That Christmas Feeling (18 page)

L
ater that evening Rose packed away the ornament boxes, then shooed the children off to bed. Her mind was filled with the messages she’d heard that night—Paul’s cryptic comment and Kayla’s open expressions of love.

While preparing their meal, Rose had felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she thought about her decision. Was it better to stay in Little Cloud and face a single, childless life or return to L.A. and leave her loved ones behind? Both meant heartbreak.

Rose climbed the stairs and checked on the children. They’d gone to bed with little grumbling, each excited about the tree decorating and overwhelmed by Paul’s fall from the roof. Before she returned to the first floor, Rose located a bottle of pain reliever. She knew Paul was miserable, and she wanted him to sleep well.

When Rose returned to the living room, the lamplight blinked and then returned. “Do you think we’ll lose power?” she asked.

“Very possible. The weight of the snow on those lines, especially if it freezes, can be dangerous.”

“If this keeps up, it means no Christmas service or Sunday-school program,” Rose said.

“We’ll hold our own. It’s Jesus’ birthday.”

His suggestion touched her. “Here’s some medicine for pain,” she said, setting the bottle beside his water glass. “You should take it now.”

He reached over and did as she said, washing the pills down with water, then closed the bottle.

Rose crossed the room and opened the fireplace doors. “We might as well have a fire,” she said, piling some kindling onto the grate, then lifting on two large logs. She set a fire starter beneath the fast-burning wood and waited for the kindling to ignite. As the fire spread, she settled into a chair across from Paul.

The music filled the room, and Rose leaned back and let the tiring day wash from her body. Paul’s fall from the roof had been overwhelming. Fear had raced through her, followed by panic. The experience of both phones not working, no access to the roads, being snowbound in the woods was alien to her L.A. existence. Yet now as she relived the moments she recalled a sense of challenge and adventure. Neither had been part of her California life—except an occasional trying day on the freeways.

Without warning, Paul grasped the baseball bat and stood.

“Don’t hit me,” she said, eyeing the makeshift cane and sending him a grin.

He didn’t respond, but hobbled to the fireplace and lowered himself to the floor, then patted the carpet.

She didn’t move, and he patted it again, except she only heard the sound. The lights had flickered and died.

“Let there be light,” Paul said from the floor.

The darkness continued, except for the warm glow from the fireplace.

Rose’s first thought was the children. Without electricity, the blower would stop on the furnace. “I’ll go up and add a blanket to the kids just in case,” she said. “Where’s the flashlight?”

“Foyer closet,” he said.

She fumbled her way beyond the firelight to the closet. Inside she felt the shelf until her hand touched the light. Soon the beam stretched across the carpet, then the staircase as she made her way up the stairs.

Colin had kicked off his blanket, so Rose tucked it in and covered him with a large quilt. In Kayla’s room she stood a moment, seeing the child bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window. Rose covered her with the bedspread and tucked it in, then turned toward the light.

Outside, the moonlight bounced off the snowdrifts, leaving the night in a silver glow. Rose looked into the night sky. Once again the full moon hung above her, round and bright like a beacon. In the past months she’d viewed it as a symbol of her loneliness and singleness, but tonight its shimmering aura led her thoughts in a different direction. As its beams brightened the dark earth, it offered rays of hope to the lost. Rose bowed her head. The Lord knew she was lost, and God’s voice told her she needed to find her way home.

Paul had watched Rose’s flashlight beam vanish into the darkness and now he waited for her return. His chest tightened, aware of the love Rose had for the twins. She thought of them first in every way. His feelings for her had grown beyond his imagination, and he knew he had to convince her to stay with them in Little Cloud. He loved her too much to let her go.

He waited, and in minutes the flashlight rays bounced along the foyer floor as Rose made her way down the stair
case. The light swept into the room, with her only a specter behind it.

She came to his side and draped a quilt over his shoulders. Without his asking again, she sank to the floor close to the blaze. “I think they’ll be fine. Heat rises, so it’s warmer up there than here. Hopefully the lights will be back on in a few minutes.”

“Don’t be too hopeful,” Paul said. “This is Minnesota, not L.A.”

She sat a moment until a faint grin curved her lips.

“What are you thinking?” Paul asked.

“Funny you say that. Earlier I was comparing Little Cloud to L.A.”

“No comparison,” he said.

“No, but I’m not totally convinced one is better than the other.”

“Really?” Her comment caused his pulse to skip. “I thought that you were going back because…” His voice faded, having no ending for her reason.

“‘Because’ has no answer, Paul. I’m a mixture of incongruity. Go. Stay. I said I’m going, but my heart is fighting me all the way.”

Her admission hit him in the solar plexus. “Then why? Why would you leave if you don’t have a reason?”

“I have a reason. I—I don’t understand it.”

Paul felt her shudder. “You’re cold.” He drew the quilt over her shoulders and drew her closer. “Explain this to me, Rose. Please.”

The embers crackled; otherwise there was silence. Paul didn’t push. He fought his desire to direct the conversation, to beg her again to change her mind, to remind her of the loss the children would have, to confess he’d grown to love her. Instead, he prayed that God’s will be done. Paul
couldn’t make change happen without the Lord’s blessing. He’d learned that these past months while going to church and by reading the Bible he’d bought weeks ago.

He’d seen changes in the children. They came home from Sunday school singing songs about Jesus. They talked about their mother in heaven with a new kind of comfort he had been unable to give them. Perhaps a comfort he had never experienced until now.

Rose had led them to the Lord through her strong faith. She had led them into a new world, a complete world he hadn’t felt in years.

She stirred, and Paul felt her draw in a deep breath, then release a deeper sigh. He stood on the edge of anxiety, longing to understand. Then she shifted closer.

“It’s difficult to explain this, Paul. You know the things that hurt me in the past—that gave me a dislike of gossip, a fear of being rejected again and a horror of being pitied again. I feared even you pitied me.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he sensed she had more to say and he swallowed the words.

“I realize it wasn’t pity. You were motivated so much by the love of your children. Your proposal, your pleading for me to come to Little Cloud and your begging for me to stay.”

“Rose, it was that, but now—”

She pressed her hand on his arm. “I was motivated by the love of your children. I adored them, but…” Her voice faded, and her body trembled.

“But…?” He held his breath. What did she have to say that was so difficult? He lowered her head to his shoulder and nuzzled his chin against her hair. He longed to open his heart, but he sensed Rose had to speak first before he told her the truth about his feelings.

“I loved your children from the beginning. Dear Kayla
with all her problems, and Colin with his need to control. They are dear to me, but something else kept me here when wisdom told me to leave.”

Paul lifted his head and captured Rose’s chin in his palm. He turned her head toward him. “What kept you here?”

“My heart.”

He stared at her, bewildered by her meaning. Her eyes searched his and her meaning struck him as pure and perfect as a snowflake.

“I fell in love with you.”

Her whisper brushed past his ear, and the words washed over him. “You love me?”

“That’s why I have to leave. I didn’t believe it at first. I tried to think it was only my imagination. I admired you and respected you—especially how much you adore the twins.”

“I’ve always admired and respected you, but I realized that—”

“Then when I heard that your L.A. executive was a woman, I realized how envious and untrusting I’d become. I thought—”

“Gretchen? Gretchen’s like a mother to me.”

“I know that now, but when I heard they’d sent a woman, I concocted a romance in my mind. When she was coming for dinner on Thanksgiving, I thought that you were bringing her home to—”

“To introduce her as my lady friend?”

Rose nodded. “I’d misjudged it all, and I knew that I couldn’t stay here without ruining my life and yours.”

“But Rose, you can’t ruin my life now unless you leave. You’re what makes life important to me and to the kids.”

“You’re too kind, Paul. I understand, but I felt I had to tell you.” Exposed in the firelight, tears glistened in her eyes.

Paul leaned nearer and kissed away her tears.

“Dearest Rose, I’m not just being kind. I’ve loved you for so long. One day it all struck me. Our lives aren’t complete without you. I was afraid to tell you how I felt because I’d already bungled with my proposal. I knew how you felt about employer-employee romances, and I feared you’d think I was manipulating you to stay.”

“Please don’t say that now, Paul.”

“Don’t say it? I have to tell you how much you mean to me. I’ve asked God to help me find a way to show you.”

She lowered her head, then as if struck by a new thought she raised it. “When did you put out the picture of me? The one on the shelf?” Her hand gestured toward the cabinet.

“A while ago. I’d had the photo, but needed a frame.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said.

“I hoped you would. You looked so lovely that day. I knew even then that you were special to me. It took me a little longer to realize the woman I’d dreamed about was right under my nose.”

“But we’re too different. That’s part of the problem. You’re educated. You’ve traveled. I’m only—”

“You’re only wonderful. You’re a born mother. You’re a tender woman with love in your heart. You’re beautiful, Rose. You’re wise and intelligent.”

Her eyes searched his as if trying to believe.

“You kissed me today. I had hoped that it meant what I wanted it to, that there is hope for us.”

A bewildered look settled on her face, and Paul prayed that God would help her to understand and believe. “Don’t pull away from me now. Believe me. Trust me.”

“But you’re my boss. I work for you.”

“Rose, you’re fired.”

He tilted her mouth upward, her lips full and pliant, and
he lowered his mouth, drinking in her softness and warmth. He’d been alone with no desire for a wife, only the longing for a mother for his children until Rose stepped through the doorway. Then life changed.

He drew Rose closer, deepening the kiss. Rose yielded to his mouth, and she raised her hand to his cheek and brushed the stubble of his whiskers.

At that moment Paul experienced the deepest love that only God could give.

Rose gazed into his eyes. “Let me think, Paul. I’m overwhelmed. I need to grasp all that’s been said tonight.”

“Trust me, please. I love you.”

She nodded, then stood and turned on the flashlight. “I’ll help you to your room.” she said.

Paul rose and grasped her arm as they followed the beam to his room. After he’d climbed into bed, Rose and the light vanished while Paul lay in darkness.

T
he morning light filtered through the window, and Rose sat on the edge of her bed. All night she’d relived Paul’s words. He said he loved her. She felt amazed. Part of her wanted to believe and part of her couldn’t.

She opened her Bible, asking God’s wisdom. She remembered Paul talking about the Scripture that had moved him to realize how much God loved him. She flipped through the pages, scanning Philippians until she spotted the verses Paul had mentioned. “If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from His love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.”

When they’d talked, he’d mentioned that human love could be guided by the same qualities—tenderness, comfort, compassion, fellowship and like-mindedness with one spirit and purpose. Wasn’t that what she and Paul had done?

In so many ways their relationship was based on the qualities in those verses. Could God have blessed them
with this special love? She loved Paul, and she prayed that God would help her accept the truth.

Rose bowed her head, and as her prayer rose to the Lord, she was struck by reality. Whether Paul loved her or not, she knew what she had to do. She rose in the chilly room, dressed and headed to the kitchen, grateful for a gas stove. By the time breakfast was ready, the children and Paul had joined her.

“How’s your ankle?” Rose asked, afraid to look in Paul’s eyes.

“I have a good nurse,” he said. “I’m feeling pretty good. I might go out and see if I can move some of that snow.”

“Don’t push yourself,” she said.

After breakfast they bundled up, and the twins charged out the door to make a snowman. Paul followed, but paused beside Rose, worry filling his face. “How did you sleep?”

“Not well, but I’m fine. I read the Bible this morning, and I’ve made one decision.”

“A decision?”

“I’m not leaving. I’m staying here even if I’m the kids’ nanny forever.”

Paul grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. “They’ll grow up too fast, Rose. Nannies aren’t forever. Mothers are.”

He turned and stepped through the patio doorway.

Rose’s heart tripped. His words were true.
Nannies aren’t forever. Mothers are.
She cleaned the kitchen, then made her way to the hidden gifts and wrapped the last of them. Finally she wandered down the stairs with a load of packages to put under the tree.

“Rose, come outside.”

“Come and see what we made.”

Kayla’s and Colin’s voices drew her to the patio door. They beckoned, and she grabbed her coat and hurried outside. When she saw their surprise for her, she faltered.

A snowman stood in the yard, adorned with mop-top hair. Rose recognized her flowery silk scarf at its neck and her broom in its hand.

“You made a snow lady,” Rose said, grinning at their ingenuity.

“It’s a snow mommy,” Kayla called.

“A snow mommy.” Rose’s voice was a whisper. She hid her tears behind her laughter, wiping her eyes with her fingers.

“Look,” Colin said. He pointed to a strangely shaped red spot against the snow mommy’s chest.

Studying it, she saw it was an apple carved to make a heart.

Kayla giggled. “It’s you, Rose. We gave it a heart because hearts stand for love, and you love us.”

“I do,” Rose said, crouching and opening her arms to the children.

They came barreling toward her, and with their exuberant embrace, she tumbled to the ground as they toppled over her.

“And we love you,” Colin said between giggles.

She hugged the children, fighting the tears that rolled from her eyes.

Paul stepped to her side and offered his hand. “Me, too,” he said softly in her ear as she stood.

Rose brushed the snow from her slacks, feeling Paul’s arm wrap around her shoulders.

“This is serious now,” Paul said, brushing his lips against her hair. “We have to talk.”

Paul descended the staircase, pleased that the electricity had been restored earlier in the evening. The children had gone to bed filled with excitement that tomorrow was Christmas Day, and he felt his own kind of anxiety.

He crossed the foyer and looked into the living room, where Rose sat on the floor beside the fireplace in the same spot they’d sat the evening before. The room was lit with the fire’s glow and the glint of the tree lights.

His stomach tightened as he entered the room. Rose turned to face him and patted the floor beside her. He stood over her looking down at her slender frame and watched the firelight glint in her tawny hair.

Tonight she looked relaxed, not stressed, as she’d been so often in their crazy mixed-up relationship. Employer-employee-friend. What had he asked of her? Yet she’d come through as the dearest friend in the world. The dearest woman in his life.

He sank beside her and took her hand. “You’re staying.”

“I am.”

He brushed his finger across her cheek. “Do you know that I love you?”

“The kids love me. I saw that today.” She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers.

“And what about me?” he asked.

“I love you. I told you last night.”

He stood and drew her up into his arms. “I love you, Rose. The kids love you and I do. You’ve given us more than anyone could expect. Your time. Your concern. Your love. You’ve made our lives complete.”

He held her against his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist, her lips so near he could taste the mulled cider they’d drunk earlier. “You’ve made me whole, and now it’s your turn. I want you to be my wife.”

Her eyes searched his. Then her lips curved into a smile and she closed her eyes, then opened them. “This isn’t a dream?”

“It’s the whole truth. The beautiful truth. Remember
once I promised you anything to come to Little Cloud. Tonight I’m promising my love.”

Rose took him by the hand and led him to the window, where the Christmas moon spread its silver light over the snow, and pointed. “You promised me that once. Remember?”

“I guess I did promise you the moon.”

“But you gave me even more. You gave me the sun and stars. The whole universe.”

Rose looked into the heavens, then back at Paul washed in the silver glow. The man in the moon shone down on them, just as Rose knew God had smiled down on them and guided their paths.

Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. “It’s not a ring. We’re still snowbound, but it’s an early Christmas present for you.”

Rose’s heart skipped as she took the box. When she opened it, the gift amazed her—the bracelet she had admired weeks earlier. He’d bought it that long ago for her. “It’s beautiful.”

She dangled it in the moonlight, admiring the fused translucent glass. “Is this an engagement bracelet?”

“If you say yes.”

“I do,” she said.

Paul wrapped her in his arms, and his lips touched hers. She rejoiced in the wave of happiness that rolled through her. After the long struggle, God had given her the gift to trust and to believe there was one man who truly loved her.

“The kids,” she said once their lips had parted. “What will they say?”

Paul didn’t answer, but kissed her again.

Torn wrapping paper spread across the living-room floor. Two new bicycles stood beside the tree, while wooden puz
zles, new clothes and games sat nearby. While Christmas music drifted from the speakers, Rose held the macaroni-edged picture frame in her hand. The twins had used markers to color the pasta and Paul had bought the frames. She gazed at the photograph of Paul and the children that they must have taken from the sleeve of photos. They’d given Paul one of her with them in the leaf pile. Their homemade gifts touched her heart.

“Rose and I have one more gift for you,” Paul said.

The children dropped what they were doing and looked at him with curiosity.

Her pulse tripping, Rose shifted beside Paul, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Last night I asked Rose to be your mother and my wife.”

Their gazes shifted to Rose’s face.

Rose felt tears welling in her eyes. “I said yes.”

“Yes,” Colin said, jumping up and bounding toward them.

“Our real mommy?” Kayla asked. “Not a snow mommy.”

“Snow mommies melt,” Rose said, crouching down to hold Kayla in her arms. “I don’t melt. I’ll be here forever.”

Kayla’s eyes widened. “Forever.”

Forever, Rose thought, holding the child in her arms. Forever, like the promise of the amazing Christmas moon.