Holiday Homecoming (12 page)

The strangled look on Natalie's face made Connor eager to hear more.

“I'm not going to tell you what we said because it was just for us girls.”

Connor saw the relief spread through Natalie, making him even more curious. “Drew just called for everyone to organize into their car-pool groups.”

“We're supposed to ride in the van. Robbie's car seat is over by the door.”

“Us, too. Jared dropped off Hope's seat here before he brought her over,” Connor said, deciding to offer to drive them instead. “But I—”

“Hey, Connor,” Drew called as he strode across the room. “Can you drive yourself and a couple other people?” He eyed Natalie and Robbie, smiling. “We seem to have more people going than we have room for in the van and cars.”

“No problem. The four of us were all going to ride in the church van. Does that give you enough seats? I could fit one more person.”

“No,” Drew said, “that'll do it. Thanks.” He went back to organizing the others.

“Looks like I will be driving, Robbie.”

Natalie shot him a questioning look.

“Robbie was concerned everyone was going to leave and you don't have a car.” It struck Connor that he'd totally acted for Natalie without asking her first. “You don't mind riding with us, do you?”

“No, of course not,” she answered so quickly that he couldn't tell if he'd irritated her by not asking first or if she wanted to ride with them.

“I've got to run back to the parsonage and get the car. Hope and I walked over.”

“Okay.”

“Hope, you stay with Natalie. I'll be right back.”

The little girl nodded.

Connor couldn't help strutting across the hall. Without looking, he knew that Natalie was watching him. He whistled Christmas carols while he jogged back to the parsonage.

The hour drive to Saratoga Springs flew by, with the kids' excitement escalating the closer they got.

“I hope we get to sit with you, Natalie,” Hope said as they entered the train depot and found the rest of the group. “We have assigned seats, like at school.” The little girl craned her neck to look around. “I don't see any of my other friends here.”

“I'd like that, too,” Natalie said. “I don't see any of my close friends either.”

“Except Connor,” Hope said.

Connor's ears perked up.
Maybe that's what the two of them had been talking about at the church hall
—
Natalie and me being friends
. Seemed like a good sign to him. Maybe if they weren't officially seated together, he could get Natalie and Robbie's seatmates to switch with him and Hope. He glanced at Natalie. But this time he'd ask first.

“Nat.” He motioned to her. She stepped closer, cocking her head. “Would you mind if I tried to change our seating so you and Robbie are seated with us? Everyone is in groups of four. For Hope,” he added. “She seems to have warmed to you. She doesn't to everyone.”

“I guess. I wouldn't want to upset her like I did at the parsonage decorating.”

Not exactly the resounding yes he'd like, but he'd take it. “I'll talk with Drew and find out who's seated where. You'll keep an eye on Hope?”

Natalie nodded.

“Hope.” It took the little girl a moment to realize Connor was talking to her.

“Everything here is so pretty,” she said.

“It is. I need to go talk with Mr. Stacey. Natalie will stay here with you.”

“Okay.” Her gaze went back to the glittery Christmas decorations.

He wove his way across the depot to where the Staceys were standing. “Drew, I need a favor.”

“Let me guess,” his wife, Emily, said. “You and Natalie want to sit together. I've been watching the two of you,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.

He couldn't escape it. For a fleeting moment, he was ready to text his friend that he would take the assistant pastor job in Chicago. It would be refreshing to serve somewhere where everyone didn't know all his business, past and present.

“It's for Hope. She'd like Natalie to sit with us.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Emily said.

Connor looked at Drew for help.

“I can't do anything with her,” he said. “But I can see who's lined up to sit with Natalie and Robbie.” Drew glanced down at the paper he held. “It's Neal and Ian.”

Emily grinned at the mention of her older brother and nephew.

“No problem,” Drew said. “Not only am I doing you a favor, but this will get me points with my mother-in-law, too.”

“Yeah,” Emily added. “After practice last Tuesday, Mom was saying how you and Natalie make a cute couple.”

Connor groaned.
Mary Hazard
,
too?
He could make a lot of his parishioners happy if he could convince Natalie to give things another go. But they wouldn't be his parishioners anymore if he took the Chicago job. He dismissed the pall that thought cast. “I owe you, Drew.”

“And I'll remember that when we're opening camp next summer. I'm sure I can find something for you to lend a hand with.”

If he was here next summer.

“Here are the seat numbers for you and Natalie and the kids.”

Him and Natalie and the kids. Drew's words hit Connor in a spot inside him that he'd kept closed off. The spot that used to house his dreams of having a life, a family with Natalie.

“When they call us to board the train, you can go ahead without checking in with me.”

“Good, and thanks.” Connor returned to Natalie.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

Connor softened his expression. “No. I was checking things with Drew. He gave me our seat numbers.”

“Who are we sitting with?” Hope asked.

“Natalie and Robbie. Just like you wanted.”

“Goody,” she said.

“That wouldn't happen to have anything to do with what you had to check with Drew?” Natalie asked with a knowing smile.

“It turns out Hope and me changing seats helps Drew out, too.”

“How's that?”

The playful tone of Natalie's question took him back to earlier times, when they were completely comfortable with each other.

“Now I owe him a favor that he's promised to call in when it's time to open Sonrise camp for next year's summer season.”

Her smile dipped. Was she thinking about her not being in Paradox Lake next summer or him still being here?

“All aboard,” a deep voice blasted across the depot. “All board for the Polar Express.”

“It's time to go.” Hope jumped up and down next to him.

“Come on, Aunt Natalie,” Robbie said, grabbing her hand.

Connor took Hope's hand and placed his other hand on the small of Natalie's back to guide the group out of the depot to the waiting train. Next summer was months away. For now, he wasn't going to worry about the future, just take joy in being with Natalie today.

When they reached the train, he dropped his hand and let Robbie and Natalie board ahead of him and Hope. Stepping up into the train, Natalie looked back over her shoulder. She gave him a smile that rivaled the kids' grins in pure happiness and filled him with hope. Nothing that felt this strong and right could be all one-sided. He lifted Hope onto the train step and bounded up after her. This time he wasn't going to let geography, Natalie's doubts about herself and her life, or anything else get in the way of them having a life together.

Chapter Eleven

N
atalie punched her pillow, rolled over for what seemed like the hundredth time and tried to go back to sleep. She'd let down her guard with Connor and the kids yesterday, ignoring her intention to keep him at a distance so he wouldn't read more in to their relationship than friendship. The minute she closed her eyes, her head filled with pictures of him smiling and laughing, remembrances of his every random touch, the caring way he'd treated her.

She feared she'd led him on as she had in college, let him think they had the future they were playing at yesterday with Hope and Robbie. What else could he think? She'd gotten caught up in the moment and the Christmas spirit. She'd even agreed to help him host the open house at the parsonage today.

She tossed over again. No, she hadn't led Connor on. She'd simply given up keeping her feelings bottled inside. When those feelings had escaped, all the barriers she'd put up to keep Connor at a distance had crumbled. She had to accept the truth. She was in love with him. Not the childish love of their high school years or even what she'd felt for him in college. An all-out “we're in this for life” love. And she had no idea what she was going to do about it. With her self-admission, Natalie fell back into a deeper sleep for a couple of hours until the jingle of a bell in the hall woke her again. Robbie and the bell he'd gotten on the Polar Express ride. She glanced at the clock. Six forty-five.

Natalie jumped out of bed. She hadn't heard Dad and Paul get up to do chores. She threw on a robe and slippers and covered the steps to the door in three seconds, hoping to stop Robbie before he woke up her mother. That is, if her mother hadn't already gotten up to make Dad and Paul breakfast.

“Hi, Aunt Natalie,” Robbie said when she cracked the door open. “I'm being a Christmas alarm clock.”

“And doing a great job of it. But let's let Grandma and Aunt Claire sleep a while longer.” She scooted the little boy downstairs to the kitchen, where she found a lukewarm pot of coffee sitting in the coffeemaker and two mugs in the sink, but no other dishes. The guys must have gone out to do chores without breakfast.

“What do you say we make everybody chocolate-chip pancakes for breakfast? Grandpa and Uncle Paul will be hungry when they get in from chores.”

“Goody. I can help?”

“Of course.” Natalie moved the stepping stool over to the kitchen counter from its place next to the broom closet.

“Mommy lets me help her, even though Aimee and Amelia say I'm too little.”

Natalie gave Robbie a cup of flour to pour into the bowl. “I know how that is. Your mommy and Uncle Marc and Aunt Claire are all older than I am, and they used to say the same thing.”

“When I'm big, I'm going to help Daddy with the cows like Uncle Paul does. I only get to help feed the baby cows sometimes.” He turned his big brown eyes to Natalie, his mouth set in a serious expression. “Can I tell you a secret?”

She regrasped the milk carton so it wouldn't slip out of her hand, not sure she wanted to know any more of Robbie's family's secrets.

The little boy didn't wait for her to answer. “I'm kind of afraid of the big cows. You won't tell my sisters, will you?”

“Never.”

“My mommy is afraid of mice, so I can't get a gerbil, but Daddy isn't afraid of anything.”

Natalie poured the milk into the bowl. She knew better than to counter her nephew on that one, although she knew her brother-in-law had been frightened by Andie's anxiety attack. “Do you want to stir?”

“Yep.” He took the wooden spoon and swirled the ingredients together. “Are you afraid of anything?”

Aside from the strength of her love for Connor and making another mistake with him? She cleared her throat. “I'm afraid of driving on snowy roads.”

“Then it's a good thing we went to the Polar Express with Pastor Connor. 'Cause the roads were snowy when he drove us home.”

“Yes, they were. I'm glad he drove us, too.”
And glad I got to spend the day with him and that he's come back into my life and that God seems to be showing me we can have a future
.

Robbie gave the pancake batter another swirl. “I think it's time for chocolate chips.”

“You're right. Good job.” She handed him the open bag of chocolate chips.

He dumped them in and stirred, his expression turning thoughtful. “Is Pastor Connor your boyfriend? He was holding your hand when we got off the Polar Express. Amelia holds hands with her boyfriend. I've seen them in the hall at Sunday school.”

Natalie choked.

“Aimee and Amelia said Pastor Connor likes you. You should ask him to be your boyfriend. That's what Amelia did.”

“Good call, sport.”

Natalie spun around to see Claire in the kitchen doorway. She walked over and ruffled their nephew's hair.

“So, Nat, what do you say? You going to do it?”

Natalie's heart pounded at the thought. But, yes, she'd do it. Ask him
something
like that. Today. At the open house.

* * *

Her determination had waned by that afternoon, when she pulled her father's truck into Connor's empty driveway. Her parents would be coming later with Claire in her car. Although the open house wouldn't start for almost an hour, she'd expected some of the church women to be here setting up. She checked the dashboard clock. Connor had pulled her aside at coffee hour after church and asked her to come over about one. It was five after.

When she stepped out of the truck, the north wind stung her cheeks and legs. Her leather boots slipped on the icy driveway. What had possessed her to wear them and a dress, instead of her Columbia snow boots and wool slacks or jeans? Vanity, pure and simple. She knew the dress flattered her, and the boots were a confidence booster. She'd worn them on all her successful job interviews. But the open house wasn't exactly a job interview. It wasn't as if she was applying to be the pastor's wife.

She shook that whole silly line of thought out of her head as she minced her way to the front door, where Connor was waiting. Anxious to see her? Nervous about the open house? She scanned his handsome face. He appeared as relaxed as can be. A gentle smile curved his lips.

“Hey,” he said, holding the door open for her. “I'm glad you're here.”

She stomped the snow off her boots, hoping he'd see the pink on her cheeks as windburn and not warmth from his welcome.

“Karen Hill and the other women dropped off all the food after church. I told them I could handle the setup. But there are some appetizer things that need to be cooked in the oven. I'm basically a microwave type of guy, and there's a note on them that says don't microwave.”

The bubble of warmth surrounding her deflated. He was glad to see her for her help.

“Hand me your coat, and I'll hang it up.”

As she unbuttoned her coat, she ran her gaze over him, rethinking her clothing choice. Connor was dressed much more casually than she was in well-washed jeans and a red bulky-knit cotton sweater that fell softly from his broad shoulders. An advertisement for a man comfortable entertaining at home. Except the way he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet gave him away.

He hung her coat in the entryway closet and motioned to a coatrack to the right side of the door. “I brought the rack over from the church for the guests' coats.”

Natalie squelched an urge to hug herself. It was no big deal that he'd put her coat in his closet, rather than hanging it on the rack. He probably wanted to make more room for the guests' coats.

“Now, I need you in the kitchen, woman.” Connor walked her through the living room.

She stopped in front of the Christmas tree, her throat clogging. “You put the star on top.”

“Yes, I did. Hope helped me after we got back yesterday.”

Natalie blinked her eyes against the blurred colors of the tree lights. Had Connor felt the same change in their relationship yesterday that she had?

“I like it,” she said.

Connor grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the dining room. “You'll have lots of time to admire the tree later when everyone is here. For now, we have some cooking to do in the kitchen.”

“Lead on.” She entwined her fingers in his, enjoying the quirk of a smile she received when she did.

After she'd put the mini quiche appetizers in the oven and set the stove timer, she and Connor got to work placing the donated food on the dining room table and sideboard.

“Hey,” she said, slapping Connor's hand after he'd snatched a third snickerdoodle from the generous platter of cookies Autumn's grandmother had made. “Save some of those for the guests. If you sample this much at all of the church functions, you'll weigh three hundred pounds by the time you've been here five years.”

His eyes darkened with emotion. The shadow of the thought that he might not be here, where he was so obviously happy and comfortable, in five years? Maybe not be here because of her? She touched her fingertips to her lips. But Claire and Autumn had both insisted Connor wouldn't take the position in Chicago or do anything else he didn't want to do. Her chest tightened. Did they know him better than she did now?

He patted his almost-concave stomach. “Not a chance. I have good metabolism and a membership at the gym in Ticonderoga.”

“Eek!” Something brushed against Natalie's ankle, breaking her focus on Connor.

“You don't believe me?” Connor teased.

“No,” she answered, hopping on one foot. “There's something under the table.”

He lifted the tablecloth and bent over, his sweater stretching across his broad back. When he stood, he held a snarling, hissing, half-grown, orange-striped cat.

“You have a cat,” she said, stating the obvious.

He held the animal away from him. “Yes and no. It's more like the cat has me.”

She laughed. “That's usually the case with cats.”

Apparently reconsidering the situation, the cat rubbed his ear against Connor's arm. He drew it closer and tentatively petted it. “It's a stray that's been hanging out in the garage off and on for the past couple of weeks. I've been leaving out food, trying to catch it so I can take it to the shelter, in case someone is looking for him...her. It must have come in when people were bringing the food in after church,”

“Friendly little guy,” Natalie said, reaching toward the feline.

The cat stopped its purring, raised a paw, claws out, and hissed.

“It has to be a girl,” Natalie said, snatching her hand back.

The cat backed off and rubbed Connor's arm again for more petting.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“She's jealous and protecting her ownership.”
Just as I would
, Natalie realized, the thought bringing back the resolution she'd made after talking with Robbie and Claire this morning to let Connor know her feelings.

“So, you're jealous, are you, little one?” Connor said in a rumbly voice that released a flock of butterflies inside her. She shifted her gaze from the cat to Connor's face and caught a teasing sparkle in his eyes. Did he remember what that voice did to her?

The stove timer sounded.

“The mini quiches are done.” She brushed by Connor and the cat to get them. As Natalie bent over the open oven door, she heard his footsteps behind her. She stood there for a few extra moments, letting the heat rise, hoping Connor would attribute the flush on her face to the warm kitchen air. She hadn't blushed this much since middle school. Natalie lifted the cookie sheet to the stove top and grabbed the spatula hanging on the wall behind the stove. “Do you have a platter I could put them on?”

He reached over her shoulder and opened the upper cupboard next to the stove. “Like this?” he asked, looking pleased with himself as he placed a large floral-patterned plate on the counter.

“Perfect.” She began moving the appetizers from the pan to the plate and stopped. She looked around the kitchen. “Where's the kitten?”

“I left her in the living room.”

“Do you think that's safe?” She turned to face him and caught his gaze fixed on her, a soft gleam in his eyes. When had he moved so close?

“About as safe as I am here alone with you.” Connor lifted the spatula from her hand, placed it next to the platter and pushed a stray curl off her cheek. He lowered his face to hers.

The front door opened and slammed shut to the tune of multiple footsteps. “Hey, Ginger, get down or you'll knock the star off the tree.” Hope's words shot through Natalie. She started to jump back, but Connor's strong arms stopped her, pulling her away from the stove and back toward him.

“The hot stove,” he said.

The oven was closed and not hot enough to be a danger, but Natalie gave herself a moment to enjoy being in his embrace. “We'd better get into the other room.”

“Yeah.” He slowly disengaged his arms.

The kitchen door swung in and Hope raced over. “Connor, you have to come. Your kitty climbed the tree and is trying to knock the star off.”

“My kitty?”

“Yes, the one you said is a stray that you put food out in the garage for. When I come over, I've been teaching her not to be afraid to come in the house. I know having a new family can be scary.”

Natalie teared up a little at Hope's serious tone and expression.

“I named her Ginger. I thought she could be my Christmas present to you. Then you wouldn't be alone here all of the time, except when I come for sleepovers.”

Connor exchanged a glance with Natalie; the soft look on his face for his sister made Natalie's limbs melt. She had to tell him how she felt before she left today.

They followed the little girl into the other room, where Jared was attempting to separate the cat from the Christmas tree branches. “Ouch.” The cat scratched the top of his hand and he dropped her to the floor. “Where did you get that little spitfire?”