She waved him off. “They put all kinds of extra makeup on me for this Christmas special.”
“Well, it suits you.” Henry pulled a chair out away from the table. “Have a seat. Tonight, I am going to cook one of my specialties for you for a change.”
“It smells heavenly. Can I steal your recipe for my cookbook?”
Henry laughed. “Not a chance. This is my grandmother’s recipe. Spaghetti and meatballs and they’ll make you cry they’re so good.”
She watched him as he maneuvered his way around her kitchen, well acquainted with everything and careful not to make too big a mess. She liked the thought of spending her days and nights with Henry. Maybe it was crazy and maybe it was too soon, but now that she’d found him, she couldn’t let him go again.
The image of Luke and Campbell at the filming rushed back to her.
“You look like there’s something on your mind,” Henry said, glancing at her over his shoulder. “You wanna talk about it?”
Adele looked away. “It’s nothing.”
He set the wooden spoon down and turned to face her. “You forget how well I know you.”
How could she forget? How could she forget that day when she finally saw him again—wounded, but safe and back on American soil? She hadn’t waited for him, and yet, here he stood now, making spaghetti and meatballs in her kitchen, waiting for her to decide if she wanted to be with him.
“You’ve been thinking about my proposal,” Henry said, sitting across from her.
“I have.”
“And?”
She met his eyes. “Today I realized my son is going to propose to his girlfriend. Not yet, but soon. She’s the sweetest girl, and I love her like my own daughter.”
Henry smiled. “I’m sure she feels the same about you.”
“They’ll get married and have children and their children will run the streets with my other grandchildren, and that’s all going to happen right here, in Sweethaven.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
Adele took a deep breath. “Henry, when you were in the war—”
“Let’s not go back to that, Adele. It was a long time ago.”
Adele put a hand over his. “Let me say this.”
He inhaled and then nodded as if to tell her she had the floor.
Before even beginning, her mind wandered back to the day she said good-bye to him, standing in the airport watching him board the plane. She wouldn’t see him again for two years, and by then, she’d worried herself sick too many times to count.
Henry had returned from the war the day before. He’d sent word that he’d be arriving at the Sweethaven bus depot, but Adele hadn’t responded. Or gone to meet him. Or looked him up later that night. Instead, she had hidden herself away, pretending not to know he was back—pretending she didn’t care, that it didn’t tear her heart in two.
He found her home alone, and when she heard the knock at the door, she knew it was him, coming for her like he said he would. Unlike her, Henry kept his word.
She answered the door, and as soon as she met his eyes, she couldn’t see through the tears. He pulled her into a hug, where she cried, the stress of the past two years spilling out of her.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “I’m home.”
She pulled back and looked at him. He looked older, like a man. Like a man who’d seen images he’d never forget—fought a battle that would stay with him forever.
“I didn’t think you were ever coming home.”
“I told you I would.” He smiled. “It’s so good to see you.” Henry grabbed her hand, but before she could respond, a car pulled in front of the house and distracted them both.
“Oh no,” Adele said.
Henry turned just in time to see Greg Faley exit the car and head up the walk. He reached the two of them and then stood on the bottom step, staring.
Adele pulled her hand away. “Greg, I didn’t think you were coming over so early today.”
“Obviously.” Greg took out a cigarette and lit it up, then blew the smoke in Henry’s direction. “Who’s the soldier?”
Adele glanced at Henry, who had obviously started to realize the truth—that the girl he’d waited for had moved on. He’d been off fighting in a war and she’d stayed behind, breaking his heart.
“Greg, can you give us a minute?”
“Yeah, but hurry up. We’ve got a date.” He walked inside, leaving Adele and her guilt standing in front of Henry.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe . . .”
“Henry, I’m sorry. It’s . . . I can explain.”
But he didn’t give her a chance. He didn’t want to stick around for her excuses. She said she would wait and she didn’t.
Now, sitting across from him, a second chance in her lap, Adele could hardly speak the words.
“When you were gone, I thought about you every night. I slept with your photo under my pillow.”
Henry smiled. “Yours was taped to my bedpost.”
“But I guess I don’t handle stress very well because I stopped eating. I didn’t go out with my friends anymore. All I did was sit at home and worry about you. I prayed for you all the time. And every time we got word that another soldier had died, we mourned and grieved, but I felt relieved that it wasn’t you.”
He frowned. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t tell anyone. It all made me feel terrible about myself.” Adele looked away. “One day, I met that guy—Greg—down on the Boardwalk. He was rebellious and didn’t care about anything, and for some reason, I thought that was what I needed.”
“You really don’t have to explain.” Henry looked away.
“No, Henry, I’ve lived with the guilt of what I did to you for all these years. I do have to explain.” She pressed her lips together. “I guess Greg got the better of me because he convinced me I didn’t have to follow anyone’s rules. And I didn’t. I was rebellious and stupid and I did things—many things I regret.”
Henry’s face fell. “You were pregnant.”
Adele looked away. “I was so ashamed. I was too young, but we got married and Greg moved us to Nashville. It didn’t take long before I realized he was not cut out for any of it. Poor Meghan—she never really did get over not having a relationship with her father.”
“I’m sorry, Adele.”
“No, Henry. I’m sorry. I can’t help but think if I’d just waited—if I’d been braver and trusted God to take care of you, well, none of that painful stuff would’ve happened.” Adele wiped away a tear. She’d wrestled through this with God on more than one occasion. Sometimes she still struggled to trust Him.
“But you also wouldn’t have had Meghan. And you wouldn’t have been so understanding when one of her friends turned up pregnant. And you wouldn’t have appreciated those wonderful years with Teddy.”
Adele let the words fill her up. How did he know her so well already?
“But all that wasted time . . .”
He took her hands. “We’ve found each other now, haven’t we? We have the rest of our lives to spend together.”
Adele stilled. She met Henry’s eyes and watched that same look of recognition wash over his face.
“You’re not going to marry me, are you?” he said.
“I think I’m just crazy enough to go ahead and marry you, Henry.” She paused. “But I can’t leave Sweethaven.”
He took a deep breath. “I understand.”
“And you can’t leave Grand Falls?”
He shook his head. “Not sure I can.”
Her eyes fell to their hands, inches apart on the table. “Then, I suppose we’re at a crossroads.”
“Seems like we are.” He held her eyes for too long a moment, and sadness washed over her. Then Henry stood and went back to stirring his sauce. “But at least we can have a good meal tonight.”
Adele’s heart sank. She would enjoy every second of their night together, but when she said good-bye to him, she knew she would nev
er be the same.
Jane
Jane awoke to the sound of an empty house. Graham, always an early riser, planned to take Sam out for breakfast, and the girls were probably still sound asleep. While she needed the time alone to get herself healthy, she loved falling asleep next to her husband. She missed them all so much when they were apart.
She walked into the bathroom and stared at the scale. She hadn’t dared to get back on it since visiting the doctor’s office, but she felt like she’d lost at least a little bit of weight. With the exception of the cheesecake incident, she’d stayed on her diet, exercised every day—she had to be lighter.
A nagging question loomed in the back of her mind.
What if she wasn’t? What if she shed her clothes, stood on that scale and discovered none of this suffering paid off? What if she hadn’t lost a pound? Worse, what if she’d gained?
Jane turned away from the scale and hurried through her morning routine. Contacts in, teeth brushed, workout clothes on. But when she turned around, there it was again, enticing her with the promise of a smaller number than she had in her head.
“There’s only one way to find out,” she said, shutting the door to hide her act of rebellion. Her heart raced as she tried to keep from imagining how much she might have lost since she started this journey. If she didn’t envision a number, she wouldn’t be disappointed.
Stripped down to nothing, Jane turned away from the mirror and stood with her toes touching the edge of the scale.
“God, I know You’ve got much more important things to attend to, but if there’s any way You can take this number down a little bit, I’d be really grateful.”
Jane took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She stepped up on the scale, careful to put her bare feet directly in the center of her cold metal enemy.
Before looking at the numbers, she stared at the ceiling, inhaled and then let out her breath slowly. Once she’d worked up enough courage, she glanced down and allowed the numbers to register. Numbers that tattled on her, that represented a measure of her self-control.
Jane stared at the three green numbers illuminated on the digital scale.
It couldn’t be right. She couldn’t have . . .
She hopped off, let the scale reset itself and then stepped back on—cautious so as to not disrupt anything inside the inner workings of the machine.
There it was again. The same number waited for her.
She’d lost eight pounds. Eight. Just like that.
Well, not just like that. She’d worked hard for every one of those pounds. Every one of Adele’s desserts she’d passed up, every long walk she’d trudged through, every grilled chicken breast she’d eaten—had paid off.
She was really doing it.
And while she was terrified to find out what it would be like to try to continue with the distractions of real life looming, for now, she would choose to be thankful for the weeks without anything else to do but focus on getting healthy.
Jane stared at the number until the scale went black again. If she could lose eight pounds, she could lose twenty. And if she could lose twenty, she could lose fifty.
A feeling of elation whirled up within her and she stood in front of the mirror.
“Jane Atkins, you can do this,” she said. A smile lit her face as she hurried back into her workout clothes, a newfound energy welling inside her.
She couldn’t wait to tell Graham.
In the kitchen, Emily sat at the table, eating a cup of Jane’s Greek yogurt.
“What are you doing up at seven thirty?” Jane asked, eyeing the yogurt. “And what are you doing with that? I thought you hated health food.”
Emily looked down at the empty cup. “It’s not so bad.”
Jane smiled. “I put fresh fruit in mine. You can try that tomorrow if you want.”
Emily turned the spoon around in the hollow yogurt cup. “Are you going to the gym?”
Jane nodded and grabbed her water bottle from inside the fridge. She’d learned to chill it overnight so it was just the way she liked it during her workout. So many of her habits had already begun to change in such a short time. Clearly part of the battle was making time to prepare everything. To always have healthy snacks ready. To set out the workout clothes and shoes the night before.
She’d been doing these little things and it had made all the difference.
Emily stood and threw away the yogurt cup. Black yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt covered her skinny frame. “Can I go with you?”
Jane closed the door to the fridge and stared at her daughter. “You want to come walk with me?”
Emily smiled. “You look like you’re losing weight.”
Jane beamed. “Eight pounds as of this morning.”
“Mom, that’s awesome.” Emily’s grin warmed Jane’s heart.
“But you hated everything about this, Em. Why the change of heart?”
Emily shrugged. She’d never had a weight problem, she was built like Graham. Jane had prayed with every pregnancy that if she had a girl she’d be built like Graham, and God had listened, giving her two beautiful, athletic girls who didn’t have to think about what they ate. At least not yet. “It’s changed you, I think,” Emily said.
“What has?”
“Your taking care of yourself—you seem—” Emily shrugged. “Happier.”
Jane let the words settle. She was happier. And her daughter had noticed. For the first time in a long time, she felt like perhaps she’d taught Emily something worthwhile. Something she could carry with her well into adulthood.
“It’s easy to get caught up in what I have to do for everyone else,” Jane said. “I am the mom.”
“And the mom does everything,” Emily said.
Jane laughed. “Well, not everything—but the mom does a lot. And you’re right, Em. Making time for myself has changed more than just the numbers on the scale. It’s changed me from the inside.”
Emily took a step closer. “I’m sorry I was such a brat about all this. When Jenna told me about the doctor I . . .” Emily’s eyes filled with tears. “I just don’t want to lose you, Mom.” She threw her arms around Jane and squeezed her.
“Em?”
Emily buried her face in Jane’s shoulder like she hadn’t since she was a little girl. “We already lost Alex. We can’t lose you too.”
Jane clung to her daughter and let her sob until finally her body stilled and she pulled away. It made sense now. Emily had always lashed out when she was afraid or confused. Why hadn’t Jane seen it earlier? Her anger wasn’t directed at Jane; she was just a little girl who didn’t want to lose her mom.
“I’m taking care of it, Em.”
Emily grabbed a tissue and wiped her face dry. “I’m really proud of you, Mom.”
Tears sprang to Jane’s eyes. “I’m proud of me too.”
Emily straightened, as if to let Jane know she was done with her breakdown. “So are we going to exercise or what?”
“You can come with me, but you better be prepared to work. I’m not slowing my pace for you.”
Emily laughed. “I’m ready for you, old lady.”
Jane grabbed her water bottle, the car keys and a sweatshirt and thanked God that somehow Emily had come around—somehow Jane’s journey had made a difference to her daughter, and that was reason to celebrate.
Only this time, she’d do it trying to break her record at the gym rather than diving headfirst into a pan of brownies.
Lila
Lila hurried to the car, her breath visible in the crisp, winter air. She’d forgotten how much she hated the cold. Winters spent in Sweethaven were rare growing up, though she had experienced a few. Now she remembered why she lived in Georgia.
Her coat felt taut around her midsection, her belly a reminder that life as she knew it was about to change. After a few minutes’ drive, she reached the church parking lot. Hers was the only car in the lot. Sweethaven was the only place on earth where the church doors were never locked. And
for whatever reason, that morning, the church had called her name.
Lila walked inside, thankful for the warmth of the small chapel. She sat down in the last pew. She didn’t consider herself a religious person—that had always been Jane’s place—but now, with a baby growing inside her, and everything she thought she knew unraveling, Lila wanted some answers. Trouble was, she had no idea how to go about conversing with a God who, she was sure, had bigger things to worry about.
“Lila?”
Jane’s voice startled her. She hadn’t heard the door behind her.
“What are you doing here?” Lila asked. With puffy red cheeks and damp hair matted to her head, Jane looked like she’d just run a marathon.
“What are you doing out in public like that?” Lila laughed. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry.” Her and her big mouth.
“It’s okay. I was at the gym with Emily. We were driving by and I saw your car, though I just realized this second maybe you came here to be alone.”
Lila scooted over in the pew. “No, please, sit.”
Jane sat down next to her but didn’t say anything.
“I guess I’m just feeling a little lost is all,” Lila said. “I’m scared I’m going to turn out just like my mom. That I’ll have a child who feels like I’m never satisfied—that he or she can’t ever be good enough.”
“You’re going to be a great mom, Lila. It’s good you’re seeing all of this now—before you have the baby—because it’s going to change you.”
A tear fell onto Lila’s hand.
“I know you’re upset about your parents, but I don’t think you’re seeing the truth by accident.”
Lila frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve grown up thinking they were better than you—that you weren’t good enough. But look at them, Lila, they’re just as messed up as the rest of us. They need Jesus just like we do.”
Lila smiled. “You’re going to go all pastor’s wife on me, aren’t you?”
Jane scrunched her nose. “Sometimes I forget. Too much?”
Lila shook her head. “No. I believe you when you talk about God. You’re one of the only people who seems genuine about it.”
A Sweethaven Christmas Page 21
