I'll Be Home for Christmas and One Golden Christmas: I'll Be Home For Christmas / One Golden Christmas. Lenora Worth
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pulled on Nick’s sleeve, bringing him out of his numbed state. “I don’t want much, Mr. Nick. I just wish we didn’t have to leave here, ever.”
Nick was beginning to wish that very same thing.
Before Nick could reply, however, the door swung open and Myla stomped into the room, a mother’s wrath apparent in her expression. “What in the world! You two are supposed to be in bed! How’d you get up here?”
“We snuck by you,” Patrick blurted out in spite of his sister’s glaring look.
“That’s obvious enough.” Myla pointed a finger toward the door. “Get back downstairs with Miss Lydia. Do you both want to catch the flu?”
“I didn’t breathe on them,” Nick said, glad to find a light moment in the children’s misdeeds. “And I’m glad they came by for a visit. I was getting downright lonely.”
“Want us to stay awhile?” Patrick offered hopefully.
“No, he doesn’t,” his mother interjected. “Go on down. I’ll come and read to you and help you with your prayers in a little while.”
Nick managed a chuckle as he watched the children scoot out of the room. “Well, you certainly got rid of those two varmints.”
She looked at his half-eaten food. “Why didn’t you eat your supper?”
“I wasn’t very hungry.”
“Are you feeling better?”
“A little. I heard you and Lydia were plotting down there.”
“Planning,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“I’ve never looked at it that way.”
She started to take the tray, but his hand shot out to stop her. “Myla, could we talk some more?”
“No,” she said, not daring to look at him. “I’d rather not.”
“I won’t press you about your life before,” he said. “I just have some questions, about…this unconditional love about which you speak so highly.”
She glanced up then, her eyes wide. “You want to discuss…religion?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling slightly. “I think I’d like that.”
And so they talked. She told him the stories of the Bible that he’d forgotten. As she talked, memories washed over him; memories of his mother, telling him these very same stories, her faith as strong and as shining as Myla’s. How could he have forgotten the beauty in that? How could he have let it slip so far away?
After Myla said a gentle prayer for him to feel better, both physically and spiritually, he sat in the darkness alone, watching the fire. And realized he was tired of being alone in the dark.
Then it hit him—Myla had said something earlier about being afraid of the darkness. They were so alike, he and his Myla. They’d both been out in the cold for too long. Together, maybe they could find the warmth of that unconditional love she’d told him about. Together, with the help of a higher being watching over them.
Outside, the rain fell in cold, indiscriminate sheets and Nick shuddered, thinking again that she might have been out there tonight, all alone and frightened.
But she wasn’t out there. For some strange reason, God had sent her to him instead. He wouldn’t take that obligation lightly.
“Not again, Myla,” he whispered to the fire. “Not ever again, if I can help it.”
Then he did something he hadn’t done in a very long time. He folded his hands and he prayed.
Chapter Five
It was well past midnight. Myla tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to wake the children sleeping in the bedroom just down the narrow back hallway. With Nick being home sick the last couple of days, her mind was in turmoil. Sleep was impossible.
She didn’t want to admit that she’d enjoyed playing nurse to him. The first morning, they’d talked and laughed together, sitting on the sunporch off the second-story hallway. Nick had insisted she sit with him while he had breakfast. It had been a comfortable, cozy distraction, complete with frolicking squirrels putting on a show in the great oaks lining the sloping backyard. Then, later in the day when he’d woken up feeling better, he’d come downstairs to eat a sandwich in the kitchen, reading the paper in silence while she went about her work. So domestic, so homey. So wrong, Myla reminded herself.
Setting the bags she carried on the counter, she pulled out the small treasures her first paycheck from Nick had allowed her to buy for her children. This would take her mind off of dreaming about a man she shouldn’t be thinking about.
A sweater set for Jesse—pink-and-blue striped with little white bows on the Peter Pan collar. An inexpensive fashion doll with two sets of clothes. Some new jeans and an action toy for Patrick, along with a set of army men with tanks and jeeps. It wasn’t much, but they’d have something under the tree. This year especially, it was important to her that her children understand the real Christmas celebration, so she didn’t want to make a big deal out of gift giving. Yet she couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief tonight.
She’d had horrible visions of them spending Christmas out in the cold, or in a shelter. Now, thanks to Nick’s kindness, they were going to be celebrating Christmas in this beautiful, rambling house. Thinking of how lucky they were to be safe and warm, she stood there letting the tears fall freely.
And that’s how Nick found her.
Her back was turned toward him and she was wearing a worn, thick flannel robe, pink with blue faded flowers and small red heart-shaped designs which, in the moon’s soft spotlight, reminded him of aged paper valentines. He felt as if he could watch her forever, but when he heard her soft intake of breath and saw her wipe at a tear, he went to her, touching her lightly on the arm.
“Are you all right?”
Myla jumped at his touch, surprise widening her eyes. “Nick! What are you doing up?”
“Shredder woke me. That sneaky cat’s taken a liking to me, I believe. He’s also taken a liking to the foot of my bed, where I left him fast asleep.”
She laughed then, but the laughter turned back to tears. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so emotional lately. Christmas always does that to me, but this year…well, I have a lot to be thankful for.”
Nick once again felt the sharp contrast in her world and his own. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, out there. You’re very courageous.”
She sniffed back her tears. “Hardly. When it comes to survival, you just do what you’ve got to do.”
“You’re starting over,” he said, careful of how he worded his next request. “Don’t you think it’s time you really left the past behind? Tell me everything about your marriage, Myla.”
She looked up, deciding there in the darkness she could trust him with the truth. “Yes, I think it’s time to move on, and I guess talking about it would help.” Then she gave him one last chance. “Are you sure you want me to burden you with the sordid details, though?”
“Burden away,” he replied, his voice quiet and encouraging. “I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me what’s made you so sad.”
She took a deep breath, then brought a hand up to play with one of the buttons on the front of her robe. “My husband deceived all of us. Sonny was a big fake, in complete control. And he had me trained as his robot. He even had the children trained, too. Only I didn’t see it until it was too late.”
“Tell me why.”
She leaned back against the counter, her eyes shining. “I wish I knew why. Why I let him do the things he did, why I let him make me feel so small and helpless. Looking back,