by Karen Tuft
She was glorious.
He eased it carefully back into the box, then pulled her into an embrace. Overcome by emotions he wasn’t quite ready to name, he held on, his face buried in her hair.
She held on to him too. He could feel it.
“It’s a sun catcher,” she whispered.
“What?” It took him a moment to pull himself back from his thoughts.
“A sun catcher. Not a traditional one, obviously. This one is a lot bigger, but your window is so large, so amazing, that I wanted it to be in proportion. Then the pieces just started coming together.” Her hand crept to his shoulder. “I could see the colors flooding the room.” She pulled back from him and smiled into his eyes. “You’ll have a sunrise all morning long.”
He framed her face with his hands, stroked his thumbs along her cheeks, and gave her the sweetest, most tender kiss he possibly could. This was no casserole or plate of cookies. He was keenly aware that she had given him a part of herself, a very intimate part of her soul, in that gift. He wished he could explain what he’d felt when he opened the box and looked at it; the art itself evoked feelings powerful and thrilling. That she had made it herself humbled him. That she’d made it for him shook him to the core. He had no words to express any of it. He allowed the kiss to speak for him.
Ross wasn’t sure how much time elapsed when the door blew open and an excited Callie yelled, “Bob! Where are you? You won’t believe it! Bob!”
He and Natalie drew apart slowly as Callie and Emma flew in, pink from the cold. Ross lingered over Natalie a couple of moments longer, basking in the warm glow of her face before turning his attention to the girls. Wade Forrester hovered in the background, not looking at anyone but still managing to look like he wanted to pick a fight. Ross’s lawyer instinct immediately put him on alert and warned him to prepare for a confrontation of some sort.
“What won’t I believe, Cal-pal?” Natalie pulled her into a tight squeeze, and Ross saw her eyeing Emma before giving her a hug too.
“Tell her, Em!”
“Bob, I know it’s your turn to have us for the rest of Christmas break,” Emma began, “but Dad—”
“We’re going to Deer Valley!” Callie interrupted. “Dad got us ski passes for the whole, entire holiday and snowboards and new gear and everything!” She was shaking with excitement.
Ross watched Natalie jerk her head in Wade’s direction and tried to analyze the emotions he saw flash over her face. Ross knew her ex had cut off support of her missionary son and had held up making the support payments she was due. But he’d just blown a bundle on the girls in order to take them from their mother when it wasn’t his right. And Natalie’s face showed it all: shock, anger, betrayal, and then resignation. It was the resignation in her face that set his jaw. Wade stood right inside the closed doorway, his expression smug, his arms crossed over his chest, just asking Natalie to take him on. Ross could see that in his face too.
Emma touched Natalie’s arm entreatingly but said nothing. Ross couldn’t contain his fury as he watched Natalie’s glorious countenance shatter. The air in the room was brittle. She looked at Wade. “What do you expect me to say?”
Wade shot Ross an indifferent glance, then looked at Natalie. “That you care more about your girls’ happiness than some stipulation in a divorce decree.” Natalie visibly recoiled, and it took all of Ross’s will power to keep from stepping into Wade’s face.
“Emma, Callie, would you please go to your rooms for a moment while your father and I talk this over?” She spoke in low, even tones, but Ross watched her fingers flex and knot. “Wade, let’s go in the kitchen.”
It tore Ross to bits to stand in the living room alone, feeling powerless. He could hear the quiet, angry hissing of their voices, the occasional bark of punctuated words. He looked at the stained glass, sitting dimly in the tissue-filled box, a joyful fire wanting to blaze but now lightless. Eventually, Wade stalked out of the kitchen, a look of arrogant triumph on his face, a withdrawn Natalie behind.
“I’ll leave it to you to give the girls the good news. Have them packed and ready to go at nine tomorrow. I want to be on the road early.”
The door slammed. Ross opened the door and followed, jaw still clenched, as Wade headed down the porch stairs. “Forrester. I’d like a word.”
Wade turned and glared at Ross.
“You pull any more legal end runs around Natalie, you’ll be dealing with me in more ways than you’d care to imagine.”
“Threats from a boyfriend don’t worry me too much.”
Ross’s voice was quiet and cold. “As her ‘boyfriend,’ as you so impotently termed it, I would only be inclined toward violence.” Ross smiled grimly and stepped closer to Wade, nose to nose. “But as her newly appointed legal counsel, I am prepared to keep you in litigation until you have grandchildren if you so much as modify a comma in the terms of your divorce decree without her prior knowledge and consent. Do we understand each other?”
Wade made no reply as he stalked off to his car, but Ross was confident Wade had a clear understanding of the situation now.
* * *
Ross came back in the house and quietly shut the front door. He was silent, but Natalie could sense an intensity about him that hadn’t been there before.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Your ex-husband and I just reached a little agreement,” he answered blandly.
“I can handle Wade,” she said. “And I need to do it my way for the girls’ sake.”
“I know you can, sweetheart. And I’ll let you. But I wanted to let him know that you have some firepower backing you now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I told him you have new representation who won’t let him take advantage of you.”
“I can’t . . . Oh, Ross, I can’t possibly let you—”
He ran his hand gently over her hair. “You can. And don’t worry. I have a feeling my little warning will be enough. I doubt Wade will actually challenge it.” He kissed her on the nose. “I’d better go now so you can spend time with the girls before they leave again in the morning.”
He carefully picked up his present and shifted its weight so he could hold it with one arm. Then he wrapped his other arm around Natalie and walked with her to the door. “Thank you for the gift,” he said. “It means more to me than you know. I have a gift for you too—”
“Oh, Ross, I didn’t expect—”
“I have a gift for you too,” he repeated, silencing her with a couple of fingers over her lips. “But now is not the time for me to give it to you. I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He stroked her cheek, kissed her soundly, and was gone.
* * *
After Ross left, Emma took Natalie aside. “Dad was really excited about taking us boarding. I know it’s your holiday week for us, but thanks for saying we could go and not fighting about it. Dad told us not to get our hopes up, that you would probably give him flak like you always do, but you didn’t.”
You would probably give him flak like you always do? What was Natalie supposed to say to that? She’d certainly not given him flak over Thanksgiving or this unscheduled custody switch—or his lack of financial support the last six months. Apparently, as long as he provided snowboards and luxury resort time, he was doing his duty as father and provider. Money for food and shelter wasn’t nearly as much fun or impressive. “Do you think I’m always giving him flak? You don’t, do you?”
“No. He says you do, but I know you don’t, even though I haven’t told Callie what I heard.” She gave Natalie a hug. “But thanks for letting us go. You’re the best.”
When Wade set her up like he had this time with expensive gifts and preparing the girls for her objections, Natalie knew she had no choice, or she’d be the villain. Not him. No, sir. She’d reached the point where if he was going to make her out to be a villain, maybe she would become just that and start pushing back.
But not this time. This time she h
ad conceded to his manipulations, consciously recognizing his tactics but allowing him to win. Next time would be a different story.
Despite her upbeat words, Em seemed subdued, so Natalie pressed her. “Are you okay? Is something bothering you?”
Emma shrugged. “It’s nothing, I just . . . Kate’s been weird lately, and I wanted to hang with her a little to see what’s up. But it’s okay.”
“Weird how?”
“She’s got this boyfriend and everything—you remember, the party guy?—and she’s acting different now. Tess is so mad at her she hasn’t talked to her for a week. Jeremy isn’t my fave, you know? But it’s nothing. Dad says I can live without my friends for a week. I’ll hook up with Kate when I get back.”
When Emma said Kate’s boyfriend’s name, Natalie felt a chill. She wished that hearing the name Jeremy didn’t make her automatically think of the icky Lisle twins, Jeremy and Justin. Besides, Kate had more sense than to hang with one of them, Natalie was sure.
* * *
“Em, Callie, your father’s here to get you,” Natalie called out right before the doorbell rang. She could see the black SUV sitting in the driveway. She opened the door. “They’ll be right out.”
“Tell them to hurry.” He turned and went back to the SUV without stepping inside the house. That was a first, Natalie thought. Usually he liked to come inside and criticize something about the place.
She grabbed Callie’s suitcase and hustled out the door with Emma trailing behind. Wade was in a particularly foul mood, which meant the best thing for everyone involved was for him to get on his way with the girls. Ross had definitely upset Wade last night.
While Wade stowed the girls’ gear in the back of the car, Natalie smiled as brightly as she could and told Callie and Emma to have a great time. “Be good, do what Sandy tells you, and I’ll see you—”
“I’ll have them back before school starts on the fifth,” Wade interjected.
He was really pushing it with her. “Fine.” Quietly, to Emma, she said, “Call if you need anything, but only if you do, so your dad stays happy. Got your cell?”
“Yeah. Bye, Mom.”
Then they were gone, with Callie waving furiously through the window of the SUV.
An unexpected week without her girls. Since it was the holidays, she wouldn’t even have work to keep her mind occupied. How would she fill the hours to keep from missing them?
Natalie wandered aimlessly around the kitchen, straightening chairs that were straight, wiping up nonexistent spills. The house hollowly echoed her loneliness off its walls. She decided to call her father first, remember what a real father was like, and thank him for their Christmas gifts. His new wife, Marie, had knit sweaters for them. Natalie didn’t know people still did things like that.
“Yello.” Ray’s drawl was smoky and mellow like a campfire at twilight. “Natalie, is that you, little girl? Well, what do you know. Marie! Marie, get on the other phone. It’s Nat and the girls.”
“It’s just me, Dad. The girls are with Wade.”
“Ah, well, shoot. I wanted to hear their voices—”
“How were the sweaters, dear?” Marie’s voice chirped in over the extension. “Were the colors all right? Did they fit?”
“They’re gorgeous, Marie. I don’t know how you manage the time each year to hand-make every gift.” The cable-knit sweaters were oversized but soft and cozy. “They’re just the thing for snuggling in on cold days.”
Marie murmured a pleased sound. Natalie smiled. Her dad had chosen well for wife number two. He and her mother had loved each other, and watching him fall apart had been as hard on Natalie as her mother’s illness and death had been. She was grateful he’d come through it to find joy again with Marie.
“Got a package from that son of yours.”
“From Ryan?”
“What other son have you got? From Elder Ryan Jacobsen, to be exact.”
“He gave him a tie!” Marie piped in.
Natalie had seen her father in a tie only on two occasions that she could remember: the day she’d married Wade, and her mother’s funeral.
“Kid thinks I’m gonna wear it, he’s forgotten who he’s dealing with.”
“Now, Dad—what does it look like?”
“It’s a crisscrossy thing. Ryan said in his letter it’s a Brown tartan tie, but it’s red and blue and black. Not a bit of brown.”
“Dad.” Natalie chuckled. “It would be the plaid worn by the Brown family in Scotland. Our family.”
“Is that so? Didn’t know the Browns came from Scotland. Well, I’ll be. Kid thinks I’m supposed to wear it to church sometime. Maybe I will, too, when he gets home.”
“That would make him feel great.”
“Well, he’s a good boy. A good boy, Natalie. That’s your doing—don’t forget it. And he’s going to have some stories to tell that I plan on hearing when he gets home, so you plan on Marie and me showing up at your door about then.”
“It’s a date. Of course, you could show up before then. The door’s always open, you know.”
If anybody could get her father inside a church building, she thought as she hung up the phone, it would be her son. She’d enjoyed talking to her dad, and it had temporarily distracted her from her restlessness. The house was clean, the dishes were done. The bed was made. She’d finished a couple of her library books. She could go hunt the stacks for something new to read, she supposed. But her hands were starting to itch for something to do. And when that happened, it meant only one thing.
Natalie went to her workroom to see what kind of creation was begging to exist. She grabbed a sketchbook and started to draw. Before she knew it, she’d filled one page and nearly another with sketches.
“It’s quiet in here.”
Natalie jumped at the sound of Ross’s voice. “You didn’t answer the doorbell, but I knew you were here. Hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”
“No! No, not at all.” She suddenly realized what she’d been doing and hastily closed her sketchbook before standing to give him a hug. She could tell by the expression on his face that he’d seen what she’d been drawing, and her face reddened.
“Let me see that,” he said and made a move for it.
She grabbed the book and clutched it to her chest. “No! It’s nothing.”
“Then a little peek won’t hurt if it’s nothing.” He playfully reached for it again, but she countered and scurried around her worktable. “Come on, sweetheart, give it up. You know you want to.”
She giggled and backed toward the kitchen door. He’d been calling her sweetheart a lot lately, and every time, it made her insides melt. He might call his secretary sweetheart for all she knew. She had to keep reminding herself of that. Just in case . . .
He followed her into the kitchen, grinning wickedly, and soon had her trapped against the counter. Putting a hand down on either side of her, he went in for a smoldering kiss. If she’d melted before, she was a puddle now. The moment he knew she was totally distracted, he neatly grabbed the sketchbook from her and started flipping through the pages.
“Hey!” She blinked, trying to clear her head, and lunged for the book.
He made a quick, evasive move, flipped through a few pages, and found what he was looking for. Rough sketches of his face, eyes, and hands filled the page. The expressions she’d captured of him varied: thoughtful, fiery, fun. Eyes that twinkled in amusement in one drawing burned with intensity in another. A rendering of his hands. Through her eyes, they appeared strong.
On the next page was a study that caught his attention. It was the drawing of a medieval knight, mounted on his horse, dark tunic and chain mail, shadowed, surveying the distance. He recognized the face and the posture and manner of the knight. They were his.
“That’s me, isn’t it? I’m not exactly your knight in shining armor,” he teased, stunned once again by her ability but even more by how astutely she had captured him, his character, on paper; even translated into another
period of time, it felt authentic to him as a person.
“The knight in shining armor gallops in, arriving in a blaze of glory, vanquishing all before him, and sweeps the damsel into his arms and rides off into the sunset, much to the awe of the admiring crowds.”
“You make it sound cliché.”
“It is cliché. For me, at least.” She took the sketchbook from his hands and traced her finger over the solemn lines of the knight’s face, the strong angles of his arms. “This is the dark knight. He holds the same rank, the same power as the shining knight but without the bravado. He stands in the shadows, ever watchful, and then acts incisively. He rescues the damsel without fanfare, then goes about his business.”
“Not nearly as romantic a fellow, I’m thinking.”
“Oh, but he is. He has left his mark on her. She will never be the same, for he has quietly stolen her heart. No, that’s not quite right.” She brushed her fingers over the drawing, then closed the book. “She has given it to him, willingly.” If he only knew. She smiled up at him. “Why are you here?”
“Took a day off work. Wanted to see how you’re holding up with an empty nest.”
“I’m all right.” Needing to lead the conversation away from her girls and her growing love for Ross, she added, “I’m glad you’re here. I need someone to eat this fudge. One of the neighbors brought it over, but I’ll eat it all in one sitting if I so much as have a taste.”
He obliged and then led her to the sofa. “We have a little unfinished business.”
“We do?”
“Yes, we do. You gave me a Christmas gift, but we were interrupted before I was able to give you mine.”
“But you didn’t . . . I never expected you to—I just wanted to give you—”
“I fully intended on giving you this present last night. Remember that, okay? Then when everything happened all at once, I thought it best to wait. I’m hoping today that it makes your week a little—brighter.” He suddenly seemed less confident, anxious even, as he pulled a small packet out of his coat jacket. “It’s not nearly as impressive as original artwork, but I hope . . . Never mind. Just open it.”
