A Holiday To Remember. Jillian Hart
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people off.
“Thank you.” The woman—Debra—had taken a step back as if she were intimidated and took a dainty sip of the hot chocolate. Somehow she was able to avoid the marshmallow fluff that stained her daughter’s mouth. The girl had come around the worktable to stare openly at him, while the woman—Debra—was studying the crib.
So he took a moment to study her. Ben’s half sister. He couldn’t see it at first. But as she stepped into the softer daylight from the roof windows, it became more evident in the simple straight dignity of her nose, which wasn’t too small or big, and in the manner that she held her head just so while she thought. Snowflakes were melting in the silk of her hair and on the collar of her fancy fur-lined coat.
“This is lovely.” She gave him a polite smile. “You are a very talented woodworker.”
A blush heated his face. He shrugged one shoulder. “I try.”
“And modest, too. That’s a change from the men I’ve been around lately.”
“Can’t be much of a man if he isn’t humble.”
“Exactly.” She smiled; it was an honest smile.
For a moment he saw past the polite veneer and cool distance into something brighter. Maybe it was just a trick of the gray light from above or his falling blood sugar. He’d delayed his lunch hour so he could be here for Ben’s half sister. More importantly, he’d wanted to meet this woman. He was protective of his good friend.
“I imagine it was hard finding out that you have an older brother,” he heard himself saying.
“You have no idea.” She said it kindly but as if there was more to it. “I was just as shocked to learn of Ben, as Ben was to learn he was related to us. I’m still trying to adjust. It’s strange going from being the oldest to the second out of the blue.”
There was pain there, Jonah realized, a pain she quickly battled down. Okay, he had sympathy for that. He understood inner pain—it haunted him every moment of every day, and he didn’t know what to say to her.
She broke the silence, gesturing toward the crib. “Is this for Ben’s baby, Joseph?”
“No, this is for some good friends of mine, and of Ben’s, too. Ross and Kelly Van Zandt’s baby boy. He arrived a little earlier than expected.”
“Is that the same Kelly from the adoption agency? Ben mentioned her.” Debra glanced at her daughter, who was still staring at him. “Mia, where are your manners?”
“It’s okay,” he added quickly, wondering if the waiflike girl was a little scared of him. She wouldn’t be the first. “Are you wondering why I’m so big? God made me this way so I could serve His purpose.”
“What purpose?” Mia asked, wide-eyed. “Are you a Christian, too? Which church do you go to?”
She looked up at him with curiosity in her big innocent eyes, her cupid’s face wreathed with expectation. Cute kid, obviously sheltered and privileged and well cared for, just as a child should be. He battled down images of the world he’d seen—not good images, where children were not so safe and protected. He noticed the gold chain and cross at her throat. “Yes, I’m a Christian. I belong to the Chestnut Grove Community Church.”
“That pretty one with the big steeple that looks like it belongs in a storybook?”
“That’s the one.”
“Wow.”
“Yes, wow.” Debra squelched an inner groan. Irrepressible Mia felt that everyone should be saved. It was a nice sentiment, but unrealistic. She’d taken so many hard blows lately between her mom’s passing and then over the truth about her mom’s past, these days she was putting faith in God right up there on the shelf with her thoughts about Santa Claus. Nice, but not relevant to her life.
That sounded harsh, but she was a grown woman who’d gotten where she was with hard work, determination and having to face adult responsibilities without a lot of help.
Okay, there she went again when she had vowed to focus on Mia and the trip. Time for a change in subject. “Mia, come on. Let’s wait in the reception area and let Mr. Fraser get back to his work. I’m sure we’re inconveniencing him.”
“But, Mom!” Mia’s jaw dropped in utter disbelief. “Can’t you see we’re talking about God?”
“I thought you were about to pry into Mr. Fraser’s personal life and make sure he’s really a Christian, the way you did with the gas-station attendant this morning. The way you do with everyone you meet.”
To her surprise, the big, stony Mr. Fraser smiled. He wasn’t quite as fearsome when he did. The granite line of his square jaw softened and his hard mouth that could have been sculpted from stone warmed into a handsome smile. He had straight, even white teeth and a sincerity that made him striking.
She felt a frisson of interest as pure as the snowflakes fluttering down from the heavens. This man perplexed her. He was apparently part weightlifter and part legend with an artist’s soul.
“Call me Jonah,” he said. “When I hear Mr. Fraser, I think my dad is standing behind me. Besides, the little lady isn’t inconveniencing me or prying.”
“You truly are a kind man to say so,” Debra found herself saying. “Mia has better manners than that—”
“Reverend Fraser is your dad?” Mia interrupted, in direct contradiction.
What was a mother to do? Mia had a strong spirit and a stubborn streak, not unlike herself at that age. Debra caught Mr. Fraser’s—Jonah’s—gaze and watched his smile deepen until it warmed the cool depths of his eyes.
He was definitely a different kind of man than she was used to being around, but suddenly she was no longer intimidated by the rugged strength of him. Whatever else Jonah Fraser may be, she bet he was a teddy bear at heart because he turned patiently to Mia and his manner was genuinely kind. “Why don’t you come to Sunday service and I’ll introduce you to him? At least, I’m guessing that you’ll be attending with Ben and his family.”
“Ye-ah.” Mia rolled her eyes heavenward as if there couldn’t possibly be any other answer, so why did he bother asking?
It seemed like everywhere she turned, there was the conflict over Mia’s faith—and Debra’s lack of conviction. But what could she say to such a kindly meant invitation? “We’ll talk about Sunday later, Mia.”
“Mo-om!”
“We were going to take this visit one day at a time, remember?” Time for another change in topic. The trouble was, why did her first thoughts turn to Jonah and finding out more about him? “How long have you been making such beautiful furniture?”
“Oh, I’ve always been fairly handy.” He eased forward, his shoulder dipping slightly to compensate for his limp. “I’ve always worked with wood in one way or another—”
Mia broke in. “You didn’t want to be a minister like your dad?”
Debra inwardly cringed. Was Mia wound up today or what? “Mia, you know better than to interrupt.”
“It’s all right.” Jonah’s baritone rang with patience and good humor as he drew up a metal stool and eased his big frame onto it. “I thought very seriously about joining the ministry, but I didn’t feel a real calling to do it. There’s another reason, too. I like to write, but I’m not so good with talking in front of a crowd. If I had to talk to a congregation, I’d stammer and forget my sermon, and my looking like a fool wouldn’t help anyone.”
There was something innately noble about him. She could see it now, as his quiet tough-guy manner softened a bit. He radiated a subtle but unmistakable strength of character.
Drawn to him, Debra came closer and rested the hot mug on the table. She did want to know more about this man. Something told her he was interesting.