One Imperfect Christmas (22 page)

“Good.” She wolfed down several more spoonfuls, all the while shooting dagger-sharp glances at her mother.

Natalie twisted sideways in the chair. If she didn't look at her daughter, maybe the accusations wouldn't sting so much. So much for the relaxing, enjoyable day she'd hoped for.

If she could only survive this holiday season, the worst would be over. Afterward she'd plunge headlong into whatever avenues of counseling Dr. Sirpless pursued, as many times a week as necessary to get her head on straight. Then, perhaps, she'd be strong enough to face the critical decisions that could permanently change her family's future.

In the meantime, she had an obstinate thirteen-year-old daughter to contend with—and
contend
seemed to be the operative word.

“All right,” she said. “I'll make a deal with you. We'll go to church this morning if you'll go riding with me this afternoon.”

Lissa fixed her mother with a cool stare. “Deal. And no backing out.”

Natalie rose with feigned confidence and fired back a stern glance of her own. “And that works both ways.”

An hour later, she and Lissa made their way down the center aisle of Fawn Ridge Fellowship Church as the first hymn began.

Her father looked up in surprise when she edged into the family pew to stand beside him. “Rosy-girl, so good to see you here.”

“Don't make a big deal of it,” she mouthed over the organ's reedy vibrato. “Lissa coerced me.”

“Good for her.” Natalie's father looked past her and gave his granddaughter a conspiratorial wink.

Natalie let her mind wander during the service. She could only imagine what must be going through Pastor Mayer's head as he glanced her way from the pulpit—first seeing her last night at Adamo's with Daniel, now seated in church like a dutiful parishioner.

FYI, Pastor, I am not with Daniel this morning, I hope you noticed.

Snatches of the pastor's Advent message filtered through her defensive thoughts … something about Joseph's tender concern for Mary and what a devoted husband he was. She glanced briefly toward her father and noticed the tears in his eyes. How he must miss Mom!

Swallowing her self-pity, she lightly touched his arm and smiled in sympathy. If ever an ideal marriage existed between two ordinary human beings, it had to be Bram and Belinda Morgan's.

Clad in a pair of ragged gray sweatpants and a red Putnam Panthers T-shirt, Daniel snuggled deeper into his recliner and unfolded the Sunday paper. As usual, he turned first to the sports section to check the weekend basketball stats.

But his mind wouldn't stay focused. This morning at church he'd successfully sidestepped the pastor's prying questions after seeing him and Natalie together at Adamo's. His simple response—“We're working on staying friends for Lissa's sake."—seemed to partially satisfy Pastor Mayer's caring concern. Then, on his way to the parking lot after the Sunday-school hour, he'd seen Natalie arrive with Lissa moments before the late service began. Knowing his presence would make her even more uptight than she already appeared, he had stayed out of sight.

Even so, it was good to see her at church. If only she'd let go of the guilt and allow a spark of God's forgiveness to warm her heart. Why couldn't she see how wrong it was for her to continue blaming herself for something that was no one's fault?

The phone rang. He picked up the cordless extension next to his chair.

“Hey, Daniel, it's Hart. You doing anything this afternoon?”

“Uh, no.” The chipper sound of his brother-in-law's voice took him by surprise. They'd taken to each other like brothers soon after Natalie introduced them, but their friendship had been strained lately by the problems between Natalie and Daniel.

“I'm out at the farm and wondered if maybe you'd like to drop by.”

“And … why would I want to do that?”

“Natalie and Lissa showed up to go riding.” Hart snickered. “Lissa couldn't wait to tell everyone all about her parents'
date.”

A vein throbbed in Daniel's temple. He reached up to give it a one-finger massage. “It most definitely was
not
a date.”

“Sure, whatever you say. I just thought you might want to strike while the iron is hot, if you get my drift.” His tone became conspiratorial. “You could come up with a good excuse. Like maybe you have plans later and wanted to pick up Lissa early.”

Matchmaking didn't flatter his normally very discreet brother-in-law, but he couldn't blame the man for trying. Daniel had rarely met a family with closer ties than the Morgan clan, and certainly not a brother more protective of his only sister. He'd never forget Hart's probing questions the first time he drove out to the Morgan farm to pick up Natalie for a date. Hart and Celia “just happened” to be there, ostensibly to drop off something Natalie's mother needed from town. While Bram and Belinda Morgan stood to one side and smiled knowingly, Hart somehow managed to extract Daniel's entire life history in the space of ten minutes.

He grimaced and switched the phone to his other ear. “Sorry, Hart, your idea won't fly. Lissa knows very well I have nothing better to do than waste my Sunday afternoons reading the paper and watching ESPN.”

“Just come out, man. It's a beautiful day. I could saddle up a horse for you, and you could meet them on the trail. It would be a very casual thing, no pressure—”

Daniel laughed out loud. He rose abruptly and paced in front of the television. “Who are you kidding, bro? That sounds like nothing
but
pressure.”

Not to mention he was a whole lot more comfortable on a basketball court than in the saddle. Though Natalie had often persuaded him to go trail riding with her, horses had always been her thing, not his. He remained a city boy, through and through. If not for the coaching position he'd been offered in Putnam after finishing college in St. Louis, he might never even have met Natalie.

Hart gave a loud snort. “You're not making this easy.”

“Neither are you.”

“Yeah, but—” Hart suddenly coughed, and Daniel could hear someone else in the room with him. “Hey, Nat … uh, nobody. Just checking my voice mail.” After a pause, he whispered into the phone, “Just think about it, Dan. They'll be out here all afternoon.”

The line went dead.

Natalie gave her brother a skeptical frown. She knew that look in his eyes too well; he was up to something. Probably some Christmas surprise she wasn't supposed to know about. It better not have anything to do with Daniel. She wished Lissa had never opened her mouth about dinner at Adamo's last night, and she hoped she'd made it clear that absolutely nothing had changed.

She set her booted foot on the edge of a kitchen chair to adjust the Velcro closures on her suede half-chaps. In her bent-over position, she felt the tell-tale strain on the backside of her riding tights.
Ugh.
Good thing nobody was standing behind her. Months of desk work and little exercise had resulted in sagging muscles and bulges in places she never knew she had. She stood and self-consciously tugged her oversized sweatshirt farther down around her hips.

Hart set the phone in the cradle and started toward the door. “Need help tacking up? Who's Lissa going to ride?”

And since when did Hart ever volunteer to help her tack her horse? “I thought I'd let her ride Windy, and I'll take Rocky. Dad said he could use the exercise.” She shrugged off the suspicious murmurings humming through her thoughts. Bad enough she already suspected a conspiracy at the office. She sure didn't need to add her own family into the mix.

Hart shrugged into his jacket. “I hope you're not planning to take Rocky over any fences.”

She bristled. Why did older brothers always feel like they had the right to tell you what to do? “Dad told me he's been a little sore in the stifle. I'll take it easy.”

“I'm not worried about Rocky.” Hart poked her in the ribs. “I was more concerned about you, considering how long it's been since you rode. I'd hate to make a rush trip to the ER.”

Realizing he'd only been baiting her, she felt the resentment evaporate. She returned his poke with a playful slug on the shoulder. “You have no respect, big brother. You forget, while you were slaving over equine anatomy texts in vet school, Windy and I were winning blue ribbons all over the state.”

They traded harmless barbs all the way out to the barn, where Lissa already had Windy secured in the crossties for grooming and tacking. “She looks great,” Natalie told her daughter. She rubbed Windy's nose before ducking into the combination tack room/barn office to collect her riding gear.

Her father startled her as he emerged from the storage closet just inside the door. “Hey, sweetheart, I thought you were still in the house.”

The nervous tone of his voice gave her the distinct impression he was hiding something, not to mention his abrupt slamming of the closet door—but not before she glimpsed a shimmer of silver peering out from behind some crates. Her conspiracy theories churned toward the surface again, at the same moment something stirred in her memory, a feeling of
déjà vu.

Before she could sort it out, Dad grabbed her arm and propelled her over to the tiers of saddle racks. “I've been riding Rocky in this new Wintec lately—easier on his back than my heavy old Steuben. We've been working more basic dressage since his injury. Helps loosen him up. I doubt Rocky will ever be a jumper again.”

Natalie forced her thoughts back to the ride. “That goes for me too. Nice, easy, flat dressage work sounds perfectly fine.” She scanned the racks on the adjacent wall for the sturdy little half-Morgan/half-Arab's bridle.

Dad winked and started out the door. “Rocky's grazing in the south paddock. I'll bring him in.”

While Dad and Hart tripped over themselves trying to help get Rocky saddled, Natalie could only shrug and get out of the way. She ran a hand along the horse's left rear leg, checking the knee joint for any heat or swelling. The old boy seemed fine, and soon Natalie and Lissa reined their mounts up the lane between the mares' pasture and the hayfield. The grasses lay brown and dormant, awaiting spring rains and warmer temperatures. Beyond the fields they approached a shallow stream, where Windy, in the lead, put on the brakes.

“Oh, great,” Lissa called over her shoulder. “I forgot how she hates walking through water.”

“Give her a light tap with the crop. Don't let her have her way, or we'll never get across.”

Several not-so-gentle taps later, Windy was no closer to setting foot in the stream. She whinnied and backed and twisted and squirmed, the whites of her eyes showing and her ears pinned against her skull.

Natalie started forward. “Maybe if Rocky and I go first—”

“Stubborn old Appaloosa.” Lissa gave the horse one good thwack.

With an explosion of motion, Windy made a running leap and sailed across the stream, and then galloped up the incline on the other side with no signs of stopping. Heart in her throat, adrenaline surging, Natalie urged Rocky across the stream in pursuit. “Lissa! Hang on!”

Heels down, sit deep, shoulders back, elbows in.
In the course of microseconds, her mind processed all the commands she willed Lissa to remember, but she couldn't get the words out fast enough or loud enough for her daughter to hear. At least she hadn't gotten any argument from Lissa about wearing a riding helmet.

Then, amidst the pounding of horses' hooves on winter-hard ground, she heard the unmistakable ringing of Lissa's delighted laughter. She caught up to her daughter under the leafless branches of an oak tree, where they both reined safely to a halt.