by Teresa Hill
"It would be easier for me if you didn't, because I'm trying to be very careful not to."
"Well, maybe you shouldn't," Gail insisted. "I don't like it that you always expect the worst."
Rachel thought about telling her sister that life had always brought her the worst, but it wasn't true. She'd had bad times—maybe more than her share—but there'd been good, too. Seeing these children made her realize that. It had her thinking of the value of hope. Did that include letting herself be hopeful about these children, that...
"No," Rachel said. "I can't forget that they'll go someday. I can't..." Sam and the children were both going.
"Are you okay? There's nothing else going on? Ellen said you seemed strange at the store."
No surprise there, either that Ellen had told her or that Gail had rushed right over here to see what she could find out, and, granted, to help if she could. "Look, just forget it. It's been an odd day, but I'll be fine. And thanks for the meal."
"Of course."
Because there was nothing Rachel could say to dampen her sister's optimism, she finally gave up trying and accepted the hugs, the good wishes, and the prayers, and then Gail went home to feed her own family.
Chapter 6
On the third day of Christmas, Rachel's father showed up to watch the Christmas parade with them and to stay for dinner, something he did at least once a week.
"Hi, Daddy," she said, kissing him on the cheek.
"How's my baby girl?" he said in his big booming voice. He was sixty, a retired insurance agent who was almost always happy, if a bit lost since her mother died, and he still called her his baby girl. Her whole life, he'd lavished her with love.
"I'm fine," she said.
"That's not what I hear."
"Oh?" she asked, not surprised. "Ellen?"
"I may have talked to your sister. And I wanted to see this one," he said, coming closer until he could see Grace's face, which was pressed against Rachel's shoulder. "Now there's a beauty for you. Almost as beautiful as you were when you were a little thing."
"Do you want to hold her?"
"Well, I guess I could do that. Your arms are probably tired by now."
Actually, they were. She wasn't used to having a baby in her arms for any length of time. She passed Grace off to her father, who made himself at home in the rocking chair in the corner and settled in to fussing over the sleeping baby.
A minute later, Zach came bursting down the stairs at full speed, practically skidding down the last three but somehow not landing in a heap on the floor. Rachel held her breath and managed not to yell. He'd scared her half to death. He walked right over to her father and said, "Hi, I'm Zach."
"Hi," her father said, "I'm Frank. I'm Rachel's father."
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Getting acquainted with your sister."
Zach wrinkled up his nose and said, "She's not much fun to play with. She can't do much of anything yet. She can't even walk."
"Oh?" her father said, the sides of his mouth crinkling into a smile.
"I can do lotsa stuff," Zach bragged.
"I'll bet you can."
"I'm gonna watch the Christmas parade later. San'a's comin'. Right here!"
"Zach, he's coming past the house. He's not stopping or coming inside, remember?"
Zach frowned. "But I gotta talk to him."
"We will. Just not tonight, okay?"
"Okay." He turned back to her father, obviously disappointed. "Wanna see my cars?"
Her father agreed, handing over the baby and letting Zach take him by the hand and lead him from the room. They seemed to be the best of buddies when she glanced into the room twenty minutes later on her way to the kitchen to set the table for dinner.
A few minutes later, her father came into the kitchen. "That's some boy."
"Isn't he?"
"They seem to be taking this well. When I heard what they'd been through... Well, I wondered what you were getting yourself into, little girl."
"They're good kids," she said.
"I can see that for myself, and I'm proud of you for taking them this way."
"Oh, Daddy." Rachel stopped in the middle of setting the table. He just didn't know how bad things had been, how badly she'd handled it all. If Miriam hadn't barged in with the children two days ago and shamed Rachel into taking them, she'd still be sitting here lost in her own misery. He didn't even know about Sam yet. He was going to be so worried about her and so disappointed.
"It's a good thing you're doing," he said.
"No, I'm not," she told him. "Everyone's said that, too, how kind we're being, how generous, but the truth is, they're helping me much more than I'm helping them, because they've finally made me see what I've been doing with my life. I've been so wrong, Daddy, about so many things."
She fought with everything she had not to cry. It had to stop sometime, and she'd cried too much already.
"You're doing a very good thing, Rachel, and I'm proud of you. And I can't think of anything you've done that's been so wrong."
"I've been selfish, and..."
"No. Your sister told me you were spouting off some crazy talk like that, and I'm not going to listen to it."
"I have. I haven't been thinking of anyone but myself for so long."
"You've been grieving," he said. "And maybe it's gone on for a long time, but it's hard to lose people, baby girl. I know that. And you've lost so much. I wish I could have spared you that, but don't let anyone tell you that you've been selfish or that any of this has been your fault."
"I just been feeling sorry for myself, and it's gone on too long."
"Rachel, I don't recall anyone telling me I'd spent too much time grieving for your mother. Nobody tried to rush me into getting over her, and don't you let anyone push you, either."
"No one's pushing me," she said. Except maybe for Miriam, but she thought Miriam was justified in what she'd done. Rachel should probably thank her. "I just need to get on with my life. I need to figure out what I'm going to do with myself. I started thinking the other day that I really need to find a job."
Her father eyed her sharply at that. "What kind of nonsense is that. You have a job."
"Taking care of the kids, for now. But once that's over..."
"Rachel, I'm not talking about the kids. I'm talking about everybody. You take care of everybody. You always have. It was kittens and baby birds that fell out of that nest in the big tree in the backyard when you were growing up, and now it's everyone around you."
"It's not a job." It was just what she'd always done.
"Of course it is, and it's an important one, too. Maybe it's not the kind of job where people see you heading off to work every morning and where they give you a paycheck once a week. But it's much more than that. When your grandfather got sick, I didn't know what we were going to do. Your mother had spent a lot of years taking care of this whole family, but she wasn't as young as she used to be and maybe she was already sick herself and we just didn't know it at the time. But I worried that she'd wear herself out taking care of your grandfather and I didn't want her to do that. I didn't want you to have to do it, either, but you stepped in and did, and I have to tell you, it was a relief to me and your mother. You and your grandfather had always been so close, and you and Sam were here, and... Well, after the baby, I thought you needed something to keep you busy, someone to take care of, too."
"I did." It had been hard, but it had given her a reason to get out of bed every morning, and she'd needed one back then.
"He needed you, and you were there. You were there for your mother, too. Did you know that your sister Ann almost dropped out of college? Thinking that someone had to be here to take care of your mother, and she didn't think it should be you after all you'd gone through with your grandfather?"
"No. She never said anything about that." Everybody had helped in that time, but Rachel had been the one who was there day after day. She'd felt like she had to be, that there was nowhere else she co
uld have been while her mother was so sick.
"And that's just what you've done for the immediate family," her father said. "That doesn't begin to cover what you've done for the whole town, from Meals on Wheels to the art classes at the community center to the work you and Sam have done with the Chamber of Commerce to put this town on the map. I'm very proud of you. I always have been, and don't you dare let anyone say you haven't spent your life doing a lot of very important work."
Rachel had never thought about it that way. In truth, she'd always been busy, had always tried to help out in any way she could. But still...
"It's a gift, Rachel. The way you try to make things easier and better for everyone around you. I don't want to think about the kind of place this world would be without people like you. You know, you," he added, "are your mother all over again. You know all that she did. You know how much she added to your life and to everyone's lives around her."
"She did," Rachel agreed. Everyone loved her mother. Everyone depended upon her.
"She'd be proud of you, too. In fact, if she were here, she'd be able to say this a lot better than me. But I did my best."
"Oh, Daddy," she said. He was the best. "I love you."
"I love you, too, baby girl."
She turned weepy on him for a moment and just let him hold her, and then got herself together and called everyone to dinner.
* * *
Sam slipped in the back door just in time for dinner, finding his father-in-law still here. Sam had seen his car in the driveway and wondered if Frank was staying for dinner. It looked like he was. He was deep in conversation with Zach, Zach eating up every word, when Sam came in and took his seat at the crowded table in the kitchen.
It was an unusual meal for them all, the room echoing with conversation and laughter. The kids had all new clothes on, and Emma thanked him rather shyly for everything they'd gotten the day before. She had on a soft, pink sweater and a matching skirt, and it looked like Rachel had braided her hair, because the style looked like one his wife sometimes wore. She was a pretty girl, he realized, thinking that she seemed impossibly young and somehow very hopeful, reminding him long, long ago of his wife the first time he'd seen her coming out of church one Sunday with her family.
He'd been standing in the park across the street—anything to get out of his grandfather's house—and he heard her laughing and turned around to see who'd made that sound. She looked like a girl who'd been pampered her whole life, which was true he found out later. But instead of turning up her nose and looking away or staring at him as if he were some foreign creature caught under a microscope, she smiled at him, just as shyly as Emma was now.
Sam had to look away for a moment, too caught up in the past to say or do anything. He hadn't believed then that Rachel could truly be his, and before too long, she wouldn't be.
They finished their dinner and all of them helped the kids pile into coats, hats, mittens, and boots to go outside and watch the Christmas parade. It came right past the house.
Sam hadn't intended to go, but Frank was here and he suspected Frank would think it was odd if Sam didn't go. So they all traipsed out into the cold, and Sam stood there on the fringes of the scene, Rachel holding the baby, rubbing her nose against Grace's tiny one, and Grace laughing at that. It took Emma and Frank to keep Zach out of the street and out of the way of the parade, he was so full of energy.
The whole scene was so perfect. He had the oddest sensation of standing on the edge of what his life with Rachel might have been. That he'd found a wrinkle in time, and slipped through. That somewhere, this was his life, completely different and as full and wonderful as anything he could have ever imagined. One step to the right, he thought. Or to the left. And this is what he could have had?
Instead, he was about to end up with nothing.
"Sam?"
He heard Rachel calling his name and realized he'd turned and started walking away. He couldn't let himself get any closer, couldn't stay.
"I have to go inside," he said and fled.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Frank caught him and said, "I think you and I have some things to talk about."
Sam hesitated a moment, then looked his father-in-law in the eye. Instantly, he felt every bit as guilty as he had the night he and Rachel had gone to tell her parents that she was pregnant and that they intended to get married. Frank had never forgiven Sam for daring to touch his precious little girl.
"What can I do for you?" Sam asked.
Frank's gaze narrowed in on Sam's, his big bad father expression coming across his face. "Anything you want to tell me, son?"
Sam took a breath and squared his shoulders. "About what?"
"You and my little girl. Because she hasn't looked too happy lately, and I've been hearing some things, things I don't like."
Damn. It was starting to come out.
Sam hadn't remembered until after he'd agreed to take the room above Rick's garage that Frank used to play poker with the guy who was currently renting that room from Rick. And his buddy Rick never shut up. He could just see Rick saying something to the man who was moving out of that room about the fact that Sam was moving in and the news getting back to Frank.
He wondered if it was too late already but tried to brazen it out. "I don't have anything to say, Frank."
There'd come a day when he'd have to explain himself to his father-in-law. This wasn't it. Not when he hadn't even told Rachel yet.
"You promised me," Frank said, scowling at him and suddenly full of fatherly outrage. "You promised you'd do anything in the world for her."
"I would," Sam said, but there were some things that were simply out of his reach.
Frank swore softly. "One thing about you—I've never known you to turn around and run when things got tough, and I know, things between you and her have never been easy. But you never ran out on her. You better think about what you're doing, son. You better think long and hard."
Sam had thought about it. He'd thought of nothing else, it seemed.
"You told me you'd always be there for her," Frank said. "That you were going to take such good care of her."
"Well, we all know how good a job I've done at that," Sam said, leaving unspoken their memories of what until now had been the worst day of his and Rachel's lives.
He still remembered the look on Frank's face when Frank had rushed into the emergency room after learning about the car accident so many years ago. They were quite civilized in front of Rachel's mother, who was scared to death, but the minute she was out of sight Frank backed Sam up against the wall. With sheer terror and a burning anger on his face, he demanded, "This is how you take care of my little girl? And my granddaughter?"
Sam still felt sick thinking of it, of how he'd failed them and how everything his father-in-law had worried about when he'd surrendered his daughter to the likes of Sam had come true that day. Their baby was gone. They'd almost lost Rachel, as well. And now, years later, there were no children. Rachel had been flirting with depression, and they were headed for even more heartache than before.
Sam had done a hell of a job of taking care of Frank's little girl. He couldn't blame the man for hating him. He looked up at his father-in-law now and knew he hadn't seen Frank looking so devastated or so angry since Rachel's mother had died, and he was sorry. But Frank adored Rachel, and Sam honestly thought he might be relieved to know she was finally done with Sam.
He thought about trying to tell Frank he'd done his best, that he just couldn't do it anymore, and asking him to take good care of Rachel when Sam was gone, but Sam didn't have to ask. Frank would do that.
Finally in frustration, he said, "What? Do you want to hit me? Go ahead. Get it over with."
"No, I want you to get your head on straight, boy. For some reason, my little girl loves you. She's always loved you. And I may not have approved of her choice at first, and I certainly worry about her being happy, but dammit, at least you've always been there for her. I never
worried about that."
* * *
Rachel came inside with the children and found her father and Sam in the middle of a shouting match.
"What in the world is going on?" she asked.
They clammed up the minute they heard her, both looking guilty.
"Nothing," her father said, glaring at Sam for another long moment, then turning to her and the startled children. "Why don't you let Sam put them to bed, Rachel. And you can walk me to the front door."
"I can do it," Emma volunteered.
"I'll help," Sam said, taking Zach by the hand and heading for the stairs.
Rachel walked her father to the front door. "What was that with you and Sam?"
Her father took her chin in his hand. "I asked him if he was taking good care of my girl."
"Oh, Daddy," Rachel said, her heart sinking.
"I'm your father. I have a right to make sure my girls are being looked after properly, and you... You're worrying me right now, little girl."
"I'm not a little girl anymore, Daddy. And Sam..." She fought back tears. What had he said to Sam? "This isn't his fault. None of it."
"You're sure about that?"
"Yes." Oh, she was upset because he was leaving, but she couldn't blame him for that. She blamed herself. "He's a good man."
"I know that, baby girl."
"And he's my husband." Rachel felt the need to point that out even now. Sam and her father had never gotten along the way she would have liked.
"I know that, too. But I've also got eyes of my own, and I know when my little girl's unhappy. I'm wondering what he's going to do about that."
Rachel knew. He was going to leave. She could just imagine what her father would have to say about that, and again, she felt the need to defend Sam.
"Did you ever really accept him, Daddy? I know we disappointed you years ago when I got pregnant and we got married, but it wasn't just Sam. It was me, too. I loved him. I always have. Right from the start."
"You were just a girl."
"And he was only two years older than I was. He was just a boy. And it wasn't like anybody took advantage of anybody else. If anything, it was my fault. I went after him, and I wasn't fair to him. He tried to stay away from me, because he knew how you all felt about him. How the whole town did. And it just wasn't fair. Don't you see that now? No one was ever fair to him."
