Christmas Surprises (5 page)

She had been.  And Natalie had been so overcome, learning that love didn't have to be spread thin to include more children. 

It just multiplied.

The same was true for Brian, who didn't take away from Chris's memory or the happiness she'd had with him.  He only added to it, bringing his own past with him as well, both of them confirming, even in their grief and their new happiness... well, that Lisa would have liked Natalie and Chris would have been Brian's friend.

It had been easy to love him.  There was no guilt in the way it had progressed from that night on, as Brian had done it right, treating her like a real lady when she'd all but forgotten that she was a normal woman, needing affirmation that she was beautiful, that she could be appreciated for who she was, and that she could be desirable.  Dates the likes of which she and Chris had never had as poor college students and quiet nights at home between two grownups who were comfortable in their own skin, having had a lifetime each to become who they were. 

She knew him.  Really knew him, even after such a short while.  So, there had been no second guessing when he'd gotten down on one knee, told her that she'd been a happiness he hadn't expected, and asked her to marry him.

No second guessing until now as they drove towards Micah's house that afternoon.  Not for her decision and her life but for how she was sharing it with her kids.

"Whoa," Brian breathed, the house in view now.  "Your son's house is huge."

"He and Rachel have enough room for Joy and Taylor to live with them," she said, thinking about this part of Micah, this generous, protective side of him.  Surely he would be just as gracious and benevolent with her guest, right?  "And he does really well with his practice.  New patients all the time.  Do you need a dentist?"

Brian grinned over at her.  "Let me meet him first and feel out the mood before I sign myself up for that, okay?"

She grinned at this as well.  "He's a good guy," she murmured.  "Loves Jesus.  Loves his family."

"Loves his mother," Brian said.  "Loved his father, too."

Yes.  This is what she was worried about.  Brian understood it, though.

He understood it all.

Which is why he continued smiling, even as she slipped the engagement ring off her finger, put it back in the box it had come in, and tucked it away in her purse. 

One thing at a time.  But she resolved that her kids would know it all by the time she left today.

"You ready?," Brian asked.

And even though they were in view of the house, she couldn't stop herself from leaning over, kissing him again, and saying, "Sure am."

Madison

Micah and Rachel's house was beautiful, of course.

Even as Maddie sat on the floor next to the Christmas tree and played another round of Candyland with her nieces, she glanced around, marveling at how exquisite this home was.  It was a lot like the home she'd owned back before when she'd been making a living on her writing, selling books that she'd be ashamed for her nieces to ever read.  The house that she'd lived in then had vaulted ceilings like this house, wide open rooms just like it, and so much space. 

But her home hadn't really felt like home.  Cold, unfeeling, and lonely.  That's what it had been.  That's what all of her life had been like before Grant, before his friendship, before God changed everything and brought her back to where she was meant to be.  She'd sold the house and traded the life for God's best, and Grant had been part of the deal, a ring on her finger, purer fiction to write, a tiny apartment above Grant's restaurant to live in, and now, a child in her womb.

She thought about space the more she grew with life.  And she was appreciative of Rachel's house and all the space it offered, much like her old house.  This one wasn't impersonal, though.  Rachel and Micah were so happy that even the grandeur of their home couldn't feel cold or distant, not when they were constantly welcoming people in and being so warm and kind.

"Aunt Maddie," Mia said, grinning up at her.  "It's your turn."

"Oh, that's right," Maddie said, smiling over at the small girl.  "I got distracted."  Even as she said it, she leaned across the floor to take a card, and her bulging midsection knocked over all three pieces on the board.

Yes.  Already, her pregnancy was making her clumsy, and the evidence of it was stretching all of her shirts thin.  She wasn't even that far along, but she was tiny enough before that any change now was huge.

She could well remember just a couple of months into the pregnancy, how she'd been in the bathroom, stepping around Grant as he brushed his teeth, both of them crowding into a space that could only fit one person comfortably, just as they had been all the days of their young marriage.  Those early marriage traffic jams in the bathroom, with her fresh out of the shower, had always ended spectacularly, with Grant watching her quietly for a while as she ducked past him to try and get her clothes, then with Grant tossing away his toothbrush, picking her right up into his arms as she laughed at him, as he laid her down, as --

Her mind had been on that, of all things, that morning as Grant had brushed his teeth.  There hadn't been much of him grabbing her up and laying her down anymore, thanks to the morning sickness, which was bad, and the restaurant, which was even busier than normal.  All of that had taken a backseat to life and her husband's busy schedule, and as she'd begun to get past the worst of the sickness, she'd found herself missing Grant in more than one way.  So much so that she hadn't even pretended to care about modesty, dropping her towel as soon as she left the shower, hoping to grab his attention like she'd been so skilled at doing not so long ago.

She'd gotten his attention, all right.  He'd been standing there at the sink in his boxers and a T shirt, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and toothpaste foam lining his lips, staring at her body like he'd never seen her.

Well, it
had
been a while, honestly.

She'd prepared herself for the most amazing morning to end the most horrible drought, turning to face Grant with a smile and a simple question.  "What?"

He'd taken the toothbrush out then wiped his mouth on a towel.  "You're already showing."

She hadn't noticed until then, quite honestly.  She'd lost weight, as sick as she was, and hadn't felt like looking at herself in the mirror long enough to even put on makeup, much less to mark her progress in this horrible, vomit-filled wonder called gestation.

But she'd seen the horror in Grant's eyes and had chanced a look in the mirror. 

Well, then.

It clearly wasn't the same body Grant had desired for so long and so often.  Not the body of a woman who would even welcome his advances had he still had any desire left. 

Frail.  Thinner than she'd ever been.  And there it had been, a grotesque bulging that looked wrong somehow on her tiny frame.

"Maddie," Grant had murmured, coming to her.  For a split second, she'd thought that maybe his mood was changing with the way he was looking at her with something so deep in his eyes --

"I can see your ribs," he'd said, putting his hand right to them.  "I can literally count your ribs!"

Skeletal.  The word had come to mind.  She'd had issues with that kind of thing before, with wasting away, with trying to be as tiny as possible, to protect herself, to be someone else.  But this?  Wasn't anything but morning sickness, gone now, likely soon to be replaced with pounds and cravings and roundness.

"Have you been eating anything?," Grant had asked, concern in his eyes, suspicion in his tone.

He knew her issues, of course.  Which made it even more grating that he'd approach the topic this way, with her standing there completely bared to him.

"I've been doing my best," she'd said.  "I've been sick.  Morning sickness.  You know that."

"You've got to eat, Maddie," he'd said again, his hand to her baby bump.  "I mean, look at you."

His touch.  Missed for so long but not welcomed then, because it hadn't been about her.  It had been about the baby.

"You've got to take care of yourself for the baby's sake," he'd said, turning away from her, leaving her there wanting him less and less with every word he continued to say. 

"I'm eating," she'd said, thinking that it was just going to get better and better now that she wasn't going to be sick as much, past the first trimester.

"And you will today," he'd said, squeezing past her and making his way to their bedroom... which was only two steps away. 

Tight quarters, tight words, tight emotions. 

She'd picked up her towel and wrapped it around her body, her plans for the morning changing.  "I know," she'd said, still thinking that the day could be salvaged.  He'd taken the morning off to go and look at things for the baby.  Who knew where they were going to put anything?  She didn't care.  She'd just wanted the morning with him, away from the restaurant.  "What's the plan?"

"The plan," he'd said, pulling on a pair of jeans, "is that I'm going down to the kitchen to make you something to eat."

"The kitchen," she'd breathed, knowing that once he got down there to the restaurant's kitchen he'd find some catastrophe that only he could handle, some problem that only he could solve, some issue that couldn't be dealt with later.  "But Grant --"

"You're going to gain weight, Maddie," he'd said, looking up at her from where he'd been putting on his sneakers.  "That's just a fact of life, so you need to get over yourself."

Seriously.  Had she said anything like that?  Had he not heard anything she'd said?  Had he not been here when she'd been throwing up everything she'd ever eaten over the last fourteen weeks?

No.  No, he hadn't been there.  He'd been downstairs at the restaurant.

She'd felt like screaming, and she would have... but she'd thought about her mother.  Her mother, screeching at her father like she always had, until he'd gotten up, gone away, and left them all.

Most children of divorce, of bitter, hard divorces, can probably still figure out how to rise above their parents' history and function well in a healthy, stable relationship.  Those who are in Christ and are new creations are even better equipped to do this, likely, knowing that Jesus has healed them not only from their childhood wounds but from the lasting effects.

Most children, that is.

But Maddie wasn't most. 

Marriage had been like this.  Happy, of course, but hard.  Because when it came to wrongdoing or anything even remotely resembling it on Grant's behalf, Maddie kept her mouth shut, often to her detriment and his both, simply because she didn't want to be like her mother and didn't want her marriage to end like her parents' marriage had.

So, she didn't say a word.

No word except "okay," absolving Grant from everything he could ever do wrong.

"Besides," he'd said, standing and running his hand through his hair, his eyes never meeting hers even as he made his way to the door, "you're beautiful just like you are.  No matter what."

She might have believed him if he'd looked at her when he said it, but he'd not even glanced her way. 

He'd already been gone.

"Aunt Maddie, you moved all the pieces!"

That's right.  Candyland.  Her nieces.  Rachel's gorgeous house.  Grant already making dinner in the immaculate kitchen.  Micah, Rachel, Taylor, and Joy acting all secretive, going back and forth from the east wing on the house, the suite back there that was twice the size of the room she and Grant shared above the restaurant.

"The baby wants to play, too," Zoe laughed at her twin as she giggled while putting the pieces back in place.  "I'll bet the baby will love Candyland as much as we do."