It was nearly eleven that night when Isabelle and Lizzie got home. Isabelle was wiped out. She wanted her bed. She wanted to not have to get up at six the following morning. As they walked through the front door, Lizzie hurried out of the room without saying anything.
She’d been quiet all night and hadn’t talked during the ride home. Isabelle tossed her purse on the table and went to the kitchen, lit only with a bulb over the sink. She turned on the overhead lights and found a clean glass in the dishwasher.
“Here.” Lizzie tossed a small stack of letters on the counter. “These are his letters. If you read them, you’ll know who he is and how much he cares about the people in his life. He’s someone you can trust. And I don’t think he’s going to leave.”
“What?” Isabelle didn’t know what surprised her more, the challenge to read the letters or this new attitude of her daughter’s. They’d always been close, always seen eye to eye on most things.
The challenge in Lizzie’s eyes was what Isabelle had seen when three-year-old Lizzie wanted candy that Isabelle wouldn’t give her.
“Mom, you can’t live your life for me. I’m not always going to be here. I can’t be your excuse for not getting involved, for not dating.”
“Is that how you see me?” Isabelle filled her glass with water and turned back to face her daughter. “You think I’m avoiding relationships.”
“I think you love romance that is safe. The kind in books or on TV. I think you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Yeah, well, I’m praying you fall in love with Chad.” And that was the twelve-year-old, with her chin up and her eyes overflowing with unshed tears. “That’s what I want for Christmas. I want a dad.”
Isabelle took a step toward her daughter but knew that Lizzie wouldn’t welcome a hug, not yet. “Oh, Liz, I want to give you everything. I can do the easy things, like ballet lessons and church camp. I might someday be able to afford dance camp. But I can’t give you a dad for Christmas. You can’t pick a dad that way. And you can’t force two people to fall in love.”
“No, but what if this is what God planned? What if that letter to Chad was God putting this all into place for us?”
Isabelle didn’t have an answer. How many times had she told her daughter to trust God’s plan and to see God in the unexpected things that happened in their lives? And now something unexpected had happened, and Isabelle didn’t have an answer.
“Lizzie, I don’t know God’s plan. But I’m sure we’ll know it when it happens. As much as you want this, you can’t make it happen.”
“Read his letters. Please.” Lizzie kissed Isabelle on the cheek and walked down the hall.
He was going to reenlist. Lizzie had to get that.
Isabelle could hear the normal sounds of her daughter getting ready for bed. Water running as she brushed her teeth and then washed her face, the alarm clock being set and then the radio coming on. She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to make sense of what had happened to their lives, their relationship. She touched the small stack of letters from Chad Daniels, lieutenant colonel, U.S. Army.
Closing her eyes, she could see his face, his smile, the kindness in his eyes. She could remember what it felt like when he held her, and when their lips touched.
She remembered what life felt like when someone hurt her. She remembered the pain of abuse. She remembered the foster family that had decided to leave the state and to not take her with them. Dale had been the constant in her growing-up years.
And then he’d been gone. But she’d had Lizzie to raise and Jolynn to lean on. She’d found faith and a Heavenly Father who never walked away and who accepted her as she was, faults and all. She didn’t have to be the perfect child to gain His love.
So where did Chad fit into their lives?
Chad drove past his farm the next morning, slowing at the drive, but then going on, because he didn’t want to think about what if this had been a mistake. The farm, coming here, Isabelle. He’d never realized before, but he was pretty bad at life outside of the military. That had become clear in the last couple of weeks. In his job he’d known what to do every day. He knew what was expected of him. He knew the people around him and what they wanted from him.
Not that surprises didn’t happen. He was trained to handle the unexpected.
Nothing in his training had prepared him for Isabelle and Lizzie Grant. They were a package deal. That was a heavy thought and one that a guy couldn’t take lightly, especially when he had just gotten out of the army and he had been single all of his adult life.
He had lived twenty-three years of having his days, weeks and months planned. He liked being organized. He liked knowing what tomorrow held for him. And yet there was something about this civilian life, the not knowing, that challenged him.
He pulled up in front of the Hash-it-Out and parked, but he didn’t get out. This town had been in Lizzie’s letters, luring him here, to community and people he knew only from her descriptions. Being here had added dimension to their personalities.
Someone rapped on the truck window. He jumped a little and turned. Jay Blackhorse nodded toward the diner. Chad pulled his key out of the ignition and followed the other man, a cowboy who had always been a cowboy. Chad felt a little like an impostor in his boots that were still new and unscuffed.
“What’s up with you this morning?” Jay opened the door and walked through, holding it for Chad to follow.
“I have a few things to think through.” Chad thanked the hostess who led them to one of the few empty tables. Conversation droned in the busy restaurant, and the people he knew waved or said hello.
It hadn’t taken long to become a part of this community.
Jay scooted his chair out from the table and sat down. Chad did the same, turning his cup so the waitress could fill it with coffee. She smiled at him like she knew a secret, and when she walked away, it was as if she owned the whole world.
Chad shook his head, wishing he knew the secrets she knew. Maybe it would help him make the right choice. But prayer was probably a better option.
“Jay, I’m thinking about that offer to reenlist.”
“You can’t take care of cattle if you’re in Germany.”
“No, that’s something I can’t do.”
“If this is about…”
Chad raised his hand. There were too many people sitting too close to them, and he didn’t want the rumors to get started. Or get out of control. Since Isabelle knew, it was a pretty sure thing there were already people talking. How could they not? He was the guy that came to town because of letters a twelve-year-old had written. A twelve-year-old posing as her mother.
“This is about me not being sure where I’m supposed to go. I’m going to drive down to the base and talk to some people. And my parents called and asked me to fly down there for Christmas.”
Fly to Florida, where the temperatures would hover around sixty degrees, and Christmas dinner would be at the clubhouse restaurant. That didn’t appeal to him at all.
The only real tradition his family had was the conference call every Christmas. That was the one time of the year they touched base and caught up on what was happening in each other’s lives.
The thought left him a little cold this year, especially with memories of Friday night still fresh. Jolynn’s house, the fresh-fallen snow and people who weren’t related but loved one another. He’d had times like that in the army with the people in his unit. In the military they did become family to one another.
He hadn’t had kids of his own, but there were a few soldiers he felt as if he’d helped to raise. And he’d learned from a few of them, too.
“Well, you know you have people here who would like to spend Christmas with you.” Jay leaned back in his chair, picking up the menu to browse. And Chad knew that the menu didn’t matter. Jay had the same breakfast every morning. He had poached eggs, a slice of ham and juice.
Chad had gone for a two-mile run that morning, and he felt a little better about ordering the biscuits and gravy that he had every morning. The gravy was the real stuff, not a powdered mix. The biscuits were Jolynn’s specialty.
“I know that I can stay.” He returned to their conversation after the waitress left. “But I need to make sure this is what I’m supposed to do.”
The cowbell on the door clanged. He shot a look in that direction, and almost everything he believed to be right fled, because Isabelle Grant was beautiful, even in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair in a braid.
“Yeah, you’re not a guy whose guts are tied up in a neat little bow, compliments of a waitress and her daughter.” Jay laughed, not caring about the look Chad shot him. “I think maybe you’re running scared.”
Nothing was tied up in a neat little bow. And if he said he wasn’t scared, he would sound like a four-year-old arguing that the dark didn’t scare him.
Chad barely spoke to her that morning at the Hash-it-Out. When Isabelle got home, she was still reliving the look in his eyes, the way he’d said goodbye when he left. The look had been one of confusion. She knew how he felt.
She didn’t have time to think about it. That was what she’d been telling herself, and she knew it was true. Trying to figure out a man was exhausting. Raising a daughter, also exhausting. Missing him—she wasn’t even going to go there. She wouldn’t miss him when he was gone.
Tonight she had to wrap Christmas presents while Lizzie was working at Jolynn’s. It was the perfect opportunity to get something accomplished. She made herself a pot of coffee and walked into the living room. But the tree was there, the one Chad had helped decorate. She stopped at the doorway between the dining area and living room, looking at the tree, the star on top. God had planned the birth of the baby they celebrated each Christmas. She closed her eyes, knowing He had a plan for her life, for her future. He knew the emptiness in her heart and the way it felt different now, because of the man who had shown up in their lives just a few weeks earlier.
A man who might be leaving to go back into the army.
Pointless, these thoughts were pointless. She hadn’t planned on a man in her life. She hadn’t invited this one to show up. And she knew that she’d be fine when he was gone.
She went into the bedroom to drag out the bags of gifts, wrapping paper and tape. She glanced at the letters on her nightstand and glanced away, resisting the temptation to read them.
Instead, she dumped the gifts on the bed. Most were small items that Lizzie had wanted. Hair stuff, face stuff and nail stuff. A cute purse and jeans from the mall—a special treat on their budget. Girls were easy that way. Lizzie was easy. She’d never asked for a lot.
And she’d missed out on so much.
But not love. Isabelle reminded herself of that one major detail. Her daughter had never had to wonder if she was loved. Lizzie had never felt that aching emptiness of rejection.
But she wouldn’t be going to dance camp, not this year.
Isabelle picked up the tech gadget that Lizzie had wanted for the last year. Downloadable music. She shook her head, because the world had changed a lot in fifteen years. Isabelle had wanted a boom box as a kid.
Christmas gifts were a special part of the holiday, but feeling loved, that was what counted. Isabelle knew from experience. As a foster child she’d been given gifts, sometimes dozens. But the gifts had often, not always, been empty gestures without love.
She knew that Lizzie had written that first letter to a soldier because she had wanted some young man in Iraq to know that someone cared about him, someone was praying for him.
She remembered the two of them praying together that Lizzie’s letter would reach the right soldier. That memory was hard to relive, especially with his letters in her hands. Letters he’d intended for her.
The door opened. She jumped a little and hurried to cover the gifts. But they were all wrapped. Lizzie laughed.
“What are you so jumpy for, the letters or the presents you’re trying to hide?” The cheeky kid stepped into the room, eyeing the gifts.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“It’s six o’clock, time to be home and have dinner with my mom. Are we having soup?”
“No, I thought I’d order pizza.”
“Wow, a special occasion?”
“No, a guilty mom who didn’t get dinner cooked.”
“So, you’re going to read the letters?” Lizzie sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing the patchwork quilt that an older lady in church had made. One for Isabelle, and one for Lizzie.
“I have to order pizza.”
“I’ll order it in thirty minutes. That gives you time to read the letters.” Lizzie kissed her cheek. “He’s a pretty neat guy, Mom.”
Isabelle nodded, because she already knew that. Lizzie slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. For twelve she was too grown up. Of course, she was nearly thirteen. Lizzie liked to remind her of that. As if Isabelle could forget.
She slid the letter out of the first envelope. She skimmed it, knowing she’d have to read between the lines because a lot of the letter seemed to answer questions that Lizzie had asked. She started at the top, sitting on the edge of her bed as she read.
Lizzie must have asked him if he was a Christian. Isabelle smiled, because her daughter would do that. He answered that he was a new Christian. He hadn’t been raised in church, but had attended on holidays. He explained that when he started attending services, some of his buddies accused him of turning to God because he was afraid. He didn’t care that they thought faith made him weak. He thought that faith made him stronger. He started to take a good look at the men of faith he knew. They were all strong and courageous. And then he read the Bible and saw that the men in the Bible who called on God were anything but weak.
He signed the letter telling her that it was nearly Easter and he would someday send her sand from Iraq, because it was the land where Bible history happened.
He had given Isabelle that sand the day he showed up on her doorstep.
Isabelle slipped the letter back into the envelope and pulled out the next, and the next, and the next. And through the letters she saw the man her daughter had seen. He was strong. He poured out thoughts about the younger people in his unit and wanting to get them home safe. He talked about not having children, but he had always thought, well, someday.
He told her that he would love to meet Lizzie, because she was the type of girl any parent would be proud of.
Isabelle stared at the closed door, the door that girl had walked through thirty minutes earlier. She was proud of her daughter. Aggravated with her, because she had brought Chad here without him knowing the truth about them, about her. But still, it had been a sweet thing to do.
It had been what a girl would do if she wanted a dad.
Isabelle rubbed her eyes and leaned back against her pillows. Her daughter wanted a dad. Downloadable music, dance camp and ballet, too, but the real deal, the real thing Lizzie wanted, was a family.
At twelve, Isabelle had wanted the same thing.
But she couldn’t welcome Chad in the role of dad just because. They weren’t paper dolls, where you just grabbed a male figure, dressed him up and gave him the role of husband and dad.
Lizzie needed to understand that there was more to it than that. She put the letters together and slid the rubber band back in place to hold them. When she walked out of her room, she didn’t see her daughter.
“Lizzie, are you out here?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” She walked out of the utility room, folding a towel. “The pizza will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
“Good. Lizzie, sit down.” They were in the dining room. Isabelle flipped on the light, and they sat down at the small dinette with the fake wood top, scarred and nicked from years of use. “Honey, I know that you want a dad. I get it, because I know how much I wanted a real dad. But we can’t pick a guy out of a hat and stick him in our lives this way. There’s more to relationships than that. A man and woman…”
Lizzie giggled and covered her face. “Oh, Mom, please don’t do ‘the talk.’ Not now, right before pizza. I know that I can’t pick the guy for you. But you don’t pick guys at all. You don’t even seem to see them. So I thought if I put one on your doorstep…”
“He’d be Prince Charming and I’d be Cinderella?”
Lizzie shrugged. “It was worth a try. I think I kind of hoped a Christmas letter would turn into a Christmas miracle.”
“Let’s leave these things up to God.” Isabelle stood and leaned to kiss her daughter’s smooth, dark head. “I’ll run and get the pizza.”
“Okay. Mom, I am sorry.”
“I know you are. I love you.” Isabelle grabbed her jacket and walked out the front door. It was cold, and the sky had the heavy gray look of winter and snow. Chad loved snow, and he’d never had a home, not a real home.
She had learned from his letters that home was the place they moved into on base after the last officer left. His mom had always turned it into a home, though. Isabelle thought his mother was probably a strong woman.
And his dad—an honorable man who didn’t want to miss the programs at school; but all too often, he had. But that explained why Chad had attended Lizzie’s dance recital and why he’d clapped longer and louder than anyone. Because a kid should know that someone was in the audience cheering them on.
And that moment, when she read those words and remembered him that night, cheering for her daughter, that’s when her heart had shifted in an unexpected direction and her brain had told her it was too late to deny what she felt for him.