7

Everett Kahn led Brock into his pine-lined den. “Great room for a man to hang out.”

“Thanks. I have to keep it in order, or my wife lets me know she can’t see the tops of the furniture. That youngest daughter of mine, though, makes her presence known. If Izzy’s interested in a new adventure, she spreads brochures and maps and printed information all over the place.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, she’s enthusiastic about new experiences, particularly if they’re outdoors. She even tried rock climbing but never went again when her friends scaled a crevice so tight a body could hardly breathe between the cliffs.”

“She had a nightmare early this morning. I figured there was more to it than being trapped in her car.”

Everett cleared his throat and clapped Brock on the shoulder blade. “About that. She’ll have to tell you. I will say she’s been in tight places a couple times. Now, that food is smelling mighty inviting. Let’s pass through the other rooms on the way. I can’t thank you enough, and the Lord enough, for coming to my daughter’s aid. We all owe you.”

“Not at all. I believe God chose for me to be on that route at the right time. He brings people of His choice into the lives of others.” Pride threatened to override humility at the way Izzy’s family kept praising him.

“What do you do for a job, Brock?”

The great room, he guessed, was thirty feet by twenty-four. He smoothed a hand over the support post behind a loveseat. “I’m a jack-of-all-trades and have the good fortune of picking up fast on how things work. That’s a good thing since I can get bored easily.”

“You can do electrical, plumbing, construction? Where do you actually work?”

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t answer your question, running through my mind how this room started out as two smaller ones. I’m facilities manager for Wildwood Community, a large church in west Lincoln, not the one where Dad pastors now.” He didn’t add that for him to work at the larger church would be the answer to his dad’s dream. Well, not the job Brock did now, but something grand like being an assistant pastor. Would Brock ever see himself as good enough to meet Dad’s expectations? “So, yes to what you said, plus some mechanics. I tried school for mechanics, but so much is done with computers now. Contrary to the bulk of my generation, I hate the things and I even use a dumb phone.”

“As long as your job brings you joy, that’s all that matters. We all need people to clean toilets.” Everett stopped. His cheeks reddened. “I apologize. That’s a bad comparison.”

“No worries. I know I have more value than cleaning toilets.” One thing for sure. I’m not getting paid for what would bring me happiness.

“You misunderstand. No menial task was beyond our Savior. He wants us here to serve one another. By caring for a house of worship, your works are valuable.”

“I do try to put others first.”

Ardith Kahn led the family in a procession of steaming dishes.

Brock’s stomach audibly responded.

“You certainly put a stranger before yourself on that dark road two nights ago. Everett, the turkey is on the platter, bring it to the table, please.”

Izzy set down a citrus cranberry dish and a salad.

Brock salivated over the steaming dressing and sweet potato dishes Abigail carried in oven-mittened hands. The way her elbows were tucked against her sides, the heavy bowls strained her muscles. He reached out to take one.

She shook her head. “They’re hot. You could help by lifting the snowman trivet.”

He slid the protective iron snowman underneath the dressing bowl and balancing the two, set them down.

“Thank you.” Ardith surveyed the table. “Chance, please wait until we have all the food on the table before you sit. In fact, you can bring in the rolls and the butter.”

Brock swallowed the soft chuckle over the woebegone expression on the boy’s face.

Izzy returned with a fresh veggie tray. She took his hand. “We can sit here. Our little round table is half the size of your family’s.”

He squeezed her hand. “Family is family, no matter the size. It’ll be crazy when my sisters start having kids to add to our numbers.”

“Enough basementy talk.” All gazes riveted on Chance, both because he used such a weird word and his voice had lowered several octaves for emphasis. “Pray. Eat. Presents. It’s Christmas.”

“That was rude, young man.” Abigail scowled at Chance. “That enigma is my son’s latest expression. He uses ‘basementy’ to indicate a subject is ‘deep,’ according to him.”

Everett cleared his throat. “Our heavenly Father, thank You for our manifold blessings. We all thank You for providing Brock on that detour route through the country enabling Izzy to be here, safe, for Christmas. Please be with anyone who may still be suffering from cold, loss of power, or any ramification of the storm. Thank You for our family. And above all, for coming at Christmas and later, for what You accomplished at the cross. We look forward to what You have planned for the rest of our time on earth, and we look forward to your Second Coming in the clouds. Now that’s a basementy subject. In Jesus’ precious name, amen.”

Any tension in the room evaporated.

Theirs wasn’t a crowded table. Brock couldn’t decide if he liked sitting across from Izzy and looking into her eyes better, or the torture of drawing in her scent with every breath. He did like the moments when their fingers brushed or arms touched as they passed food. Already, he dreaded the prospect of going home without her.

“That’s a lovely scarf, dear. I don’t believe I’ve seen it before.” Ardith glanced at Brock as if he held the answer.

This time, Izzy touched him. She ran her fingers up and down his forearm. He met her smile instead of paying attention to her family’s reaction to the caress.

“Brock comes from a very generous family. His brother Burt lives with Brock in Lincoln, I told you that on the phone, Mom. Anyway, Sheila Winston sent Burt out to buy the scarf, and a stocking cap for me, so I wouldn’t sit there last night and watch everyone open packages without receiving one myself.”

“Speaking of your family, I remember a little country church, County Christian, where we used to attend.” Everett held out his plate to Abigail, who plopped on a spoon of dressing.

Brock jumped in. “A big track star like me wouldn’t notice a classmate’s little sister.”

Izzy shrugged her shoulders and made a face. “I only remember the church building and the playground.”

Brock covered the rest of the details about the church connection between their families.

“Small world,” Everett and Ardith commented together.

“Dad preaches at Rockbridge Fellowship on the east side of Lincoln, and I work at the opposite end of the city.”

“Wow. Basementy. Check out their dimples, guys.”

Izzy burst out laughing with him. “Chance, Brock’s baby sister noticed the opposite dimples too.”

Neither said anything of Audra’s remark about them having children.

Anyone Chance’s age wouldn’t project into a romantic future that way.

Brock, on the other hand, could get used to that idea. He addressed the table, “Tell me something interesting about Izzy.”

Chance sat tall. “I’ve got one. In the summertime butterflies come out of nowhere and fly around Aunt Izzy. We’ve never figured it out.”

“She’s as sweet as nectar?” The words had barely passed his lips before Izzy swatted Brock with her napkin. He didn’t flinch. “Well, you are.”

Everett Kahn cleared his throat, a noise that qualified as discipline.

Ardith buttered a roll. “It’s a fact. I can be out taking care of my flowers for six weeks and never see more than a few painted ladies flutter by. Then my youngest daughter comes home on break, and a swallowtail drops out of the sky to flit around to greet her.”

“Swallowtail butterflies are beautiful. Do you like yellow or black the best, Izzy?”

“Either color gives me a connection with God. I like all butterflies. Monarchs, little lavender and white ones I have no name for. Maybe they sense a connection or something in me I have no name for. Who knows? Call it kinesiology.”

Brock nudged her knee with his. “Maybe instead of nectar or sweet honey, God graces you with butterflies because you practice the fruits of the Spirit.”

Izzy opened her mouth but no snarky remark emerged. She lifted both hands to her chin, her wrinkly nose too cute.

“She has a more practical side as well. She took over her student loans at age twenty-one. She’s worked in health-food stores and sports retail while getting an education.” Bob slapped his forehead with the butt of his hand. “Remind me to get on the insurance thing tomorrow.”

“Uh, yes, Dad. I’m guessing my car was totaled.”

Chance plunked his knife against his plate. “Um. Everyone? Can we open presents first so the whole day isn’t wrecked with grown-up stuff? Christmas is to celebrate. And we’re late. Come on, let’s open our presents.”

“This is your family time. I’ll clean up in the kitchen while you celebrate my saving Izzy.” Brock stopped. Drat. His pride popped out. To cover his faux pau, he shrugged. “You’ve waited long enough to be together. I’ll have this kitchen shipshape, done and doner before you clean up the paper and bows.”

“You need to hold on to that one,” Ardith whispered to Izzy loud enough for all to hear. Then she addressed Brock. “I’ll show you where the foil, plastic storage bags, and food containers are. Brock, thank you for being a blessing to our family.”

Izzy carried food bowls to the kitchen counter. “Brock you saved me again. I can never resist tasting leftovers. I avoided that freshman fifteen Mom warned me about, but during my sophomore year I put on twenty pounds I still carry.”

He laid a hand on her arm, but she kept her eyes lowered.

Would she ever tell him what she’d left unvoiced?

~*~

Brock finished cleaning the dishes and storing the food before the family finished opening their gifts. Now he leaned against the great room side of the tall dividing counter and took his fill of Miss Izzy Kahn. Whenever he’d had a clear sight of her, she’d looked his way, as though their unspoken words called out to the other.

Ardith Kahn believes Izzy should hold on to me.

As soon as Izzy’s favorite Christmas carol on the CD ended, she jumped up. “Thanks everyone. I want to take Brock for some fresh air and walk off some of that wonderful meal.”

Brock helped her with her coat. Outside, she made him look at their surroundings in a different light, as though his body and mind reached for a connection with what lay around him. He heard a soft crack and turned to the bird feeder, domed in a mound of white. The thwack of a nuthatch cracking sunflower seeds echoed above the creek where they stood.

The wind picked up and blew clumps of snow from the branches.

“It’s been almost two days, but it looks like nature is just now waking up and returning to its pre-blizzard condition.” Izzy pointed at a pair of squirrels comically flopping where the snow prevented a firm grasp on the tree branch they sought to climb.

He noticed other birds flocked in a flurry at the birdfeeders. Cardinals, finches, junkos scratching on the ground, a pair of downy woodpeckers, and the upside-down nuthatches.

Izzy pounced on him.

“Oof!”

They fell to the ground. She tried to reach under his coat to tickle him. He caught her hand and flipped her over, pushed off, and planted his shoulders in the snow.

“Bet I can make a better snow angel than you.”

She spit snow from her mouth. “Bet I can decorate mine better once we stand up.”

As though reading each other’s thoughts, they joined hands and created interesting wings in the snow above their heads. He sensed when her arm tired, and tucked it to his side. They managed to mess up any clear angel shapes because they kept reaching out through the snow between them.

Brock shifted to his side and proceeded to savor her lips. He wanted to kiss her until the spring melt. Footsteps crunching through the snow bolted him to full awareness.

“If that’s your idea of making snow angels, I’m a girl.” No one could mistake Chance’s voice for a girl’s.

Brock bounced away from Izzy and held out a hand to help her up, all in one smooth move. He wanted her to reflect on that smooth move of his and their kiss, hoping it rattled her as much as it had him. To break the spell, he bent and scooped up a handful of snow. Two seconds later, it took the shape of a ball he hurled at Chance.

Izzy joined in the fun. The three laughed and cavorted like children.

“Did you come out to play or did you want something, nephew of mine?”

“Oh, yeah. Mom and Gramma said you can act like kids later. We’ve waited long enough to play games and other family stuff.”

“My fault, buddy.” Brock swiped off Chance’s stocking cap and hustled backward toward the house, never taking his gaze off Izzy’s face. Even with rosy nose and cheeks, her beauty shone brighter than the blue-white snow around them.

She adjusted the knit cap, the gift from his family. The blue brought out the gorgeous eyes that threatened to weaken his knees.

“I’ll have to show your aunt how a champion snow angel is formed, some other time.” He looked forward to a time alone with her. He’d tell Izzy he saw multi-faceted blue diamonds each time he looked into her eyes.

No doubt about it. God had gifted Brock with the present of Izzy this Christmas.

How much time would they have together before she went back to school?