One Imperfect Christmas (32 page)

“It was nice of you to come by.” She glanced down shyly. “I didn't expect you'd be here, although I guess I should have known. You were always so good about visiting Mom even after we … ”

Only the width of the car separated them, a mere hunk of gleaming, metallic-silver-painted steel. He could leap it if he had to. To get close to the woman he loved, he could easily lift that car and toss it across the parking lot.

Instead, he left his hands where they were, safely tucked away, and nonchalantly walked around the front of the car. “I, uh … ” He was close enough to reach out and touch her if he wanted to and take her into his arms in one quick motion.

He rammed his hands even farther into the depths of his pockets. His fingers closed around the cool satin lining. “Nat,” he said hoarsely, “I'm worried about you.”

She gave a breezy laugh, and her keys jangled. “Don't be. Everything's fine.”

“You don't know … ”

She looked up with searching eyes. “What's wrong now? Is it something else with Lissa?”

“No. It's … I … ” His vocal cords felt like someone had poured rubber cement down his throat. What was it about being close to her lately that turned him into a blithering idiot? Why couldn't he simply tell her what scared him so? Better yet, why couldn't he sweep her into his arms and shield her with his love from the inevitable pain and sorrow she would soon face?

Natalie's lips twisted with annoyance. She shrugged her purse strap higher on her shoulder and fumbled for the door handle. “For heaven's sake, Daniel, every time you get that tone in your voice, I'm certain something horrible has happened to our daughter. I wish you wouldn't worry me like this.” She yanked open her door, another barrier between them.

He set his hands atop the doorframe and held it firmly. Gathering his wits, he blurted, “Are you quitting your job at the print shop?”

This time Natalie resorted to stammering. “I, uh … Where did you hear that?”

“From Sue Garner.”

“Jeff's wife?” She laughed nervously.

“Well? Is it true?”

She looked past him as engine sounds started up. From behind him he heard Hart's voice. “We're heading out, Nat. See you at the farm.”

Daniel glanced over his shoulder to see the ambulance pull out, followed by Hart's pickup.

“I really have to go.” Natalie tossed her purse into the front passenger seat. She moved to sit behind the wheel, but Daniel caught her by the wrist.

“Wait.” His heart hammered. He couldn't let her leave like this, couldn't let another chance to break through to her slip from his grasp. “Natalie, can't you just once be honest with me about what's going on in your life? Have things gotten so bad between us that we can't talk at all?”

She stared at his hand gripping her arm until, embarrassed, he released it. He noticed her breathing had become shallow and rapid, mirroring his.

She blinked furiously, avoiding his gaze. “I'm not intentionally keeping anything from you. But I can only deal with one thing at a time. Yes, I've asked Jeff to look into buying me out of the partnership. Later I'll freelance from home like I used to.”

“Home. You mean the farm.” It was not a question. He felt the stab of disappointment all the way to his spine.

“I'm canceling my apartment lease as of December 31. I'll start moving out right after Christmas.” She brightened. “Lissa can help me. It'll be fun. Now, I really must get going. Mom will be waiting.”

Before Daniel could utter another word, she slammed the car door and whipped out of the drive and onto the main road. The silver sedan sped from view around the next curve.

Natalie knew she flirted with danger, accelerating past the speed limit on the rural two-lane highway, but Daniel's nearness had unnerved her. She glanced in the rearview mirror, fearing—and yet ridiculously hoping—Daniel might have followed. She had the road to herself, however, and with a deep, shuddering breath she relaxed the pressure on the gas pedal.

Slowing the car only made her realize how severely her hands were shaking. In fact, she trembled all over. She'd be useless to her mother if she ended up in the hospital—or worse, the morgue—if in her recklessness she wrapped the car around a utility pole or rolled it in a culvert. With effort, she calmed her breathing and tried to halt this absurd fit of trembling. In her mind's eye she could still picture Daniel's strangely worried expression and the unmistakable look of love in his eyes.

He still loves me.
She felt more certain of it than ever.

Heat rose in her face.
Daniel, I love you too.

Her own thoughts turned on her, bombarding her with Dr. Sirpless's implied questions from last night.
When are you going to face reality, Natalie? Admit what you know is true. Stop running. Stop hiding from the people you love.

“Dear God, I'm trying,” she said aloud, her eyes brimming. With all her heart she wanted to put her family back together. But she couldn't, not until she made amends for her failure to be there for her mother when she needed her most.

What about Daniel and Lissa? Don't they need you too?

The unspoken question cut her to the marrow, but she could only handle one load of guilt at a time.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
She hammered a fist against the steering wheel. Would there ever come a time when she could finally stop apologizing?

Releasing a tremulous breath, she opened the console and found a tissue to dry her eyes. The elation of seeing Mom leave that dreary nursing home had evaporated. The peace Natalie so longed for—the renewed spirit she'd felt certain would be hers now that Mom was coming home—still eluded her. All the way to the farm she sensed some vital grain of understanding lingered just beyond her mind's grasp, something she should know already, something with the power to make all the difference in her life.

And as she turned into the gravel driveway and parked alongside Hart's pickup, she realized Daniel knew and had tried to tell her, but she hadn't wanted to hear it.

19

E
arly Sunday morning, Natalie hurried downstairs to her mother's room, anxious to see how she had passed her first night at home. It would have seemed more right if they could have moved Mom straight into the upstairs bedroom she'd shared with Dad, but until she grew stronger, it would be easier on everyone taking care of her to have her in the hospital bed in the downstairs guestroom.

Natalie tapped on the partially closed door and tiptoed inside. “How's it going, Carolyn?”

The private nurse, a dark-haired woman in her late-forties, sat on the edge of Mom's bed with a bowl of Cream of Wheat. She smiled over her shoulder. “Hi, Mrs. Pearce. We're just having breakfast.”

“Please, call me Natalie.” She moved closer and extended her hand toward the bowl. “Would you mind if I take over?”

Carolyn offered a hesitant frown. “Are you sure? She had a small choking episode during supper last night.”

A warning twinge pinched Natalie's stomach. “Does that happen often?”

“It isn't unusual.” The unspoken addendum—
at this stage
— showed in the lift of the nurse's brow. “We just have to be careful.”

“Of course.” Maybe if Natalie had joined the stroke support group with her father, she'd know more about this aspect of patient care.

“Nnnn. Nnnaaaa.” With jerky motions, Mom rolled her head toward Natalie.

“Yes, Mom, I'm here. This looks delicious. Sprinkled with cinnamon, just like you used to make for Hart and me, remember?” With a nod of assurance to the nurse, Natalie took the woman's place on the side of the bed and offered her mother a spoonful of the warm, milk-thinned cereal. A few white, grainy droplets trickled from the paralyzed side of her mother's mouth, and Natalie gently caught them with the spoon.

“I'm so glad to have you home, and just in time for Christmas,” she said brightly as she offered her mother another bite. Wrinkled lips clamped down on the spoon. Disappointment clamped down on Natalie's heart. “Oh, Mom, don't—”

Cream of wheat dribbled onto the snowflake-bedecked paper napkin spread across her mother's chest. The shrunken woman gave a sputtering cough and turned her head away.

“Maybe you'd better let me,” Carolyn quietly suggested.

Ignoring her, Natalie set the bowl on the nightstand and scooted closer against her mother's side. Tightness squeezed her chest as she pressed her mother's limp hands between her own. “You've got to eat to get stronger for Christmas—the fiftieth perfect Christmas you promised Dad.” She spoke over the silent tears clogging her throat. “You do remember, don't you, Mom?”

Crepe-paper eyelids fluttered and closed. Her mother's breathing slowed as her head relaxed into the pillow.

A knot of alarm swelled under Natalie's heart. “Mom?”

“She's just very tired.” Carolyn placed a hand on Natalie's shoulder. “The move and all … it's taken a toll on her strength.”

Natalie shot the woman an anxious glance. “You don't think it was too much for her, that we shouldn't have brought her home yet.”

The nurse smiled with compassion. “As long as the patient's health permits, it's almost always the best thing to return loved ones to their own home.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added, “For the time remaining.”

Bristling irritation corkscrewed up Natalie's spine. “You must have misunderstood. Mom came home so that we could be closer to her and help her get well.”

Carolyn folded her hands at her waist and took a step back. “Yes, of course.”

“So only positive talk from now on, okay?” Giving a firm nod, Natalie rose and crossed to the window. A powdered-sugar dusting of snow covered the winter-brown grass in the pastures. Rocky, the stocky bay gelding, followed Dad from the barn as he trundled out a wheelbarrow full of hay. Windy trotted close behind, and Natalie already missed her beloved Appaloosa mare. After Christmas, Mona Kauffman from Reach for the Stars would come out with a horse trailer to take Windy to her new home. At least Mona had said Natalie could visit her there anytime.

Once more, she recalled her strange experience the night of her birthday, when the little Appaloosa Christmas ornament had almost shattered, and the amazing vision of her mother riding free and happy across the pasture on Windy's back. It had seemed so
real
. Like a sign. A reason to hope again. If only they could get Mom well enough—and brave enough—by springtime, maybe they could convince her to try riding therapy. Maybe they'd even let Mom ride Windy.

Hugging herself against the chill that penetrated the windowpane, she turned toward Carolyn. “Have you heard of the therapeutic horseback riding program near Putnam?”

“My niece volunteers there. They do marvelous things for their clients.” The nurse looked from Natalie to her mother and back again. She said nothing, but the dark expression in her eyes conveyed her doubts.

“Seeing Mom like she is now, it may seem like a long shot. But I—” Natalie stopped herself, fearing the pragmatic nurse would only scoff at talk of visions and signs. Instead, she nodded firmly and said, “I just know she's going to be all right.” She turned back to the window, lost in thought.

Later, Natalie offered to sit with her mother while Carolyn took a short break. In the quiet room, she tried to turn her thoughts toward prayer but couldn't seem to get past the barrier of her emotions. Finally Mom stirred. Noticing a Bible on the bedside table, Natalie found a small devotion booklet tucked inside. “How about I read to you, Mom?”