by Cindy Kirk
“There’s more than enough silver for everyone.” Faith glanced at the cans. “I’m starting with the green.”
The ugliest color, at least in Faith’s estimation, but one she knew the others wouldn’t want. For her, whatever colors her pinecones ended up being didn’t matter. She was simply enjoying this time with the girls and Graham.
Faith had invited her grandmother to join them, but Mary had been tired after a busy day of bingo and had retired to her room. She hadn’t appeared tired to Faith’s assessing gaze, but energized. The bounce Faith had seen in Mary’s step had warmed her heart.
The twins each took a can and began to spray, gaining confidence with each dash of paint.
Graham’s red wasn’t much prettier than Faith’s green, but he appeared to be having fun.
“When I planned this trip,” he spoke in a low voice, his words for Faith’s ears only, “I hadn’t given much thought to how I could make Christmas special for the girls.”
Faith nodded. He didn’t need to say more. She knew his plan had been to leave the twins with Ginny as much as possible so he could work on his campaign.
While he might have left them with their grandmother Friday night while he was at the party and let the twins assist Ginny with candy-making yesterday, Graham hadn’t just dumped them on Ginny. He’d carved time out of his own schedule to make the holiday special for his girls. Together, they’d built a snowman, gone sledding and even tromped through the snow to pick out the perfect tree.
“It’s funny how we have these dreams for ourselves and we’re so sure of the path toward those dreams.” She finished off her pinecone and set it aside to dry. “Then life throws us a curve ball, and we’re given the opportunity to not only consider the path we were on, but whether the dream is still something we want.”
“You understand.” Surprise flickered in his green depths.
“You thought I wouldn’t?” She kept her voice equally low as she reached for another pinecone.
“I wasn’t sure.” He glanced down at his red cone and grimaced.
“It’s lovely,” she assured him.
“Too much paint,” he said.
“You’ll get it right this time.”
An emotion she couldn’t quite identify flickered in his eyes. “I hope so. There’s a lot riding on it.”
Chapter Fourteen
The girls went around the tree with what seemed like miles of popcorn garland until they were dizzy. Once they gained their equilibrium, they spent the next few minutes hanging lights and clipping plaid bows to the tree with clothespins.
Soon after Faith had headed downstairs with the promise of returning with a “special surprise,” the twins started clipping the wooden clothespins on each other.
“This behavior tells me you’re getting tired.” Graham spoke in a stern voice. “Perhaps we need to wait until tomorrow to hang the pinecones and put on the tree topper.”
Charlotte paused, clothespin open and ready to bite. She let it snap closed. “No. We’re good. Aren’t we, Hannah?”
Hannah dropped her clothespin into her pocket and out of sight. “We’re good.”
“Help us with the pinecones, Daddy,” Hannah urged. “It’s more fun when you help.”
Charlotte gave a decisive nod. “Loads more fun.”
After the craft part of the evening, Graham had held back, wanting his daughters to have the pleasure of putting all the ornaments and garland on the tree. The truth was, he was having fun watching them.
But he obligingly reached into the sack and began hanging the pinecones—thanks, glue gun—from the ribbon they’d glued onto the cones.
When Hannah placed three silver cones in the same area of the tree, Graham thought about mentioning it would be nice to stagger the colors. Then he realized they were having fun doing it their way. Wasn’t that what this evening was all about?
He found himself whistling along with the Christmas music playing in the background as he hung the cones between the popcorn and bows. Hannah began singing under her breath, and he had to smile. From the time she could make noise, Hannah had sung little tunes when she was happy.
His heart filled to overflowing with love for these two precious girls. He and Steph hadn’t planned on getting pregnant. Neither of them had been ready to be parents, but they’d made the adjustment.
What had Faith said? Something about adjusting your path? That’s what had happened when the girls were born. He and Steph had gone down a different path, one that had given him two of life’s biggest blessings.
“I love you girls.” Graham realized he didn’t say the words often enough.
“I know.” A tiny smile tipped Charlotte’s lips as she pointed at his chest. “And I love you.”
“You’re my daddy bear.” Hannah wrapped her arms around him, snuggling close.
Graham’s heart rose into his throat. How much he’d missed. How much he still would have missed if it hadn’t been for Holly Pointe. If it hadn’t been for Faith.
Her smile widened when she stepped into the room and saw him with the girls. She held a plastic sack loosely in one hand. While still holding it, she lifted both hands and pretended to frame the tree. “This is such a lovely sight.”
But she knew, and Graham knew, it wasn’t the tree that had her eyes turning misty.
“What’s in the bag?” Charlotte demanded.
“Is it the angel you promised?” Hannah looked up at Faith with hope in her eyes.
“I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us.” Graham crossed to her, surprising them both when he brushed a kiss across her cheek. “You’ve made tonight so special already.”
If the girls found the kiss odd, they didn’t show it. They only continued to clamor for her to open the sack.
Faith lifted a hand, stopping their questions. “Before I show this to you, I want to tell you a story.”
Charlotte’s gaze narrowed. “Then you’ll open it?”
A chuckle was Faith’s answer, but when Charlotte continued to give her the beady eye, she put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Yes, after the story, I’ll open it.”
Faith gestured toward the sofa. “Shall we sit?”
Graham noticed Faith had barely dropped down when the girls took their places on either side of her. She shot him a barely suppressed smile when he was forced to take what little space was left.
“Once upon a time, long, long ago, when I was barely older than you are now, I lived in a big house with my parents and two brothers.” She paused for a second as if memories clogged the telling, then resumed. “My parents were busy people, like your daddy.”
“He’s very busy,” Hannah agreed.
“He’s always working,” Charlotte added.
Graham felt the pinprick of a knife blade in the area of his heart.
“My brothers were older and not into Christmas stuff.”
Hannah’s and Charlotte’s eyes grew wide as they exchanged glances.
“Like your dad, we had a service that would come in every year and set up the tree. They would decorate it beautifully. Sometimes they’d have a theme and—”
Charlotte tugged on Faith’s sleeve, stopping the story. “What’s a theme?”
“It’s like doing the tree in all blues and silver. Or like a peacock. Understand?”
Faith’s tone, gentle and patient, had the young girl nodding.
“Well, while the trees were lovely, and I really, really liked some—”
Graham wondered if she’d really liked the decorations or if the “really, really liked” was a nod to him and his past Christmas trees.
“—when I’d look at the top of the tree, with its bows or feathers, or even one time a group of birds—”
That had the girls giggling.
“—I thought the tree needed something more. Because I was a child and didn’t have money of my own, I went to my parents and asked if we could buy an angel for the top of the tree.” Her lips lifted, but the flash of sadness
in her eyes told Graham there was no happy ending to this part of the story.
“They bought an angel for you.” Charlotte burst into a smile.
“That’s the one you’re showing us,” Hannah added.
Faith shook her head slowly. “My mother said angels are lovely, but the service we used tried to avoid religious symbols, so they wouldn’t have an angel.”
The smiles of the twins turned to frowns.
Graham wasn’t sure they understood what a “religious symbol” was, but if they had questions later, he’d clarify. For now, he listened as Faith continued with the story.
“I told her she didn’t understand. I wanted her to buy an angel. One that we could put on the tree not just that year, but every year.” Faith’s voice remained steady as her gaze slipped to the tree.
The girls nodded as one, and Graham found himself nodding, too. He fought the urge to hurry her along and realized moving fast and making things happen quickly had become not only his lifestyle, but, well, him.
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly and told himself that, in this case, there was absolutely no need to rush.
“My mother shook her head.” As if to demonstrate, Faith shook her own head and pasted a sorrowful expression on her face. “She said, ‘I’m sorry, honey, but I don’t have time. Besides, the tree is already decorated and you said you liked it.’”
“Did you?” Charlotte asked. “Like it, I mean?”
“I did.”
“But it was missing an angel.” Hannah leaned her head against Faith’s shoulder and began to stroke her arm.
“Yes, it was missing an angel. So.” This time, it was Faith’s turn to take a breath and let it out. “I decided to make one. Our maid had a whole treasure trove of scraps and fabrics, and she helped me put together an angel. I thought she was the most beautiful angel in the world.”
Everyone’s gaze shifted to the sack, now sitting on the side table.
Hannah raised her hand. “I know the end to this story. The angel was on the tree every Christmas from that day forward. Amen.”
Graham resisted—barely—grinning at that last word.
“Well…” Faith didn’t answer immediately, and he could see that, once again, she was being careful with the words she chose. “My mother refused—ah, wouldn’t put it at the top of the tree. She reminded me our tree had a theme, and the angel didn’t fit that theme.”
Charlotte sat up straight and crossed her arms, her lips forming a pout. “I don’t like this story.”
“Poor, sad little angel.” Hannah’s voice radiated concern. “She didn’t have a tree.”
Faith lifted a finger, and the smile on her lips reminded Graham of sun breaking through clouds. “Ah, but there is a happy ending to this story.”
The girls studied her, said nothing and waited.
Graham held his breath. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized just how much he, too, was anticipating a happy ending.
“Your mom changed her mind and let you put the angel on the tree,” Hannah said before Faith could continue.
“Let her tell it.” Charlotte frowned at her sister, then smiled up at Faith. “What happened?”
“I made a little tree out of green construction paper for my room. I put my angel on that tree.” Faith’s lips curved. “Every night before I went to bed, I’d look at her, and I’d feel happy.”
“Nobody saw her,” one of the twins said, but Graham was too busy looking at Faith’s glowing eyes to notice which one.
He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze.
“I saw her,” Faith told the girls. “Every time I was in my room, I saw her. And Sharron, our maid who’d been so kind to help me make her, saw her. Even my family, if they happened to be in my room, saw her.”
Graham had the feeling there was a lot more that Faith wasn’t telling. Such as, perhaps the only reason that angel was allowed to live in Faith’s bedroom was because very few saw it.
“Nice,” Charlotte said.
“You brought her to Holly Pointe with you?” Graham asked.
Faith nodded. “She’s with me wherever I live. Each Christmas, I bring her out, and she sits atop a special tree.”
“Why isn’t she downstairs?” Charlotte’s brow furrowed. “You have big trees there.”
“I think she’s been waiting for a special tree.” Faith’s gaze shifted, and they all looked at their tree.
“We’ll take good care of her,” Hannah said. “You can come and see her whenever you want.”
“You could even move in here with us, if you wanted,” Charlotte offered. “That way, you could be with Daddy and us and see her all the time.”
Graham avoided looking at Faith and sensed she was avoiding looking at him, too.
“I’m just downstairs so that will work, and I know that the three of you will take good care of her.” Faith met each girl’s gaze, and when her eyes shifted to him, he felt the punch.
“Daddy won’t let anything happen to her,” Charlotte assured her.
Hannah slipped her little hand in his. “Just like he doesn’t let anything happen to us.”
His heart suddenly became a thick mass in his chest. All this over talk of a homemade angel.
“Can we see her now? Can we? Can we?” Charlotte begged.
“We really, really want to see her,” Hannah told Faith.
Graham held his breath when Faith rose and opened the sack. He thought of the type of creation the twins might make and hoped Faith’s angel wouldn’t be too big of a disappointment.
The girls gasped when Faith withdrew her angel.
For a second, he wondered if she’d switched her homemade angel for one she’d purchased in the store. But this one—with a sparkling tulle skirt of blue and pink and a glittery silver crown atop her head and a face that wore a broad smile—was totally Faith.
“That’s amazing,” he heard himself say.
“She’s beautiful.” Charlotte glanced at her twin, and Hannah nodded.
“Would you like to hold her?” Faith asked. “Before we put her on the tree?”
“She’s old,” Graham warned, visions of rough handling and a treasure destroyed flashing through his head like lightning bolts. “Be very careful.”
Faith smiled and shot him a reassuring wink. “She’s sturdier than she looks.”
“We’ll be careful, Daddy,” Hannah told him, reaching out for the angel.
For once, Charlotte didn’t step in front of her sister or try to grab the angel out of her sister’s hands. She simply stood quietly at Faith’s side, with Faith gently stroking her hair, as they watched Hannah.
Hannah touched the tulle skirt with a gentle finger, then traced the smile painted on the face. “You’re going to like it on our tree.”
Then, with great reverence, Hannah held the angel out to her sister.
Charlotte gazed down at the angel in her hands, then lifted her gaze to Faith. “You make beautiful things. I wish I could make beautiful things out of scraps.”
“You can.” Faith’s gaze never wavered from Charlotte’s eyes. “I can show you how. Just like Sharron showed me all those years ago.”
Charlotte silently nodded, then held out the angel to Graham.
“I think Faith should put it on the tree.”
She studied him for a long moment. “How about we do it together?”
“Okay.” Why did he feel as if she’d asked him something that had nothing to do with placing an angel atop a tree, and he’d accepted?
Graham pulled to his feet, taking the angel from his daughter’s hands. So light, barely a whisper, yet filled with so much meaning and emotion.
He and Faith moved to the tree, the girls at their sides.
Graham gave a little laugh. “I feel as if I should give a little speech or something.”
No one else laughed. They only nodded as if waiting for him to say a few words. The trouble was, he didn’t have a clue what to say when placing an angel atop a tree
.
Speak from the heart. Wasn’t that what Ginny had said when they’d been talking? Not about this, of course, but it seemed to fit. For now, it was the only advice that came to mind.
“This tree was found by those in this room on a wintry day filled with sunshine. We picked it out. We brought it here. Then we made decorations with our own hands and put them on this tree.”
“It was fun,” Charlotte said.
“Super fun,” Hannah echoed.
“I had a blast.” Faith nodded.
Graham smiled. “Now, we bring this angel, a symbol of a child’s desire for something beautiful and personal and special, to top this Christmas tree.”
As one, he and Faith lifted the angel and fastened her to the top of the tree, adjusting her until she was straight.
Graham wrapped an arm around Faith’s shoulders as the girls clapped.
“We should sing,” Charlotte told him.
“Gramma taught us a song.” Hannah began to sing Silent Night in a sweet soprano that had emotion clogging Graham’s throat.
He began to sing the words he’d known since childhood. And if his daughters got a few of the words wrong and made up some of their own, that made the moment only more special.
“Sleep in heavenly peace,” they sang, ending the song in unison.
Graham met Faith’s eyes. “Thank you.”
Then he turned to his daughters. “Thank you, too.”
“For what?” Charlotte asked.
“For making this a night I’ll always remember.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I feel so close to him,” Faith confided in Mel after telling her the story of what had gone on last evening. “And to the twins.”
“You’re falling in love with him.” Mel spoke in a matter-of-fact tone as she handed Faith a piece of driftwood to inscribe. “I see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice.”
“He doesn’t fit anywhere in my life.” The fact that she spoke the truth didn’t stop Faith from wishing that he did, even though she knew she had to be practical.
Even seeing Graham and the girls head out for a day of skiing at Jay Peak with their family had had Faith wishing she could go with them. Their cousins were older, and the girls were beginners. Would they get left on the bunny slopes with an instructor with too many children to handle?
