Finding a Christmas Home

by Lee Tobin McClain

“Wait,” she said, breathless. “This isn’t safe. The road’s icy. Come back and talk.”

  The car sped by, too fast for the conditions and too close. She was right. But he had to get away from her, had to move, had to walk.

  She grabbed his arm. “At least put your coat on.” She thrust it at him.

  He took it. “Don’t touch me,” he said, pulling his arm away from her hand.

  “Luke, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely audible through the wind. “There were reasons I kept quiet. Marnie didn’t want to...” She trailed off.

  She was small and shivering, arms wrapped around herself. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  He stared at her as pellets of sleet nicked his face. “Did she give the girls Bobby’s name?”

  She shook her head. “She didn’t list a father on their birth certificate,” she said softly.

  The reason was suddenly, blindingly obvious.

  Marnie hadn’t wanted to raise the twins with the stigma of being Hutchensons. And Hannah, by her silence, must have agreed with that decision.

  It was a complete rejection of his family and of him.

  Anger surged inside him, tightening every muscle in his body. He took a step toward her. “You lied.” He took another step, and she backed away, her anguished expression turning into a simpler emotion: fear. “You knew this whole time, and you lied. Listened to my dad talk about how fortunate your mom was, being a grandmother, and didn’t tell him that he was their grandfather.”

  “I know. It was wrong of me.”

  “You’re a liar and a sneak,” he yelled. Why try to control himself? He was a Hutchenson.

  “Luke...” She reached out a hand, looked at his face and pulled it back. Stepped back.

  She was scared of him. Well, she should be. “I thought you were better than your sister,” he said, “but you’re worse. At least she was up front about what kind of person she was. Not a hypocrite like you.”

  His fists clenched, and he turned around and started across the yard toward his father’s place. But the thought of his dad, sick and excited, made him turn back. “You’ll be hearing from us regarding our rights,” he said. “Aside from that, I never want to see you again.”

  “But Luke...” Her eyes shone with tears. Crocodile tears. “We have to talk. We have to work together.”

  Yeah, because she needed his brawn to make her fancy training center for fancy people who fit into her fancy world.

  People completely different from him, a Hutchenson. The fact that their families were linked, that those little girls upstairs in her darkened house were his nieces... The whole thing was just way too much.

  “You’re going to pay,” he said. “Maybe starting with not getting that fantastic job you’ve been angling for. Explain that to your major donors.” He spun and marched off through the sleety snow toward the house where he’d grown up, the house he didn’t want to live in, but where he belonged.

  He hated himself for listening, to hear if she kept after him, chased along. There was more yelling at her that he wanted to do, but she was silent.

  When he got to the edge of the woods, he looked back. She stood there, staring after him, not saying a word. For the first time, he realized she wasn’t wearing a coat herself.

  “Go inside,” he ordered, loud and rough.

  She didn’t move.

  “Go on, go in.”

  “Luke...”

  That pleading voice. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

  He turned and plunged into the woods toward the Hutchenson homestead, such as it was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Sunday morning after that awful Saturday night, Hannah sat in church alone, trying to pray.

  People stood in the aisles chatting. Piano music played in the background, a medley of Christmas songs. The scent of evergreen branches and bayberry candles filled the air.

  Hannah perceived it all through what felt like a fog. She’d seated herself in the back corner of the sanctuary because she didn’t feel fit for human contact. Didn’t feel entitled to it.

  After a silent drive to church, her mother had swept the twins off to the nursery and stayed to help out there. She was furious at Hannah, who’d told her the truth early this morning.

  Mom was right to be angry. Of all people, she was entitled to know the truth. Why hadn’t Hannah at least trusted her mother with Marnie’s secret, a secret that deeply affected the children she was helping to raise?

  But I promised Marnie not to tell anyone, including Mom, because she knew Mom wouldn’t keep it to herself.

  The excuse felt hollow as soon as it came into her mind. Because when had she ever trusted Marnie’s judgment over Mom’s?

  Thinking back, she saw all the mistakes she’d made. They were glaringly obvious. She shouldn’t have agreed to keep Marnie’s secret at all. Should have told Mom as soon as they’d gotten the twins home. Should have told Luke the first day she’d seen him back in town.

  She’d been grief-stricken and confused and overwhelmed, but that wasn’t an excuse for downright stupidity.

  Gabby and Samantha were sitting side by side toward the front of the church, their husbands flanking them on the outside. As if she felt Hannah’s gaze, Samantha turned and beckoned for Hannah to come join them.

  She shook her head. She didn’t feel like company, or like being that far toward the front of the church. And her friends loved her, but how would they feel if—when—they found out what she’d done?

  Tonight, my place, Samantha mouthed to her.

  Their annual Christmas gift exchange was scheduled at Samantha’s house this evening. She nodded. She wasn’t sure she’d make it, but she didn’t want to face questions right at this moment.

  She breathed deeply, slowly, and closed her eyes. As the church quieted, a small shred of comfort penetrated her misery. Even now, God was here, was with her.

  Please, Father, forgive me. Help me make it right.

  When the music started, she opened her eyes and then blinked. Was that Luke, starting down the center aisle? With...his father?

  There was an audible hush as the pair of them walked toward a seat in the middle. No one would say a word, but most people in town knew that Mr. Hutchenson hadn’t darkened the door of a church, aside from the occasional wedding, in all his sixty-some years.

  Luke didn’t look from left to right, but his father did, almost as if he were searching for something. When he saw Hannah, he stood straighter and craned his neck as if to see whether Addie and Emmy were with her. When he realized they weren’t, he spoke quietly to Luke. But Luke didn’t look in her direction.

  Another person she’d hurt. She’d deprived a sick man of the truth and his granddaughters.

  Tears sprung to her eyes but she blinked them back. As the service started, she tried to focus on it, to listen to the welcome and sing the opening hymn.

  “And now,” the pastor said, “we have a special treat from our kids.” He gestured, and the Sunday school and older nursery kids filed in, most of them dressed in Christmas finery.

  Please don’t let the twins come in.

  But, of course, in they came, along with a couple of other toddlers. They sat in front with the other children, each holding a drum or a bell.

  Hannah leaned forward to see them better and inadvertently caught sight of Luke and his father. Both focused intently on the kids.

  Why wouldn’t they? They were seeing children they’d just realized were related to them.

  The little song was sweet and the kids were adorable, most of them trying mightily to sing the words their teacher was mouthing to them. One little boy wandered over toward the preacher, who led him gently back. Another couple of girls waved vigorously to their families, not even trying to sing, making everyone chuckle.

  If Hannah had been a bette
r person she could enjoy it, but all she could think about was the salt it was rubbing in the Hutchenson men’s wounds.

  Finally, it was over. “And now, the children have a present for each of you,” the head Sunday school teacher said. She gave baskets of small homemade Christmas ornaments to each child, and they walked around distributing them.

  Hannah’s mother was off to the side of the church, helping a little boy who used crutches, distributing his ornaments.

  Addie and Emmy held hands and walked down the main aisle, each carrying a small basket that they held out to members of the congregation. Lots of “awwws” and “so sweets” ensued, for the twins in their matching red-and-green dresses, and for the other cute kids.

  Then, right beside Luke and his father, Emmy stumbled and spilled her basket. Addie hurried to help, but the commotion upset Emmy, who started to cry.

  Quickly, Hannah stood and sidled past the couple who’d sat down on the aisle end of her pew, her eyes on Emmy. She saw Luke’s father reach out an arm, obviously trying to comfort the crying child, but she flinched away and cried louder.

  Luke’s father stared at the crying little girl for a long moment. Then he put his face in his hands.

  Hannah rushed forward and picked up Emmy. She looked at Luke’s father, whose head was still down, his shoulders shaking just a little.

  Was he crying? He was crying. Of course, he was crying.

  What would it feel like to know you had grandchildren, but be unable to connect with them? For them to be afraid of you? To have missed their early months and years?

  Unsure of what to do, whom to comfort, Hannah turned to carry Emmy back to her seat, and then put a hand on Luke’s father’s shoulder, wishing she could do something.

  Luke glared at her and gestured her away.

  She obeyed the command, because what else could she do? She looked for Addie, but the child had gone over to Hannah’s mom, who now stood holding her and watching the sad little tableau, her mouth in a hard, straight line.

  “Let’s get out of here, Dad.” She heard Luke say the words behind her. By the time she reached her seat, he was helping his father down the aisle.

  The old man’s eyes were red, his shoulders stooped.

  It had all taken place in a moment. Not many people had probably even noticed the little drama. Emmy’s tears were soon dried, and she settled down with a baggie of stale animal crackers Hannah found in her purse.

  Hannah didn’t even try to pay attention to the rest of the service. Instead of church making things better, it—she—had made them worse. Not only was she not comforted, let alone forgiven, but she also felt like the most awful person in the universe.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You made it!” Samantha opened the door and ushered in Hannah.

  “Did I have a choice?” Hannah had tried to beg off when she’d spoken to her friends after church, but they’d insisted she come. Mom, softening, had said she was fine with keeping the twins, and that Hannah needed to spend time with Samantha and Gabby.

  Mikey ran through the living room, brandishing an empty roll of wrapping paper as if it was a sword.

  Corbin emerged from his study, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, sorry, I was supposed to have him out of here, and me, too.” He wrapped an arm around Samantha, kissed the top of her head and then leaned down as if to kiss her more intently.

  “You haven’t even greeted our guests!” Samantha twisted away. “Hannah’s here, and Gabby’s on her way. I think...yes, that’s her car out front. You men, scoot.” She relented and kissed Corbin’s cheek, then knelt down to hug Mikey. “Have fun and be good,” she told him.

  Gabby came in, and Corbin and Mikey left, and Samantha brought out a teapot and cups. “Grab that plate of cookies from the kitchen,” she ordered Hannah.

  They settled, Hannah and Samantha on the couch and Gabby on the easy chair that sat kitty-corner. Almost in unison, both of her friends rested their hands on their bellies and sighed.

  “I can’t wait for little miss Rachel to make her appearance,” Gabby said. “Get this baby out of me!”

  “Don’t say that!” Samantha scolded. It was her first pregnancy, and she was cautious and worried about everything. “I’m so scared the baby will be premature.” She and Corbin had elected not to learn the gender of their first child together, though Mikey, according to Samantha, prayed for a baby brother every night.

  Hannah tried unsuccessfully to stifle the envy that wanted to rise up and smother her. Samantha and Gabby had loving husbands and babies on the way because they’d worked hard to make their marriages strong. They were good people.

  They hadn’t screwed up everything the way Hannah had.

  “Have you heard from Sheniqua?” she asked, trying to make conversation and distract herself from her pain.

  “I did.” Gabby poured tea. “She said she and Ross’s daughter are getting along great.”

  Sheniqua’s mysterious relationship problems had turned into a holiday visit to her hometown, where she and an old neighbor-slash-boyfriend, now the single dad of a teenager, had patched things up and were apparently spending a lot of time together. “Amazing. Isn’t his daughter fourteen or fifteen?”

  “Uh-huh.” Gabby took plastic wrap off the plate of red-and-white frosted Christmas cookies and passed them around. “Sheniqua spent all those years helping younger girls, including me. Now it’s paying off for her.”

  “If this goes well, who knows? Maybe she’ll come back with a ring on her finger.”

  “That would be so great.” Hannah waved away the cookies. If Sheniqua got engaged, Hannah would be thrilled for her friend. Like the others, Sheniqua deserved happiness.

  Sheniqua was also the last of Hannah’s close girlfriends who was single.

  “Sure you don’t want cookies? You feeling okay?” Samantha waved the plate under Hannah’s nose.

  “I’m fine. Not hungry.”

  Gabby and Samantha exchanged glances. “Tell us everything,” Samantha ordered.

  So Hannah did. Hesitantly at first, worried of what they’d think. But when she read sympathy and understanding in their eyes, the words poured out.

  The gifts they’d brought—wrapped, used books, carefully selected to fit the recipient’s interests—were forgotten. When Hannah finished, the other two were wide-eyed.

  “So that’s why Luke’s dad broke down in church,” Gabby said.

  “Why he came in the first place,” Samantha added. “Which...could be good, I guess.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I was awful. I hurt him so badly. Him, and Mom, and Luke.” Her throat tightened on the last word.

  “Oh, honey.” Samantha leaned closer to give Hannah a quick hug. “It’s too bad the way it happened, but don’t blame yourself so hard. We all make mistakes.”

  “Besides,” Gabby said, “it wasn’t you who wanted to keep the secret. You promised Marnie.”

  “Marnie was an idiot.” Hannah plunked down her teacup with a clatter. “I should never have done what she asked.”

  Samantha, who’d known Marnie fairly well, tilted her head to one side. “She was kind of a mess, for sure.”

  “Sounds like it was more her fault than yours,” Gabby said soothingly.

  “Still, for you to hate and blame her only hurts you.” Samantha took a delicate bite of cookie and then wiped her hands. “Corbin had a lot to forgive his father for, and his mom, too, but when he did, he was a whole lot easier to get along with.”

  “It’s true. Hate will destroy you.” Gabby bit her lip and looked into the fire, and Hannah glanced at Samantha. They both knew Gabby was thinking of Izzy’s biological father, how his assault had led to Izzy’s conception.

  If Gabby could forgive that...

  Hannah ignored the small, quiet voice inside. “I don’t need to forgive Marnie th
at way,” she said. “I don’t hate her. I just...” She trailed off.

  “What?” Samantha asked gently.

  “I wish she hadn’t screwed me up about men!”

  Understanding came into Samantha’s eyes. “Her boyfriend and what he did?”

  Hannah nodded miserably. “And just when I thought I was getting past that...when I could kiss Luke and actually enjoy it...”

  “You kissed Luke?” They both said it, loudly and practically in unison.

  Hannah’s cheeks heated. “Yeah. And yeah, it was great. But then Marnie’s secret came out and everything hit the fan.”

  “Do you have any pictures of Marnie?” Gabby asked. “I never really knew her.”

  Hannah frowned. “Pictures? I might.”

  “In your phone?” Samantha asked. “I’d like to see them, too.”

  Why not? Hannah scrolled back in her phone. They hadn’t taken pictures of Marnie’s last hours; it had been the furthest thing from their minds. But that visit before, when they’d met the twins... There were a ton, and Hannah hadn’t looked at them for a long time.

  She pulled them up and her friends came to sit on either side of her. They oohed and aahed over the tiny twins, and exclaimed over how pretty Marnie was.

  There was a picture of Hannah and Marnie, on the lawn in front of Marnie’s apartment. Each of them had been holding a twin, and they were laughing hard.

  Hannah couldn’t remember the joke, but she could remember the feeling. Her big sister had been a natural comedian. They’d laughed together so many, many times.

  “That’s a beautiful picture.” Samantha’s voice caught a little.

  “The two of you look a lot alike,” Gabby said. “The same smiles.”

  Hannah’s throat tightened.

  “Do you think she was happy to have the twins?” Samantha asked.

  Hannah thought back to that horrible, final day in the hospital. Marnie had been weak, barely able to hold up her head, but she’d gripped Hannah’s hand so tightly it had hurt. “Take care of them like they were your own,” she’d begged. “I’ve been an awful mother but you’ll be...” She’d broken off, gasping for breath, and Hannah had reassured her through streaming tears that she would take care of them.