Home for the Holidays (30 page)

“The blue is for Louise, the green for Alice and the purple for Jane,” the smiling schoolteacher told them. “I have one for your aunt too.”

“But what about your afghan?” Alice asked.

“What afghan? I unraveled it Sunday night.” Edwina laughed. “Don’t worry, I will make another. In fact, that poor child will receive enough things knitted by me to last her two lifetimes.”

Jane opened Laura’s gift, which was the antique snow globe with the three children carolers that the interior decorator had made such a fuss over buying. “Oh, Laura!”

“I never liked that client very much anyway,” the interior
decorator said in a mock snooty voice before her expression softened. “It belongs in a house like this, with people like you.”

Ted’s gift was a collage of photos he had taken of Acorn Hill on his first day in town.

“It was the only roll of film I was able to have developed before we were stranded,” he explained. “I’ll send you copies of the rest as soon as I get home.”

The sisters admired the different pictures, which showed the town and its people with uncanny accuracy and with a suggestion of great affection.

“These remind me of Norman Rockwell paintings,” Louise said. “You have an excellent eye for composition and light, Ted.”

“I couldn’t wrap my gift,” Max said, “but if you have a trash can, I can show it to you.”

Mystified, Alice went and retrieved the small trash can from the office. Max thanked her and set it on the floor in front of him.

“This is really for Alice, but I think everyone here will appreciate it,” he said.

Max removed a box of matches from his pocket and dropped them into the trash can. He then took out his cigar case and did the same with the cigars it contained. He paused, patted his jacket pockets and came up with a few more cigars and discarded those as well.

Everyone stared at the trash can, then at Max, in shock. All but Alice, who gently cleared her throat.

“Oh all right.” After giving her one of his most ferocious scowls, Max sighed heavily and tossed his expensive leather case in on top of the cigars. “I quit. Happy holidays.”

Everyone erupted into applause, and Alice insisted on giving the big businessman a hug. “I am so proud of you, Max Ziglar.”

He returned the hug. “I’m also making breakfast,” he said over Alice’s shoulder. “French toast for the whole house.”

A loud engine sound made Jane turn her head toward the windows. “What is that?”

Louise rose and went to look. “I believe it is a snowplow, clearing the road.”

Alice’s mouth sagged open.

“Okay, I definitely believe in Santa Claus now,” Jane said and grinned, “because that’s exactly what I wanted for Christmas.”

“You wanted your own snowplow?” Laura frowned.

“It doesn’t look as if it is stopping here.” Louise shaded her eyes with her hand. “Although there are two people coming up to our porch.”

The two people turned out to be Aunt Ethel and a heavily dressed young man. Jane went out to greet them.

“How are you?” Jane walked up to the man and helped
him with his coat as if she knew him. “I’m so happy you could make it.”

“I was stranded for a few days, but I talked the local road crew into letting me ride up here with them.” The man removed his knit cap and the scarf covering the lower part of his face, which was covered with a neat black beard. Next he took off his sunglasses and looked across the room. He had very familiar, dark brown eyes. “Did he leave?”

“No.” A pale Max Ziglar took a hesitant step forward. “I’m still here, John.”

“This is Mr. Ziglar’s son,” Jane announced for everyone else’s benefit.

Max, still staring at the younger man as if seeing a ghost, took another, hesitant step forward. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

John Ziglar smiled and ran a hand over his beard. “I guess I’ve changed a little since the last time we saw each other.”

“The last time I saw you, you were barely out of your teens. Now you’ve grown into a man.” Max spoke as if in a dream and terribly afraid he would wake up. “I don’t understand. How did you get here? How did you find me?”

“Ms. Howard actually found me. She called me last week and told me that you were visiting in this area.” John Ziglar came forward, also quite slowly. “I wanted to get here over the weekend, but the weather changed that. It was pretty touch-and-go for a few days. I wasn’t sure until late last night that I could get here.”

“How in the world were you able to find him?” Alice murmured to her sister.

“I did a little research on the Internet,” Jane whispered back. “I would have said something to you and Louise, but the storm hit, and I wasn’t sure if John was still coming or if he had gone back home.”

Max still seemed deeply shocked. “Why would you come here, John? Surely not for me.”

The younger man glanced around the room. “This looks like a nice place, but there was no other reason I’d leave my family during the holidays and hitch a ride on a snowplow, except to see you.”

“You did all that? Came through all this weather, to see me?” The businessman didn’t sound as if he believed his son. “Why would you?”

John frowned a little. “You’re my father.”

“But I drove you away.” Max’s voice became strained and he looked at the floor. “I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

The others tried to address their attention to the tree: This time was for the Ziglars.

“I know. I thought by now you might have changed your mind.” His son’s voice went low. “I’ve wanted to see you for a long time. I thought we should try to talk again.”

That made Max stare at his son. “You mean that?”

“Yes. This seemed like a good opportunity. You know,
neutral ground for both of us.” John Ziglar removed his glove and held out his hand, his expression still uncertain. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

For a long moment the businessman stared at the younger man’s hand as if it might vanish. Then he looked into John’s eyes and his own glittered with tears. “Merry Christmas, son.”

Max ignored the outstretched hand and pulled John into his arms.

Dear Lord, forgive me for doubting You
, Alice prayed silently.
And thank You for the snowplow
.

Edwina excused herself for a moment and returned with a box of tissues, which she passed around to the other women. “I never thought I’d cry on a Christmas morning,” she confessed as she blotted her tears. “But I haven’t felt this moved since my son was born.” She looked at Jane. “You’ve done such a wonderful thing.”

Embarrassed, the youngest Howard sister shuffled her feet. “The effort was really all John’s. He had to beat the weather and the traffic and the lack of transportation to get here. I only made some phone calls.”

“I don’t know many people who would care enough for a stranger to even think of something like this,” Allan said, and
took one of the tissues and applied it to his own watery eyes. When Edwina smiled at him, he shrugged. “My allergies.”

“Mine must be flaring up too,” Ted murmured as he reached for the box.

After the emotional reunion, Max took Jane to one side and clasped her hands in his. “I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know how to tell you what this means to me or how to begin to thank you.”

“I’m so happy for both of you.” Jane smiled and squeezed his hands. “I’m also completely relieved that it was not a terrible mistake. I was worried that you might not …”

“Appreciate it?” Max grimaced and glanced over at John. “I don’t blame you. I’ve allowed pride to steal too many years of happiness from me.” He smiled, a wonderful smile. “Bless you for helping make this reunion happen for us.”

Father and son had ten years to catch up on and they began to tackle the task over a Christmas Day breakfast of French toast, prepared by the sisters since Max was otherwise occupied.

“I have a studio in Manhattan now,” John told his father. “I do graphic work, mostly advertising, but I’ve had a few shows in the Village and I’m starting to build a following. My wife Natalie is a sculptor.”

“Your wife?” Max seemed taken aback. “You left a wife at home to come and see an old man?”

“Natalie has been encouraging me to see you for some time. She would have come with me, but her parents came down from Buffalo for a visit to see the boys.”

Now Max looked staggered. “Your boys? You have children?”

“Twins.” John took out his wallet and removed a family photo. “These are your grandsons, Dad. They’ll be four in February. We named them Jason and Nathan.”

The businessman took the photo with a trembling hand. “I have grandsons,” he said, sounding utterly dazed as he focused on the picture. “Two four-year-old grandsons. We
do
have a lot to catch up on, John.”

“My twin terrors,” John said, his voice wry. “Nate is a sweetheart, like his mother, but Jason, Jason is a carbon copy of me.” He grinned at his shaken father. “And you.”

While their guests enjoyed the meal, the three sisters slipped out to the parlor to exchange gifts. Each was delighted by the others’ thoughtful and appropriate presents.

Louise’s last gift to Jane was the photograph she had taken from her school album and carefully framed.

“This is from your first Christmas with us,” she explained. “I believe Father took this on Christmas Eve, after I’d gotten up to give you your bottle.”

Jane studied the old black-and-white photo, which showed a teenage Louise sitting in an old rocking chair and
holding a tiny, dark-haired baby against her heart. Both Louise and the baby were asleep, a bottle of formula resting on Louise’s lap. Both faces were filled with peace.

“This is really me and you?”

Louise nodded. “I wanted you to know what got all of us through the year after Mother died. It was you, Jane. Taking care of you and watching you grow helped us to heal. We treasured you.”

“How could we not? Look at the baby in that picture.” Alice’s voice grew soft. “You were so little and helpless, and yet you brought so much joy back into this house. Just as you do now.”

Their sister seemed shaken. “I never looked at it that way.”

“I have one more gift for you too. Thank heavens the power came back.” Alice handed her a small wrapped box that contained an unmarked cassette tape, and plugged in a small tape player. “You have to listen to it.”

“Did you record some of Louise’s music for me?” Jane asked as she popped the tape in and pressed play. “Because I really like that Haydn—” she fell silent as a pleasant, mellow male voice began speaking.

“Praise the Lord, for bringing us together tonight.”

“Oh, my Lord!” Jane went completely white and the baby photo fell from her fingers onto her lap. “Is that … that’s Dad.”

“In a few hours it will be Christmas, brothers and sisters. This is the holiest of nights and it all began thousands of years ago, when some poor shepherds made an incredible discovery.” Daniel Howard’s voice grew rich with emotion and wonder. “They were given the news that a Savior was born unto mankind, a Savior who had brought love and hope back to the world.”

Alice saw Jane reach out and take Louise’s hand in hers.

“Can you imagine what it was for them, those shepherds in the fields, to look up and see the heavenly host praising the Lord? To learn that God loved us so much that he gave to us His only Son? Angels must have filled the entire sky. Light like nothing man had ever seen illuminated the world, for on this night God threw open the gates of heaven.

“On the night Christ was born, I believe it must have been like having heaven right here on earth. Until that moment, heaven had been beyond our reach, but now it was attainable. Those shepherds must have felt as if they could reach out and touch the face of God.

“In His infinite wisdom and boundless generosity, Almighty God sent to us His Son, Jesus Christ. That little baby, who would heal the lame and feed the hungry, who would become the Savior of all mankind, was His gift to us. Is it any wonder that God opened the heavens on this night
when Christ was born? How else could you celebrate such a gift? Let us pray.

“Almighty Father, we thank You for this night and for the love You brought to our world through the birth of Your Son, Jesus Christ. Hear our joyful voices on this night and know that our hearts are Yours.”

They listened to the rest of the service, until Daniel ended it with a loving reminder to his congregation.

“I hope that when you leave here today, you will remember that through you, Christ is heard, and that through your faith, someday the heavens will once more be opened and we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. A blessed and happy Christmas to you all.”

The tape stopped, the recorder clicked off and for a moment the three sisters sat in silence.

Finally Jane summoned up a single, dazed word. “How?”

“You talk in your sleep,” Alice said. “You told me that what you wanted for Christmas was to hear his voice again.”

Their youngest sister passed her hand over her eyes. “How did you find this?”

“Alice remembered that one year Fred Humbert recorded one of Father’s Christmas Eve services,” Louise replied. “We sent it to Aunt Ethel at her farm because she was too ill to visit us.”