Christmas Surprises (17 page)

"Let's go," he said suddenly. 

"What?," she asked, wondering at his meaning.

"You and me," he said.  "There's never going to be an ideal time.  So, next week.  Let's just leave.  Let's go on the cruise and just take some time away together."

Leaving the restaurant during the holidays?  But there were going to be New Year crowds, money to be made off high capacity weekends...

"But the money --"

"I already paid for it, apparently," Grant muttered.  "According to Micah, I paid for about ten cruises when I let him drill holes into my teeth --"

"No," she smiled.  "I'm not talking about the cruise.  The restaurant.  I'm talking about the restaurant.  The last few bills on the restaurant --"

"Let's stop talking about the restaurant," he said. 

"But everything you've worked so hard for--"

"Will still be there when we get back," he said.  "And the bills can wait for another day."

"You don't have to do that for me," she barely whispered.

"If I work my whole life and gain everything, what's it all worth in the end if I've lost you along the way?"  He took a deep breath.  "And more than that... I've gotta get right with the Lord again.  You know it.  And you've helped me see it.  I'm hoping you'll be there to help me as I get back to where I need to be."

This.  He really got it. 

She could echo what he'd said, this time for herself.  Her own walk had suffered.  It was time to get serious about finding her identity in Christ, not in Grant.

And she really got what he'd said earlier.  That it was okay, that it was right, that it was necessary for her to say what she needed to say, to put voice to their problems, and not to continue to sit silently, fearful that the wrong words would send him packing.

She had to trust him more than that.

"I'm sorry, Grant," she said softly.  "I think this... us, marriage... is always going to be tough work."

It would be.  You couldn't erase years of expectations and wrong assumptions.  And Grant couldn't change his inclinations in a handful of seasons either.

Tough work.

"But it'll be good work," he said, standing to his feet and coming to her side, helping her up as well, just so he could embrace her, more tightly and more fully than he had in months.

She was certain of this.  Good work. Because God was good, and He'd already, in just these two days, done something big in them both.

"Can we get it back?," he whispered into her hair.  "Can it be like it was?"

And she closed her eyes, trusted him again, and said, "I think it can be even better, Grant."

CHAPTER FIVE

Rachel

Pediatric nurse, sitting right there, immobile as her child choked on a Lego.  And her husband, a dentist with more than enough medical knowledge himself, sitting right there, equally immobile as his child choked on a Lego.

All those years in school, all the fancy degrees, all the training in the world.

And it took a preacher to save the day.

Well, that figured.

Zoe let out a huge cough, her little body shaking as the Lego landed halfway across the room, even as she began to cry.

And like that, everyone woke up.

"Zoe!," Rachel yelled, finally unfrozen, rushing to her daughter's side just as quickly as Micah did the same.  Before she could pull the small, gasping, sobbing girl into her arms, Brian, still wearing that tiara and the matching jewelry, turned the child around, his hands to her face, doing a quick assessment, his eyes checking to see how she breathed. 

"Try eating a smaller one next time, hey, Zoe?," he said playfully, leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead.

"Zoe, why?," Micah asked, kneeling beside his daughter, reaching out for her.  "Why did you eat a Lego?"

Like there was any good answer for that. 
Because I'm five, Daddy.  Because I thought it was a good idea, Daddy.  Because I don't know why, Daddy.

"Praise God that you're okay," Rachel said now, her arm around Zoe as well, tears in her own eyes. 

"And thanks to Brian's quick thinking," Micah murmured.  He looked up at the other man with something different in his eyes, finally.

Appreciation.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"No problem," Brian said, turning now to Mia, who was still upset over her sister.  "Hey, Mia, I thought you were going to put some more bracelets on me."

This was enough to redirect her attention as Rachel continued holding onto Zoe.

"Reflexes like a ninja," Jacob grinned.  "Brian, you need to come live with us.  Our kids are always trying to eat things, stick things up their noses, cram things in their ears --"

"Maybe you should go and stay with Brian and Mom instead of us," Micah said quietly.  "I mean, after the wedding..."

Before Rachel could gasp out loud at this, she glanced over at Micah, as he looked up at Brian.  Not with affection or joy in his eyes but with quiet acceptance.

The joy would come surely.  One day.

"Oh my!," Gracie squealed.  "Natalie!  You're getting married?"

"Yes," the older woman breathed out, obvious relief in sharing this news.  "Next month.  We're still working out the details, but yes."

Before Rachel could tell her mother-in-law congratulations, Zoe looked up at her and cried, "Mommy, my throat hurts."

"Probably so," Rachel had murmured.  "Let's go get some water for you to drink."

"Here, I'll come with you," Micah said, pulling Zoe into his arms, then carrying her into the kitchen, two steps behind Rachel.

Once they were there and she'd gotten Zoe a cup, she chanced a look over at him. 

"Married, huh?," she asked.

"Yeah," he sighed.  "Can't say that I'm all that surprised, though.  Can't say that I'm thrilled either, but..."

"But what?," she asked, brushing Zoe's hair behind her ears.

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

Just as she was about to answer him, they heard raised voices in the living room.

And barking.  Loud, screechy barking.

The sound was already getting old, quite frankly.

"Sugar's at it again," Rachel said, thinking of how the dog had been randomly speed running through the wrapping paper, the discarded boxes, and the mess of so many people all morning long. 

Mad dog
, Brian had called it.  All that pent up energy, thrown out there to the delight of the kids.

"I wanna see!," Zoe exclaimed, her throat suddenly well enough.

"Then, go on," Micah said, helping her off the counter and sending her on.

Once she was gone, Rachel turned to her husband.

"'It doesn't matter'," she said.  "What does that mean, Micah?"

"It doesn't matter what I think about my mother's life, does it?  I mean, I hope it matters a little bit, but ultimately, she's got to live her life, right?"

Rachel nodded, thinking about all that mothers give up while they're raising children, wondering at the freedom they have during different seasons to pursue what they want, to put themselves first.

Wasn't that the story of her life right now?  Putting herself first for a while, pursuing what she wanted?

She didn't want what she'd said she wanted, though.  Not anymore.

She thought of home, of staying here and doing what she'd learned to love and do well.  She thought of work, of being who she was before she had children...

Life was different.  She was different.  And it was okay to want different things now.

She needed to tell him.  So, she did.

Just blurted it right out with no preface, as though he could read her mind and would logically see how she'd reached this conclusion.

Because even if he wasn't a mind reader, he knew her.  He'd get it.

"Micah, I don't want to go back to work," she blurted out, peace in her heart in the decision, hope that he would be okay with it --

"What?," he asked, surprise in his voice.  "I thought we were talking about my mother."

"We were," she said.  "And about being a mother, giving yourself permission to do what you want to do, not what everyone thinks you should do.  And I don't want to go to work!" 

He watched her for a long moment, obviously attempting to process it all.

"But all the work you've done these last few months getting ready, telling everyone who will listen that you're going to find yourself again, and --"

"I wasn't lost, though," she said, starting to cry.  Because that would make her decision look sane, right?  Blubbering like this.

Oh, well.  She had to be her.

"Oh, Rachel," he said softly, pulling her into his arms.

She had to be her.  And luckily, he loved her.

"I only thought I needed to find myself," she continued crying.  "But I'm not lost.  I didn't lose myself in having the girls.  Well, maybe I did.  But I lost the old Rachel who didn't know what it meant to love like that, to love you so much, to love the girls, to love the life we've made.  The new Rachel loves it all, Micah!  And I... I don't want anything to change.  None of it."

She could only imagine how disappointed he was, thinking of all the money they wouldn't have to supplement his income now, thinking less of her because she didn't care to be anything more than a stay-at-home mom, thinking about how he'd have to take care of a whole load of mooches for the rest of his life.

"Okay," he said simply.

Well, that wasn't right.

"Okay?," she asked, pulling her head up off his chest to stare at him.

"Yeah.  Okay," he said.  "You should probably call the office tomorrow and let them know before they start your paperwork, though."

Paperwork.  His greatest concern was paperwork?

"Aren't you upset?," she asked. 

"Why would I be upset?," he said, grinning.  "This is good news."

"Good news?!," she asked.  Definitely not what she'd expected.

"I'm glad you're going to be here," he said.  "I'm not sure what the best part of every day is.  Leaving in the morning with you on the porch waving to me, wearing those pajama things you wear --"

"They're yoga pants, Micah," she said, having explained this to him again and again.  "Not pajamas.  Yoga pants."

"You don't do yoga."

Darn him.

"Yoga pants," she said again.

"Yeah, well," he laughed, "you look really cute in them.  And you look even cuter when I come home and you're already here in the kitchen with the girls doing homework, folding laundry, fixing dinner, or just rushing in all apologetic because you've spent the whole day watching Friends reruns."

One time.  She'd done that one time, and he made it sound like she spent every day in front of the TV.

But he was smiling.

How was he still smiling?

"I think that's the best part of the day," he said.  "Coming home, knowing that everything is taken care of with the house, with the girls, with our lives, because you've been here doing all the real work while I've been out staring at people's teeth all day."

The real work
.  Did he really feel that way?

"But aren't you upset?  My mom worked outside the home.  Your mom worked outside the home."

"Well, good for them," he said.  "I didn't marry them."

He hadn't.  But he'd married a nurse who had a full time job, who had career goals, who was trading it all in now.

"I... but... what?," she asked.  "You were so supportive when I said I was going to go back to work, though!"

"Rachel," he said, sighing, "it would have been fine.  We'd have worked out something for everything you'd miss around here.  Someone in to clean, someone to pick up the girls from school, eating at Grant's place more often.  It would have been okay if that's what you really wanted."

"But it wasn't what
you
wanted?," she asked.

"No," he said.  "But what kind of husband would I have been if I'd said, 'Rachel, I never want you to work another day in your life.  Let me take care of you.  Stay home, and be my everything'?
"

"The best husband ever!," she very nearly shouted.  "It would have left me feeling like it was okay to want nothing more than that!"

"Okay," he smiled.  "Then, Rachel... I never want you to work another day in your life.  Let me take care of you.  Stay home, and be my everything."

"Okay!," she said, smiling and laughing.  "That sounds so much better than going to work!"

"Good," he said.  "That's a relief to me."

"But the pool," she said, thinking of the plans they'd already been making for her salary.  "And Walt Disney World this summer --"

"Don't worry," he said.  "Grant's got a whole head full of teeth that could use root canals.  Oh, and there's no telling what Brian has going on in his mouth.  Crowns, skin grafts, excessively painful procedures... who knows?"

His smile was proof that he was kidding... hopefully.

"I love you," she said, putting her arms around him.  "I think I love you more than I did last Christmas."

"I don't even know how that's possible," he murmured against her lips.