Holiday Homecoming

by Jillian Hart

  No! It took all her effort to take one jerky step away. To put distance firmly between them. She swore she could hear what remained of her heart crumbling into dust. “I think I hear my sister.”

  She felt Ryan watching her as she circled away from him. Swore she could feel his heart turning to dust, too.

  Desperate, she popped into the hall and there was Michelle, hand in hand with her husband. The two of them walking slow and leisurely, moving as if one, caught up in each other. True love.

  Kristin tore her gaze away. Ryan was right behind her, his hands falling to her shoulders. It was the sweetest thing, his love. His unwavering devotion.

  Emotion wedged tight in her throat made it impossible to speak. Everything within her begged her to turn into Ryan’s arms and reach out to him. To kiss him the way she longed to. With all the tenderness she had. With all the love stored up just for him.

  “This isn’t over,” he whispered.

  “Yes, it is.” She meant it. She had to. This man would be so much to lose. Whether over time as love faded to nothing. Or from the inevitable truth that this earthly life wasn’t forever. Ryan already had a piece of her soul. Losing him would be losing everything.

  How could she put her faith in that? She couldn’t do it. No. She stepped out of his touch, turned away and gave thanks when Michelle and Brody arrived in the room, chasing away the tension, bringing their joy.

  Kristin left the moment she could and was grateful when she stepped out into the night. Alone, she raced the first raindrops to her mom’s car and collapsed into the driver’s seat. While the defroster chugged away at the foggy window, she watched Ryan emerge from the building and disappear into the black curtain of cold rain, taking her heart with him.

  She was one raw nerve by the time she reached her parent’s house. Wrung out and soul weary, she didn’t care that she was drenched to the skin on the walk between the detached garage and the house. The world around her was as pitch-black as hopelessness, but the light from the kitchen window glowed, drawing her gaze.

  Easter decorations were everywhere. From the basket of candy eggs on the counter to the colorful clings in the window, to the cross as the centerpiece on the table where Mom was standing. She had Emily at her side, kneeling on a chair, their heads bent together decorating sugar cookies.

  “Pink! Pink!” Emily was chanting as Kristin opened the door.

  “Yes, you did a good job with the pink buttons. Now, let me give our bunnies happy smiles. See?” Mom patiently squeezed frosting onto cutout cookies laid out in neat rows on a cookie sheet. “Oh, Kristin. There you are. Ryan called looking for you. I tacked his cell number up on the bulletin board.”

  This isn’t over, he’d told her. He was certainly a man of his word. Too tired, feeling half-dead inside, she dropped her keys on the counter. She’d deal with Ryan later. What she wanted more than anything was to lie down. Maybe she’d take a book and a cup of tea and—

  The oven timer beeped. She reached over to turn it off.

  “Kristin, honey, could you take the loaves out for me. I’ve got my hands full. If you don’t mind?”

  “Loaves? Of bread? What are you doing baking bread at this hour?”

  “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day. With everyone coming for Easter dinner, and Michelle coming home in the evening, and her house to get ready, and all the cooking.” Mom set aside the tube of frosting. “Emily and I sure have been busy.”

  “Yum,” Emily agreed, licking the finger she’d swept through the bowl of colored sugar. She was adorable and she knew it. She wiped her hands on her ruffle-edge pink shirt and grinned like the princess she was.

  “And you!” Mom’s chuckle was thin edged, but there was no mistaking the joy she took in being with one of her granddaughters. “What color should we make the bunnies’ shirts?”

  “Yum!” Emily answered with glee, reaching for a second helping to the sugar topping.

  Too cute. Kristin grabbed the oven mitts and took the first loaf from the oven. She popped the golden loaf from the pan and flipped it onto the cooling rack. The second loaf stuck and she shook gently, waiting for it to release.

  That’s when she noticed the bottle of antacid on the counter. It was safely out of Emily’s reach, but hadn’t been put back in the cupboard. One thing Mom never did was leave clutter anywhere, even one bottle. She really must be tired.

  And it was Kristin’s fault. Instead of coming right home from the hospital, she’d driven around in the rain and lightning for hours until her emotions had settled into a quiet wooden numbness. That wasn’t good, either, but it was better than feeling as if she’d been broken wide open from the inside out.

  If she’d come straight home, then she would have been able to help Mom.

  The loaf tumbled into her protected hand, and she turned the bread over to cool. She’d left a dent in the top and she patted at it, hoping it would go back into its original shape.

  “That’s all right, honey.” Mom sounded tired as she circled around the island. “Can you keep an eye on Emily for me?”

  “Sure. I haven’t lost my touch at decorating cookies.”

  “That sure would be a help. The potatoes should be chilled long enough, and if I whip up the salad now, it would be one less thing to do tomorrow morning.” Mom hefted the big bowl of diced potatoes from the refrigerator shelf and winced. Her hand flew to her chest. “Goodness, my stomach’s acting up again.”

  “You do too much, and you keep everything inside. Just like me.” Kristin took the bowl from her mom and glanced over to check on Emily, who’d helped herself to a handful of M&M’s and was eating them one at a time by color. She handed the bottle of antacid to her mother. “Take a few, and then let me make you a cup of tea. You rest, I’ll finish up here.”

  “What about Emily?”

  “She can help me, right, Emily?”

  Emily’s mouth was too full of chocolate to answer, but she looked agreeable enough.

  “See? We’re more than capable.” Kristin’s stomach took a tumble. Mom was really pale. And the bruised circles beneath her eyes told of her stress. While she’d refused to talk about what happened in Hawaii and what happened between her and Dad since, she clearly wasn’t sleeping well.

  “Go upstairs, that’s an order. I’ll bring you up a cup of tea as soon as it’s ready.”

  “But the potato salad—”

  “I’ll follow the recipe. I have a college degree. I know how to read.” Gently, she kissed her mom’s ashen cheek. “Please.”

  A knock thundered at the back door.

  “Who’z it?” Emily hopped off the chair.

  “I’ll get Emily and answer the door. Sit down.” Kristin knew who was standing on the other side of the door. Even if she couldn’t see him through the glass panes, she could feel his presence and his determination.

  The little girl stood on tiptoe, using both hands, but she wasn’t quite tall enough to turn the knob. With one swoop, Kristin hefted the toddler onto her hip and opened the door.

  He stood there, as dark as the night, soaking wet. “We have to talk. I want to finish this. I need to.”

  “Now’s not a good time.” She glanced at her mom, who had sunk into one of the breakfast bar chairs. Her head was in her hands. “Mom?”

  “Oh, I’m just not feeling well. I’m tired, that’s all.” Mom’s voice came thin and breathy. A few beads of sweat clung above her upper lip. “I just, oh, need to go lie down, I guess.”

  “What is it, Mrs. McKaslin?” Ryan was at her side in a second, his jaw tense, his gaze concerned. “Been working too hard, huh? What seems to be the trouble?”

  “Upset stomach. I took some of these tablets my doctor recommended.”

  “How long ago?” Ryan sounded casual, calm.

  He wasn’t. Kristin could feel his tension. She closed the door, afraid to move as Ryan gently took Mom’s hand in his and felt her wrist. Waited as he timed her pulse.

  “Any dizziness? Does your jaw hurt
? Or your neck?”

  “My neck. It’s nothing, just my stomach, you know how pain travels.”

  “Yes, I do. Kristin, get me a bottle of aspirin, would you? And call for an ambulance.” He could have been asking for a cup of tea, he didn’t seem alarmed at all. But when his gaze met hers, she knew that he was.

  Something was wrong with her mother. Keeping a tight hold on Emily, she rummaged through the cupboard, knocking aside vitamin containers until she found the aspirin. She tossed it across the counter to him, reached for the phone and hit the numbers without thinking. As she anxiously waited for the county dispatch to pick up, it seemed to be an eternity between the first ring and the second.

  “Just lie right here on the floor, that’s right.”

  “Goodness, there’s just nothing wrong that a good night’s sleep won’t cure.” Mom argued, even as Ryan helped her to the floor. “Oh, I do feel weak.”

  “That’s because you’re probably having a mild heart attack. At the very least an angina attack. Just relax. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

  “What a good man you grew up to be,” Mom said shakily as she placed her hand on Ryan’s big capable one. “It’s my stomach. There’s no need to fuss.”

  “Just humor me.” Ryan’s kindness shone like a rare light.

  “Hello—9-1-1. What is your emergency, please?” came a woman’s capable voice across the line.

  It was a blur, time taking on a strange slowness as she verified the address, and held the line as Ryan held Mom’s wrist, keeping track of her pulse, keeping her calm. Ready and vigilant.

  Where was Dad? Why wasn’t he in the house at this time of the evening? Kristin couldn’t hang up to try the outside shop or barn lines. She could only wait until the ambulance arrived and the medics poured into the house, with their equipment and their gurney and their squawking radios. Emily started to cry at the noise, and trying to comfort her, Kristin made a few quick calls. No answer. Where was he? What if Mom…died?

  No, she couldn’t think about that. Or how pale and weak Mom looked, surrounded by men and monitors as they rushed her out of the house and into the night. Lights flashed, cutting through the rain as the firemen and paramedics took her mom away.

  Praying as she went, Kristin turned off the ovens, grabbed the car keys and Emily’s diaper bag. She was shaking so hard, she couldn’t get Emily’s coat zipped, so she left it, huddling the little girl against her for warmth.

  Her sisters. She had to call her sisters. Trembling, she took a steady breath, wiped the rain out of her face, and saw Ryan. He was in the back of the ambulance, his gaze like a force that drew her.

  Without a word, she knew. She could count on him to do his best for her mom. She knew, too, as lightning raced across the sky, that she wasn’t alone. God was watching over all of them on this dark, hopeless night.

  Easter Sunday

  The McKaslin family gathered in the ICU waiting area. Ryan wasn’t surprised to see everyone there but Kirby, who’d stayed behind to keep watch over the children. Only the adults were there—the sisters and their husbands, the grandmother and grandfather, in various states of dress. Those who had been pulled out of their beds wore pajamas underneath their coats.

  The oldest sister, Karen, still wearing the fuzzy slippers she’d received Kristin’s call in, spotted him first. She clung to her husband’s steadying hand, fear stark on her face.

  Kristin, holding a sleeping Emily, rose quietly, careful not to waken the child in her arms. It was a sweet sight. Ryan’s hopes warmed. Yeah, he had hope. Because there was only one outcome to this. And he was going to do whatever it took to make it right between him and Kristin.

  “We haven’t heard anything.” She kept her voice a low whisper. “No one’s said anything. Dad is trying to get some answers, but he’s not back yet.”

  “I saw him. He’s talking to the doctor, who should be out to talk to you all shortly. She’s all right.”

  Relief shuddered through her. He felt it, just as he could feel her pain. And her love. “It’s because of you. You were there. You knew what to do.”

  “I’m handy to have around. I was hoping you might have noticed that by now.” Gently, because now wasn’t the time, he ran his hand over her hair. He’d never seen her look so disheveled. Her hair was tangled and had dried however the wind had last left it. Her mascara was smeared away and her eyes were red from tears.

  He’d never loved her more.

  “Just relax, okay?” He inched close enough to rest her cheek on his chest, loving the way she leaned against him.

  It was sweet, holding her. And Emily, too, sleeping so soundly. He just opened his heart to the moment. To Kristin. And he felt the love inside, intense and brilliant and overwhelming.

  Love of a brighter hue than he’d ever imagined. So radiant, his soul ached with the power of it.

  As if she felt it, too, her fingers curled into his shirt. She held on to him as if she never wanted to let go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Every minute that had passed since she’d pushed away from Ryan’s arms was torture. And it had only worsened after Zach offered to take Emily with him to drop her off with Kirby who was watching all the children. At least when she’d had Emily to hold, she had someone to think about besides Ryan. But the little girl was probably tucked in for the rest of the night, and Kristin wished she could feel as safe and insulated.

  Mom’s condition could worsen. She could die. And then what? Just thinking of that possibility for half of a nanosecond brought suffocating black pain that made it hard to breathe. Would she lose Mom, too?

  Sitting on the edge of the hard plastic chair, Kristin swiped the wetness from her eyes. No, don’t even think like that. Mom is going to make it. She’d had a mild heart attack, and the doctor who’d been treating her came out to assure them she was stable. They were very pleased how well she’d responded to their treatment.

  What if their prayers and the doctors’ care weren’t enough? What if she had another attack? A thousand horrible possibilities flashed through her mind. Frightening scenarios. She so wanted to slide into the vacant chair next to Ryan, lean her head on his shoulder and soak in the comfort of his strong arms tightening around her. Shivering with panic, she couldn’t sit still for another minute. She was terrified a doctor was going to come around the corner and tell them that Mom was gone.

  She darted past Ryan and kept on going. She could feel his questions—why was she going, where was she going, why hadn’t she turned to him? Although his gaze was like a magnet pulling her back, she didn’t stop until she was safely around the corner and out of his sight. Then she slumped against the wall, the faint beep of monitors echoing down the sterile corridor.

  Had Ryan felt the same shifting in his soul when they kissed? The same harmony when he held her? The link between their souls? She wanted to stay in his arms forever. With everything inside her, she fought to stay where she was instead of running around the corner to him. To know the sweet perfection of holding him.

  She’d done it once. Twice would be too scary to think about.

  A prickle of awareness flitted through her, and she heard the pad of his boots coming closer. He was coming after her. She was way too vulnerable, her every nerve exposed. Panic had her zooming down the hall before he could find her. Afraid because she yearned for this man with all the deepest parts of her soul.

  She whipped around a second corner, knowing all she’d done was buy herself time. She had to deal with wonderful, tender, incredible Ryan. There could never be a future for them. No way—

  She skidded to a halt on the tile floor. The sight of a lone man sitting on a chair jerked her out of her thoughts. He sat with his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands, his fingers anxiously combing through military-short graying hair. The man looked so grief-stricken as he lifted his head to swipe at his eyes. Tears stained his cheeks. Blind in his sorrow, he lowered his face again. He was wearing a flannel blue-plaid shirt and old jeans wi
th a rip at the hem.

  “Dad?” Fear racked through her. Shaking, she made her wooden, quaking legs carry her to the man’s side.

  The man who looked so alone. When he looked up at her, there was no light in his blue eyes. There were only the shadows and dull darkness of a man who had lost everything.

  Mom’s dead. That was the only thing that would make Daddy look like that. Kristin knew, sinking to the floor, remembering the last time she’d seen him like this when Allison died.

  Had they lost Mom, too? The tile was cold, the overhead fluorescent lighting a bright surreal shine that blurred as tears roared upward with the pain of complete loss.

  “Oh, Kris.” Dad’s deep voice broke. “They said I should g-go on in and sit with her. She needs me to c-comfort her.”

  Comfort her? Hot tears scorched her throat and burned her eyes as relief took the last of her strength. Mom was alive. She was okay. Thank you, Lord. She still had her mother.

  But not her father. Her dad was breaking apart. Pinching the bridge of his nose to hold back the wetness pooling in his eyes.

  “I can’t go in there.” Dad’s mouth trembled. Fighting to hold everything in. “I thought when I buried Allison, that’s it. I just can’t take any more. It killed me, I tell you. It killed your mother, too. She kept trying to hold on to me, and I just kept moving back. I know she needed me, you girls needed me. But I loved you all so much. I couldn’t take any more.”

  “Oh, Daddy.” Kristin’s heart broke although it was in pieces already. She gazed at her quiet father who’d felt so deeply but had kept it bottled up inside for so long.

  “I don’t think I thought it all out, but I know this for sure. I couldn’t take another loss like that. The Good Lord had his reasons for taking Allison home. She was so good and pure, like every one of our girls. Why wouldn’t He love her so much, He wanted her with Him? But I was just a dead man walkin’. Walkin’ and workin’, and barely gettin’ by. And I thought, this is what comes from loving. So I guess I just stepped away. Figured it was the best way.”