Holiday Homecoming (10 page)

“True. I did for a while,” she admitted. “You'd be good. But aren't you happy at Hazardtown Community? It was your dream, at least at one time.”

He analyzed her words, working the muscle in his jaw. She had a job possibility in Chicago but wanted him to stay in Paradox Lake? It sounded like she didn't want him in her life outside Paradox Lake any more than she had before. His heart crashed.

“Being the pastor of Hazardtown Community was—still is—my dream job. But my contract is up in January, and I know there are still people in the congregation, on the administrative council, who don't think Jerry Donnelly's son can be an effective pastor here. As Josh says, I need to keep my options open.”
Maybe
in more ways than one
. He avoided her gaze, fearing he'd see agreement on her face.

“Claire is on the council, and Mom said she saw no problem renewing your contract. Everyone loves you,” she blurted. A pink tinge spread across her cheekbones.

He tried to ignore the heat radiating through his chest.
She isn't talking about herself
. “My friend texted me. I plan to call him back for details.”

She nodded against his shoulder. He reached and lifted her chin until she faced him, planning to reassure her that she didn't have to be embarrassed. As much as he wished otherwise, he knew what she meant.

Her eyes widened, pupils dilated. All of his feelings for Natalie, old and new, welled in him. He had no choice. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, letting his emotions overtake his reasoning. Pulling her closer, all he could think was that she tasted warm and sweet, and despite anything she might say to the contrary, was as much his as she'd ever been.

* * *

Natalie awoke for the umpteenth time, not able to get the memory of Connor's kiss out of her mind. Everything that had seemed so right last night—the closeness of sitting in the front room looking at the Christmas tree, their kiss, watching the Christmas music special together with Mom and Dad and her siblings as if he was a part of the family—seemed all wrong this morning. She pulled the covers over her head at the thought of seeing Connor at breakfast. How was she going to face him today, knowing that she couldn't be what he'd always wanted her to be? The pastor's wife. Not here, where there were no avenues for her to pursue her career. Not in the Chicago area, where her reputation could be as much an albatross to him as his father's reputation was in Paradox Lake.

She rolled off her bed and kneeled beside it.
Dear Lord
,
thank You for last night and for clearing my eyes of the mists of what could have been.
I've always known that Connor has great works he needs to do for You
,
whether they're here or elsewhere.
Please don't let me selfishly get in the way.
I
can't let him give up what he has here for the church in Chicago if it's only because of me.
She bit her lip.
I
know I'm not deserving of him or of Your forgiveness for my transgressions, which You have so lovingly given me.
Nor should I always be on the asking side when talking to You.
But please help me keep my relationship with Connor as strictly that of a good friend no matter how much I may want it
,
or Connor may think he wants it
,
to be otherwise.
In Your name
,
Amen.

There was a knock on her door, followed by her sister saying, “Hey, sleepyhead. You'd better get up or you're going to miss service.” The directive brought Natalie to her feet.

“I'm up,” she said. “I'll be right down.” Natalie dressed for church and went downstairs to join her family.

“Want me to put on a couple more pancakes?” Claire asked as she entered the kitchen. “Paul ate all the ones I cooked.”

He grinned at her as he stuffed the last bite in his face and left.

“No, thanks.” She walked to the coffeemaker. “Toast and coffee is fine.” She glanced at the table. “Where are Mom and Dad?” And Connor?

“They left a couple of minutes ago to drive Connor to the parsonage. Josh texted him last night that they got the fuel-oil truck righted and towed away without any spill, so the fire department didn't have to evacuate the area.”

Emptiness drilled through her. Of course, Connor had to go home and get ready for service. She had to get ahold of herself. Five minutes ago, she'd dreaded seeing him. Now she was disappointed because she wouldn't. “Mom and Dad are going right over to church then?” She poured her coffee and popped a couple of slices of whole wheat bread in the toaster.

Claire started the water for dishes. “Yes, I think Mom wanted to walk down the aisle to the organ before the church is too filled. It's her first Sunday back and I think she's self-conscious about using the walker.”

“That would be Mom,” Natalie said, buttering her toast and carrying her breakfast to the table.

Her sister turned off the water and warmed her cup of coffee before sitting down across from Natalie. “I'm almost glad Andie had that episode yesterday. I've been worried about her since she lost the baby.”

“I wondered if anyone else thought she was acting unlike herself or if it seemed that way to me because I don't see her all of the time like you do.”

“I mentioned it to Mom, but she said Andie would snap out of it soon. You know how Mom can be sometimes. We're all strong. We can handle our problems ourselves.”

Natalie took a bite of toast.
If only saying that made it true
.

“Well, I'm glad Andie got some help. I'm praying she follows up and sees Dr. Hanlon,” Claire said.

“Me, too. I think she will. Connor said he'd try to talk with Rob today.”

Claire clasped her hands, pointer fingers up, and aimed them at Natalie. “Speaking of Connor, you two looked pretty cozy last night.”

The bite of toast dried in her mouth, making it almost impossible to swallow.

“Ah, speechless. Does that mean that you two have resolved whatever came between you at college?”

No, and now if she didn't do something fast, both she and Connor might be running into potential disaster. Natalie made a split-second decision to confide in Claire—up to a point. “Last night was a mistake. We got caught up in nostalgia and the season. Or at least I did.”

“Are you sure? You two had something everyone thought was good and solid. We all expected him to propose that Christmas you broke up.”

Mom was the only person she'd told about Connor's proposal. “He did.”

“What?” Claire placed her coffee mug on the table with a clunk.

“I turned him down for the job in Chicago. I thought it was temporary, that we'd work things out eventually. But it got messy and we went our separate directions.”

“You broke up about work?” Claire's tone was incredulous. “I love my work at the research farm, but if I met the right man I could make adjustments.”

“And if that right man was a dairy farmer?” Natalie deflected her sister's comment by hitting on Claire's long-standing contention that she wouldn't allow herself to fall in love with a dairy farmer like their dad. She thought it was too hard of a life.

“We're not talking about me,” Claire said. “This could be your and Connor's chance to clean up the mess and have a second chance.”

Natalie moved a crumb of toast on the table with her finger. “Connor has a job offer in the Chicago area.”

“Really? I had no idea he was looking.”

“He isn't. It's from a seminary friend. And my agent called me about a possible new job there, too.”

“Perfect,” Claire said.

“No.” Natalie picked up the crumb and dropped it on her plate. “Things aren't the same for me, me and Connor, as they were before.” In her heart they weren't. Her feelings for him were even stronger now, but she didn't need to tell Claire that. “Being pastor of Hazardtown Community was, and I think still is, Connor's dream job. He never thought he'd achieve it so quickly after seminary. I'm the person who turned down his marriage proposal for the job I wanted. I couldn't ask him to give up his dream job for me. Even if I did have strong feeling for him, which I'm not saying I do,” she quickly added.

Claire quirked one side of her mouth up and knitted her brows.

“I can't say I won't take the job in Chicago again if it's offered to me.” Natalie ignored the heavy shadow of foreboding that cloaked her. “Connor's job here isn't really in danger, is it? The council will renew his contract, right?” Natalie hoped that Claire didn't read the rise in her tone as her wanting his contract to be in danger. She didn't want that, even if it would take care of her concerns about Connor choosing to accept the assistant pastor position in Chicago to be near her even if staying here in Paradox Lake was his real calling. That could only lead to him resenting her later.

“Not that I can see,” Claire said. “I've even been hearing less grumbling from Connor's die-hard opposition on the council.”

“Good.” Natalie wished she felt as enthused about that as her answer sounded.

“But...”

Natalie froze for a moment at the force of her sister's voice.

“You do know that if Connor believes Hazardtown Community is where God wants him to be, he wouldn't give up his place here for anyone or anything.”

“Autumn said something similar to me. That's good to know. I wouldn't want to come between Connor and his Lord.”

“Your Lord, too,” Claire gently reminded her. “Have you asked Him what to do?”

“Of course,” she insisted and got a skeptical look from Claire.

Natalie stood and picked up her plate to put it in the sink. “I've got to finish getting ready so we won't be late for service. Be back down in five.” That would give her time to do her makeup and hair. And it would give her a moment to ask God to forgive her for misleading Claire about her true feelings for Connor. But regardless of her feelings, it was best if she and Connor went their separate ways again after the pageant. Wasn't it? Any feelings Connor might think he had for her were for the girl she'd been, and he'd find out soon enough if he came with her to Chicago that she wasn't that girl anymore. She wouldn't make a mess of his life as she had with her own. All she had to do was keep her feelings hidden for a couple more weeks.

Chapter Nine

“W
hen you see Connor tonight, be sure to tell him again how much I liked his sermon on Sunday.” Natalie's mother sat at the kitchen table keeping her company as she finished putting the Tuesday supper plates in the dishwasher.

Natalie closed the dishwasher door, dried her hands and folded the dish towel on the counter before pressing the start button. She listened to it whir to life. Connor had preached about rejoicing in the moments of joy in life and called on all of them to take time this week to discover and celebrate those times. He'd urged them to write down one time during each day that they felt God with them, saying that true joy comes from a security with God—a security that was evident in his passion for the subject and the very way he held himself out to others. Natalie had been hard-pressed to catch even a thread of that security in herself or her life. She'd tried to find times yesterday that she'd felt God with her and had failed. One more thing she and Connor didn't have in common, more ammunition she could use against the pull he exerted on her.

She turned from the counter. “All done.” She held her hand out to help her mother from the chair.

Her mother hesitated before taking it. “I'm getting tired of being dependent on everyone.”

“Try not to let it bother you. You're doing really well and it's only for a short time.” Her throat clogged.
Like the time I have left with you all and Connor
.

Her mother took her hand and pressed her other palm on to the table for support as she rose to her feet. “I talked with Andie today. She said to let you know she's not coming to practice.”

Natalie handed her mother her cane. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. Just tired. She said she and Rob got tickets to take Robbie on the Polar Express train ride next Saturday. They wouldn't have spent the money if she didn't feel up to it. Remember the year we took all of you? Renee and Paul couldn't have been more than three.”

“Yes. I was in kindergarten. I couldn't wait to talk about it at show-and-tell. It didn't matter that two other kids before me told the same story.”

“All of you kids loved Christmas, but I think you loved it most.”

Natalie winced. She had until her Christmas breakup with Connor. After that, all of the light had gone out of the season—literally, when she'd taken down her tree and packed the ornaments, including the star, away for good. She'd attended Advent and Christmas services and dutifully sent off gifts to her parents, siblings, nieces and nephew. But she hadn't put up a tree again. Nor had she embraced the joy of the season, of celebrating Christ's birth and the light He brought the world. Talking and being with Connor Saturday night had broken through some of her Christmas darkness, as had his sermon, despite her having trouble applying his words to herself.

“I did—do—love Christmas. Being here with you and Dad and everyone this year is bringing that love back.”

“I'm glad for that and for you coming to help me and for what you did for Andie. We were too close to her. We didn't see it coming.”

“What I did wasn't that big a deal.”

“No, what you did was something big, maybe life-changing. After work today, she stopped in at the community college and picked up some information about their degree in early childhood education. She used to talk about going to college when the kids were all in school. Then, somewhere along the way, she stopped talking about it. Robbie will be in kindergarten in the fall.”

Natalie nodded. Her mother's words warmed her, but she couldn't take full credit. She'd drawn her strength to help Andie from Connor. “Connor being there, too, helped a lot.”

“I'm sure it was a blessing having him there for you...” Her mother's voice trailed off.

Natalie silently added the missing words
like he used to be.
And, as she'd once thought he'd always be.

“I hope Andie seriously considers taking classes. Working with kids at the church day-care center or as an aide at the elementary school would fit Andie a lot better than her job at the sporting goods store.” She hated to admit it, but she was a little jealous of Andie, that she had been able to follow her love for Rob without feeling constrained by a career. Andie was only thirty-two. She could easily pursue a teaching career now, with Rob's support, Natalie was sure. Even Claire, with her soon-to-be-finished advanced degree and job that she loved, sounded like she'd be able to compromise, balance her personal life and work if the right man came along. What was wrong with her? Why did her life seem like an all-or-nothing choice? Or was this God's way of telling her Connor wasn't the man for her?

“Have you heard any more about the job you got the call about last week?” her mother asked.

Natalie shook her head, as much to clear her thoughts as in answer to her mother's question. “My guess is that my agent found out about it too late and the audition slots were already filled.” The acknowledgment that she didn't have any job to go back to after Mom recovered opened a void in her—a void she wasn't sure even a callback from her agent could fill.

He mother squeezed her hand. “You can stay here as long as you like. Maybe you should check in with some of the TV stations in Albany after the first of the year. I know it's your life, but I'd like it if you were closer.”

“That's an idea,” she said, half to humor her mother and half because she wouldn't mind being closer to her family.
Or to Connor
, a voice in her head said. If she lived closer and neither of them had to choose between their work and a relationship... She stopped her thoughts with a frown.

“Maybe not a good idea?” her mother asked.

Natalie wasn't sure what her mother was getting at.

“Your frown,” she prompted.

“Sorry. I was thinking about something else. I'll have my agent put out some feelers in Albany.”

She helped her mother sit on the living room couch next to her dad, who draped his arm around her, reminding Natalie of her and Connor the other night.

Stepping away, she opened the closet and took out her coat. “I'd better get to practice.” She pulled on her coat, said, “Goodbye” and walked out into the wintry night. Maybe the cold air would clear her muddled mind. If she and Connor had any possibility of a real relationship, she wouldn't be considering how the relationship affected her career. Would she? Her mind filled with more questions she couldn't answer. Was that her excuse for not giving in to her true feelings? Was she purposely not listening to what God was telling her because she wanted to hear something different? Or was she just plain overthinking things? Her emotions were too raw and jumbled to know.

As she drove to Sonrise, she prayed for direction for her and Connor. The last thing she wanted to do was to mislead him again.

* * *

Connor turned off the light to his church office and closed and locked the door, working hard to throw off the rub of irritation he felt. He should have been at pageant practice forty-five minutes ago. As he'd been getting ready to leave, one of his parishioners had showed up with a “crisis.” The crisis being he was lonely. The man was a recovering alcoholic whose wife had left him earlier in the year before he'd gone into recovery and whose children were reluctant to accept that he'd changed. He was afraid he'd be alone for the holidays.

Connor ran his hand over his hair before he yanked on his ski cap. He usually was patient with the man, and he'd tried to reassure him that he had his Savior and his church family at Hazardtown Community. He'd invited the man to the open house at the parsonage next Sunday. But despite his training and best intentions, as the man droned on, Connor couldn't keep his personal thoughts out of his head. The man had brought his loneliness on himself. He could sympathize with the man's children. He'd have a hard time accepting his father, if he was still alive, as sober. Thoughts of his mother and father reminded Connor that sometimes people who thought they were in love just weren't really suited for each other. As much as he believed in the sanctity of the marriage vow, he wouldn't wish his father back into his mother's life.

After the man left, Connor prayed for forgiveness for focusing on himself and becoming impatient with him. Rather than the peace he'd expected his prayer to bring, a chill ran through Connor that had nothing to do with his frigid car. But he and Natalie
were
right for each other, he argued with himself. They always had been and could have been together the past few years if they hadn't both acted like pigheaded children back in college. Saturday had proven that to him, proven it so much that he'd emailed his seminary friend Sunday afternoon to say he might be interested in the assistant pastor position. He and Natalie had their differences, but he was confident they could work them out.

More than an hour later than he'd intended, Connor pulled open the door to the Sonrise Conference Center. He whistled to the strains filtering from the auditorium. They stopped as he stepped in.

“Connor,” Jared called from up front near the piano. “We just finished. We'd given up on you.”

Jared's cheerful dismissal rubbed him the wrong way as much as his parishioner who'd needed him too much. Connor gauged his stride so he didn't appear to be rushing down to take over from Jared, which is exactly what he felt like doing. He smiled hello to Natalie before facing the choir.

“Sorry, I was delayed. Remember, next Tuesday is dress rehearsal with Becca and the Sunday school kids.”

“Covered that,” Jared said.

Connor went on anyway. “We'll be meeting an hour earlier, at six, so we won't keep the kids out too late.”

“That, too.” Jared folded his arms across his chest.

Natalie released a noise that sounded like a cross between a giggle and a choke.

He and Jared
were
acting on the juvenile side, Connor conceded. He'd be the bigger man. He should be thankful his brother had given Natalie a hand. “And I suppose you all know that, if you can't make the earlier time, let me know and come when you can.”

“I hadn't gotten to that.” Jared grinned.

“We'll see everyone next Tuesday at six, then.”

The choir members filed down from the stage risers, with several people stopping to tell Connor they'd be late for the next practice. He assured them it wasn't a problem. He understood work and family commitments came first.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie gather her music and push back the piano bench.

“If you can stay a few minutes, we should run through our solo once. This coming week is full and we may not get a chance to before dress rehearsal.”

“Covered you there, too,” Jared said. “And we sounded good together. Maybe I should have taken the part.”

He'd been so focused on Natalie and getting her to stay he hadn't realized Jared was still there. “Don't you need to be getting home?”

“I'm waiting for Josh. He's finishing up the sets.”

Wait somewhere else
. He glared at Jared.

“Lighten up, bro,” Jared said. “I was just busting on you.”

“Right.” He attempted a conciliatory smile. “The counseling session that delayed me was a tough one.” It was easier to blame his tension on his parishioner than to admit, even to himself, that Natalie had him so tied up he was jealous of his brother, his very married brother, spending Connor's time with her.

“You have keys to lock up, so you two can stay and
sing
to your heart's delight.”

Connor laughed, letting off more tension. The way Jared had wiggled his eyebrow was as corny as his words.

“Later,” Jared said before strolling up the aisle to the door.

“Brothers,” Natalie said.

“That's right. You have a couple of them, too.” He leaned against the piano.

She adjusted the piano bench and reopened the sheet music. “Ready?” Her smile hit him in the solar plexus like a hard right. He was ready, all right. Ready to share a whole lot more with her than a song. All he needed was to determine if she was, too, before he made a fool of himself again.

* * *

Connor's voice blending with hers filled the void inside her like water quenching a powerful thirst. She started her last solo verse with a slight quaver in her voice that made Connor cock his head. She rechanneled the emotion welling in her into the song.

He whistled a cheer when she finished, the sound sending a jolt through her. What she was feeling at the moment went far beyond the friendship she was determined to limit their relationship to.

“You are good,” he said.

“You aren't bad yourself.” She fumbled with the music, knowing her comment went far beyond his singing.

“Better than Jared?”

She slapped his arm with the folded music. “You're incorrigible.”

“I'm not sure that's a quality a pastor should aspire to, but from you, I'll take it as a compliment.”

His eyes softened as he offered her his hand. He closed it possessively around hers and pulled her gently to her feet. He was going to kiss her again, and she was powerless to stop him, despite her determination to discourage anything beyond friendship between them. Connor placed his hands on her hips, lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. As if of their own accord, her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him in a way that was anything but friendlike. Connor pulled her closer and the word
lifeline
blared in her head. She should stop him, but she couldn't pull away.

“Natalie, I...” he murmured against her lips.

She pulled back and touched her finger to his lips to stop him from finishing. “We need to talk.” The sense of loss that followed was overwhelming. Why couldn't she just accept what Connor's kiss was offering her?

“We do.” His voice was husky.