by Arlene James
“Reality’s even better.” She smiled. “That’s why I fell in love with you.”
“What?” Brett stared.
“I never wanted to but you’ve shown me what real love is. You helped me understand that though I loved Rex dearly, I can open my heart to another dog.” She touched his cheek tenderly. “We are taking Mrs. Beasley, by the way. Only don’t tell Zoey yet.”
“Elizabeth, I—” There were a thousand things Brett wanted to say, mostly that he loved her, too. But after her praise how could he admit he wanted to run far and fast? That he was scared to trust God in case He took Clint, scared to grab his dream and scared not to? How could he admit that the faith she admired was a sham?
“I had to tell you that so you’d know Wanda was wrong.” She winked. “If we got do-overs in life she’d probably choose James. But I wouldn’t. I’d choose you, Brett, because you don’t talk about love, you do love.”
Totally nonplussed by her honesty, he swallowed. This woman, this amazing woman.
“You don’t have to say you love me, Brett. I know you do. You show it in everything you do. That’s enough for me.” Her hand turned, her fingers meshing with his as her hazel eyes held him immobile. “Right now you think God’s abandoned you, stolen your dream. But He hasn’t. ‘In all things God works for the good of those who love Him,’” she reminded. “This is when you trust Him and believe He has something better in mind, something to help you succeed beyond anything you’ve imagined.”
“Succeed how? By losing my dream or losing my father?” He envied her assurance in God.
“The night Mrs. Purvis broke her arm and there was no other pianist to help with the choir, you said something.” He couldn’t look away from Doc’s steady gaze, didn’t want to. “You said ‘Nothing is impossible for God.’ Remember?”
“Yes. But—”
“It’s Christmas, Brett. People thought a baby in a manger couldn’t be the Messiah. They didn’t believe a poor, unmarried girl could be His mother or that this baby would save people from their sins.” Her smile spread until her whole face glowed. “The whole message of Christmas is God doing the impossible. Don’t you think God, who keeps the universe spinning, can handle your father’s illness and your dream of being a vet?”
Her words made him want to say yes, but he couldn’t. Because nestled deep inside Brett was the reminder that God had taken years to give him this opportunity and seconds to yank it away.
“Believe, Brett.” Doc’s other hand covered their joined fingers, her grip strong. “Talk to Clint. Most of all, believe that God loves you and wants to give you the wishes of your heart even more than you want them. He’s a good God.”
Her phone broke the connection that zipped between their locked gazes. Slowly Elizabeth removed her hand, took out her phone and answered. Brett stiffened when her face turned a sickly white. What now?
“I’ll be right there,” she whispered. She swallowed and rose. “Zoey and Mrs. House were in a car accident. They’re at the hospital.”
“I’ll take you.” Brett tossed some bills on the table then hugged her against his side, urging her toward his truck. Somehow Doc’s distress snapped him out of his self-centered world. He had only one prayer in his head. Please, Lord.
“I can’t lose her.” Elizabeth’s frightened voice was a ragged whisper. “I can’t lose my daughter.”
“Trust, Doc.” Brett felt like a hypocrite as he wound his way through Christmas shoppers entering Snowflake for the town’s gigantic bake sale. At the hospital, waiting for news, he texted his father, asking him to come in case Zoey needed him. And he prayed.
But his prayers seemed to hit a tin ceiling. One question taunted him.
Why was God allowing this?
* * *
“Zoey’s going to be okay, Doc.” Brett’s voice seemed to penetrate a long, dark tunnel.
“Yes.” Still Elizabeth couldn’t stem her tears.
“Just a few bumps and bruises.” Brett’s arm circled her shoulders. It felt so right to settle against his side, to depend on him. “Sign the discharge papers.”
“Don’t cry, Mommy,” Zoey whimpered. “I hurt an’ Mrs. House has a bad cut but we’ll be okay ’cause God looked after us.”
“Yes, He did.” The sight of her precious child wearing her goofy Christmas sweater and the silly mistletoe barrettes released Elizabeth’s tension. She swept Zoey into her arms and held on. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too, Mommy. An’ Brett, an’ Mrs. Beasley, an’ Clint, an’ Mrs. House—too tight.” She wiggled free of the embrace. “I’m hungry.”
“So am I, kid.” Clint clapped a hand on Brett’s shoulder. “He’s buying us pizza.”
“Yum.” Zoey slid her hand into Clint’s before telling him how the rescue workers had freed them from their damaged car.
“I don’t want to hear that.” Elizabeth signed the papers, wishing Brett would hold her again. “I hope she doesn’t have nightmares.”
“She sounds like a normal kid describing her adventure.” Something in his tone felt almost standoffish.
“Do you think we should go ahead with dress rehearsal tonight?” How could she breach the chilly wall between them?
“It’s up to you.” How unlike Brett not to offer support or encouragement. Then she saw his eyes riveted on Clint.
“Have some faith.”
“I don’t think I have any left,” he muttered so quietly she almost missed it.
“Then I’ll have enough faith for both of us.” Elizabeth ignored his coolness and hugged his side, using the excuse of the icy parking lot to grasp his hand. But when he pulled away as soon as they reached his truck, something inside her shrank.
Brett loved her. She knew that, sensed it in the way he treated her, comforted her, encouraged her. But he’d been bowled over by his father’s illness. He would give up college because that was the kind of man he was. She wouldn’t give up on him but she’d have to be patient while he worked it through.
Yet his silence through the meal, his lack of response to Zoey’s teasing, the way he pulled away when she touched his arm—all of that worried Elizabeth. She loved this man. She dreamed of a future with him.
Maybe God didn’t want that.
Sobered by that thought, she led the choir through their paces. Brett’s timing with the sets was perfect. He moved quietly backstage, but he didn’t smile, didn’t even look at her, when she sang her solo. In fact, it was almost as if he wasn’t there.
He drove her to retrieve her car, but aside from whispering that she’d be praying for him, Elizabeth didn’t know what to do.
“Mommy, why is Brett sad?” Zoey asked when she’d been tucked into bed. “Is it ’cause his daddy’s sick?”
“Where did you hear that?” She was shocked when Zoey said Clint had told her.
“Can’t you make him better, Mommy?”
“I’m not his doctor, sweetie. But we’ll all do our best to help him,” she promised. “We’ll pray for both Clint and Brett.”
“I been prayin’ for them a lot,” Zoey said, snuggling down and closing her eyes. “An’ for you, too, Mommy. This is gonna be the bestest Christmas.”
“I hope so.” But as she switched off the lamp and left the room, Elizabeth wondered if it might not be the hardest Christmas she’d ever gone through, especially if Brett couldn’t find a way to love her.
Nothing is impossible for God.
She sat in her armchair staring at the Christmas tree Brett had delivered from his ranch. The lights, all red as per Zoey’s wishes, blurred together as tears welled.
“I love him so much. But if that’s not Your will for me then help me accept it. And please help the choir. I want the audience to see You. I want the choir to help everyone focus on the meaning of Christmas. For
Your glory, not mine.”
Elizabeth picked up her Bible and read the entire Christmas story. As she did, her heart filled with joy at the wonderful way God had chosen to give His precious gift to the world, in a stable with His creatures watching.
That made her think of Brett and his love of animals.
Help him, was all she could pray.
Chapter Ten
Snowflake’s Christmas Eve kids’ choir was spectacular. Perhaps not perfectly on key for every note, but that lack was made up in joyful zest. Clint was great, too. His readings drew hearts and minds to God.
Just before her solo, Elizabeth’s heart took up double time when she caught Brett’s gaze riveted on her. She steadied her breathing, swept a hand down her green dress and inhaled.
Tonight she was going to give the performance of her dreams. Tonight she’d finally erase the painful memories. She caught herself licking her lips as the intro played over the speakers and glanced at Brett once more.
Sing for God, sweetheart. I love you.
Brett’s lips hadn’t moved and yet as her gaze locked with his she felt his confidence reach across the room. Almost as if he was saying, “Believe what you sing.”
I know that my Redeemer liveth.
It wasn’t James’s opinion, or Elizabeth’s that mattered. It was God’s and He didn’t make failures. The knowledge sank heart-deep as Elizabeth hit her first notes bang on. She let herself feel young Mary’s joy at the birth of this special baby. Faith bloomed as her voice soared, dipped, raced then slowed. And through it all she sensed Brett’s support, encouraging her, willing her to let God use her voice to minister to the audience.
His unwavering support was like a barricade, shutting out all the negatives and sustaining her as she poured her heart and soul into the music, magnifying the Lord she served. Was anything too hard for God? Elizabeth trusted Him; she wanted others to know they could, too. She sang with her heart until the last note died away into the silence of the room. Then she bowed her head to worship her Lord.
A moment later the room exploded in applause. Elizabeth opened her eyes to find Brett watching her, his gorgeous eyes soft and melting, as they’d been on the first day they met. He threw her a big smile accompanied by a thumbs-up then turned to give Ernie the sign to slide in the next set.
She loved him so much.
“It’s up to you, God. Please work it out.”
Then Elizabeth lifted her hand and the children joyfully played their song with triangles tinkling as the room filled with Christmas joy.
* * *
The church hall echoed with congratulations on another successful Christmas Eve choir. Snowflakers enjoyed the treats loading down long festively decorated tables in the hall.
“Congratulations, Brett. Marvelous sets.”
Brett deferred the praise to Doc and his dad, uncomfortable with being here, watching the woman he loved and feeling like his heart would break. He loved her but he wasn’t right for her. She was a doctor. She’d been married to a surgeon and she had a voice that would break your heart. He’d never be more than a simple rancher.
How it hurt not to claim the love she’d said she felt for him.
Easing through the throng of people, Brett grabbed his coat and left. He walked through the snow, scuffing his boot toe against the drifts, knowing that he had to give up college. He had no other choice. His dreams, his goals, his plans—he had to let them all go no matter how much it hurt. He’d hoped that attaining a college degree would somehow make him more suitable for Elizabeth. Truth was, it wouldn’t.
Clint’s health was center stage now. The “someday” Brett had dreamed of for so long was never going to happen. It was time, past time, to accept that. He was and always would be a simple rancher.
It hurt desperately to face that but Brett couldn’t change his mind. This afternoon he and his dad had talked openly about Clint’s diagnosis. Then they’d met with his doctor, who assured them that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but that Clint’s cancer was treatable.
Okay, the dream was dead. But even though he was staying in Snowflake, it didn’t change his future with Elizabeth. But, oh, how much better, how much easier it would be to accept losing his dream if Doc was by his side.
Impossible.
So how could Brett go on? How could he come to town, to church, see her and Zoey and hide his longing to love and be loved? Doc deserved so much more than him.
Brett peered into the night sky, his soul searching for a ray of—hope?
You love her. And she loves you. She told you so.
Yes, Doc had said that. But then she’d left it up to him. His choice.
His choice! Suddenly Brett’s viewpoint shifted. Nothing was the way he’d planned. But maybe it could be better than he imagined. Maybe the only barrier to his happiness with Elizabeth was him and his certainty that she wanted more than he could give. Yet Doc had never said that. She’d said she loved him, loved the way he trusted God.
A light clicked on.
Idiot! Filled with shame and remorse, Brett bowed his head and apologized to God for trying to be in control.
“You are the King of my world. Who am I to tell You how my life should be?” He spoke the truth and felt stronger. “You brought Elizabeth and Zoey here. You put love into both our hearts. I will trust that You intended for us to be together. Please lead and guide us.”
Brett studied the brightly lit church. In about half an hour the place would start emptying and families would gather around for the traditional Christmas Eve tree lighting. Then they’d go home to spend Christmas Eve with their families.
“I’m going to need some help here, God.” Brett went to find his father.
* * *
Amid congratulations Elizabeth searched for Brett. He wasn’t there. Clint had left to pick up Mrs. Beasley so Elizabeth could give her to Zoey tonight. Her daughter would be ecstatic but Elizabeth felt deflated. It was Brett’s voice she longed to hear, he who filled her heart, his arms she wished for. It was hard to feel joy but she’d vowed to trust her Heavenly Father no matter what.
To bolster that trust she slipped into the sanctuary and spent a few moments pouring out her heart to God, thanking Him for tonight’s success, begging Him to sustain her still. Thus restored she slipped on her coat and stepped outside to join Zoey and her friends gathered around the tree.
“I thought you’d probably forgotten our tradition. Congratulations on your success tonight, Doc.”
Joy exploded inside her at Brett’s low murmur. He handed her an unlit candle, his smile turning her knees to jelly. Her happiness knew no bounds when he drew her against his side.
“Care to share one of my favorite Snowflake traditions?” he asked with a grin.
“You say that about all of them,” she teased, loving the glimmer of fun in his dark eyes.
“Because they are.” His gaze held hers until she had to look away.
Someone lit the first candle and the flame was passed to others. As Brett lit hers then Zoey’s, Elizabeth felt blessed. It was just a candle, but its flickering light seemed like a promise from God. A sign of hope. She joined the voices softly singing “Silent Night.” Then, just before the last notes died away, the tree bloomed with light.
“Merry Christmas, Mommy,” Zoey chirped.
“Merry Christmas, darling.”
“Merry Christmas, Doc. Zoey.” Brett echoed the wishes sent from person to person.
“Merry Christmas,” Elizabeth returned. His hand held hers, keeping her close until the crowd had extinguished their candles then quietly drifted away. She saw Pastor Bill coax Zoey aside. Finally she and Brett stood alone, bathed in the tree lights. She waited, but for what?
“I got a Christmas gift tonight, Doc.” Brett’s hand released hers to slide around her w
aist. “God showed me life is what I choose to make it. I choose to stay here in Snowflake until God says different. I belong with you. I love you, Elizabeth.”
Dazed, Elizabeth flung her arms around him and kissed him in delight. Zoey wasn’t the only Kendall who would get her Christmas wish.
“I love you, too, darling Brett.” She leaned back to stare into his handsome face. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that if we trust God, He will always give us the best gifts.”
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
“Yes.” She reveled in his surprise, his embrace and the sweet touch of his lips against hers.
“This is a ring my dad bought for my mom. She left before he could give it to her. But he bought it with love and I thought it could become a tradition—” He stopped, obviously uncertain.
“It’s beautiful, Brett. I accept. Will you put it on?”
He did and kissed it in place until Zoey’s giggles broke the silent night.
“Zoey, come here. I want to marry your mom,” Brett said. “Is that okay with you?”
“Does it mean I’m getting a daddy for Christmas?” When Brett nodded she whooped for joy. “It’s okay with me, but I gotta ask Mrs. Beasley.”
“You can ask her right now, honey.” Elizabeth walked over to Clint, who appeared from the side of the church, tromping through the snow, grumbling. She kissed his cheek, whispered thank-you, then lifted the puppy from inside his coat and presented it to her daughter. “Merry Christmas, darling.”
“Oh, thank you, Mommy.” Zoey scooped the puppy into her arms and pressed a kiss against its nose. “Hey, CC, I get a puppy an’ a daddy for Christmas.” Then she frowned at Brett. “Don’t you gotta ask your dad if you can marry my mommy?”
“Ask me?” Clint scoffed. “I had the idea ages ago, kid. I’ve got lots of other ones, too. But at the moment my best idea is sitting around a fire drying my feet and eating those Christmas cookies you and I decorated.”
“Is that a tradition?” Elizabeth asked her beloved, tongue in cheek.
“It is now. So’s this.” Brett kissed Elizabeth. “The first of many traditions we’ll share.”
