by Lori Wilde
On Christmas Day, the Luthers’ house was filled with people. Parishioners. Neighbors. Friends. Family.
Food and conversation flowed.
Naomi bustled about, happy to be of use, happy to have something to take her mind off Shepherd. Or the lack thereof. She hadn’t heard a peep from him since she’d sent him away.
She topped off drinks, turned down the thermostat as the fire in the fireplace, and the crowd, overheated the room. Refreshed the canapés tray and did the dishes.
And tried not to dwell on the fact that Shepherd was gone and she had no idea if he would ever come back.
And she’d been the one to send him away. Telling him that she couldn’t be with him until he learned to trust himself. Why had she done that?
It was for the best, she told herself. She had too much on her plate for a relationship. Adopting Hunter. Running her business. Helping her mother.
But surely he wasn’t going to let Christmas Day go by without at least calling and telling her what he’d decided.
A knock sounded at the front door, and she flew to throw it open. Smile on her face. Pulse strumming. Hopes lifted.
Her best friend, Jana, stood on the porch, presents in her arms. Wearing a tall green steampunk hat with mistletoe dangling from the brim.
“Oh,” Naomi said. “It’s you.”
“Well, merry Christmas to you too,” Jana said, and thrust the packages at her.
“Sorry,” Naomi apologized. “Didn’t mean that the way it sounded. How’s your mom?”
“Her recovery is going great. She’ll be out of the rehab hospital next week. I celebrated with her this morning, then got on the road to come home to see how this thing between you and Shepherd works out.”
Naomi had been texting with Jana every single day since Mark left.
Jana studied her face. “Shepherd hasn’t shown up,” she guessed.
“No.” Naomi clutched the packages to her chest. Wished that Jana did not know her so well.
Jana made a tsk-tsk noise. Took off her coat and hung it on the rack in the foyer. The mistletoe in front of her face bounced jauntily.
“What’s this all about?” Naomi flicked the mistletoe.
“I’m tired of leaving fate up to those damn kismet cookies,” she said. “Come hell or high water, I’m getting kissed today.”
“Jasper Winters is sitting in the rocker in front of the fireplace,” Naomi teased, referring to the church’s oldest parishioner. Jasper was pushing one hundred, but still had an eye for the ladies. “I’m sure he’d be up for it.”
“Shut your face,” Jana quipped. “You’re just being tacky because you don’t have a boyfriend either. Finally, we’re in the same boat.”
“I have a boyfriend,” Naomi said, feeling a bit defensive. She’d had sex with Mark. He’d wanted to marry her. But in the face of no communication from him on the holiest of holidays, it was an empty claim.
“I know. And you, foolish woman, sent him packing.”
“I had to,” Naomi said. “He had a lot to think about.”
But just as she said it, she realized something monumental. She’d sent Mark away not just so he could have time out to think, but so that she could too. Because she truly did have a lot to consider before she jumped into a relationship. Namely, that for her entire life she’d put on a happy face whenever things got challenging and pretended that nothing was wrong. Not so much because she was afraid to face her heavier feelings, but because in the caretaker role she’d assumed, she tried to keep her loved ones from suffering.
She had to stop taking on everyone else’s pain and let them work through their issues on their own. Sending Mark away had meant great progress on her part. In the past, she would have smoothed over the lump of dirt beneath the rug and pretended it wasn’t there. This time, she’d thrown back the rug so they both could examine and clear out what was under there.
But what if he didn’t return?
He had been important to her from the moment she jumped into his Jeep and he called her butterfly.
Jana leaned over to give Naomi’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Did you sleep with a kismet cookie under your pillow last night?”
“Did you?” Naomi said, evading the question.
“I did.” Jana lowered her eyes.
“And?”
“There’s a reason I climbed the live oak in my backyard this morning and snipped some mistletoe off the branches.”
“Really?” Naomi linked her arm through Jana’s and drew her down the hallway and into her bedroom. “Who invaded your dreams last night?”
Jana slanted her gaze to the floor and smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Someone here? At the party?”
Jana bobbed her head, sent the mistletoe dancing.
“What! Tell me more.”
“Not until you tell me who you dreamed about last night.”
Naomi shrugged, felt a leaden ball of sadness settle in her throat. “Mark. He’s the one. He’ll always be the one. But Jana, what if he doesn’t come back?”
Jana sank down on the end of Naomi’s bed. “He’ll come back.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“If he’s the one, he’ll be back.”
“I wish I had your confidence. I told him not to come back until he can forgive himself for Clayton’s death. But that was before we . . . well, you know.”
“Maybe he hasn’t forgiven himself.”
“Maybe he hasn’t. Maybe he can’t. Maybe . . .” And this was what she feared most. “Mark doesn’t love me the way I love him.”
Jana snorted. “The man is crazy for you.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
The doorbell rang.
“Honey,” her mother called out from the living room. “Can you get that?”
“Could be him,” Jana said.
Naomi jumped up. Raced for the door.
It was Samantha’s parents. They were there to pick up Hunter for their turn. She had his things ready. Kissed him good-bye. He was excited to see his other grandparents and barely waved at her as they carried him off to their car.
Naomi stood on the front porch. Shivering in the cold. Watching them drive away.
“I can guarantee that little man will be back.” Jana slung an arm over Naomi’s shoulder. “And he’s the real love of your life.”
Naomi sighed. Jana had a point. No matter what happened with Mark. She was Hunter’s mother now, and the boy was indeed her heart and soul.
That was enough.
It had to be.
“You sure you don’t want to come to evening Christmas services with us?” her father asked. Irene sat at the door, swaddled in warm clothing, ready to propel her wheelchair two doors down to the church.
“I’m exhausted, Dad.” That was true enough. But the real reason she didn’t want to go was that the optimist in her held out hope she might still hear from Mark. “And with Hunter out of the house, this is my chance for a nap.”
“Okay, sunshine.” Her father kissed her forehead. “You get some rest.”
She watched them leave, her heart heavy.
Instead of napping, she went into the kitchen and started cleaning up. Christmas music played from the kitchen speakers. “Silent Night.”
Naomi snorted. Yep, Mark was silent all right.
But honestly, when she compared it to last year? This was a piece of cake. This time last year, the doorbell had rung and they’d opened it to find two Marines standing there. Samantha had started screaming before the men uttered a word.
Blinking back her grief, Naomi sighed and scrubbed the pan she was cleaning extra hard. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.
The doorbell rang.
For a surreal moment, she thought she’d been jettisoned a year back in time, and they were about to get the terrible news about Clayton all over again.
But the house was empty. She was home alone.
She dropped the scouri
ng pad and pan. Dried her hands off on a dishtowel. Went to the door.
Mark stood on the front porch steps, a woolen cap on his head. His cane in his hand. Snowflakes drifting down around him. “May I come in?”
Her heart was a racecar piston, running fast and hot. Naomi stepped aside. Waved him in. “Please.”
That smile was all she needed to know that she’d made the right choice.
He limped inside. His grin grew wider the closer he got. Genuine happiness was on his endearing face that she’d missed so much.
Dusting off his boots on the welcome mat, Mark stopped a few feet away. Watching her as if wanting to make sure she wasn’t punking him before he came closer.
“Hi,” he said, his eyes searching hers.
“Hey.”
“Why aren’t you in church? I went to the church first. I thought you’d be there. You weren’t there.” He was nervous. Talking too much. It was sweet, really.
“It’s the first anniversary of Clayton’s death.” She waved a hand in the direction of her father’s church. “I needed some time to myself.”
“To mourn?”
She nodded. “The grief doesn’t stop. You just learn how to live with it. Have you learned how to live with it, Mark?”
“I’m working on it,” he confessed. “I’m a work in progress.”
“That’s all that matters. We’re all works in progress.”
An awkward silence fell like a black velvet curtain between them.
“You came back,” she said.
“I had to. I’d promised Nate I’d hand out gifts to needy kids.”
Disappointment scooped her insides out. He hadn’t come back for her after all. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“I don’t break my promises,” he said. “Not if I can help it.”
“One of the things I like about you.”
“What else do you like about me?” His eyes twinkled.
“Fishing for compliments?”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
“Your sense of divine timing,” she said, “is impeccable. Hunter’s with his other grandparents, and Mom and Dad are at church.”
“So we’re home alone.”
“For an hour or so.”
“Hmm,” he said, moving closer. “Hmm.”
“What’s the humming all about? You sound like a bee.”
“You’re the butterfly, I’m the bee,” he said.
“Where have you been?” she said. “Why didn’t you call or text me? I dumped one boyfriend because he didn’t call or text me regularly.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.” She grinned and he grinned right back.
“You called me your boyfriend,” he said.
“I didn’t.”
“You did. In a roundabout way, but you said it.”
“I implied it. Not the same thing.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not, but I’ll let it go. We have the house to ourselves, but there’s a ticking clock . . .”
“Got it,” he said. “Time’s a-wasting.”
With a song in her heart, she took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom.
Fifteen minutes later, sated and satisfied, they lay snuggled together.
Shepherd’s long, lonely journey ended here. In Naomi’s bedroom. In her arms. He closed his eyes. Absorbed her warmth. Fed off the glow of her unconditional love.
He took her into his arms, folding her close to his chest. His heart leaped with happiness.
“Where did you go when you left here?” she whispered. Lightly peppering his chin with quick, sweet kisses.
“First to see Dr. Fox.”
“Got things sorted out?”
“I did.”
“Where did you go after that?”
“Kentucky.”
“Back to the beginning.”
“Yes.”
“What did you find there?”
“My mother. They let her out of prison early. Compassionate release.”
Naomi froze in mid-kiss. “Oh, Mark. Do you want to talk about it?”
He didn’t, not really. But he needed to talk about it. So he did, detailing for Naomi what had happened in that assisted-living facility in Kentucky.
“I’m so sorry.” She squeezed his hand. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”
“I want to move her,” he said. “I want to bring her to an Alzheimer’s facility here.”
“To Twilight?”
“Yes.”
“Why . . . why?”
“Because I’m moving here. I’m hoping to make Twilight my home.” He took her chin, turned her face in his direction. “It all depends on one thing.”
“What’s that?”
He got out of bed, put on his jeans, pulled a ring box from his pocket, got down on one knee. “Naomi Luther, will you marry me?”
“What?” Naomi sat up. Sheet clutched around her bare breasts.
“I love you, Naomi. This week away from you showed me just how much. I can’t imagine my life without you and Hunter in it.”
“Oh, Mark,” she cried. “I love you too!”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, yes.”
He slipped the ring on her finger and she flung herself into his arms so forcefully, she knocked him onto his back. She was straddling him, eyes misty with happy tears.
“I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life and I want to be a real father to Hunter.”
“I know Clayton would approve,” she said. “If he can’t be here to raise his son, this is the next best thing. I also know that Clayton doesn’t blame you for the way things turned out. He was the most forgiving person I ever knew.”
Briefly, Shepherd closed his eyes. He exhaled, opened his eyes, and tugged her against his chest. “I hated being away from you.”
“Shh, shh. We had to fall apart to find our way back to each other.” She stroked his cheek. Her soft fingertips like velvet against his day’s growth of scratchy beard. “It’s part of the process, I’m learning. My family was shattered after Clayton’s death.” She hitched in her breath. “But so were you.”
Tears pushed at the corners of his eyes. No. He needed to be strong. For her.
She cupped his face in her hands. “It’s okay to fall apart. Not just okay, but necessary. You taught me that.”
“Naomi.”
“Cry. Grieve.” She kissed his forehead. “Grieve for your mother. For your father. For your lost childhood. For the terrible things you’ve seen in war. Let it all go.”
A tear slipped down his cheek. Hot and slender. Ran down his face. Hit his chin with a hot plop.
He’d tried so desperately to build a foundation in the military. Had followed the rules. Had believed it was the answer to what he’d spent his life searching for. In his effort to find roots and anchor himself, he’d clung to the “rules,” thinking that could save him.
What he had failed to see until he learned to be in the present moment with Naomi was that he was already saved. Everything was within reach. All he’d had to do was stand still and accept it.
The Christmas key had brought him here. That key held the answer to their transformation. Through coming here and finding Naomi, Shepherd understood that he was not responsible for the actions of the men who’d murdered Clayton.
He’d followed orders, done the best he could do. No one blamed him. It was time he stopped blaming himself for circumstances beyond his control.
Naomi looked at him, tears running down her face, not even trying to staunch them. He smiled at her. Proud of her.
“Look what you’ve done to me,” she sobbed. “You’ve unleashed all my emotions.” She smiled at him through the tears. “Thank you for that.”
Tenderly, he cupped her cheek. Kissed her lightly.
Life was complex and bittersweet. Filled with joy and sorrow. Laughter and tears. It was all part of the great, messy mystery.
Love.
Epilogue
“Mom, Dad, wake up, wake up, Santa’s been here!” Hunter danced around their bed, whirling like a little dervish.
“It’s five a.m.” Naomi groaned, covering her head with a pillow.
“You sleep a bit longer,” Shepherd said, leaning over to place a gentle hand over her rounded belly. “I’ll put the coffee on.”
“Decaf for me.”
“I remember.” He kissed her gently, then took Hunter’s hand and led him from the bedroom. “Let’s go make pancakes for Mommy and then we’ll open presents.”
“Aw man,” Hunter said, but went along with him.
Pastor Tom had married them on Valentine’s Day, with their friends and family in attendance. Hunter had been ring bearer and Jana the maid of honor. Shepherd had even brought his mother to the ceremony. While she’d been confused about what was going on, she had been in a pleasant mood. He’d gotten permission to move her into an Alzheimer’s facility in Twilight, and he visited her twice a week.
Even Robert had come to the wedding with his new girlfriend, and Naomi had been thrilled to see them so happy. Robert wasn’t the one for her, but he had been a big part of her life for a long time and she wished him all the best.
Shepherd had gone to work for Hutch, who had a business making custom cabinetry, putting his woodworking skills to good use. They’d bought a house one block over from Naomi’s parents, making the down payment with money Shepherd had saved as a single man in the military. In the sunroom, they’d retiled the floor, inserting into the tile the mosaic they’d made of Clayton that night in the bowling alley. Cementing him into their hearts and minds forever.
Naomi’s adoption of Hunter was finalized in April. Then Shepherd put in the paperwork to adopt him as well, and in September, Hunter had officially become his son. But in Shepherd’s heart, the boy had been his from the moment he’d wrapped his arms around Shepherd’s legs in the Luthers’ kitchen and called him Daddy.
And now, a new little bundle of joy was on the way. Samuel Clayton Shepherd, named in honor of his aunt and uncle, was due to be born at the end of April.
Shepherd couldn’t wait. His heart was full. By coming to Twilight, he’d gained not only a wife and children, but a thriving, loving community of friends and neighbors.
