Holiday Homecoming (2 page)

Natalie bit her lip. She'd applied to Eastman to appease her mother, not because she'd wanted to pursue a music career. Music was something she did for fun. Unlike her career, music had always given her joy.

Someone started clapping and the whole group joined in. Natalie nodded her thanks. There was no way she could back out now.

“I know I asked you to line up according to your voice type, but for Natalie's benefit in choosing her accompaniment, please raise your hand when I say your voice type.”

Connor ran through the four types and Natalie noted the numbers. It seemed like a fairly equal distribution, plus a few undecided.

She stood. Time to stop being a shrinking violet and start being the music director. Natalie pitched her voice to carry up to the back of the stage. “Those of you who aren't sure where your voice falls stop and see me after practice, and I'll have you test sing then or before our next practice if you can't stay tonight.”

“Everybody got that?” Connor asked. “Natalie, your mother went over the selections the pageant committee agreed on?”

“Yes.” She sat down and opened the music folder to the first song.

“Take it away, maestro,” he said.

Natalie lifted her fingers and flexed them. “We'll warm up with ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.' I'll run though the first couple of stanzas. When I go back to the beginning again, you all join in.”

She waited for Connor to leave now that the practice was beginning. Instead, he climbed the bleachers to the tenor section and stood in front of his brother Jared. A small tremor ran through her hands as she placed her fingers on the keyboard, remembering the rich timbre of his singing voice. Until she'd turned down his proposal Christmas Eve of her senior year, they'd driven to and from college together singing to the radio the whole way. The man could really do justice to a slow country ballad. She stopped a sigh. For whatever reason, she'd expected Connor to leave.

Natalie began to play, trying to lose herself in the music. But her mind kept running over ways to avoid being caught alone with Pastor Connor again.

She finally finished the program's closing song. “I think that's good for tonight.” She paused. “Unless Connor has anything else.”

“No, nothing except a reminder that the next practice is next Tuesday, same time.”

A
week
. That gave her a week before she'd have to see Connor again. Except—the thought struck her—at church service. She shook off the feeling of uncertainty. What was with her? There wasn't anything between her and Connor anymore. She was a big girl. She could maintain a pastor-parishioner relationship with him. But he wasn't any ordinary pastor, and considering some of the stuff she'd gotten herself into the past couple of years, she was a far cry from his typical parishioner.

As she waited for choir members to check in with her about their range placement, a chuckle from Connor rose above the chatter, drawing her gaze to him. She followed his progress down the bleachers. The confident way he carried himself and the cordial expression on his face as he talked to those around him told her that Connor had finally found himself. Her heart warmed. She was happy for him. She could only pray that coming back might help put her on a calmer path, too.

Natalie tensed as Connor left the group and walked to the piano. She looked furtively for someone, anyone else, heading her way.

“Thanks again, Nat,” he said, slipping into the familiar nickname only her family and friends in Paradox Lake used. “See you next week.” He raised his hand in farewell as he walked past her and the piano.

“I'll be here.” She released a pent-up breath and her anxiety about having to deal with him one-on-one flowed out with it. His short, politely distanced words were exactly what she wanted from him. So why did she feel a little more empty with each step he took away from her?

* * *

“So, what's with you and the piano player?” Jared accosted Connor as he headed toward the utility room to let Drew know that the choir was done.

“I can help with that one.” His other brother, Josh, seemed to appear from the shadows. “Natalie was Connor's first love.”

The mocking tone Josh put on the last two words ignited a spark of anger. “Where'd you come from?” Connor asked, forcing himself to ignore the taunt. This was Josh, after all. The man who'd never dated a woman long enough to have any feelings for her.

“I stopped by to help Drew and the kids with the settings. He gave me the key to give to you to lock up.” Josh handed him a key ring. “Now, back to the beauteous Natalie Delacroix...”

Natalie was beautiful, and Josh was no longer mocking. Still, Connor had a childish urge to demand Josh “take that back,” the kind of demand that had resulted in more than one teenage brother brawl.

“I think the lady dumped our baby bro their last year of college,” Josh said.

“Something like that,” Connor mumbled, glad that Josh didn't know the full story. Even though the two of them were close, Josh had a reckless streak that had stopped Connor from telling him beforehand that he was going to ask Nat to marry him, despite Connor having been certain at the time that she'd say “yes.” That move had saved him from the embarrassment of having to share being shot down.

“You guys still on for helping me with the cottage Saturday morning?” Josh asked.

For once, Josh's habit of making things all about him didn't bother Connor.

“We'll be there,” Jared said. “Brendon can't wait. I got him his own scaled-down tool belt.”

Connor admired the way his oldest brother had bonded with his stepson and went out of his way to be a father to him in a way their father had never been to them.

“Connor?”

“Sure, as long as nothing more pressing comes up.” Connor couldn't think of any reason right now that he wouldn't be able to help Josh work on the decrepit lakeside cottage he'd bought to fix up and sell. He was being contrary. Josh had a way of bringing the worst out in him.

His brother frowned.

“Like an emergency with one of my parishioners.”

“Right. See you Saturday.” Josh left.

“I'm going to do a walk around to make sure everything is turned off before I lock up,” Connor said to Jared. “Catch you at Josh's Saturday.”

“You can't get rid of me that easy,” Jared said. “I need a lift home. I told Becca if she finished earlier than we did to go ahead home, and I'd get a ride from you.”

“Pretty sure of yourself.”

“Yeah.”

Connor tossed his car keys at his brother. “Make yourself useful and go run the heater so the car's warm when I get out.”

A couple of minutes later, Connor joined Jared. He put the car in Reverse to pull out of the parking space.

“Natalie Delacroix,” Jared said out of nowhere. “I knew I recognized her.”

Connor hit the brakes harder than necessary and skidded on the icy parking lot. Recognized her from where? She would have been eleven when Jared left Paradox Lake for the motocross circuit.

“When I was racing in the Midwest, she was a reporter on one of the local stations,” Jared said.

Connor shrugged and put the car in Drive. “She had a mentor her senior year who was an anchor at one of the Chicago affiliate stations. He was a guest instructor at Syracuse. She'd talked about him helping her get a job when she graduated.”

“No, this was a smaller, local station. But I'm sure it was her.”

“Maybe. After we broke up, I didn't keep track of her. It was part of my ‘get Natalie out of my system' program.”

“That bad?” Jared asked.

“That bad.” Connor considered telling him about his proposal, but thought again.

Jared nodded and went quiet for a couple of minutes. “Kirk Sheldon. Was that her mentor?”

“Sounds right.” Connor knew it was right.

“You can take this for what it's worth. I only know what I read on the ‘People' page of a suburban Chicago newspaper.”

Connor glanced sideways at his brother. Jared looked like he was weighing whether to continue. “Since when do you read gossip pages?” he asked to fill the lull.

Jared glared at him. “Since my publicist suggested it. The page had a story about me that she'd wanted to make sure I read as a lesson in what I shouldn't be doing.”

Connor snorted. “You're going to tell me there was a story about Natalie, too?”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

He wanted to put his hands over his ears and shout
no
. “Go ahead,” he said.

“It was before I caught her on TV that time. I didn't connect the two until now.”

“I don't need background. Just the details.” And the fewer, the better.

“The news anchor was estranged from his wife, an overseas correspondent, and apparently dating Natalie.”

Natalie and her professor? Connor clenched his jaw. She'd gone on about Kirk this and Kirk that. He'd thought it was her usual chatter. Had she been two-timing him? The man had to be fifteen years older than them. He gripped the steering wheel until his hands hurt.

“I know the paper blew it all out of proportion. They always do.” Jared stopped again. “To cut to the chase, the news anchor and his wife reunited and he publicly apologized for his indiscretions. Natalie was his latest. He stopped just short of naming names, but the writer insinuated that he was involved with Natalie. The story covered the reconciliation. ‘Local anchor breaks love triangle and reconciles with wife,' or some such garbage. Natalie was collateral damage.”

Poor Natalie
. Despite his fresh hurt that she might have been interested in Kirk before they'd broken up, he wasn't going to judge. Only God could do that.

“I can't tell you what to do,” Jared said. “But I'd take care.”

Connor got the implied “concerning Natalie.”

“Much as I hated the bad press I got when I was on the motocross circuit, parts of it were true. And the reputation I got from those stories hurt Becca. Your contract is up for renewal at the end of the year. Some of the members of the congregation are still warming up to your being Jerry Donnelly's kid. And I know how much serving here means to you. I don't want to see you get hurt.”

“I'm a big boy. I can handle my own life.” Connor yanked the steering wheel to turn into Jared's driveway and brought the car to an abrupt stop.

“See you Saturday,” Jared said. He stepped out of the car and closed the door without waiting for Connor's response.

Good move on Jared's part. At the moment, he was inclined to blow off Saturday.

Connor drove home, parked his car in the parsonage garage and stepped out into the frigid night air. A vision of Natalie's drawn face and empty gaze shadowed him into the house. He knew he
should
give her a wide berth, not so much to protect his ministry at Hazardtown Community Church, but to protect his heart. And he would, starting tomorrow, once he'd gotten control over the concern for her that Jared's story had raised and his almost overpowering need to seek her out and shelter her in his arms.

Chapter Two

“M
om, sit down and let me do that.” Natalie walked across the kitchen and lifted the spatula from her mother's hand. “What happened to your sleeping in and letting me take care of breakfast? Where's your walker?”

“By the table. I woke up and didn't see a light on in your room yet. Since I was awake, I thought I'd get things started.”

Natalie looked at the clock over the kitchen sink that had been there as long as she could remember. Ten after five. “I would have been up in five minutes, anyway, if I hadn't heard you and gotten up.”

“I've got bacon in the broiler and have already started cracking eggs to scramble. I'll just finish them.”

Natalie took her mother by the shoulders, surprised at how delicate she felt under her hands, and helped her to the kitchen table. “Sit. I suppose you make breakfast for Claire, too, when she gets up for work. Seriously, you could set the coffeemaker and let them fend for themselves.”

“I've been telling her that for years,” her father said from the doorway. He walked over and kissed her mother on the cheek. “Not that I've had much success. How's it going for you?”

Natalie motioned to the table. “I have her sitting.”

“I knew calling you was the right thing.”

“Right back at you, Dad.” She looked at her mother and father, who were still obviously in love after thirty-five years of marriage and six children. A warm cloak of safety wrapped around her. She could have used some of that inner security last night with Connor. If only it was something she could pocket and take with her when she left the house.

Natalie turned to the stove and finished breaking eggs into a bowl. She beat in some milk until they were smooth and sunny yellow.

“Oh, no, you're not letting Natalie cook.” Her younger brother, Paul, one male half of the two sets of Delacroix twins—Paul and Renee, and Marc and Claire—walked in and sat at the table.

“And good morning to you, too.” She poured the egg mixture into an iron frying pan.

“The last time I remember you cooking breakfast, you almost burned down the lodge at Sonrise.”

“I did not,” she protested.

“Sure you did. You volunteered to get up early and make pancakes for the church youth group at our annual campout. Mr. and Mrs. Hill were the leaders then.” He prompted her memory. “A fawn or bird or something distracted you and you let the pancakes burn. The kitchen filled with smoke.”

She remembered all too well. It wasn't a fawn or bird that distracted her. It was Connor splitting wood for the campfire planned for that evening. Contrary to Paul's embellishments, she didn't cause any fire, or fill the kitchen with smoke. However, the stack of blackened pancakes and Mrs. Hill stepping in to finish cooking breakfast were enough to win her razzing for the rest of the day. Connor had made it better, sitting with her at the campfire and stealing a kiss—their first—when the Hills weren't watching.

She suppressed the nostalgic longing for that more innocent time. “That was more than ten years ago. I've perfected my breakfast cooking since then.” A faint whiff of well-done bacon drifted from the stove. She quickly opened the broiler and took the pan out.

“So I smell.” Paul got in another good-natured dig. “You know I'm only teasing. We're all glad to have you home for the holidays.”

“I'm glad to be here, too.” Natalie placed the bacon on a plate, gave the eggs another stir and scooped them into a bowl.

“Dad and I are going to go cut a Christmas tree Saturday morning. Want to come along?”

Natalie smiled to herself. The annual trek to the local Christmas tree farm to find the perfect tree had always been one of her favorite holiday activities, one she'd missed the past few years. Last Christmas, she hadn't even bothered to put out the small ceramic table tree she had.

“Claire's coming,” Paul said, adding Natalie's next oldest sister to the outing. “I don't know if Andie and Rob and the kids are.”

“You don't have to talk me in to it,” Natalie said. “You know I'll be there. I wouldn't miss Pharaoh Mountain Farm's mint hot chocolate for anything.”
Even Andie being there
.

“Paul,” their dad said, “if you have your social schedule all worked out, want to finish your breakfast and get to work?” He winked at Natalie.

Paul and his twin, Renee, were the most social of her and her five siblings, not that she and the others weren't social. Or at least, she had been social.

They guys polished off their food and left to start the morning milking.

“Want another cup of coffee, Mom?”

“You don't have to do that. It's not like I can't get up and walk over to the counter.”

Natalie ignored the edge to her mother's voice. “I'm getting one for myself. I can refill yours. You should make the most of the special treatment. Who knows when you'll get it again?”

“You're right.” Her mother handed over her coffee mug. “I have to admit that I'm not missing having to go to work every day, except for the people.”

Natalie filled both mugs. “Any chance you could go part-time when you go back? You already have an almost full-time job with the farm books and business management.”

Her mother pressed her lips together, making Natalie wonder if she'd overstepped the child-parent boundary by edging into her parents' financial situation.

“Milk prices have been uncertain, although the new yogurt plant in Amsterdam may help keep them more even. I figure I might as well hang on full-time until I can collect Social Security benefits.”

That was more than ten years away. She wished she could help financially. That had been part of her dream of being a network news reporter, although she suspected her parents wouldn't accept help, even if she had the means to give it. At least she'd had enough money left from her cashed-out retirement plan account to come up with her share for the Hawaiian trip she and her siblings were giving their parents for Christmas. They had everything covered, down to someone to help Paul with the farm work. She couldn't remember the last time Mom and Dad had been away.

“Here you go.” She handed her mother her coffee.

“Don't worry about us,” her mother said. “You know your Dad wouldn't want to be doing anything else.”

Natalie knew that, but she was more concerned about Mom.

“And Paul has some good ideas, like getting in on the yogurt deal, and he's taking over a lot of the management work I've always done.”

“Good.” She reached over and squeezed her mother's hand. “You need to concentrate on getting better.”

Her mother squeezed back. “So, how did choir practice go last night?”

“About that.” Natalie looked at her mother over the edge of her coffee mug. “Why didn't you tell me that Connor is the pageant director?”

“Because I was afraid you'd say no if I had. Right?”

“Maybe. Probably.” She put her coffee down. “Drew Stacey said that Andie had offered to play if he couldn't find anyone else. Why didn't you let her? Connor. Me. You know what happened.”

“Andie doesn't play or sing nearly as well as you do. I'm hoping you'll do the solo. Besides she has enough on her hands with the kids, helping Rob on the farm and her part-time job.”

Her mother's last words stung, even though Natalie knew she didn't mean them in a hurtful way. Mom was stating fact. Until she found a new job, figured out her life, what did she have to do?

“And—yes, I'm interfering—you and Connor have some unfinished business. Working together might help you finish it.”

Natalie's stomach churned as if her last swallow of coffee had been one too many. Yes, she and Connor did have unfinished business—at least she did with him. But she wasn't sure she had enough strength left in her to finish it. Nor was she certain anymore that God would give her that strength.

* * *

Connor stomped through the fresh dusting of snow that had arrived overnight to cover the parking lot of Pharaoh Mountain tree farm. With the clear blue sky and temperatures up near freezing, it was a perfect day to get a Christmas tree for the parsonage—for someone who wanted to get a Christmas tree. He, personally, hadn't had a tree ever. He knew it was childish, but Natalie refusing his proposal in front of the tree they'd just finished decorating together in her Syracuse apartment, complete with the Christmas star he'd given her for the top, had killed any interest he might have in putting one up for himself.

Last year, when Jared had been living with him, he and their then six-year-old half sister Hope had gotten one for the parsonage, and Becca and her kids had come over and helped decorate it. His only input had been to insist they put something other than a star on top. He couldn't see a flashing star atop a tree or anywhere else without seeing Natalie saying, “I'm sorry...” This year, he'd thought he was home free until the women heading up the church's hospitality and evangelism committees had decided it would be a good idea to have a community-wide open house at the parsonage the weekend before Christmas. All Connor had to do was supply the tree. They'd take care of the food and the rest of the decorating.

He gripped the saw he'd found hanging in the parsonage garage. He couldn't tell the women that he didn't want a Christmas tree in his house. So when Josh had canceled their workday to go into the office, Connor figured he might as well get it over with.

“Connor,” someone called from behind, pulling him out of his morass. Claire Delacroix jogged up beside him, her cheeks turned rosy from the cold, just like Natalie's always had. “Picking up your Christmas tree?”

“That and some wreaths and boughs and stuff for the parsonage. The hospitality and evangelism committees are going to decorate for the open house.”

“Want to join us? We're getting the tree for Mom and Dad's house.”

“Sure,” he said before considering who “we” might include. He hesitated. No, Natalie would be home, wouldn't she? In case her mother needed help.

“We're meeting at the chocolate hut,” Claire said. “That's what we call the outbuilding where you pay for the trees.”

His lack of knowledge of the tree farm must have shown on his face.

“You haven't been here before.”

“No.” At their house growing up, the tree had appeared Christmas Eve after they'd gone to bed. When he was older, he'd assumed Mom picked them up at a discount somewhere on her way home after she'd finished her Christmas Eve shift at the diner.

“They have the best hot chocolate with mint. Free with every tree. Don't tell Mom and Dad, but that's really why I got up early on a Saturday morning to come.”

“Okay.” He wasn't sure what all the excitement about hot chocolate was. His plan had been to get in and out as fast as possible.

Claire waved as they tromped toward a building the size of a large shed that looked like a miniature log cabin. Both of her parents, along with her brother Paul
and
Natalie, were standing in front.

“You should probably go ahead without me. I don't want to horn in on what sounds like a family tradition.”

“Since when?” Claire laughed. “You used to be at the house so much, Mom called you her middle son.”

“That was back in high school.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his ski jacket, fighting the old feeling of being an outsider that he'd thought he'd shed when he'd left Paradox Lake for college.

“Come on. It'll be a lot more fun with us than by yourself.”

He walked over to the building with her.
Fun
wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting.

“Hey, look who I found in the parking lot,” Claire said.

Almost in unison, Natalie's parents and brother gave him an enthusiastic greeting. Even Natalie smiled.

“I'm picking up a tree for the parsonage,” he said.
Lame
. Why else would he be at a Christmas tree farm?

“For the open house.” Terry nodded. “Where are you putting it? In the living room or the dining room? With the high ceilings at the parsonage, you'll want a tall tree.”

Connor hadn't thought about the best place to put it. He just wanted to get the job out of way. “Last year, Jared and Becca put the tree in the living room.”

“That's probably best,” she said. “You'll have the buffet set up in the dining room.”

The ladies will have the buffet set up
. He was trying to stay as much out of the event as he could, putting his efforts where they belonged—on his Christmas church services and the pageant.

“The girls can help you.” Terry's eyes twinkled with mischief, just as Natalie's used to. “They're both almost as good at picking out the right tree as I am. I'm going to wait here.” She tapped her walker. “No hiking the hills for the perfect tree for me.”

“I'll stay and keep you company,” Natalie said. “Four people are enough to cut two trees.”

Even though he'd been looking for an out minutes ago, hearing Natalie say the same thing sharpened already painful memories.

“And miss the fun? No way. Go ahead,” Terry urged. “I'm fine here with my hot chocolate.”

Natalie opened her mouth and closed it.

“The taller trees are in the back,” Natalie's father, John, said. “That's where we're headed.”

Connor fell in step with Natalie's brother at the opposite side of their little group. “How's it going, Paul?”

“Not bad.” Paul glanced at his father, who was talking with the girls. “I talked Dad into getting in on the deal supplying milk for the new yogurt plant. Andie's husband, Rob, is in, too.”

“Great.” Connor knew how much Paul was working on making his partnership with his dad more of a partnership.

“And with Natalie here and Marc and his family coming Christmas Eve, we'll all be home except Renee.”