheek, she studied her wedding ring before sliding it off her finger and tucking it into her pocket.

“No problem, Jeff. The Carla's Confections ad will be ready for printing first thing Monday.” Natalie snapped her cell phone shut and turned onto Willowbrook Lane. This was her weekend to spend with Lissa, and she promised herself not to spend the whole day working. Maybe by afternoon they'd have time—

Her heart thudded to the pit of her stomach. She'd barely gotten used to seeing the gaudy for-sale sign in the front yard, its red and yellow logo a jarring contrast to the colonial-blue siding and white trim gracing the home she and Daniel had shared for the past three years. They'd dreamed about it together, pored over building plans together, and scrimped and saved together until they had enough for a down payment.

Now someone had slapped a big, bold SOLD sign across the Realtor's emblem. It was over, the dream dying along with her marriage.

After Natalie moved out, it didn't take long to realize they'd have to let the house go. Their combined incomes barely covered the mortgage payment, and now Natalie had apartment rent to pay. The real estate agent assured them that with families wanting to resettle before school started, summer was a perfect time to sell.

The Saturn rolled to a stop in the driveway. Natalie shut off the engine and started up the walk. As she debated whether to ring the doorbell or let herself in with the key she'd soon have to relinquish, the front door jerked open.

Daniel stood before her, looking breathless and worried. “Have you seen Lissa?”

The force of his question knocked her backward a step. “I'm supposed to pick her up, remember?”

He spun around on bare feet, muscles tense and rippling beneath a thin white T-shirt. Natalie chased after him as he shouted Lissa's name—through the living room, the dining room, the kitchen and den, past stacks of packing boxes, and into the master bedroom, the king-size bed neatly made and clearly unused.

They raced upstairs to Lissa's room and through the adjoining bath to the guestroom, which was strewn with Daniel's discarded shoes, shirts, and jeans.

Natalie stood in the doorway and blinked. Half her mind still grappled with the idea that Lissa appeared to be missing. The other half took poignant pleasure in the thought that her husband couldn't bring himself to sleep alone in the bed they'd shared for fifteen years—the bed where their daughter was conceived.
Their daughter.

Suddenly, her world coalesced into sharp focus. “Daniel. Stop running around like an idiot and tell me what's going on.”

Panting, he sank onto the rumpled sheets at the foot of the bed. “When she didn't come down to breakfast, I thought she was sleeping in like usual, but … ” He gave his head a frustrated shake.

Natalie swiveled and pressed her spine against the doorframe. She clawed stiff fingers through the hair at her temples and tried to imagine things from Lissa's perspective. Poor kid! Selling the house must have screamed the end of her parents' marriage.

Remorse shredded Natalie's heart. She never meant for her mistakes to bleed into her daughter's life. She should have been a better mother. She should have paid more attention.

She clamped her teeth together and inhaled through her nose. “Let's think this through. Did she take anything from her room? Did you look for a note?”

He shot her a look of awed surprise, as if she'd just solved the riddle of the Sphinx. “You know her stuff better than I do. You check her room, and I'll look around for a note.”

A quick perusal of Lissa's closet and bathroom revealed missing clothes and toiletries. Plus, Lissa's favorite pink duffel bag wasn't hanging on its usual hook in the closet.

“Found it!” Daniel's voice echoed up the staircase. He met her in the entryway with a crumpled piece of paper. “She stuck it on the fridge under the Pete's Pizza magnet. I should have seen it. Would have if I'd—”

Natalie yanked the note out of his hand. Lissa's rounded, girlish script seemed all wrong for the angry, desperate words she'd penned:

Don't look for me. I never want to see either one of you again!

Daniel paced the kitchen. Three days and countless phone calls later, Lissa still hadn't been found. Not even her best friend Jody offered a clue—if she could be trusted not to be in on the scheme.

Dear Lord, help!
He ought to be out there looking for his daughter, not downing stale coffee and waiting for the phone to ring. But his friend in the county sheriff's department had told him he needed to stay home in case Lissa showed up.

The only upside to the insanity was that Natalie had moved back in. Okay, she hadn't exactly moved in. But she had stayed at the house with him—albeit in separate rooms—while they waited and prayed for word about their daughter.

He poured the last of his cold coffee down the drain and joined Natalie at the kitchen table, where her fingers flew across her laptop keyboard. Dressed in cutoffs and a faded T-shirt, her hair drooping across one eye in a tangled mess, she looked as stressed and anxious as he felt. Yet she kept right on working, working, working.

He banged the table with his fist. “How can you even think about work at a time like this?”

A long, slow sigh whispered between her lips. She leaned back and extended her legs. “If I stop, I'll lose my mind. And anyway, I'm not exactly working.”

She swiveled the laptop in his direction. A missing children's website filled the screen.

Daniel's breath snagged. “You don't think—”

The ringing phone sliced through his words. He leapt up to grab the receiver.

“Daniel, it's Bram,” Natalie's father said. “You can stop worrying. Lissa's okay. She's here.”

“Thank God!” Daniel crumpled over the tile countertop.

Natalie gripped his arm. “Who is it? Did they find her?”

He nodded fiercely. “Hang on, Bram, I'm putting you on speaker.”

“Dad?” Natalie looked at the phone and then at Daniel.

“I found her in the hayloft. She's been here all along, sneaking into the house at night to raid the refrigerator and clean up in the guest bathroom.” Bram Morgan gave a tired chuckle. “I thought something was fishy when my sandwich fixin's started disappearing.”

A gasping sob tore through Natalie. She fell against Daniel's chest. “Thank God, thank God!”

He wrapped one arm around her, relishing the pressure of her body against his. He drank in the smell of her skin, the warmth of her breath whispering across the hollow of his throat. Just to hold her like this: the memory of the long months apart dissipated like dew under the hot summer sun.

Dear God, let this be the end of the bad times. Help us find our way back to each other.

“Forget it. I'm through with both of you.” Lissa flounced across Granddad's living room and plopped on the sofa. No way was she giving in and going home—wherever that was anymore—until her parents came to their senses and got back together.

Her dad braced his hands on his hips and gave her
that look,
the one he always used to imply she was being childish.

Talk about childish! Mom and Dad ought to look in the mirror once in a while. When they first tore through Granddad's kitchen door—Mom squeezing Dad's hand like she'd never let go—Lissa felt sure her little scheme had worked. Faced with the fear of losing their precious only child, they'd seen the error of their foolish ways, forged a new bond, reunited for eternity.

Not.

Five seconds after making sure Lissa was all right, they were firing verbal grenades at each other. Mom blamed Dad for not paying closer attention. Dad blamed Mom for spending too much time at the office.

Dad gave a snort. “You can't stay here, Lissa. School starts in less than a month. You can't expect your granddad to keep up with a teenager when he already has plenty of … other stuff to deal with.”

“Your dad's right.” Mom sank onto the other end of the sofa. She leaned forward, her hands clasped like she was praying. “Please come home with me. I've got a room all ready for you at my apartment. With your dad moving to Putnam, you need to be close to school.”