Holiday Homecoming. Jean Gordon C.

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СКАЧАТЬ quiet for a couple of minutes. “Kirk Sheldon. Was that her mentor?”

      “Sounds right.” Connor knew it was right.

      “You can take this for what it’s worth. I only know what I read on the ‘People’ page of a suburban Chicago newspaper.”

      Connor glanced sideways at his brother. Jared looked like he was weighing whether to continue. “Since when do you read gossip pages?” he asked to fill the lull.

      Jared glared at him. “Since my publicist suggested it. The page had a story about me that she’d wanted to make sure I read as a lesson in what I shouldn’t be doing.”

      Connor snorted. “You’re going to tell me there was a story about Natalie, too?”

      “Do you want to hear this or not?”

      He wanted to put his hands over his ears and shout no. “Go ahead,” he said.

      “It was before I caught her on TV that time. I didn’t connect the two until now.”

      “I don’t need background. Just the details.” And the fewer, the better.

      “The news anchor was estranged from his wife, an overseas correspondent, and apparently dating Natalie.”

      Natalie and her professor? Connor clenched his jaw. She’d gone on about Kirk this and Kirk that. He’d thought it was her usual chatter. Had she been two-timing him? The man had to be fifteen years older than them. He gripped the steering wheel until his hands hurt.

      “I know the paper blew it all out of proportion. They always do.” Jared stopped again. “To cut to the chase, the news anchor and his wife reunited and he publicly apologized for his indiscretions. Natalie was his latest. He stopped just short of naming names, but the writer insinuated that he was involved with Natalie. The story covered the reconciliation. ‘Local anchor breaks love triangle and reconciles with wife,’ or some such garbage. Natalie was collateral damage.”

      Poor Natalie. Despite his fresh hurt that she might have been interested in Kirk before they’d broken up, he wasn’t going to judge. Only God could do that.

      “I can’t tell you what to do,” Jared said. “But I’d take care.”

      Connor got the implied “concerning Natalie.”

      “Much as I hated the bad press I got when I was on the motocross circuit, parts of it were true. And the reputation I got from those stories hurt Becca. Your contract is up for renewal at the end of the year. Some of the members of the congregation are still warming up to your being Jerry Donnelly’s kid. And I know how much serving here means to you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

      “I’m a big boy. I can handle my own life.” Connor yanked the steering wheel to turn into Jared’s driveway and brought the car to an abrupt stop.

      “See you Saturday,” Jared said. He stepped out of the car and closed the door without waiting for Connor’s response.

      Good move on Jared’s part. At the moment, he was inclined to blow off Saturday.

      Connor drove home, parked his car in the parsonage garage and stepped out into the frigid night air. A vision of Natalie’s drawn face and empty gaze shadowed him into the house. He knew he should give her a wide berth, not so much to protect his ministry at Hazardtown Community Church, but to protect his heart. And he would, starting tomorrow, once he’d gotten control over the concern for her that Jared’s story had raised and his almost overpowering need to seek her out and shelter her in his arms.

Chapter Two

      “Mom, sit down and let me do that.” Natalie walked across the kitchen and lifted the spatula from her mother’s hand. “What happened to your sleeping in and letting me take care of breakfast? Where’s your walker?”

      “By the table. I woke up and didn’t see a light on in your room yet. Since I was awake, I thought I’d get things started.”

      Natalie looked at the clock over the kitchen sink that had been there as long as she could remember. Ten after five. “I would have been up in five minutes, anyway, if I hadn’t heard you and gotten up.”

      “I’ve got bacon in the broiler and have already started cracking eggs to scramble. I’ll just finish them.”

      Natalie took her mother by the shoulders, surprised at how delicate she felt under her hands, and helped her to the kitchen table. “Sit. I suppose you make breakfast for Claire, too, when she gets up for work. Seriously, you could set the coffeemaker and let them fend for themselves.”

      “I’ve been telling her that for years,” her father said from the doorway. He walked over and kissed her mother on the cheek. “Not that I’ve had much success. How’s it going for you?”

      Natalie motioned to the table. “I have her sitting.”

      “I knew calling you was the right thing.”

      “Right back at you, Dad.” She looked at her mother and father, who were still obviously in love after thirty-five years of marriage and six children. A warm cloak of safety wrapped around her. She could have used some of that inner security last night with Connor. If only it was something she could pocket and take with her when she left the house.

      Natalie turned to the stove and finished breaking eggs into a bowl. She beat in some milk until they were smooth and sunny yellow.

      “Oh, no, you’re not letting Natalie cook.” Her younger brother, Paul, one male half of the two sets of Delacroix twins—Paul and Renee, and Marc and Claire—walked in and sat at the table.

      “And good morning to you, too.” She poured the egg mixture into an iron frying pan.

      “The last time I remember you cooking breakfast, you almost burned down the lodge at Sonrise.”

      “I did not,” she protested.

      “Sure you did. You volunteered to get up early and make pancakes for the church youth group at our annual campout. Mr. and Mrs. Hill were the leaders then.” He prompted her memory. “A fawn or bird or something distracted you and you let the pancakes burn. The kitchen filled with smoke.”

      She remembered all too well. It wasn’t a fawn or bird that distracted her. It was Connor splitting wood for the campfire planned for that evening. Contrary to Paul’s embellishments, she didn’t cause any fire, or fill the kitchen with smoke. However, the stack of blackened pancakes and Mrs. Hill stepping in to finish cooking breakfast were enough to win her razzing for the rest of the day. Connor had made it better, sitting with her at the campfire and stealing a kiss—their first—when the Hills weren’t watching.

      She suppressed the nostalgic longing for that more innocent time. “That was more than ten years ago. I’ve perfected my breakfast cooking since then.” A faint whiff of well-done bacon drifted from the stove. She quickly opened the broiler and took the pan out.

      “So I smell.” Paul got in another good-natured dig. “You know I’m only teasing. We’re all glad to have you home for the holidays.”

      “I’m СКАЧАТЬ