The Christmas Sisters (16 page)

Nic mustered a faint smile at the description.

“We can sell this place if you need us to,”
Petie
said. “It won't touch our memories. We'll always have what this home has meant to us, what we mean to each other.”

“We're sisters.” Collier's voice rasped. “If you say it's got to be this way for Willa's sake, we won't fight you on it. But it's not what I want, not what I would ever choose for you, for us, or for her.”

The sweater's sleeve chafed Nic's cheek as she dipped her head to wipe away the silent tears filling her eyes. She sniffled.
“
Petie
?”

“If I had the chance to have my children home with me again, even for a little while, even knowing they would grow up and leave me all over again, I don't know what army could take them away from me.”

“But your children are strong and healthy,” Nic whispered.

“So is Willa.”

“But what if...” Nic could not finish. The questions were too big and too many.

“What if we say that no matter what you decide, we'll support you?” Collier scooted nearer.
“If you promise to spend the next few days thinking about all the options?”

All Nic could do was nod.

In a heartbeat,
Petie
was at her side.

Collier wound her arm into Nic's and laid her head on her big sister's upper arm.

Petie
snuggled close and laid her arm over both of them, pulling them into a tight knot, sisters bound by love and hope. Nic did not know what she would do. But as she looked out across the town where she had grown up, with her faith and her sisters there to lend support, she knew she would make the right choice.

By Christmas day, she told herself, she would have chosen a course and she would not look back.

Eleven

“Not so much on this side. People passing by the house will want to see the decorations through the window, too, y'all.” Nic gave Collier a little shove to get her started toward the side of the tree that didn't face the living room. After that she pointed to the spot where Willa and
Petie
were weighing down the branches with various hand-done baubles. “Don't put all the homemade ornaments together like that; break that grouping up with the store-bought ones.”

Even something as simple as decking out the tree saw Nic in charge with a style and flare that no one, except for a few mumbled
unrepeatables
from
Petie
, questioned.
She still had it, Sam thought. ‘It’ being a bossy temperament, he hastened to tell himself.

When she couldn't stand it anymore, Nic got in there herself to replace a cotton ball and a thread spool lamb with a plastic snowman drinking a soda pop. Sam chuckled.

“What are you laughing at? Your job did not end with hauling the tree in and getting it to set straight, you know.”

“Hey, I'm no good at this kind of thing.” He held his hands up to distance himself from her holiday wrath. “Remember, I never had a Christmas tree before.”

“No excuses.” She shook her head and a strand of hair fell forward over her shoulder, making her look rumpled and approachable despite her bossy attitude. “It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how to fling tinsel.”

He managed a half-bewildered smile. “Fling tinsel?”

“That's our job.” She pointed to herself and then him. “Soon as the others get the ornaments done, we'll switch on the lights so we can see where to put the tinsel. This being a live tree we don't want to get carried away, I figure. But if we layer the tinsel in just so, then it'll catch the light and look perfect.”

“Perfect,” he whispered, making not even the slightest reference to the appearance of the tree. Yes, Nic still had it.

She bent down to scoop up a handful of glittering silver tinsel. As she stood upright again, the lights on the tree flicked on and she turned toward him and smiled.

Who was he kidding? The ‘it’ that Nic still had was his heart. And no matter what happened, no matter if he never saw her again after this Christmas, he knew she always would.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She extended the hand filled with tinsel toward him.

“Everything in God's time.”
He grinned then groaned as he pushed up off the couch to flavor his response with just the right touch of humor. Still, when he moved close to Nic, close enough to see the tiny twinkling lights reflected in the depths of her brown eyes, he found it no laughing matter.

What was he waiting for? If they had been alone in the room, he would have brushed the thick waves of her soft hair away from her face, laid his hand along her neck, and looked long and deep into her eyes. If he saw mirrored back just a glimmer of the hope and heartache he felt whenever he stood near her, he would have kissed her.

But they were not alone. And big lumbering fool that he was, even he knew she was not ready for him to pour out his soul and admit he'd come back to Persuasion in part to find her.

She held the tinsel out to him.

“What should I do now?” he asked, edging in until he felt her warmth radiating into his chest.

“Now?”
It came out more like a sigh than an audible question. She glanced down, paused,
then
plucked a few thin strands between her thumb and forefinger. “Now we proceed with care; don't want to go ruining a good thing by getting heavy handed.”

She turned away and tossed the tinsel into the air.

Sam watched it float and drift, then drape over the bristling needles of the plush green tree.

“See?” She faced him again.

He let his gaze sink into hers. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good.” She pushed half the tinsel into his hand. “Then start over there. Remember, be gentle.”

“I will,” he pledged, meaning it on every level.

She lowered her chin and met his gaze in a way that narrowed the world down to just the two of them. “Don't rush this.”

He managed a deep enough
breath
to answer in a hushed whisper. “I promise.”

“And whatever you do—”

“Yes?” He leaned in.

She leaned in as well, close then closer. So close it seemed she might be going to tell him something that she didn’t want anyone else in the world to hear. Her lips practically brushing his ear, she whispered, “Don't clump.”

“Nice job, huh?” Sam sipped the dregs of the hot chocolate they'd mixed up in the spirit of the day's activities, his large hand easily encompassing the whole delicate cup. “I can't believe
Petie
and Collier didn't want to sit here with us for a while and enjoy the quiet mood.”

Nic did not believe it either. Still, she saw no reason to point out to Sam that they had once more become the victims of a well-intentioned but probably inappropriate matchmaking scheme.

“You heard
Petie
, when she found out that Collier had brought her laptop along, she wanted to see if she could reach Park by e-mail.”

“I hope she does.” Sam stretched his legs out, one ankle over the other, looking quite relaxed and oddly at home. “At this point
I'm
beginning to worry about the guy.”

Nic laughed. Park and Sam had never had, to put it politely, any love lost between them. In everything from their upbringings to their involvement with Nic and
Petie
, they could not have been more different.

“Maybe you should put him on your prayer list,” Nic teased.

“I did.” Sam seemed genuinely surprised that she would suggest otherwise. “I told
Petie
I would, remember?”

“Yes, I just...” She twisted around and studied him a moment. Time and life had altered his face only a little. Matured it, but still left all the boyish attributes that he had often used to get himself out of a tight spot. He was taller, she realized seeing him now here, quiet but only by a couple of inches. He had broadened in the chest, the shoulders, but most of all he had grown up inside. She only had to look at him now, to listen to him to know that. “You really are a minister, aren't you?”

“Guess you'll find out how real tomorrow morning.” He aimed a tentative look her way that suddenly made all the years fall away, making him seem young and uncertain again. “Y'all are planning on attending the service, aren't you?”

“For the chance to see Sam Moss standing in the pulpit of Persuasion All Souls Community Church?
Wild horses couldn't keep me away.”

“
Drag
you away,” he corrected. “Horses drag. Something else keeps you away. Not sure what, exactly but
wheatever
it is it sure is keeping everyone else away.”

“You're worried about that church, aren't you?”

“What church?” For the first time weariness and disappointment colored his voice.

“Sam?”

He shook his head like he could shake off the mantle of care weighing down on him,
then
smiled, but only a little. “Just repeating what Big Hyde said to me the first day I showed up back in town. He tried to warn me I wouldn't find much in the way of acceptance here.”

Nic understood that feeling better than any other person on earth. She laid her hand on Sam's arm. “What are you going to do?”

“Pray.”

She curled her fingers closed over his shirtsleeve.

“Work hard and pray,” he amended.

She had nothing to add to that. No advice or words of encouragement came to mind. Finally, to fill the gnawing silence, she patted his shoulder and said a bit too brightly, “Maybe your idea about the tree will help.”

“I hope so.”

They sat in silence, watching the lights. It had not been cold enough to build a fire in the nearby fireplace. Still, the moment had its own warmth.

“Thank you for including me in your family celebration, Nic. It means a lot.”

Nic curled her legs beneath her on the sofa like a contented cat and lifted her head to bask in the glow of the tree in the darkened living room. “It wasn't anything special.”

“It was to me.” His voice, his posture, even the way he tipped his head to one side as he gazed across the room reminded her of the Sam she had known so long ago.

Or was it so very long ago? It was all of Willa's lifetime. Yet in the grand scheme it didn't seem like so many years stood between now and the time she had fallen for Sam. Fallen for him in the way innocent young girls too often do for cocky young boys ill-equipped to handle those emotions.
Fallen hard and without reservation or one scrap of common sense.

But it had been easy to care for Sam back then. She had seen beneath the life-toughened exterior to glimpse the good in him that had, in fact, grown to fruition in the man sitting here today. Nic sighed. “I'm glad you're here to share the holidays, Sam.”

“Are you?”

She nodded.

“That means a lot to me to hear you say that.” He brushed his crooked finger over her cheek.

She shut her eyes and savored the comfort of Sam's closeness, the coziness created by the glowing lights in the darkness. The scents of fresh pine and lingering hot chocolate completed the sensation of utter contentment.

“Nic, I—” His weight shifting made the old sofa creak and the cushion dip toward her. His shirtsleeve swept over her upper arm as he took her shoulders in both his strong hands. She didn't have to look to know that he was planning to kiss her.

For a second she lifted her chin and thought of letting him follow through with it. Then her not-so-distant thoughts about the young man who had crushed her tender heart so long ago intruded before he drew her to him.

She opened her eyes and pushed him away with both hands on his chest. “It took a lot for me to admit I like having you here, Sam. Let's not risk spoiling the moment by pressing it any further than that.”

“You're right.” The sofa groaned and sagged as he sat back again. “You're right, of course.”

She was right, but that did not keep her from feeling a twinge of regret that he gave in so quickly. The old Sam would have pursued his goal a little longer. The man with her now was definitely a changed person. Mentally and emotionally she welcomed that realization, but her been-too-long-alone ego would have appreciated just a bit more protest on his part.

She huffed out a long breath then twirled her finger in her hair, trying to think of a nice safe topic that would keep him here a while longer. “My favorite part tonight was the final touch—putting the star on the top. Collier made it when she was little, and Willa stuck the picture of Jesus on it last year. That makes it extra special.”

“I can well imagine.”

“It's sort of a family tradition to put it on last then stand back and ooh and ah.”

“For a minute there I thought Willa would have to let one of the more experienced star sticker-on-
ers
take over.” He watched her as he spoke. Not in the way he usually watched her, which was unnerving enough, but with an interest that reached beyond the surface of the simple remark. He was testing the waters with her regarding Willa.