Holiday Homecoming. Jean C. Gordon
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his standing with the small faction of his congregation who still weren’t convinced Jerry Donnelly’s son was the right pastor for Hazardtown Community.
As he opened the door to the newly built camp auditorium, he caught the end of a conversation between the twelve-year-old Bissette twins, who were standing in the hallway off the entry.
“She deserves a nice Christmas present, especially since Mom says she’s getting her act together now. I think Pastor Connor would be perfect.”
“Ye-e-es!” The second twin fist-bumped her sister.
Terrific, now the kids were getting in on it. He wasn’t even going to speculate who the girls thought he’d make a perfect gift for.
Piano strains of “What Child Is This?” drifted from the auditorium, lifting Connor’s spirits. It sounded like Drew Stacey, Sonrise’s director, had gotten him a replacement. He owed his friend big-time. Connor strode into the auditorium anxious to see whom Drew had found.
“Pastor Connor,” the twins called in unison, waving him to the front.
“Do you know our aunt Natalie?” Amelia asked.
“She’s going to take Grandma’s place for the pageant,” Aimee finished for her sister.
The music stopped abruptly with a discordant sound. Natalie turned slightly on the piano bench and looked out at Connor, an anxious expression on her face. When her gaze caught his, he tripped, grasping one of the seat backs to keep his balance.
Natalie Delacroix. The woman who’d broken his heart when she’d chosen her career over him and his marriage proposal.
That was five years ago. Ancient history, he mused as he walked the rest of the way down the aisle to the front of the auditorium.
“Hello, Natalie.” The cool tone of his words surprised him, considering the battle of emotions that was going on inside him.
“Connor.” Now that he was at close range, she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“You guys already know each other,” one of the twins—Aimee, he thought—said.
“We went to high school together.” And a lot more.
He glanced sideways at Natalie. She was staring at the sheet music in front of her as if the pages would disappear if she turned from them.
The other twin, Amelia, rolled her eyes. “We should have figured that.”
The auditorium door opened. The girls squealed the name of one of their friends and went to join her, leaving him and Natalie alone.
“Are you visiting for the holidays?” he asked, again surprised at how calmly polite he sounded. The conflict-resolution training he’d taken in seminary was proving its worth.
Natalie gathered the sheet music and tucked it in a folder on the piano music stand. She was every bit as beautiful as she’d been that Christmas Eve five years ago, with her jet-black hair curling against her fair skin. Except something was missing.
“Dad and Mémé asked me to come and help Mom.” She lifted her shoulders in a Gallic shrug he’d seen her French-Canadian grandmother use many times. “You know how much work the farm is for Dad and Paul, and Mémé isn’t that well herself. Andrea’s busy with her family and part-time job. Dad wanted someone with Mom during the day.” Natalie tapped her fingers on the piano bench as she ticked off the reasons her other two sisters couldn’t help. “Claire has her work at the research farm and she’s taking grad courses, besides having used up most of her vacation time for the year. And it’s not like Renee could take off from the mission in Haiti.” She stopped tapping. “I had time. I’m between jobs. The station I was working at changed formats and didn’t have a spot for me anymore.”
Natalie spoke the words in a monotone. That was what was missing. Natalie’s spark was gone. He looked at her more closely. Her features were sharper. She was thinner. Too thin. Faint slashes of blue under her eyes emphasized the tired look they held. His heart ached, as he wondered what was behind the changes. If she was simply one of his parishioners, he’d say something, see if she wanted to talk later. But with their history, he didn’t know if he could help, or—even more—if she’d want him to.
He put on his professional face. “We’ve all been praying for your mother’s speedy recovery. I’m sure she really appreciates your being here to help out.” Like he would have appreciated Terry telling him Natalie was coming back to Paradox Lake for the holidays when he’d visited her in the hospital the day before yesterday.
“Thank you,” Natalie said, holding herself straight-backed on the bench. “I’m glad I could come and help.”
Connor shoved his fingers in the front pockets of his jeans. “Is she home from the medical center? I know she and your dad had a real scare with the postsurgical infection that caused her to be readmitted.”
“Yes.”
He could almost hear the silence following her terse reply. This was the same girl—woman—who used to chatter to him for hours, punctuating her words with animated hand motions?
“Connor,” Drew Stacey called from the back of the auditorium, relieving him of having to try and make any more small talk. “I see you’ve met Terry’s replacement.”
The note of helpful pride in Drew’s voice was unmistakable.
“From what Terry said, you and Natalie are old friends.”
Connor nodded. Were friends, and a whole lot more.
In the silence, Natalie seemed to shrink into the piano bench.
“People are arriving. I’ll get out of your way so you can get started,” Drew said. “I’ll be in the utility room working with the youth group on the stage settings. Give me a yell when you’re done, and I’ll lock up.”
“Sure thing,” Connor said. Drew’s words made Connor aware of the din of people talking and moving in the auditorium behind them.
Drew turned to Natalie before he left. “The production is a little behind schedule. Practices usually get started the week before Thanksgiving, but your mom probably told you that. You still have a month. I’m sure the two of you can pull it off.”
Natalie looked from Drew to him, her eyes full of question. Evidently, her mother hadn’t told Natalie he was directing the pageant. Connor swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He’d worked hard to forgive and forget Natalie. Now here she was, her mere presence scratching through the top layers of self-protection he’d built. He had a feeling this December might be the longest month of his life.
* * *
Connor Donnelly. Her breath hitched. At one time, she and Connor had been so attuned to each other she could practically read his thoughts before he voiced them. Either he had become a lot better at controlling his expressions or she’d lost her touch. She had no idea what was going through his mind, except that she didn’t think it was anything good. She waited for him to say something.
“I take it your mother didn’t tell you that I’m directing the Christmas pageant,” he said.
“No.” So much for her hopes that being in Paradox Lake for the holidays would bring her some peace so she could start putting her broken life back together. Working with Connor would be anything but peaceful. Her mother had to know that. “I guess I assumed that since the pageant was here at the camp, Drew was in charge.”
“Drew’s just letting us use the camp auditorium. The local association of churches sponsors the pageant. The churches decided a few years ago that we’d get a better turnout for early Christmas Eve services if we combined forces with an ecumenical service for the young families, rather than having separate ones.”
“That makes sense. How’s it working?” she asked, hoping making small talk would calm the wildfires leaping from nerve ending to nerve ending.