6

“I still can’t believe your mom gave me a present, Brock. Her gift of hospitality far exceeded anything I could have expected.”

“That’s my mom. She’s reached out to women in need for as long as I’ve known her. I have to admit, Burt, you did a good job of picking out that nice blue stocking cap and scarf that looks so pretty on Izzy.”

There was no answer from the club seat. Burt was either sleeping or had chosen to eavesdrop.

“He did do well. I plan to wear the scarf tomorrow. The colors remind me of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. I’ll never forget how you, your mom, and the whole family made me feel so welcome tonight.”

“We may all be adults, but it had to feel uncomfortable in a room full of people opening bright colored packages while you sat there and watched us without a gift of your own to brighten up the night. We didn’t want you to miss your folks the whole time.”

“You’ll get me there tomorrow, Brock. I trust in this truck, cleared roads or not. And I knew as soon as I saw you in full light at the hospital ER that I could trust you. I’ll never be able to repay all that you’ve done for me. Not just your home, but now since your whole family treated me so well, I’ll cherish this Christmas memory and talk about it for years to come. Thank you.”

“Thanks for trusting me. That means a lot. Thirty-year-old man that I am, Mom still took me aside and reminded me of my responsibilities as a Christian man. Burt had to promise her he’d sleep with one eye and ear open and keep me upstairs during the hours until breakfast. I could have bunked with him and given you my room, but she said she’d come home and sleep with Oscar on the floor before she’d approve of you in a room upstairs.”

“I told you earlier the couch will be more than adequate. I’ve slept in a dorm room with a small bed I’m sure was less comfortable.” She giggled.

“What?”

“Your mom taking you aside. I’ve already braced for the talk from my dad after being with you. I’ll tout your heroism and upbringing as a preacher’s kid. I have good feelings about it.”

“Our parents come from the same generation. How about some Christmas tunes? In a couple days it’ll all be over and we’ll have to wait until next year.”

They sang along with the radio and talked little until they reached his lovely historic home. The men shooed her off and took care of her coat, food goodies from Sheila Winston, and their gifts.

Izzy finished in the bathroom with a swipe of lip balm. She sucked in her cheeks to keep from laughing over the memory of Audra’s remark about her dimple matching Brock’s.

She repacked her cosmetics and her dirty laundry, checked the pile of clothes readied to wear in the morning, and pulled down the hem of her sweatshirt to cover the top band of her fleece pants. The hallway was dark. Strings of Christmas lights shone from the tree gracing the stairs, the mantel, and the front window.

Lamplight and the glow of the fireplace raised shadows and hid corners of the sectional portion of the room. She sniffed, recalling the light of the hospital and Brock’s company during the previous night hours.

He entered from the den TV room, and she jumped.

“Sorry. Burt’s already upstairs. I wanted to say good night.”

Near enough to catch a scent, he must have indulged in one of his mother’s peppermint-iced cookies, she searched for something to say. “Th—”

“Shhh.” He covered her mouth with two fingers and leaned in.

She’d wanted to kiss him, of course. She’d dreamed of love. But tasting the promise of love on a man’s lips belonged to a whole different category of imagination. No comparison.

Love? What was she thinking after mere hours of knowing the man?

~*~

Brock awakened to a soft keening next to his shoulder.

Oscar.

“What is it, boy?”

The dog’s tail thumped against the nightstand.

“Watch the lamp.”

Oscar sat, swiped his tail across the floor once left and once right, stood and bumped Brock’s knee with his nose. Then Oscar danced a one eighty to the door.

Brock threw back the blankets and grabbed a flannel shirt to keep his bare arms from the chill. “Mom’s leftover oysters didn’t set well, huh? I’m coming.”

Oscar thundered down the stairs, but raced to the living room rather than to the back door.

Brock hit the light switch and followed his dog to the sectional sofa.

Izzy lay moaning, head thrashing, curled in the fetal position, her covers strewn on the floor.

He grabbed a tartan blanket from the floor and covered her shoulders. Should he touch her or say something? He gathered two more covers. He smoothed one over her legs and caught the end of the other to protect his feet from the icy floor. “Izzy?”

She shook her head. Her hair would be a tangled mess come morning. She flailed her top arm, hitting Brock in the face with the corner of the tartan.

He shook it off, ignored his watering eye, and smoothed his hand from her elbow to her fingers. Then he linked them with his. Cold. “Izzy? Honey, it’s all right. I’m here. You’re safe.” What should he do? He always jumped in and did whatever needed to be done.

Oscar slathered Izzy’s face with his tongue, plopped on his haunches, and raised an eyebrow at Brock as if to say, “Do something.”

Izzy opened her eyes. Brock knew she didn’t see him but was still in some scary dream world. Seconds later, her eyes focused. “Hi, Oscar.”

Thank You, Lord.

“Iz? Come here.” He pulled on her hand, released it, and opened his arms.

“Brock. Hi.” She sat up and cuddled in next to his side. “Sorry I’m not a petite little thing. I’d crawl onto your lap. You’re so warm.”

He chuckled. “You must be chilled. Despite new windows this old house cools down at night.”

“If I was more awake I’d say something about you and your brother being full of hot air. Right now, I want to get warm.”

“You could have been a couple hours without blankets. As for your size, Izrael Kahn, your athletic build is perfect. You are God’s workmanship. That means you are beautiful in the Creator’s sight.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her jaw. “That must have been some dream. Want to talk about it?”

She ran a hand over his free shoulder and patted his chest right over his heart. “I’ve talked it through more times than I want to remember. An old childhood event creeps up every once in a while. I haven’t had that dream in a long time.”

“My guess is the trauma of the accident brought it all back.”

“Obviously. I hate to feel trapped. Maybe the tangled blankets around my legs brought it on.” She drew a huge breath, released it. “Let me do that a couple more times and I’ll be fine. About my size thing. I know the Bible says our bodies are the home of Christ. So if He lives in me, I need to be thankful for every pound and inch and honor the container by taking care of it rather than thinking it should be smaller.”

This girl could pull some serious air into her lungs. “You don’t need to be smaller. I can hold you in my arms just fine. Anything else I can do? It’s no fun to see you this way.”

“I’ll be fine. Talk to me, let me feel you next to me.”

Talk and touch. He’d like to handle those two good works for an extended time into the future.

“Looks to me like you have your home pretty much finished.” She changed the subject without answering his question about her past.

“Yup. Pretty much done and doner.”

A mini laugh burbled up. “What do you do for fun?”

His snort rose his chest and her head moved against him. “Not much,” he said, “since I feel as though I live at the church. I really got into making this home shine. I’ve put in a bid on another property down the block. They raised it up and replaced the basement walls so it has a sound foundation, then the owners moved before they put it up for sale.”

She didn’t respond. He wondered if she’d registered what he said. No matter. Izzy belonged right where she was, cuddled against his side. He closed his eyes and pictured the way her face glowed at the table earlier. Anyone could see her interest lay in her field of study. At one point, he’d stopped eating and drinking to soak in her animated face.

How would it feel if she directed that excitement toward him?

Intense longing to spend every possible moment with her hit him, so he’d ignore the numbness building in his arm.

Lord, is Izzy my Christmas gift this year? If so, I thank You with all my heart.

What was in her past that disturbed her enough to give her nightmares?

~*~

Christmas Day. Finally. Izzy was going home. She anticipated warm hugs from Mom and Dad. Her body was sluggish, plus she hurt all over. She blamed the feeling as much on over-eating as she did on the accident. She’d told Brock eating helped chase away the dregs of the dream. He’d encouraged her to take her mind off her troubles. She’d made a pig of herself by helping him polish off all his mom’s leftovers.

Shaking off remorse, her dull headache, and tummy twitches, she marveled at the white world outside Lincoln. Chemicals on the roads, vehicles, and habitation hadn’t prepared her for the pristine brilliance. The vast piles of snow reminded her of the Rockies. The drifts in the country dwarfed Brock’s oversized 4x4 truck.

Though the country roads opened sometime during the night, little traffic traversed between the twelve-foot drifts marking the ditches. The hushed land added to the sense of quiet within the pickup cab.

“We’re two miles away now. Brock, could you please stop at the next intersection? As much as I want to see my family, I need to get out and experience this. To snap a few pictures.”

“That’s a perfect idea. There’s nowhere to stop but in the road. And let’s hurry. My little intestine is telling my big intestine to load up on Christmas dinner.”

“Sorry I ate all your snacks.” She tapped his arm. “We’ve seen no traffic out here today, let’s stop right here.”

Instead of her phone, she grabbed a digital camera and jumped out at the same instant the engine turned off at the edge of an intersection. A quiet click of the motor accompanied her as she strode to the center of the open roads and looked all directions.

Brock ambled her way and threw a casual arm across her shoulders. “In this stillness it’s hard to imagine the raging storm of forty-eight hours ago.”

They laughed at their puffs of vaporous warm breath hitting the cold air.

She shrugged and closed her eyes. Frigid air seared her lungs but she breathed deep anyway. No wind whispered through the pines, a comforting sound of home in the country. “Do you have the feeling we’re the only creatures on the move out here? I’ve thought this before when deep snow blanketed the earth. It’s like a feeling of security through the illusion of being alone with nature.”

He didn’t answer, but bumped her head with his. She was far from alone.

Tree limbs, heavy laden with mounds of icy snow, bowed to the earth.

The muffled silence was suddenly pierced by honking geese. She raised her gaze to the sky. But the air was so thick Izzy couldn’t see the birds. She sighed, removed a glove, and snapped pictures in all four directions.

“Got all you need?”

I think I need you. Where had that come from?

She shook her head. “I want the camera to catch the perspective of how high these drifts are. It snows in Denver of course, but it doesn’t last long. Can you step close to your truck and say cheese?”

He jogged backwards, rested a forearm on the tailgate, propped a fist on his hip. “Thank God for seat belts.”

“Silly thing. Thanks for the reminder. My seat belt helped save me, along with God, and you.” Thank God, we both took that Christmas rescue route.

He traipsed to her side and opened the door.

She could only shake her head at his chivalry. But she decided to accept it because she liked it.

Moments later, her parents’ home came into view. Garland wound around the porch posts. Huge red bows and giant pine cones accented tips of the swags.

“Is this where you grew up?”

“Yes, and my dad too. But when he let Grandpa know farming wasn’t his thing, the land was leased to neighbors.”

“Sorry, I never asked, what does your dad do for a living?”

“He sells implements in Ashland, and Mom works at Cecil’s Candies in Elmwood.”

“You’re kidding. I love those gummy globs that come from there.”

“Small world, huh?”

“Wait until we tell them my dad pastored the church you attended when your sister and I were kids. Sorry I don’t remember you.”

She brushed his arm. “I was too little. What matters is you know me now.”

They reached the side door.

Izzy knocked twice and opened the door. “Merry Christmas. Anyone home? The kitchen smells sublime.”

Her family all spoke at once.

Mom rushed from the kitchen. “Oh, my goodness, you’re here!”

Dad grinned wide. “Just in time to…”

“Sorry.” Laughter tinted Abigail’s greeting. “Dad just told a joke.”

“Aunt Izzy. I’m glad you’re OK.”

“Chance, get over here so I can see how tall you are.” Izzy opened her arms. She’d always thought her nephew handsome with his golden brown skin, blue-green eyes, and kinky black hair. The boy had grown.

They circled around for a group family hug.

Izzy pulled back to the sound of Brock’s low chuckle. “Hey everyone. This is the man who saved me before I froze to death. Brock Winston, I’d like you to meet my family.”

Mom and Abigail fought over who was going to hug him first, making Izzy laugh.

Dad latched onto Brock’s shoulder and shook his hand.

Izzy observed Chance, at the awkward age between boy and teen, wait his turn. She read on his face the struggle over grappling with how to react. Her nephew ended up doing both the man-thing and the kid-thing by shaking Brock’s hand and giving him a hug.

Catching his eye, she winked. “I can tell you need a job to do. If I know your grandpa, he’ll take Brock to the den while your grandmother drags me off to the kitchen. I have presents in the truck.”

She met Brock’s gaze for an instant; then they went to different areas of the house.

This was a new thing, bringing a male friend home to meet her father. Would there be some kind of delayed man-talk from Dad? Since she didn’t date, he’d never had to warn off a high-school boy, or college one, for that matter.