He didn’t deserve her.
When Bridget’s vehicle drove out of view, Mac closed the front door and hung his head. The numbness he’d been feeling while she’d told him about her past was beginning to thaw out, sending a prickly sensation through his veins the same as if he’d been out in the cold too long. The straightforward just the facts way she’d shared her past with him had kept him silent.
He didn’t know how to process it.
“Mac?” Kaylee came up behind him.
He almost jumped. Whirling to her, he exhaled. “Yeah?”
“I overheard you and Bridget. And I came out here to tell you it wasn’t her fault about today, and I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard everything she said, and...” A growly sound ripped from her throat. “I can’t believe she went through all that. I feel so bad.”
She threw her arms around him and began to cry. He couldn’t believe it either. He felt bad, too. As Kaylee’s shoulders shook, his tangled thoughts slowly began to make sense.
Bridget had been tossed out when she was practically a kid.
How could he have called her heartless? Why hadn’t he given her the benefit of the doubt?
Her heart was bigger than he’d ever given her credit for. Big enough to hire his sister. Big enough to befriend Joe Schlock. Big enough to drive all the way out here today to help Kaylee honor her commitment.
She hadn’t walked all over him or Kaylee.
He’d been the one to walk all over her.
Bridget had told him she loved him. He’d almost overlooked those three little words, but they came back, echoing in his mind.
She didn’t think she was the right woman for him.
Him. The guy whose father had undermined him his entire life. The guy who’d been playing it safe relationship-wise because he couldn’t face becoming what his dad predicted. A wimp. A complete pushover when it came to women.
Sixteen... Bridget had been kicked out at sixteen... Homeless... Nowhere to go.
He hated that. Hated she’d been treated so shamefully. Hated she’d been forced out on the streets. Hated she’d had to fend for herself against who knew what.
He couldn’t even begin to think about what that might be.
“Mac?” Kaylee looked up at him, her eyes damp and red.
“What?”
“You’re upset, aren’t you?”
He realized he was squeezing her too hard and loosened his hold. “No...well... I’m upset that you’re upset.”
“I know you are.” She let go of him and led the way to the family room. Then she sank into the couch, pulling a fluffy throw over her legs and up to her chin. “Bridget was right.”
“About what?” He sat in a chair kitty-corner from her.
“I do love to sing.”
Then why did she want to skip practice today?
“For the past couple of months, I’ve felt more myself again. I like it here.” Kaylee wore a wistful expression. “And I thought singing in the choir would honor Mom’s memory.”
“It does.”
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, and I thought I’d be okay. I thought I’d be able to sing, but every time the first words come out, all I can think of is how much I miss her, how she and I should be making cookies and watching movies and all the things we used to do. My throat tightens and I burst into tears. I can’t sing tomorrow. I just can’t.”
He should have known—should have guessed it. Why hadn’t he realized how tough the holidays were going to be without her mom and their dad?
“You’ve been doing so good,” Mac said gently. “Ever since you started working at the coffee shop, you’ve been your old self again. I like seeing you smile. It’s a relief to see you happy.”
“I love working there. I don’t think about things so much when I’m making the coffees and talking to Bridget. She’s really easy to talk to. She gets me.”
Mac knew it was true.
“I know you think she forced me to go today.” Kaylee glanced at him. “It wasn’t like that, though. I’m important to her. That’s why she pushed me. She said she wanted me to go for me.”
“Maybe you need a break from the choir. Or a distraction. Then you won’t hurt so much.”
“I don’t want a distraction.” Her voice rose. “I don’t want to take my mind off it. I think I need to stop pushing it all away. I need to feel sad and miss Mom. I think every nerve in my body is aching to remember her and what we had. I need to mourn.”
“But I don’t want you to be in pain.”
“Pain is part of it, though.” Kaylee looked genuinely surprised. “I loved Mom more than anyone—and I loved Dad, too, Mac. It’s just...he wasn’t around much. Mom and I spent all our time together, so I miss her more. And if I wasn’t sad right now, don’t you think it would be weird? When you love someone, you miss them, you feel sad they’re not around. The thought of never seeing them or talking to them or hugging them again is hard. It’s just so hard. I’ve been trying to avoid the pain for months, and I can’t avoid it anymore, and I don’t think I want to. I want to feel it.”
He studied her. There was peace under her sadness. She looked stronger than he’d ever seen her.
Kaylee dropped her gaze to her lap, then looked at him. “I get it now. Why Bridget is always willing to listen, so easy to talk to. I feel really bad. Like losing Mom and Dad was horrible, but I got to come live with you. I didn’t have to sleep on the streets and climb into a dumpster for food. It’s why she has so much sympathy—or empathy—I never know which is which. She’s just compassionate, you know?”
Yeah, he did know. And he’d accused her of terrible things.
He’d been wrong about Bridget, and it looked like he’d been wrong about Kaylee, too.
Was there anything he was right about?
Teardrops were spilling onto her cheeks again as she stared out the back windows. He wanted to tell her not to cry, that she didn’t have to sing or do anything. He’d put on a goofy Christmas movie, attempt to bake cookies—anything, anything to take away the pain.
But he realized she was right. She needed to mourn, and he’d have to get used to her being sad at times instead of trying to make it all better.
He went over to her and gave her another hug. Then he sat next to her and held her for a long while. When she was done crying, he asked her to tell him everything she missed about her mom.
And she did.
For the next hour, they shared memories of Jeanette and their larger-than-life father, laughing at some of his favorite expressions, feeling sad about his misplaced priorities.
When they were talked out, Kaylee excused herself to her room, and he sat there staring at the towering, professionally decorated Christmas tree. It brought to mind putting Bridget’s tree up at her place, the apartment she thought was so luxurious—now he knew why.
A profound sense of shame came over him. Bridget loved Kaylee. She’d gone out of her way to help his sister, and she’d given her the confidence needed to attend school every day, to go to driver’s ed classes, to not give up when life got hard.
She’d brought Kaylee’s smile back.
And he, on the other hand, had only given his sister free passes to avoid her problems instead of dealing with them.
The truth was, he’d been molding Kaylee to be weak. He’d had little confidence in her ability to handle her problems. Worse, he’d lashed out at Bridget the way his dad had done to him countless times. It had always been his father’s way or the highway.
And he was disgusted to recognize he’d treated Bridget the same.
Instead of becoming a doormat, he’d been a bulldozer.
He didn’t like what he’d become.
After a tense drive home from Mac’s, Bridget let herself into her apartment. Flicking on the lights, she inhaled the homey scents. Cinnamon and vanilla and old wood floors. Setting her small purse on the counter, she took off her coat and padded through the kitchen to the living room, then crouched to plug in her tree. The white lights flashed on, and she took them in for a long moment before sitting on the couch and curling her legs under her.
A strange emptiness loomed inside her. She’d thought her heart would break when she left Mac’s, but it was as if her heart had left her body altogether. A pin could drop in her innermost being and she’d likely be able to hear the clatter when it landed.
There was nothing left to feel.
Maybe there’d never been anything to feel. Her hot emotions had been frozen and beaten down many times in her childhood. Having a mentally unstable stepmother did that to a person. After meeting Sawyer, it had taken a full year for her not to panic at random times with the fear of losing her apartment or not having anything to eat. As time wore on, she’d slowly gotten back to a more normal frame of mind.
Moving here had been the biggest leap of faith she’d ever made. She’d bought into the fantasy that she could have a more complete life in Sunrise Bend. Her own business, Sawyer and Tess as friends, a sense of community.
She’d never dared think she could have a boyfriend, too.
And, yet, she’d grown close to Mac. Very close.
She’d been allowing herself too many dreams.
Bridget tucked a soft throw over her lap. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut when Kaylee called earlier? It wasn’t her place to push the girl, and it definitely wasn’t her place to override Mac’s judgment.
She’d just wanted to help. Wanted Kaylee to overcome whatever was bothering her.
And she’d made it ten times worse.
Usually when people had problems, she listened and didn’t spout off a bunch of advice she wasn’t qualified to give. But it had felt different with Kaylee. She’d seen so much suffering in her—suffering Bridget understood—and she’d wanted to give her strength. To let her know she’d make it through the pain.
Bridget had been afraid for her, too. Afraid the town would turn on her. But instead of protecting Kaylee, all Bridget had done was given her the final nudge to fall apart.
No wonder Mac said she was heartless.
She’d learned her lesson. She never should have pressured Kaylee. And she never should have fallen in love with Mac. He knew the truth about her now. There was no going back.
Past midnight Mac slumped on the couch and stared at the Christmas tree, feeling as dejected as he could remember. He’d tried to watch television, tried to go to sleep, tried to silence the chaos in his mind, but he’d failed at everything. So here he was, ready to face the truth.
The only person who’d walked all over Mac was his father. The man had never seen the best in his son, never understood him and never wanted to.
And it was one of the reasons Mac had bent over backward to make Kaylee comfortable here. Because if he’d started barking out orders and throwing his weight around like Dad did, she would have resented him.
Kaylee was his family. The only family he had left.
Lord, I messed up. I couldn’t see straight with Kaylee. I’m glad she’s smart enough to realize she needs to grieve. I shouldn’t have tried to take that away from her.
Deep down, he knew she’d be okay. They’d have a talk soon about expectations. What she needed from him. What he needed from her.
Bridget had been right to encourage the best parts of her. Kaylee was much stronger than he’d thought.
Maybe Kaylee was onto something about needing to feel the pain. He’d been avoiding his own for years, putting it off, hoping it would go away.
It had only festered.
Dad was gone, and Mac hadn’t become the pushover he’d predicted, even if he had been acting like an idiot lately. Avoiding hard talks with Kaylee, avoiding the people around town, avoiding dealing with the inheritance.
Maybe Mac resented the money. What it represented. His father had cared more about making a profit than about his own son. But Dad had loved him in his own warped way.
Mac had always wanted a different kind of father.
The lights on the tree glowed as his mind quieted.
The truth was he had a different kind of father.
Lord, You’re the Father I need. You always have been. You’re the One who accepts me for who I am. The One who gave me the courage to ask Dad to move here as a teen. The One who blessed me with good friends and a job I love.
Emotion coursed through him as he thought of all the ways God had upheld him after he’d moved here. All the people God had sent his way to encourage him, to include him, to help him.
I’m sorry, Lord. I am sorry. He dropped his forehead into his hands as regrets hit him in waves. I didn’t truly appreciate my life here. I could have dated anyone in this town, but I let Dad’s opinion of me become a barrier. Worse, I have an obscene amount of money at my disposal, and I’ve ignored it. Too afraid to touch it. What am I proving by letting it sit there? That Dad was right and money is everything? It’s just money. Help me let go of this fear and resentment.
A sense of peace washed over him. He didn’t have to keep putting limits on his life because of his father anymore.
But what about Bridget? He’d blown it with her. She was so much more than he deserved.
He loved her. He might have fallen in love with her the day in the coffee shop when she told him to keep his discount. She saw him for who he was.
Bridget listened to him. She accepted him.
Mac had been wrong. So fearful and stubborn and wrong.
So what was he going to do about it?
He reached for his cell phone and scrolled to a Bible app. The first verse hit him square in the chest. Philippians 2:4: “Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.”
He sat back and curved his lips upward. Okay, God, point taken.
It was time to deal with the donation requests. And tomorrow, he’d make things right with Bridget.
Bridget awoke with a start. Her heart was pounding and a fine sheen of sweat glistened along her hairline. Bad dreams. She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest under the covers. The window revealed the break of dawn. Snow was falling.
Christmas Eve. In Sunrise Bend.
How could she ever live here now?
She’d gotten close to Kaylee, fallen in love with Mac. They’d want nothing to do with her after last night’s revelations. Tossing the covers, she got out of bed.
She’d just have to avoid them.
In this tiny town? Yeah, right.
She made her way to the kitchen to brew an espresso. Every morning—good, bad, ordinary or catastrophic—demanded coffee. As the machine fired up, she sat at the table, propped her elbows on it and let her chin rest on her fists.
What if Mac tried to end her lease early? Evict her?
Her head swam. She’d lose her apartment. Be out on the streets with her boxes and belongings. With nowhere to go.
The bad scenarios piled onto each other. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. Why was her chest so tight? Was she having a heart attack?
You have a car now.
That’s right. She wasn’t helpless or homeless or without resources. She had a car and a driver’s license. Money in the bank. Sawyer and Tess to go to. Joe would help her out in a heartbeat.
The tightness in her chest eased.
Bridget wasn’t even close to being as helpless as she was at sixteen. So why did her mind sprint there?
She made a cappuccino and carried it over to the couch. Did Mac hate her? Was he embarrassed by her?
She took a sip. Too hot. She set the mug on a coaster. Her fingers automatically went to her necklace. But it wasn’t there. Sheer panic zipped through her core.
Bridget raced to her bedroom and exhaled in relief when she spotted it on the bedside table. She carefully picked it up and clasped it around her neck.
Why am I so afraid? The Bible says I’m worth more than many sparrows.
Jesus loved her so much He died for her.
Do you think He sees you as anything but worthy?
Tears sprang to her eyes.
“I’m not worthy, though.” The sound of her own voice startled her.
Yes, I am. God doesn’t lie. He washed away my sins for good.
Then why did she feel so unworthy? Of having a normal life, a successful coffee shop, good friends? Of Mac?
Lord, I feel so helpless. Like I want to curl into the fetal position and not leave this apartment for five days. I don’t want to see anyone, especially Mac.
It would be better to be invisible.
When she’d been homeless, she’d tried to make herself invisible. She’d been so ashamed, so scared, so hungry, so dirty.
I don’t need to be invisible ever again, do I?
A sense of calm stole over her.
She couldn’t change her past. Yes, she’d been homeless and hungry and scared and stinky. But she wasn’t anymore. By God’s grace, she’d carved out a life for herself right here in Sunrise Bend.
She had nothing to be ashamed of. She didn’t need to hide her past or modify her personality. God loved her. Christmas Eve was for celebrating the fact He’d sent His Son to save her. Her! Homeless, worthless her.
He’d given her a home, given her a business, given her friends, given her a sense of worth.
She was going to be all right. No matter what.