Читать книгу A Love Inspired Christmas Bundle: In the Spirit of...Christmas / The Christmas Groom / One Golden Christmas - Lenora Worth - Страница 14

Waving a paper, Jade barreled down the lane, pink backpack thumping against her purple coat.

“Lindsey. Lindsey! Can you make a costume?”

On her knees, clearing away the remains of a tree stump, Lindsey braced as Jade tumbled against her. Mother love too fierce to deny rose inside her. Jade needed her love and attention, regardless of the sorrow Lindsey would someday suffer when the child was gone. She wasn’t foolish enough to think a man of Jesse’s talents would always work for minimum wage.

“What kind of costume, sweetie?”

“An angel. An angel.” Jade’s excitement had her fluttering around waving her arms like wings. “I’m the guarding angel for Jesus.”

Every year the elementary school put on a Christmas program. The conclusion of the play was traditionally a nativity scene with the singing of “Silent Night” by the entire audience. Once there had been talk of removing the religious scene from the school, but such an outcry arose that the tradition remained. The town loved it, expected it, and turned out en masse to see the little ones dressed in sparkly, colorful costumes. Jade, with her milky skin and black hair, would be a beautiful angel.

Jesse came around the end of a row where he’d been cutting trees for a grocer who had requested a second load.

“What’s all the noise about?” he demanded, his expression teasingly fierce. “I can’t even hear my chain saw with you two carrying on this way.”

Jade threw her arms around his legs and repeated her request for an angel costume. The fun drained out of Jesse’s face.

“Lindsey’s too busy with the farm,” he said shortly.

Jade’s happy expression fell, and Lindsey couldn’t bear to see her disappointment.

Jesse had behaved strangely all day, his manner brusque and distant. He’d even refused their usual lunch break of sandwiches in the Snack Shack, saying he’d eat later. But there was no reason for him to dim Jade’s happiness.

“Making a costume for Jade would be my pleasure. You know that.”

“Don’t bother yourself.” Jesse spun away and started back into the trees.

“Jesse.” She caught up to him, touched his arm. “I’d love to make the costume for Jade. What’s wrong with you today?”

“You’re not her mother. Stop trying to be.”

Stricken to the core, Lindsey cringed and pressed a shaky hand to her lips. Was that what he thought? That she wanted to take Erin’s place?

Jesse shoved both hands over his head. “Look. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. It’s just that—” His expression went bleak. He squeezed his eyes closed. “No excuses. I’m sorry.”

“Daddy.” Jade, whom they’d both momentarily forgotten, slipped between them, tears bright in her green eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t have to be in the play.”

Lindsey thought her heart would break—for the child, for herself and even for the troubled man.

Jesse fell to his knees in front of Jade and gripped her fiercely to him, his face a mask of regret. “Daddy didn’t mean it, Butterbean. You can be in the play.”

Over her dark head, he gazed at Lindsey desolately. “Make the costume. It would mean a lot to both of us.”

Throat thick with unshed tears, Lindsey nodded, confused and hurt. She’d never intended to touch a nerve. She’d only wanted to see the little girl happy.

Pushing Jade away a little, Jesse smoothed her dark hair, leaving both hands cupped around her face. “You’ll be the prettiest angel in the program. Lindsey will make sure of that.” He raised pleading eyes. “Won’t you, Lindsey?”

Like the Oklahoma weather, Jesse had changed from anger to remorse. Bewildered and reeling from his sharp accusation, Lindsey’s stomach churned. But not wanting Jade to suffer any more disappointment, she swallowed her own hurt and agreed. “Jade and I can shop for materials tomorrow after school if that’s okay.”

She felt tentative with him in a way she never had before. What had brought on this vicious outburst in the first place?

“Whatever you decide is fine. Anything.” Rising, he turned Jade toward the Snack Shack. Lindsey knew their conversation wasn’t over, but he didn’t want the little girl to hear any more. “Better head up there and do your homework. You and Lindsey can talk about the costume later.”

With the resilience of childhood, Jade started toward the building, but froze when the German shepherd bolted from the trees to follow.

“Sushi!” Lindsey commanded. “Come.” The disappointed dog obeyed, coming to flop in disgust at Lindsey’s feet. Jade was making progress, but not enough to be alone in the building with the animal.

As soon as the door closed behind his daughter, Jesse said, “You have been nothing but good to Jade and me. I had no right to snap at you, to say such an awful thing.”

“I’m not trying to replace Erin,” she said quietly.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Absently, he stroked the adoring dog, his body still stiff with tension. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Forget it ever happened.” She smiled, perhaps a bit tremulously, although she felt better knowing he hadn’t intended to hurt her. “And I’ll do the same.”

His jaw tightened. Her forgiveness seemed to anger him. “Don’t be so nice all the time, Lindsey. When someone treats you like dirt, take up for yourself.”

She wanted to disagree. Arguing over small injustices and taking offense served no good that she could see, but Jesse seemed bent on picking a fight. And she refused to play into his bad mood. “I don’t understand you today.”

“Welcome to the club.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the gray-blue sky. “I’m a jerk, Lindsey. You should fire me.”

She longed to comfort him, though she was the wounded party. Normally, Jesse was easygoing and pleasant company. More than pleasant company, if she admitted the truth. But something was terribly wrong today, and getting her back up wasn’t the solution.

“Your job is safe. I can’t get along without you.”

The Freudian slip resounded in the chilly afternoon air. She not only couldn’t get along without him, she didn’t want to. He’d become too important.

Resisting the urge to smooth her fingers over the rigid line of his jaw and tell him that, another wayward notion drifted through her mind. Jesse Slater, even in a bad mood, was a better man than her former fiancé would ever be. Her stomach hurt to make the comparison, but the ache cleared when she realized that no matter what torment beat inside Jesse, he was too honorable to do the kind of things Sean had done. Jesse knew when he was wrong and apologized. Sean never had.

His gaze riveted on the sky, Jesse’s quiet voice was filled with repressed emotion. “Do you think God plays favorites?”

Lindsey blinked. Where had that come from? And what did it have to do with sewing an angel costume? “Do you?”

“Sure seems that way.”

“Is that what’s bothering you today? You think God doesn’t care about you as much as he does other people?”

“I’ve wondered.” A muscle twitched along one cheekbone. “But maybe I don’t deserve it.”

She ran her fingertips over the soft needles of the closest tree, praying for the right words to help her friend. “Jesus loved us—all of us—so much he died for us.”

“I’ve been giving that a lot of thought lately.” He studied the ground as if the Oklahoma dirt held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. “But not everyone is as good as you are, Lindsey. Definitely not me.”

Lindsey’s pulse did a stutter-step.

“I’m not perfect, Jesse,” she said. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, too.”

Picking up her shears, she clipped at a wayward branch, unable to look at Jesse but compelled to share. “I was engaged once.”

Snip. Snip. She swallowed, nervous. “And I did things I regret. I trusted the wrong man, telling myself that love made our actions all right.” She snipped again, saw the shears tremble. “But that was a mistake. He was a mistake.”

Jesse’s work-hardened hand closed over hers, gently taking the clippers. “Lindsey.”

Her gaze flew to his face.

She wondered if she had disappointed him, but Jesse needed to understand that she had made her share of wrong choices—and yet God loved her.

Fire flashed in Jesse’s silvery eyes. “The man,” he said, “was a moron.”

Sweet relief washed through Lindsey. Jesse wasn’t angry at her. He was angry for her.

“So was I. Then. But God forgave me, and eventually I forgave myself.” She reached for the cutters, her fingers grazing his. “He’ll do the same for you.”

“Yeah. Well…” Jesse let the words drift away.

She knew he’d tried to serve God in the past, but had drifted away when Erin died. Understandable, but so backwards. She’d learned the hard way to run to the Lord when trouble struck instead of away from Him.

They stood in silence, contemplative for a bit until Jesse bent to retrieve the chain saw.

“Guess we better get back to work if I’m going to haul that load in the morning.”

For all the conversation, trouble still brooded over him like a dark cloud.

“Jesse.”

He paused.

“Is there anything else bothering you?” she asked, certain that there was. “Anything I can help with?”

Silver eyes studied her for several long seconds. He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m grateful to you, Lindsey. No matter what happens. Remember that.”

Puzzled by the strange declaration, Lindsey waited for him to say more, but before he could, a truck rumbled through the gate, and the moment was gone. As if relieved by the interruption, Jesse hurried to greet the customer.

She’d seen so much change in Jesse since the day he’d first driven into her yard asking for a job. She’d watched him grow more comfortable with her talk of God. He was easier around the Christmas decorations too, and since telling her of Erin’s death, he’d opened up some about his feelings of guilt in that department. And he smiled more too.

But today, regardless of his denial, Jesse battled something deep and worrisome. And given his peculiar behavior, she had a bad feeling that his troubles had something to do with her.

Heat from the farmhouse embraced Jesse as he came through the door. The dog, curled beside the living-room furnace, lifted her head, recognized him, and lay down again with a heavy sigh. Jesse stood for a moment in the doorway, taking in the warm, homey comfort of this place. A sense of déjà vu came over him, a subconscious memory of long ago when the world had been right.

The aroma of roast beef tickled his nose and made his hungry stomach growl. The tree patch was quiet, only one buyer since noon, and Lindsey had knocked off early to make Jade’s costume and cook supper for them all. After his behavior the other day, he found it hard to refuse her anything.

Jade’s giggle blended with Lindsey’s rich laugh in a sweet music that had Jesse longing to hear it again and again. They were at the table, happily laboring over some kind of gauzy white material and yards of sparkly gold tinsel.

He’d been wrong to jump on Lindsey about making the costume and even more wrong to accuse of her trying to take Erin’s place. No one could do that. But Lindsey’s love and motherly care was changing Jade for the better. Only a fool would deny or resent the obvious.

And he’d almost told Lindsey the truth. He’d yearned to admit that her farm was his and that he wanted it back. The torment was eating him alive because, to get what he wanted, he had to break Lindsey’s heart. He’d tried praying, as she had suggested, but his prayers bounced off the ceiling and mocked him.

Lindsey spotted him, then, standing in the doorway, watching. Her full mouth lifted. “You look frozen.”

He gave a shiver for effect. The temperature had plummeted into the twenties, unusual for this part of the country. Working outside in the Oklahoma wind proved a challenge.

“I thought you could make that costume in an hour?”

“I can. But I’m teaching Jade.”

Stripping off his heavy coat, he came on into the kitchen. “Isn’t she too little for sewing?”

“Daddy!” Insulted, Jade jammed a saucy hand onto a hip. “I have to learn sometime. Besides, I’m the tryer-on-er.”

Amused, he tilted his head in apology. “I stand corrected.”

“We’ll have the body of the gown finished in a few minutes. Coffee’s on and Cokes are in the fridge. Whichever you want.”

No matter how cold the weather, Jesse liked his cola. Going to the refrigerator, he took one, popped the top and turned to watch the womenfolk do their thing.

Patiently, Lindsey held the gauzy fabric beneath the sewing-machine needle, demonstrating how to move the gown without sewing her own fingers. She looked so pretty with her honey hair falling forward, full lips pursed in concentration. He’d been right the first time he’d seen her. Lindsey, beneath her flannel and denim, was very much a woman.

He sipped his cola, wanting to look away, but he couldn’t. Watching Lindsey gave him too much pleasure.

When the seam was sewn, Jade took the scissors and proudly clipped the thread.

“There you go, Miss Angel.” Lindsey held the white flowing garment against Jade’s body. “Perfect fit.”

Jade looked doubtful. “Where’s the wings?”

“We’ll do those after supper. Jesse, if you’ll move the machine, we can set the table.”

“Anything to hurry the food.” He unplugged the old Singer that must have belonged to her grandmother, and hefted it into Lindsey’s spare room.

“Tell me your part again,” Lindsey was saying as he came back into the kitchen.

“Below the angel’s shining light, love was born on Christmas night,” Jade recited, slowly and with expression.

“You’re going to be the very best speaker.” Scooping the remaining materials off the table, Lindsey spoke to Jesse. “Isn’t she, Dad?”

“No doubt about it.” He hooked an arm around Jade’s middle and hoisted her up. Her giggle made him smile. “And the prettiest angel, too.”

“Are you going to come watch me?”

The question caught him by surprise. Slowly, he eased her down into a chair. “Well…I don’t know, Jade. I’m awfully busy here at the tree farm.”

Whipping around, a steaming bowl in one hand, Lindsey refused to let him use that excuse. “We’ll be closed that night.”

Jade was getting too involved with all this Christmas business. Next thing he knew, she’d be talking about Santa Claus and wanting to hang up stockings.

“I’m not much on Christmas programs. You two can go without me.”

Both females looked at him with mild reproach. The room grew deafeningly quiet until only the tick of the furnace was heard.

Finally, Lindsey slapped a loaf of bread onto the table and turned on him. Her golden-brown eyes glowed with a hint of anger. “The program is important to Jade, and you need to be there. You might actually enjoy yourself.”

He doubted that, but he didn’t want Lindsey upset with him again. He was still battling guilt over the last time.

With a defeated sigh, he followed her to the stove, took the green peas from her and carried the bowl to the table.

“All right, Butterbean,” he said, tapping Jade on the nose. “If the tree lot is closed, I’ll be there.”

“Really, Daddy?” The hope in her eyes did him in.

“Really.”

Her beauteous smile lit the room and illuminated his heart.

As he drew his chair up to the table, the familiar gnaw of dread pulled at his stomach. A Christmas program. What had he gotten himself into?

The atmosphere at the Winding Stair Elementary School was one of controlled chaos. After dropping an angelic Jade at her classroom with a gaggle of lambs and ladybugs, Jesse followed Lindsey down the long hall to the auditorium. The noise of a community that knew each other well filled the place with cheer. Everyone they passed spoke to Lindsey and many, recognizing him, stopped to shake his hand and offer greetings.

He hadn’t been to a school Christmas program since he was in grade school himself, but the buzz of excitement was the same.

At the door, a teenage girl in a red Santa hat offered him a program and a huge flirtatious smile.

“Hi, Lindsey,” she said, though her eyelashes fluttered at him. He ignored her, staring ahead at the milieu of country folks gathered in this one place.

Lindsey greeted the girl warmly, then began the slow process of weaving through the crowd toward the seats. She’d been right. The program was a community event. Everyone was dressed up, the scent of recent showers and cologne a testament to the importance of Winding Stair’s Christmas program.

“I think you have an admirer,” Lindsey teased when they were seated.

He knew she meant the teenager at the door, but the idea insulted him. “She’s a kid.”

Lindsey laughed softly. “But she’s not blind or stupid.”

Surprised, he turned in the squeaky auditorium seat. What had she meant by that? But Lindsey had taken a sudden interest in studying the photocopied program.

“Look here.” She pointed. “Jade is on stage for a long time.”

“No kidding?” He looked over her shoulder with interest. The sweet scent of jasmine rose up from the vicinity of her elegant neck and tantalized his senses. From the time she’d climbed into his truck, he’d enjoyed the fragrance, but up close this way was even nicer.

She looked pretty tonight, too. He’d never seen her in a real dress and when she’d opened the front door, he’d lost his breath. Surprise, of course, nothing more. In honor of the occasion, she wore red, a smooth, sweater kind of dress that looked pretty with her honey-colored hair.

The lights flickered, a signal he supposed, for the crowd hushed and settled into their seats. The doors on each side of the auditorium closed and the principal stepped out in front of the blue velvet curtain to welcome everyone.

In moments, the curtains swooshed apart, and Jesse waited eagerly for the moment his baby would come on stage.

The program was festive and colorful and full of exuberant good will if not exceptional talent. Most of the children were animals of some sort and each group sang to the accompaniment of a slightly out-of-tune piano.

When two ladybugs bumped heads, entangling their antenna, Jesse laughed along with the rest of the crowd. A teacher scuttled from backstage, parted the antenna and with a smiling shrug, disappeared again. The children seemed unfazed.

Another time, one of the fireflies dropped his flashlight and the batteries came clattering out. To the delight of the audience, the little boy crawled through legs and around various other insects until he’d retrieved all the scattered parts of his illumination.

Despite his hesitancy to come tonight, Jesse was having a good time. None of the awful, tearing agony of loss overtook him as he’d expected. He had to credit Lindsey and his little angel for that.

“There she is,” Lindsey whispered and pushed at his shoulder as if he couldn’t see for himself the vision moving onto the stage.

Beneath the spotlight, his angel glittered and glowed in the costume Lindsey had so lovingly created. Her halo of tinsel shimmered against the shining raven hair as she bent to hover over the manger. Even from this distance, he could see her squinting into the crowd, looking for him.

In a sweet, bell-like voice, she spoke her lines, and Jesse reacted as if he hadn’t heard them a thousand times in the past two weeks.

“Beneath the angel’s shining light, love was born on Christmas night.”

Tenderness rose in his throat, enough to choke him.

As he watched Jade, angel wings outstretched, join her class in singing “Silent Night,” he thought his heart would burst with pride. Such sweetness. Such beauty. And he’d almost missed it.

Erin should have been here, too.

He waited for the familiar pain to come, and was surprised when it didn’t.

Jade caught sight of him somehow and her entire face brightened. Had she thought he wouldn’t stay?

With a start, he realized how wrong he’d been to let his own loss and pain affect his child’s happiness and wellbeing. Huddled in his darkness, he’d let two years of Jade’s life pass in a blur while he nursed his wounds and felt sorry for himself.

As the program ended and Jade was swept away in the thundering mass of first-graders, Jesse looked down. At some point during the play, he’d taken hold of Lindsey’s hand and pulled it against his thigh. How had that happened? And why didn’t he turn her loose now that the play was over? But with her small fingers wrapped in his, he was reluctant to let her go.

“She was wonderful,” Lindsey said, eyes aglow as she turned to him.

“The best one of all.”

“Of course.” And they both laughed, knowing every parent in the room thought the same thing about his or her own child.

And even though she wasn’t Jade’s parent, Jesse knew Lindsey loved his daughter unreservedly.

Still holding her hand, and bewildered by his own actions, Jesse rose and began the shuffle out of the jammed auditorium and down the hall to the classrooms. There they collected Jade from the rambunctious crowd of first-graders and headed out the exit.

“Excuse me.” A man about Jesse’s age stopped them as they started down the concrete steps. A vague sense of recognition stirred in Jesse’s memory. “I saw you earlier and couldn’t help thinking that I should know you? Did you ever go to school here?”

Jesse stiffened momentarily before forcing his shoulders to relax. No use getting in a panic. Play it cool. “Sorry. I’m a newcomer. Moved here back in October.”

The man tilted his head, frowning. “You sure remind me of a kid I went to junior high with. Aw, but that’s a long time ago.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Jesse shrugged, hoping he sounded more casual than he felt. “Everybody looks like someone.”

“Ain’t that the truth? My wife says I’m starting to resemble my hound dog more and more every day.”

They all laughed, and then using the excuse of the cold wind, Jesse led the way to the truck. He’d been expecting that to happen. Sooner or later, someone was bound to recognize him from junior high school. He glanced at Lindsey as she slid into the pickup. Still smiling and fussing over Jade, she hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss.

Cranking the engine, he breathed a sigh of relief. That was a close one.