Authors: Pam Andrews Hanson
Hope impulsively hugged the younger woman. “I’m truly happy for you.”
Noah hurried down the stairs to the commons, not realizing Ernestine was there. It took him a few moments to notice Hope wasn’t alone, and even then, he only had eyes for her.
Before he could approach the two women, Ernestine scurried into the kitchen.
“She brought cookies for the decorating party,” Hope explained.
“That’s nice.”
“I have something to ask you,” Hope said. “Would you mind if Anna helps bake cookies for Christmas Eve? Harriet volunteered to have Ernestine do all of them, but it’s really too much for one person. We thought we’d make them at my house, and we’d love to include Anna.”
Noah was taken aback. It was kind of her to offer, but was it best for Anna? He wasn’t sure she should get too attached to Hope, but he hated to deny his daughter the pleasure of making Christmas cookies. It was a bittersweet invitation because Anna had never had the experience of baking with her mother.
“I’m not sure….”
“Every girl should learn how to make cookies,” Hope said. “Unless, of course, you have plans of your own to make Christmas treats.”
“No.” He laughed ruefully. “The only things I bake are frozen pizzas.”
“Then we can count on her?”
“If she gets her homework done and doesn’t have a music lesson,” he said, trying not to show his reluctance.
“We’ll plan around her activities,” Hope assured him.
He met her eyes and wondered whether she was judging him as a father. Did she think he was cold and unfeeling? He felt a surge of relief when she smiled.
“That’s nice of you,” he said.
He imagined the scene with Anna furrowing her brow as she tried to frost the perfect cookie. He could almost see Hope in a frilly apron—did women wear them anymore? A lock of hair would dangle in her eyes, and her nose would be dusted with flour.
Noah was shocked to realize he wanted to be part of Hope’s cozy group of bakers. How long had it been since he’d licked a frosting bowl or tested the first batch from the oven? His heart ached with loss but also stirred with longing for the warmth and comfort a woman brought to a home.
He reached out, wanting to touch Hope’s hand, but recoiled before he let himself.
“I have work to do before the decorating,” he said, feeling breathless, confused, and just a little guilty for saying that when he didn’t.
He couldn’t remember why he’d come downstairs, but the image of Hope in a cozy kitchen with Anna followed him up to his office.
CHAPTER 6
Hope planned the cookie-making party for the Friday evening before Christmas. Anna didn’t have any activities, and Ernestine wasn’t scheduled to work at the hospital where she was a licensed practical nurse.
Granny Doe had plenty of room in the big chest freezer in the garage, so Hope could store the cookies there until they were needed. She assembled all the ingredients they might need on counters in the roomy kitchen with bright yellow walls and copper-bottomed pans hanging over the island chopping block.
“Do you have enough chocolate chips?” Granny Doe asked from her seat at the big round oak table where she could keep her leg propped up.
“Plenty,” Hope assured her.
“The men always like those bars you make from a cake mix. Are you making any of those?”
“Yes, if we have time before Anna has to go home. I thought we’d do the fun ones first. I brought all your fancy cookie cutters from the storage room and washed them. I mixed up the dough ahead of time and put it in the fridge. That way Anna can start rolling and cutting the shapes right away.”
“I’m proud of you, helping Ernestine. Harriet shouldn’t have volunteered her.”
Hope thought of telling her about Ernestine’s boyfriend, but it wasn’t her news to share.
Promptly at seven, the doorbell rang. Hope welcomed Anna and caught a glimpse of Noah’s van driving away.
“I can only stay until ten,” Anna said. “I hope that’s enough time to make all the cookies.”
She looked particularly sweet in a red and white striped tunic, and Hope felt like hugging her. Instead she led her to the kitchen and showed her how to flour the cutting board before rolling out dough.
Ernestine arrived a few minutes later, looking pink-cheeked and cold.
“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized.
“You’re right on time,” Hope assured her. “Anna is starting to roll the sugar cookies with Granny’s Doe’s coaching. I thought you and I could start the spritz cookies. We have an old-fashioned press, and they’re always fun to do.”
She also thought Ernestine could have fun with almost no possibility of anything going wrong. If one of the fancy little cookies came out badly, she could put it back in the press and try again.
When they went into the kitchen, Anna and Granny Doe were singing “Jingle Bells” and trying to fix an odd shaped Christmas tree cookie that listed to the right.
“We have a pan ready for the oven,” Anna announced between giggles. “Granny Doe says this one looks more like a mouse with a backpack than a tree.”
Hope was delighted her grandmother and Anna had bonded so quickly. She didn’t know who was having more fun. Granny Doe had been bored with her confinement, and this was wonderful therapy for her.
Her most important jobs were putting cookies into the oven and taking them out, leaving the fun parts to her helpers. Given Ernestine’s propensity for burning things, it seemed a safe arrangement.
“How old are you, Anna?” Ernestine asked, gradually joining the merriment in the kitchen.
“I’m nine, but I’ll be ten on Christmas day.”
“You’re a Christmas baby!” Granny Doe exclaimed. “How very special!”
“What are you going to do for your birthday?” Ernestine asked.
Hope didn’t miss the momentary look of sadness on Anna’s face.
“My mother had a party for me when I was five. I don’t remember much, only big bunches of balloons and a cake with a frosting clown.”
“I don’t think I’d like getting all my presents on the same day,” Ernestine said.
“Once my Grandma Langdon had a half-year birthday for me in June. But she lives awfully far away now.”
Hope took out the first pan of sugar cookies and let Anna put them on cooling racks. The two of them kept her busy putting pans in the oven, checking them, and taking them out.
“Your shapes are perfect,” she complimented Anna.
“Except for the mouse-tree.”
“Tell you what, you can go wild on decorating that one and keep it for yourself.”
“Maybe I’ll give it to my daddy,” Anna said. “He’ll get a kick out of it.”
Did Noah ever see the humorous side of things? Hope wondered.
“Now, let’s color the frosting,” Granny Doe said. “Are you sure you want to use canned?”
Hope gave her a little headshake. She’d had to think of ways to speed up the decorating since Anna couldn’t stay late. Anyway, the ready-made frosting worked fine when it was covered with colored sugars or sprinkles.
Anna and Ernestine were having so much fun decorating, Hope stood back and let them do all the cookies. They would have enough for Christmas Eve plus some for her helpers to take home. In spite of Harriet’s micromanaging, several members of the congregation always brought favorite treats.
Granny Doe winked at Hope, enjoying the fun the cookie-makers were having.
When the doorbell rang, Hope checked the windmill-shaped clock on the kitchen wall. Unless it had a bad battery, which she doubted, Noah had come to take Anna home half an hour early.
She went to the door, trying to think of a convincing reason for Anna to stay longer.
“Hi,” he said when she opened the door. “I was out on a call and thought I’d stop round and see how you ladies are doing.”
“Come in,” Hope said, glad he wasn’t going to insist on taking his daughter home early.
“It smells wonderful in here,” he said, walking into the kitchen after leaving his winter jacket with Hope.
“There’s nothing like cookies in the oven to make the place homey,” Granny Doe said, wiggling on the kitchen chair and trying to make her injured leg more comfortable.
“How are you doing, Mrs. Randall?” he asked after saying hello to Ernestine.
“Ready to use these crutches to tie up my tomato plants in the spring.”
“They can always use them at the Shady Rest Home,” Ernestine said. “My grandmother takes her old nighties there, but I don’t know whether they really want them.”
“We heard Anna’s birthday is Christmas Day,” Granny Doe said. “That’s really special.”
“It has special meaning, but I’m afraid it gets lost in the celebrations for Christmas,” he said, looking at Hope as though expecting a reaction from her.
“Look at the cookie I made for you,” Anna said, handing her father the misshapen one. “Granny Doe thinks it looks more like a mouse than a tree.”
If Noah was surprised at his daughter’s use of Doe’s familiar name, he didn’t say anything. He studied the bright green frosting and chocolate sprinkles, then broke off the top part.
“We should share this. It looks too good to keep to myself.”
He ceremoniously divided it into five parts and gave one to each of the women before sampling his piece.
Hope nibbled on her section but was sorry Noah hadn’t treated it as a special gift from his daughter. Was she the only one who saw how starved for attention Anna was? Was she misjudging him because she wanted him to be the perfect father?
He praised the morsel of cookie, but his eyes were on her. Hope had a hard time finding her voice, and when she did, she only squeaked out a weak compliment on Anna’s decorating.
Why did Noah have this effect on her? She felt girlish and unsure of herself one minute and annoyed the next. She wasn’t a schoolgirl with a crush on the captain of the football team. Nor was she one of those women who was overly impressed by a clerical collar. She’d never even thought of being a minister’s wife, and thinking of it in Noah’s presence made her uncomfortable.
Noah stayed longer than he’d intended, letting the warmth and companionship in the kitchen sway him from his plan to take Anna home at ten. Her face was flushed with pleasure, and she talked more than she had in ages. Never a chatterbox, she giggled and teased Mrs. Randall, completely at home calling her Granny Doe.
When the last of the cookies were done, he reluctantly made the parent’s decision to go home. Anna’s lips pursed in a stubborn expression, but Hope announced it was time for her grandmother to go to bed, a helpful signal it was time to leave.
Ernestine hustled away, getting into a car waiting for her in the driveway, and Anna put on her coat without protest.
When Hope handed him his jacket, her hand accidentally grazed his wrist. Her fleeting touch was soft and warm, and he was hard-pressed to ignore the contact.
“Thank you for letting Anna help,” he said, wishing there was more he could say to express his gratitude.
They drove home in silence, Anna’s store of enthusiasm used up as sleepiness set in. She hurried off to bed without much prompting, and Noah almost wished she would keep him company for a bit longer.
He sat in an easy chair in the muted light of his home office, but his mind was far away. It still hurt to remember Christmas past when he’d had a wife and child to share the joys of the season. Now it was just he and Anna, and as much as he loved her, the emptiness in his heart wouldn’t go away.
Later he prayed for guidance, and his lost feeling turned to a new awareness. He’d been afraid to love again, but maybe his emotions were telling him it was time to open himself up to new possibilities.
He went to bed in the small hours of the night, but sleep eluded him. When he closed his eyes, he saw Hope’s lovely face, but when he was near her, he was torn between panic and longing. Was it possible she could care for him? Was it fair to let her?
His troubled thoughts finally gave way to soothing dreams, and he began to hope just a little.
CHAPTER 7
“Do you think I should invite Noah?” Hope asked as she and her grandmother lingered over a supper of split pea soup and corn bread. “Is it too late to ask him to Christmas dinner?”
“Of course not. Christmas is still three days away. I remember a year when the weather was so awful none of our relatives could get to our house. I had a big dinner in the works. I was so disappointed, I cried. Your grandfather got on the phone Christmas morning and found other people in the same fix. We ended up having a huge potluck at our house, twenty-three people if I remember correctly. It was one of the best Christmas dinners ever.”
“So you’re saying I should?” Hope asked, still wondering if she had the nerve to do it.
“I’m saying you should follow your heart, dear. I’ve seen how you look at each other. One of you has to break the ice, or you’ll both live with regrets for the rest of your lives.”
“How did you get so wise?” Hope had to blink back tears of happiness at Granny Doe’s sympathetic response. “There’s another reason why I want Noah and Anna to come. I’d love to give her a surprise birthday party, and dinner at our house would be a perfect opportunity.”
“What fun!” her grandmother said. “It compensates for being stuck home over the holidays. Not that your company isn’t a great joy any time of the year.”
Earlier she’d made the painful decision not to brave the ice and snow to attend the pageant on Sunday afternoon or the Christmas Eve service on Monday night unless the weather drastically improved. Much as she loved the season, she hadn’t mastered crutches well enough to leave the house safely in bad weather.
Hope agonized over how and when to extend the invitation. Should she mention a surprise party for Anna? Would an afternoon dinner or a later supper be best?
She was tempted to shove a written invitation under Noah’s his door, but she wouldn’t let herself take such a cowardly approach. An e-mail would be convenient if he were an ordinary friend, but it seemed too impersonal—and too easy to refuse.
A phone call was the logical solution, but every time she thought of actually speaking to him that way, she chickened out.