Holiday Homecoming (5 page)

“Hope's in her room sleeping,” Aimee said.

Aimee squirmed under Natalie's glare. Her hunch was right. The twins were in on this together. “Amelia, Aimee, get your things. We're leaving.”

“But the decorating isn't done,” Aimee said as she exchanged a glance with her twin.

Amelia's answering shrug of wide-eyed innocence, as if she had no idea why her aunt had said that, fried Natalie's temper. “Your decorating is done. Downstairs.” What had happened to the sweet little girls she used to babysit when she was in high school and home on college breaks? She hardly knew these two. Her throat constricted. But that was her fault. She'd hardly been home in the past five years to get to know them.

The twins shuffled by Autumn and down the stairs.

“We'd better get back to work,” Karen Hill said. The women followed the twins with Autumn giving Natalie a questioning look before turning to go downstairs. A sharp longing for the time when she and Autumn and a third friend, Jules Hill, had shared everything pierced her. But she'd let those friendships go, too.

“I'm going to check on Hope.” Connor touched her arm. “It's okay. This will blow over.” He motioned to the stairs and the ominous level of chatter. “They're good Christian women. They won't make anything more of it than it was. A prank by your mischievous nieces.”

She gave him a weak smile and watched him duck into his little sister's room. But nothing was okay, and it might never be. Worse, she felt she'd brought her dirt home with her and it was rubbing off on Connor.

* * *

Connor looked down at Hope, who was fast asleep. He gently pulled her thumb from her mouth. She moved her lips and stilled. Hope looked so much like Jared, he could almost understand why a few local people believed she was his brother's illegitimate daughter—almost, except that those beliefs were rooted in jealousy and vindictiveness. In actuality, she resembled their father in pictures taken before alcohol had decimated his looks.

He'd been the only one of the three of them who'd ever considered having kids. Josh still said he didn't want any. Jared had gotten a ready-made family when he married Becca. Connor might have offered to take Hope if Jared hadn't married. He'd grown to love Hope more as a father than as a brother when she'd lived with him and Jared at the parsonage last year. But she was better off as part of Jared and Becca's family, where she had both father and mother figures. Things might have been different if he was married. If... A picture of Natalie flashed in his mind, the old Natalie, caroling with her college church group at a nursing home.

No. He wasn't going to go there.

“She's a sweetheart,” Karen Hill said from the doorway behind him. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. I was just checking on her. I can't believe she slept through...you know.” He jerked his head toward the hall behind Karen. “I shouldn't have let her stay up so late and get so tired.”

Karen came and stood by him beside Hope's bed. “Don't blame yourself.”

But he did, for more than letting Hope wheedle him into watching one more
Veggie Tales
DVD.

“Some kids are like that. One minute they're racing around, the next they're out like a light. Jack was like that. One time I sent him to the basement to take laundry out of the dryer. He took forever, so I went down and there he was fast asleep on the cold cement floor.” She looked at Hope, then him. “But Hope isn't really what's bothering you.”

“I'm fine.” He stared at the throw rug on the floor by the bed. Gram had made it from old socks.

“There'll be some talk. It's inevitable. But it'll pass soon. No harm to you.”

Connor faced Karen. She'd been his Sunday school teacher and youth group leader with her husband. She'd helped him more than once when he was a teen by listening to him. His brothers always made him feel girlie when he wanted to talk things out. And Mom had more than enough with work and Dad. He hadn't wanted to lay anything else on her.

“It's not me I'm worried about.”

“Natalie? Nothing fazes Natalie.” Karen waved him off.

That was the old Natalie, not the brittle shadow of her former self he'd seen at pageant practice and today. “She's not the same as she was when she left Paradox Lake. She's been...through some things.” He wished he could tell Karen. But that would be betraying both Natalie and his ministry.

“Terry hasn't said anything, except how glad she was that Natalie came home. Is she okay?”

“I don't know,” he said truthfully. “And Natalie may not have spoken with her mother.” But she'd talked with him. His heart swelled.

Karen arched her eyebrow. “I'll do my best to keep what happened this afternoon the innocent incident it was. For both your sakes.”

“I'd appreciate that.”

“We have a good group downstairs. It shouldn't be a problem.”

Connor hoped not. He was having enough trouble dealing with Natalie's return, even if it was temporary—or, maybe, because it was temporary—without them being the center of local gossip. “There's tea, coffee and hot chocolate in the cupboard above the stove,” he said. “Would you mind seeing what everyone wants and getting things started? Gram sent over some Christmas cookies, too. I'll be down in a minute.”
After I'm sure Natalie has left.

* * *

The twins chattered all the way home. As far as Natalie could tell, neither felt any remorse for the situation they'd put her and Connor in. Remembering how comforted she'd felt in Connor's arms, she couldn't say she did, either. Not right now. But she was sure she would later.

Natalie pulled her mother's car into Andie and Rob's driveway and the girls had their doors open almost before she'd stopped.

“Thanks for the ride, Aunt Natalie,” they called, dashing to the door.

They weren't going to get off that easy. Did they really think she wouldn't say anything to their parents? Natalie turned off the car and trudged through the snow to the house.

“Hi.” Andie held the door open for her. “I thought you might stop in.”

Had someone already called and told Andie what the twins had done?

“Come on in the kitchen and sit down. I figured Mom would want you to get all the details about Robbie.”

“How is he?” Natalie swallowed her guilt. She'd been so caught up in her own feelings she'd forgotten all about her nephew. “Mom told me she was going to call you.”

“I didn't check the voice mail. Robbie is okay. I ended up taking him to urgent care. It's some kind of bug that's going around.”

“Not the flu?” Natalie asked.

“No.”

“That's a relief.”

“It sure is. But I'll have to keep him home from preschool for a few days. I was wondering if you could you watch him Thursday afternoon? I'm scheduled to work some extra hours.”

The real reason Andie had flagged her in. She couldn't help wondering what her sister would have done if she wasn't here.

“That is, if Mom doesn't need you. It would only be from one until a little after three when Aimee and Amelia get home from school. Rob will be around doing chores so the girls will be fine watching him then. We could really use the money for Christmas.”

Shame flooded Natalie. “Sure. Mom thinks I'm doing too much for her anyway.”

Andie laughed. “You know how Mom is. Anything is too much.”

She shouldn't be so sensitive, but her sister's dismissive comment hurt. “I did get Mom to sit down the other morning and take a short nap today.” It was hard to keep a defensive tone out of her voice.

Andie looked past Natalie to the kitchen doorway. “Did you girls need something?”

“I think they were listening to see if I was telling you what they did this afternoon,” Natalie answered for her nieces.

“What now?” Exasperation colored Andie's face. “Aimee and Amelia, get in here.”

Her sister's tone was almost enough to make Natalie feel sorry for the twins. But not quite.

“What did they do?”

When Natalie told her about the twins trapping her and Connor in the attic, it sounded almost humorous. Maybe people would see it that way.

“You lied and put your aunt and Pastor Connor in an uncomfortable situation. Go to your room until dinner, and you won't be going to Monica's birthday sleepover on Friday.”

“But Mom, we apologized. And Pastor Connor said they wouldn't have to get married or anything,” Aimee protested.

“Married! Where did that come from?” Andie asked.

“Apparently from a Regency romance one of their friends lent them,” Natalie explained.

“It was a Christian romance,” Amelia said.

Natalie bit her lip to stop herself from smiling.

“Everyone says Pastor Connor should get married,” Amelia said. “Even you, Mom. We heard you tell Dad so, and that Pastor Connor and Aunt Natalie used to go out. You said Aunt Natalie seemed to be getting her act together and maybe she'd know a good thing when she saw it now.”

Andie winced and all the humor Natalie had felt disappeared. She'd always known Connor was a good thing. That was all the more reason she didn't need her nieces, sister or anyone else pushing her and Connor together. He deserved better.

Andie raised her hands, fingers spread. “Enough. Go to your room.”

The twins stomped out.

“Sorry about that,” Andie said. “I've been a mother long enough to know I should watch what I say when little ears may be listening.”

That was it? No apology for what she'd said, only regrets that the twins had heard it?

“I don't know what gets into those two. I can't understand them,” Andie said.

“Don't be too hard on yourself,” Natalie said. “The preteen years aren't easy ages for girls or their mothers.”

“No.” Andie shook her head. “They're like you. They do whatever pops in their heads without thinking about how their actions might affect others. I couldn't understand how you could do half the things you've done to Mom, nor do I understand the twins' actions. I'm working on them to be sure the worst doesn't happen.”

But she was a lost cause? Natalie swallowed. “That's what you think of me?”

“Honestly? I don't mean to hurt you, but kind of. You dumped Connor and rushed off to Chicago to take that job. And how long did you stay there before you were off to a different job and then another?”

“It's called building a career,” Natalie countered. Or in her case, trying to hang on to one.

“And is being too busy to come home and see Mom and Dad part of building a career, too?”

Natalie pushed away from the table. “No, that was finances. Living in the Chicago area was—is—expensive.”

The way Andie's eyes narrowed when she corrected
was
to
is
made Natalie's throat constrict. Andie didn't need to know she'd lost her job. She stood. “I'm going to go now. I can't do this.”

“Neither can I. I don't have time for your drama.”

“Fine, I'll stay—” The weary look in her sister's eyes stopped Natalie from finishing with “out of your way.” “I'll stay with Robbie on Thursday. I'm sure Mom will be okay with it.”

“Only if you want to,” Andie said, “and for the record, you're probably still too selfish to appreciate a good man like Connor.”

Pain banded her chest. Andie had to get the last word. No, she wasn't too selfish to appreciate it. She could appreciate it all too well. Nor was she foolish enough to pursue the attraction to him she still felt, no matter how much her memories were pushing her to.

Chapter Five

C
onnor paced the front of the conference center auditorium, silently practicing his words as he often did with his sermons.

He'd texted Natalie and asked her to meet with him forty-five minutes before the pageant choir practice to work out a way to choose the soloists for “O Holy Night.” Before her surgery, Natalie's mother, Terry, had found an arrangement that had male and female solo parts. Today, Terry had emailed him the names of potential soloists she and the choir directors of the other participating churches had put together.

He'd wondered why she was sending him the list instead of giving it to Natalie. Then he'd seen Natalie's name at the top of the list. Even before he read Terry's note, Connor knew that as the pageant's music director, Natalie would never put herself out in the competition for the women's solo.

But choosing soloists wasn't what had him pacing, even though he expected some rivalry among the participants from the various congregations. It was his guilty conscience for hiding out upstairs on Sunday and leaving Natalie to face the church women alone. Alone, except for her devious nieces. He'd thought about calling her yesterday, but hadn't.

“Hi.”

Natalie's greeting stopped his pacing. He watched her walk down the aisle toward him. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Okay.” She placed her folder of music on the piano bench.

“I mean. You know. Sunday.” Not exactly the compassionate inquiry he'd practiced.

She placed her hands on her hips. “I've got Aimee, Amelia
and
Andie mad at me. But I guess that's to be expected.”

He leaned his hip against the side of the piano, as casually as he could with his nerves playing racquetball against each other.

“Andie grounded the girls, so they can't go to their friend's sleepover birthday party this weekend. And Andie...” Natalie shook her head. “It doesn't matter.”

He'd been worried about the church women talking. He hadn't thought about her family giving her grief. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault. Unless you put the twins up to it.”

“No.” His voice echoed in the empty auditorium.

“Paul suggested it.” The corner of her mouth twitched before her mouth spread into a wide grin. “Just thought I'd check.”

He relaxed. This was the Natalie he used to know.

“Paul thought it was hysterical.”

“It is kind of funny when you think about it,” Connor said. Although amused wasn't the way he'd felt when he was holding Natalie, or when the trapdoor dropped open.

“Yeah, funny when you're not living it.”

He straightened. “You are okay? No one's said anything to you?”

“I haven't been anywhere, except here, since Sunday.” Her eyes narrowed and she lifted her chin. “Has someone said something to you? I'm the one who should apologize for causing you trouble. Aimee and Amelia were with me.”

Way to go
,
Donnelly.
Just when she was lightening up
. “No one's said anything to me.”

Natalie glanced back at the clock over the auditorium doors. “We'd better get started. People will be arriving soon.”

“Right.”

“How did you want to do this?” she asked.

Connor shrugged. “Have people audition and you can pick the best two.”

Natalie rubbed the toe of her boot against the leg of the piano bench. “I'm not comfortable having the final say. I thought it might be fun to do it like one of the talent reality shows. I hate to admit it, but they've become one of my weaknesses.”

The only reality show he'd ever seen was
The Amazing Race.
“Sure, why not.”

“Good.” A slow smile spread across her face. “I wasn't sure you'd agree. So, anyone who wants to can try out, and when the last person finishes, the choir can vote.”

“Your mother sent me a list of people recommended by the choir directors at the participating churches.”

“She gave me the list, too.”

Not likely the same one she'd given him with Natalie's name front and center.

“I'd like to open it up to anyone who's interested, unless you have some reason we shouldn't,” Natalie said.

“Time's the only reason I can think of. We can't afford to have the entire practice used up with tryouts.”

Natalie pushed her hair behind her ears. She'd worn it down tonight, softly curling on her shoulders, rather than having it pulled back or pinned up as she had the other times he'd seen her lately. It was a little shorter than she'd worn it in college, but still as soft. Or so it had seemed when a stray stand had brushed against his cheek when she'd rested her head on his shoulder Sunday in the attic.

“From what Mom told me, that shouldn't be a problem. She said she often has to prod people into taking solo or duet parts. Hence the list. She also suggested that you and I sing the parts for the choir so those trying out for solos have a feel for the arrangement.”

“Everyone should know ‘O Holy Night.' Wouldn't the song sheets and your playing it be enough?”

“Maybe not. Mom pointed out that she's known some wonderful singers who don't read music well. They sing by ear.”

“Excuse me.” One of the choir members from another church approached Natalie.

Connor had been so focused on Natalie, enjoying her enthusiasm for her reality show tryouts idea, that he hadn't heard the woman come in. “Hi, we haven't met. I'm Connor Donnelly, pastor at Hazardtown Community Church.”

The woman introduced herself to Connor and Natalie and addressed Natalie. “At the last practice you said if we weren't sure of our voice range, we could see you before this one.”

“Sure.” Natalie favored her with a warm smile that lit Natalie's eyes with a well-remembered glow he hadn't seen since she'd returned. “Let me give Connor this music sheet, and we'll do a quick test.”

“I sang soprano in my high school chorus, but that was a while ago.” The woman glanced from Natalie to Connor.

“I'll just take this—” he lifted the sheet music he'd rolled into a tube “—and study it in the back.” He waved the cylinder toward the door. The woman seemed as anxious to sing in front of him as he was to sing in front of the choir. Not that his singing would clear the room. But Jared was the one who'd inherited a singing voice from their mother. He walked up the aisle and took a seat in the last row by the door.

“Hey.” Jared stepped through the door ahead of several other choir members. “I see you're taking my advice.”

“How's that?”

Jared waited until the others passed. “Keeping your distance from Natalie. But this may be a little extreme.” With a laugh, he motioned between Connor and Natalie.

“Lay off. I'm giving them some privacy.”

Natalie ran through the music scale with the woman singing “Do, re, mi...” and then starting over an octave higher. Jared slid into the seat ahead of him.

“I'm supposed to be reviewing this music.” Connor tapped his knee with the paper tube. “Natalie wants us to sing the solo parts for everyone before we start tryouts.”

He waited to see if Jared would volunteer. He was big on trying to come to his brothers' rescue. When he didn't, Connor considered asking him. He unrolled the music.
No
. He had to man up and face singing with Natalie publicly, as he'd done with her countless times in private. Learn to face that challenge
and
work more closely with her without wanting to turn back the hands of time.

* * *

When Natalie finished running through the scales with the choir member, she glanced past the people walking toward her to the back of the auditorium, where Connor sat talking with his brother. Connor scowled at Jared. Why had she agreed with her mother that she and Connor singing “O Holy Night” together for the choir would be a good idea? Because she'd thought it would be fun. She hadn't even given him the opportunity to agree. Or, more likely, to disagree, given his expression and the contrast between the casual way Jared leaned over his seat and the rigid way Connor held himself.

A hand appeared in front of her face, breaking her line of vision.

“They do make a gawk-worthy sight, don't they?” her friend Autumn asked.

“What? I was thinking.”

Autumn smiled. “Let me guess about what.”

“Music, actually.”

Autumn put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side.

“We need to have tryouts for the two pageant solos tonight. Mom suggested Connor and I sing the parts so everyone can hear the arrangement. It didn't occur to me he wouldn't want to.” She looked back at the guys again.

“I'm saying this as a friend. The time's past when Connor will do something he doesn't want to do just to please you, or anyone else, unless it's for the good of his congregation or he believes God wants him to take that action.”

Natalie bit her lip. Her admiration for Connor grew. She could remember too many times when she'd wheedled Connor into doing things he hadn't wanted to do.

Autumn didn't wait for her to respond. “Also, as a friend, I was wondering if you want to stop by my house on your way home tonight to catch up. As I was leaving, Jon got called into the birthing center. I have a plate of Christmas cookies Gram dropped off last night when I was out at a home birth.”

“The snickerdoodle ones I loved when we were kids?” Natalie asked.

“The very ones.”

“I'll be there.”

As with Connor's seemingly easy acceptance of her, Natalie couldn't express how much Autumn's simple invitation meant after the way she'd let their friendship drop. Nor was this the time or place to. Add one more item on her “make things right with family and friends” list.

“Let's get this practice going.” Natalie raised her hand to Connor, who was now standing in the back of the auditorium greeting the last couple of choir members straggling in.

He acknowledged her signal with a broad smile that made her question whether she'd imagined his resistance to singing with her. She watched him close the doors and stride down to the stage area.

“I'd better go take my place in the choir,” Autumn said.

“Right.” Natalie had forgotten that Autumn was still standing next to her. She steeled herself. She couldn't let the nostalgia of earlier times color reality. She and Connor were different people than they'd been five years ago.

“Listen up,” Connor said, stepping into the spot where Autumn had been. “Did everyone get my email saying we're holding tryouts for the solo parts tonight?”

A murmur of agreement flowed across the stage.

“Okay. Natalie will explain the process.”

“I thought it would be fun to handle the tryouts something like a reality show.” Natalie ignored the groans from a couple of the choir members. “Connor and I will sing the parts so you can hear the arrangement. Then everyone who wants to try out will have a practice sing and a final sing. If you're happy with your first pass, you can forego the second one. Once all the contestants have finished their tryouts, you all will choose our soloists. Any ques—”

“Sorry.”

Natalie spun around to see Andie rushing down the aisle. What was she doing here? Andie had told their mother she was too busy to sing in the pageant this year. Natalie thought it was more because she was the choir director.

“I was sure Natalie said practice was at seven.” Leave it to her sister to lay the blame on her.

“No matter,” Connor said. “Everyone's welcome, on time or not. Take your place on the stage. There's a spot next to Karen. Natalie just finished explaining how we're going to choose the soloists for ‘O Holy Night.' You'll see once we start.”

Natalie waited until Andie was in place on the stage.
Some things never changed.
As unsisterly as it was, she couldn't shake the thought that Andie had joined the choir purposely to undermine her. “Ready?” she asked Connor. He nodded, and she played the song through once before beginning the first verse.

He joined her on “O night divine” and went into the second verse. She closed her eyes and gave in to the music, his voice taking her back to her junior year of college, before Connor had come to Syracuse for seminary. Warm remembrances filled her. He'd driven from Houghton College for the weekend, and she'd talked him in to coming with her college Christian group to sing at a local nursing home. Afterward, he'd talked with several of the home's residents and led them in a prayer for a joyous Christmas. They'd walked hand-in-hand under a canopy of stars in the crisp night air to her dorm. Suddenly conscious of him standing only inches away, Natalie could almost feel the soft good-night kiss they'd shared before he'd headed over to another building to stay with one of her friends from the group.

Natalie fumbled a note and almost missed joining Connor in the last three lines of his verse, leading into her solo of the last verse. She put all her concentration into finishing the hymn and breathed a sigh of relief when she played the last note, anxious for him to take his place with the choir to put the distance between them.

Someone clapped, sending the choir into a round of applause.

“Thanks,” Connor said when it quieted. “So, who's game? Remember, I have this list.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and waved it at the choir.

A couple of women raised their hands. Natalie's heart sunk when she saw Andie was one of them. No, it might be good if Andie got the part. Working together could help them mend their relationship.

“Come on, guys,” Connor prompted when none of the men volunteered. “Do I have to exercise executive privilege? Jared, you're on the list.”

“Sorry, bro, the part's for a tenor. I'm a baritone.”

“You heard Natalie. She said she can adjust the arrangement.”