Depending on You

by Melissa Jagears

  She refused to let her smile slip, so she busied herself with the greenery again. How long until everyone knew Bryant intended to leave her? Would he even be back next Christmas?

  The foyer doors banged open behind her, letting in a rush of cold air.

  “Merry Christmas, everybody.” Bryant’s voice was followed immediately by Ava’s squeal, and then their daughter abandoned the candles she’d been arranging to run off the platform.

  Why would she react like that?

  “Merry Christmas,” a softer, feminine voice called.

  Leah’s heart stopped. Could it be? She turned, unable to breathe.

  Ava ran straight down the aisle, nearly knocking over her younger sister as they crashed into an embrace.

  “Jennie,” Leah breathed. She picked her way around the boxes of decorations to get to her youngest, who looked even more like a woman than the last time she’d seen her.

  Within seconds, she’d wrapped herself into a giant hug between her two girls. After holding them tight for a few moments, she peeked over at Bryant through blurry eyes. He hadn’t moved from the doorway, his stance both hopeful and sad, like a puppy being denied the chance to play.

  She waved him over, and in seconds, he’d pulled them into his arms, crushingly hard.

  Ava backed away first and swept Jennie’s dark hair off her forehead, slipping right back into her role as sibling protector. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Jennie’s smile wavered. “It’s been a while.”

  Leah pulled her youngest to her, reveling in the feel of her girl being back in her arms.

  “Where’s Oliver and the baby?” Bryant’s gruff voice drew Leah’s attention off Jennie. “Weren’t you all practicing for the nativity?”

  Though Ava’s countenance didn’t change, her sparkle disappeared. “Oliver’s not going to be in it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Celia’s playing Joseph!” Spencer waved a shepherd’s staff from up at the front of the church.

  Bryant looked to Ava, then to Celia, who’d put on her costume. “But you’re a—”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Celia shrugged and slipped the covering up over her head. “No one will know.”

  Leah let go of Jennie and took a step closer to her husband, keeping her voice low. “Oliver isn’t interested in playacting. And with him ignoring Lenora, and not—”

  Bryant clasped her arm. “What?”

  She frowned at the slight jerk, but the scowl on his face wasn’t aimed at her. She lowered her voice despite Ava having already moved away. “We think Oliver’s unhappy about the baby being a girl, but he’ll get over it. Though not quick enough to take part in this.”

  “Why didn’t Ava tell me?”

  “She likely expected Mama to.” Jennie’s voice tore Leah’s gaze from her husband’s. Though she’d lost her vision years ago after falling out of a hayloft, Jennie had never lost the ability to read her sister.

  Jennie took hold of Leah’s arm. Her daughter’s eyebrows, so like her own, rose above her glossy green eyes. A silent accusation hung in the air between them.

  She couldn’t begin to explain to Jennie why she’d hardly spoken to Bryant, much less why she hadn’t told him about Oliver.

  “Are you all right, Mama?”

  She stiffened.

  “If you want to sing instead of me, I don’t want to take that from you. But Papa seemed to think—”

  “Oh, of course.” Jennie had thought she was upset about no longer singing. “I don’t have to sing the song. I’ll be glad to accompany.”

  Spencer ran up to them. “You want me to help you onto the stage, Miss Whitsett?”

  Jennie reached out and bumped into his chest. Her face lit as she moved her hand up to ruffle his hair. “My, how you’ve grown.”

  “But not too much.” He ducked away from getting ruffled further. “Otherwise, they’d not let me fly.”

  “I heard about that on the way over.”

  Continuing to babble about one thing after another, Spencer escorted Jennie down the aisle toward the front. Once Jennie made it up the stairs, Ava’s face lit at something her sister must have said, and the two promptly moved to the piano bench. Ava opened the music, a genuine smile adorning her lips.

  “Thank you for getting Jennie here.” Leah’s heart warmed at the sight of their daughters’ heads bent together. “I believe you’ve made Ava quite happy.”

  “But are you happy?”

  Something in his tone made her wary. “Of course I am. Ever since I found out Oliver wouldn’t participate, I’ve wished Jennie could come, but—”

  “If you wanted her here, why didn’t you ask me to get her?”

  Why did he sound hurt? “I didn’t want to take Jennie away from the life she’s making for herself in Chicago.”

  “I understand that, but why aren’t you asking me for anything?”

  She frowned up at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me what’s going on with Oliver?”

  She squirmed. “It’s been going on for so long. I didn’t think—”

  “What’s going on exactly?”

  She shrugged. “He’s like a lot of other men. Says the housework and the baby aren’t his responsibility. So Ava’s been upset and overwhelmed. I’ve been trying to help her as much as I can, but that doesn’t make up for how she feels.”

  “Why was I not told about this?” Bryant ran a hand through his hair. “I failed you terribly—I know that can’t be disregarded. But have I ever ignored our girls? Do my failures make me completely unworthy of being involved in their lives?”

  “I didn’t say that.” She caught herself from putting a hand on his arm.

  “But you’re acting like it.” He pointed toward the front of the church where Celia was slumped on the step in her Joseph costume, absently petting the dog’s matted cotton clumps. “Have you forgotten the Christmas story? I know you aren’t Jesus, but if you can’t—” He sighed and shook his head, looking away.

  A shiver swept through her and she hugged herself. She definitely wasn’t Jesus. In fact, she felt as far away from God as she’d ever been.

  Bryant massaged his brow, his fingers spanning the width of his forehead. “Even if you can’t forgive me, please don’t keep me in the dark about my girls. Please.”

  “Bryant, I—”

  But he turned and walked right out the church’s front doors.

  The frigid wind that blew in past him made her hug herself harder, just as she had this morning when she’d awoken in their bed—alone. He’d cuddled up to her at some point in the night, but he’d not been there when morning had spilled in its light. Had he gotten up early to meet Jennie’s train? Or maybe he’d not wanted to stay beside her, considering the way she’d treated him since his return. Maybe he hadn’t meant to cuddle up to her at all.

  Turning, she stared blankly at Spencer running across the platform, Jacob atop the ladder, calling for his boy to settle down, and the stained glass window behind the pulpit, depicting Jesus in the Garden. The red shards of glass splayed across Christ’s forehead glowed in the pale afternoon light.

  Out of love, God had laid down His life for all men—despite their immense failures.

  Oh God, I don’t feel that kind of love.

  Yet, Jesus hadn’t felt like dying that day either. However, He’d sacrificed himself for their good despite that—and in doing so, provided many with the grace they didn’t deserve and a joy they could share with Him forever.

  How could she do less for one of her loved ones when God had given up His glory to come down and do so much for her?

  The rhythmic sound of ax splitting wood led Bryant to the back of Ava’s house. He rubbed his arms briskly against the snow in the air. If he’d known Oliver would be outside, he’d have swung by the house and grabbed his warmer coat.

  Around the corner, he caught sight of his burly son-in-law in a hat pulled low over his brow, the ai
r around him heavy with the white puffs of his labored breathing.

  He nodded when his son-in-law caught sight of him, then stood to the side with his arms crossed, waiting for Oliver to finish splitting the log.

  When Oliver set down his ax, Bryant stepped closer. “Why aren’t you at the church? They’re going over the Christmas program now.”

  His son-in-law leaned heavily on his ax and reached up to brush the perspiration from his face. “I’m not needed for that.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Oliver didn’t look at him, just took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his neck. “The Hendrix kids wanted to be in it. Celia’s playing Joseph’s part.”

  “Only because of you.”

  Oliver eyed him.

  Bryant moved toward the younger man. His past mistakes wouldn’t keep him from trying to stop his girls’ husbands from making their own. “Ever since our church started this nativity thing, Ava’s been looking forward to having a family and getting to be in it, and yet I’ve heard you’ve refused.”

  Oliver looked away. “I’m not comfortable being up front.”

  “Playing Joseph? If Celia can muster up the courage to hide behind that head cloth thing, so can you.”

  Oliver shook his head. “I don’t think you have the right to lecture me—”

  “My failures are a very good reason for listening to me.” Bryant stabbed the air with his finger. “But this isn’t about that. This comes down to you being selfish.”

  “You’re reprimanding me for being selfish?”

  Bryant stepped closer. “Judge me for protecting my pride all you want. But how’s it going to hurt you to fulfill Ava’s wishes? More importantly, what will you gain if you do? I promise you, it’ll be more than the pride you could lose. And if anyone looks down on you for making your wife’s Christmas wish come true—by portraying the true meaning of Christmas—then they aren’t worth impressing.”

  Oliver’s face was hard, but he let his ax handle fall to the ground beside him. “Fine. I’ll ask her if she still wants me to do it.”

  Bryant leaned down to toss Oliver’s last split log onto the pile. “I guarantee you she will—as long as she believes you’ve changed your mind out of love for her.”

  Oliver huffed, but stuffed his hands into his pockets, and without another word, marched past Bryant and headed for the street.

  Following, Bryant lengthened his stride to catch up with his taller son-in-law. Though Oliver had started in the right direction, he needed to be reminded of what was even more important. “You know, I wouldn’t have let you marry Ava if I hadn’t believed you when you told me she was the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  Oliver scuffled along, not looking at him. “She is.”

  “And part of the reason she is, is because of how I treated her as a child.” If only he’d been here when the baby had been born to help Oliver see how much he was needed from the beginning. “I’ve heard you’re not spending much time with Lenora.”

  Though Oliver kept trudging through the snow covering the boardwalks, he’d stiffened. Since he hadn’t offered up an excuse, he likely knew he had none.

  Bryant followed him past several closed shops, their windows decorated with pine boughs and red ribbon. “I worked hard to make sure my girls felt loved every day, even when they were too small to do much but blink at me. And because of that, I believe they’ve got a lot of love to give. Withholding affection from Lenora will only make you at fault if your future son-in-law doesn’t think she’s the best thing that ever happened to him. And if he does think so—well, it’ll be in spite of you.”

  Oliver glared back over his shoulder. “I’ve heard you say Leah was the best thing that ever happened to you. So why do you think you can give me advice? I don’t need it.”

  And yet the young man still marched toward the church.

  What Oliver said couldn’t be denied. He’d hurt Leah more than he ever thought possible. “Maybe you don’t need my words, but you can learn from my mistakes.”

  “It’s only a Christmas program.”

  “Right.” Bryant tried not to glare a hole into the back of his son-in-law’s head. “Something easy. Be grateful you’ve got the chance to fix things before you’ve piled one sin atop another and ruined everything.”

  Oliver didn’t slow. “Working isn’t a sin. I have to work. And then I’m tired—”

  “You’re so tired you choose to chop firewood over playing with a baby?”

  Oliver kept marching.

  Bryant moved to catch up. “Right now, she’s too young to realize there’s been any neglect on your part, and it won’t take you as long to get back into your wife’s good graces as it’ll take me, that’s for certain.”

  Snow crunching under their boots was all that sounded for a bit.

  Oliver sighed. “I don’t know what to do with a girl.”

  “Then ask. God wouldn’t give you a girl if He knew you couldn’t be a good father to her. Besides, if you’re holding out on Lenora hoping for a son to come along, you might end up with an estranged daughter and a distant wife.”

  Oliver took a step onto the church porch but stopped.

  Bryant moved around him and pulled open the door. “Celia agreed to be Joseph because she can hide behind the costume, but I’d encourage you to embrace the role of Saint Joseph. He was a man who surrendered what he’d hoped for to do what was best for those he loved. No one looks down on a man like that.”

  Oliver nodded and walked through the door.

  Bryant followed, but stopped on the foyer’s rug. How could he follow Joseph’s example himself when Leah wanted nothing from him?

  God, how can I do what’s best for my wife without a job? Is that not what I’m supposed to be striving for? Please show me what to do, and I’ll do it—even if it breaks my heart.

  Since his past actions had broken Leah’s—it would be a fair trade.

  Chapter Eight

  Leah handed another soapy dish to Jennie, trying not to glance through the kitchen doorway to the front room. But she failed. Again. Bryant was flat on his stomach in the middle of the rug, mirroring every one of Lenora’s exaggerated movements and comical grunts.

  Earlier, their granddaughter had loudly voiced her frustration over being stuck on her belly, unable to retrieve the spoon she loved to toss. So Bryant had flopped down beside her and caterwauled along with her, snapping her out of her tirade. Now she was giggling at everything he mimicked, flailing on purpose to keep up his shenanigans.

  But Bryant’s heart-melting love for his granddaughter wasn’t the only reason Leah couldn’t stop looking toward the front room. Several minutes ago, Oliver had joined them—on the floor.

  He wasn’t doing anything silly, but he’d picked up the spoon and had tapped it on the floor, encouraging his daughter to keep trying for it. He was actually playing with her—pathetically in comparison to Bryant—but it was certainly more than he’d ever done before, at least in front of her. In fact, had she ever heard him speak to Lenora?

  Bryant must have talked Oliver into playing.

  She’d never had to ask Bryant to love on their girls—he just did. He’d always been so present, so available, even after many a long day at the office. She’d taken his love for them all for granted.

  Tears formed, but since her hands were covered in greasy water, she had to use her sleeve to wipe them away.

  “Mama?”

  “Oh.” She handed Jennie the next dish. How long had her daughter been standing there with nothing to do? The backdoor opened as Ava returned from the root cellar.

  “Ava said she’d like me to stay the night. She finished my book in one sitting. Can you believe it? She wants to talk with me about it.”

  Ava stomped the snow from her boots. “Did you have a chance to read it, Mama?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t.” After rehearsal last night, Jennie had told them she’d written a miniature biography of sorts, a collection of stories illust
rating what her blindness had taught her about the world. She’d handed each one of her family a bundle of papers to be certain they were all right with how she’d portrayed the family. “I did start it, but I fell asleep.”

  Ava made a tsking noise, imitating the sound Leah used to make when the girls were young and tactless. “Jennie’s going to think you thought her book boring.”

  “I don’t, I—” Well, the truth wasn’t anything she wanted to share. She’d worked late at the laundry again for the sole purpose of avoiding their father. And the girls would chastise her for it. And they’d be right to do so.

  “It’s not boring, Jennie,” Ava said in a more serious tone. “It’s really good.”

  “Right.” Leah turned to her youngest. “It wasn’t your book, honey. I was just exhausted.”

  “Then make sure you turn in early tonight so you can read it. I think you’ll love it.” Ava crossed to the kitchen doorway. “Oliver? Would you get the guest room ready for Jennie? She’s agreed to stay over.”

  “I suppose I could, if…” Oliver hauled himself off the floor, ambled over, then flicked the mistletoe hanging from the doorway. “If I get paid in advance.”

  Ava looked up. “Where did that come from?”

  “Your father put it up. He’s trying to help me get back into your good graces.”

  She bumped his shoulder with her own. “You weren’t anywhere close to having to sleep outside—yet.”

  With a smile on her face, Leah turned away as Oliver leaned down for a kiss.

  “There are days I wish I was more than blind,” Jennie grumbled loudly. “I can hear your lips smacking from all the way over here.”

  “Ewww, stop it, Mama and Papa. My eyes, my eyes!” Bryant’s high-pitched little girl voice caused Ava to chuckle and break the kiss.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Bryant said. He’d been holding the baby’s chubby little fists over her eyes. “I think it’s safe to look now, Lenora.”

  When he pulled her arms down, she giggled then started bouncing, clearly anticipating a game of peek-a-boo.