Holiday Homecoming. Jean Gordon C.

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      Natalie smiled to herself. The annual trek to the local Christmas tree farm to find the perfect tree had always been one of her favorite holiday activities, one she’d missed the past few years. Last Christmas, she hadn’t even bothered to put out the small ceramic table tree she had.

      “Claire’s coming,” Paul said, adding Natalie’s next oldest sister to the outing. “I don’t know if Andie and Rob and the kids are.”

      “You don’t have to talk me in to it,” Natalie said. “You know I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss Pharaoh Mountain Farm’s mint hot chocolate for anything.” Even Andie being there.

      “Paul,” their dad said, “if you have your social schedule all worked out, want to finish your breakfast and get to work?” He winked at Natalie.

      Paul and his twin, Renee, were the most social of her and her five siblings, not that she and the others weren’t social. Or at least, she had been social.

      They guys polished off their food and left to start the morning milking.

      “Want another cup of coffee, Mom?”

      “You don’t have to do that. It’s not like I can’t get up and walk over to the counter.”

      Natalie ignored the edge to her mother’s voice. “I’m getting one for myself. I can refill yours. You should make the most of the special treatment. Who knows when you’ll get it again?”

      “You’re right.” Her mother handed over her coffee mug. “I have to admit that I’m not missing having to go to work every day, except for the people.”

      Natalie filled both mugs. “Any chance you could go part-time when you go back? You already have an almost full-time job with the farm books and business management.”

      Her mother pressed her lips together, making Natalie wonder if she’d overstepped the child-parent boundary by edging into her parents’ financial situation.

      “Milk prices have been uncertain, although the new yogurt plant in Amsterdam may help keep them more even. I figure I might as well hang on full-time until I can collect Social Security benefits.”

      That was more than ten years away. She wished she could help financially. That had been part of her dream of being a network news reporter, although she suspected her parents wouldn’t accept help, even if she had the means to give it. At least she’d had enough money left from her cashed-out retirement plan account to come up with her share for the Hawaiian trip she and her siblings were giving their parents for Christmas. They had everything covered, down to someone to help Paul with the farm work. She couldn’t remember the last time Mom and Dad had been away.

      “Here you go.” She handed her mother her coffee.

      “Don’t worry about us,” her mother said. “You know your Dad wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

      Natalie knew that, but she was more concerned about Mom.

      “And Paul has some good ideas, like getting in on the yogurt deal, and he’s taking over a lot of the management work I’ve always done.”

      “Good.” She reached over and squeezed her mother’s hand. “You need to concentrate on getting better.”

      Her mother squeezed back. “So, how did choir practice go last night?”

      “About that.” Natalie looked at her mother over the edge of her coffee mug. “Why didn’t you tell me that Connor is the pageant director?”

      “Because I was afraid you’d say no if I had. Right?”

      “Maybe. Probably.” She put her coffee down. “Drew Stacey said that Andie had offered to play if he couldn’t find anyone else. Why didn’t you let her? Connor. Me. You know what happened.”

      “Andie doesn’t play or sing nearly as well as you do. I’m hoping you’ll do the solo. Besides she has enough on her hands with the kids, helping Rob on the farm and her part-time job.”

      Her mother’s last words stung, even though Natalie knew she didn’t mean them in a hurtful way. Mom was stating fact. Until she found a new job, figured out her life, what did she have to do?

      “And—yes, I’m interfering—you and Connor have some unfinished business. Working together might help you finish it.”

      Natalie’s stomach churned as if her last swallow of coffee had been one too many. Yes, she and Connor did have unfinished business—at least she did with him. But she wasn’t sure she had enough strength left in her to finish it. Nor was she certain anymore that God would give her that strength.

      * * *

      Connor stomped through the fresh dusting of snow that had arrived overnight to cover the parking lot of Pharaoh Mountain tree farm. With the clear blue sky and temperatures up near freezing, it was a perfect day to get a Christmas tree for the parsonage—for someone who wanted to get a Christmas tree. He, personally, hadn’t had a tree ever. He knew it was childish, but Natalie refusing his proposal in front of the tree they’d just finished decorating together in her Syracuse apartment, complete with the Christmas star he’d given her for the top, had killed any interest he might have in putting one up for himself.

      Last year, when Jared had been living with him, he and their then six-year-old half sister Hope had gotten one for the parsonage, and Becca and her kids had come over and helped decorate it. His only input had been to insist they put something other than a star on top. He couldn’t see a flashing star atop a tree or anywhere else without seeing Natalie saying, “I’m sorry...” This year, he’d thought he was home free until the women heading up the church’s hospitality and evangelism committees had decided it would be a good idea to have a community-wide open house at the parsonage the weekend before Christmas. All Connor had to do was supply the tree. They’d take care of the food and the rest of the decorating.

      He gripped the saw he’d found hanging in the parsonage garage. He couldn’t tell the women that he didn’t want a Christmas tree in his house. So when Josh had canceled their workday to go into the office, Connor figured he might as well get it over with.

      “Connor,” someone called from behind, pulling him out of his morass. Claire Delacroix jogged up beside him, her cheeks turned rosy from the cold, just like Natalie’s always had. “Picking up your Christmas tree?”

      “That and some wreaths and boughs and stuff for the parsonage. The hospitality and evangelism committees are going to decorate for the open house.”

      “Want to join us? We’re getting the tree for Mom and Dad’s house.”

      “Sure,” he said before considering who “we” might include. He hesitated. No, Natalie would be home, wouldn’t she? In case her mother needed help.

      “We’re meeting at the chocolate hut,” Claire said. “That’s what we call the outbuilding where you pay for the trees.”

      His lack of knowledge of the tree farm must have shown on his face.

      “You haven’t been here before.”

      “No.” At their house growing up, the tree had appeared Christmas Eve after they’d СКАЧАТЬ