Will grabbed the phone on the second ring.
“I’m back.”
Christine’s voice bubbled over the line, and Will felt a smile grow on his face. “How was it?”
“Pretty good. I had a nice visit with my friend over Chinese food, my mom seemed fine despite her hip, and the meeting with the client went well, I think.”
“Then why only pretty good?”
She hesitated before she spoke. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”
“Are you going with me to pick out the Christmas trees?”
“Where is the lot?”
“Down by the Chamber Riding Stables on Market and Cadotte. The junior class sponsors the tree sale.”
“Sure, I’ll go.” He heard a pause. “But how do you get the tree back on the sled?”
He shook his head. “You have much to learn. In the sled’s caboose or we can have it delivered.”
“I do have a lot to learn.”
Will heard another pause and wondered if her statement held more meaning than the reference to sleds.
“I picked up a couple things to add to the tree while I was shopping yesterday,” she said.
“You’ve got my attention.”
She laughed. “You’ll have to wait. It’s a surprise.”
He loved the sound of her voice, and his chest grew tight, picturing her face. “I’ll leave here shortly.”
Will said goodbye and hung up, feeling as if he’d been given a gift by her call. He’d missed her so much while she was gone—only a day and a half, he knew, and the idea stressed him. What would he do when she left for good? Their relationship was like a shipboard romance, doomed to end when the boat docked at the final port.
He finished cutting the glass pieces he’d marked and closed the studio. A gloomy sky had lowered over the island the day before, reflecting the funk he’d been in, but it lingered today and didn’t fit the mood he now felt.
Christine had returned, and the evening would be dedicated to Christmas—decorating the trees and listening to carols—and maybe having a cup of hot chocolate.
Will sped along the frozen earth, the snow forming a landscape of glass that glinted when the sun accidentally peeked from behind the clouds before it vanished again. The house appeared ahead, and he knew Christine was waiting inside.
She opened the door as he came up the walk.
“Ready?” he called. She held up her index finger, and in a moment, she darted outside dressed in her jacket and wearing the bright red scarf he’d bought to match her gloves.
He opened his arms, and she went into them. He teetered in surprise, yet thrilled to her candid action. It was what he’d wanted to happen.
“So tell me,” he said, easing back. “Why was your time only pretty good?”
“It’s Chet, my boss. He’s pulling things on me again. He has a history of it. It’s my fault. I fell for it one time, and once more he’s manipulating things. I’ll survive.”
A gust caught them, and he saw her shiver. He noticed something more in her face, something that revealed the story was deeper and more serious than she wanted to admit.
“Let’s go,” he said, letting her climb onto the sled before he joined her.
While he waited, the lowering sun tried to peak from beneath the thick bank of clouds, but only a flicker lit the sky, then vanished again, leaving him with an unsettled feeling.
“It looks pretty,” Christine said, standing back to admire her grandmother’s tree. “I love these old Christmas balls.”
“I was given some of them when I was a child,” her grandmother said. “And many are from my mother’s ornaments. They’re antiques.”
“And beautiful,” Christine said. “These are the things we cherish about Christmas. It’s not the gifts under the tree, but the memories—good memories.”
Will drew closer to her and touched her shoulder. “I’ve never heard you so nostalgic.”
“I know,” she said, feeling his gentle touch shimmer down her arm. “Sometimes I amaze myself.”
He grinned and gestured toward the foyer. “Let’s tackle my tree. That won’t take long, and then we’ll have a treat.”
“Don’t worry if I’m not here when you come back in. I’m thinking of heading for bed.”
Christine shifted to her side and rested her hand on her grandmother’s arm. “Grandma, it’s too early. Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m feeling wonderful, and you know what’s the most special?”
Christine studied her face, wondering what she was about to say. “No.”
“You calling me Grandma.”
“I’ve always called you Grandma.”
“No. I was Grandma Summers. It’s nice just hearing the plain old Grandma. More loving, I think.”
Christine’s chest tightened. “I’ve always loved you, but now it’s more personal, I guess.”
“It’s how we should be with Jesus,” her grandmother said. “When we get personal is when He’s our closest friend.”
“I’ll add a second to that,” Will said.
The comments bounced around in Christine’s thoughts. Had she ever had that kind of personal feeling about Jesus? Since she’d been on the island, she’d drawn closer.
“Ready?” Will asked, beckoning her to follow.
Christine bent and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “I love you.”
Her grandmother’s crepey hand pressed against hers. “I love you, too.”
“I’ll come back and check on you shortly.” She gave a wave and followed Will into the foyer and through the back entrance leading to his apartment. Knowing her grandmother was within a few steps relieved the normal tension she felt when she was away, and Ella’s getting steadier on the walker—even the cane—brought Christine joy. “Thank you, Lord.” The praise lingered in her mind.
Will had already set his tabletop tree into a stand, and Christine waited while he dragged out a small box of decorations. She wasn’t sure why he wanted his own tree. Yet as she watched the delight on his face—like a child on Christmas morning—she recognized the joy he had in preparing for Christmas.
“Help me untangle these,” he said, pulling out a knotted string of miniature lights.
She shook her head at the task but took a section and began solving the puzzle. “This reminds me of my grandmother’s jigsaw. I insist she use her left hand when I’m watching her. It’s difficult, but she’ll get there. I see the determination in her face.”
Will reached across the space and brushed her cheek. “You’re a very devoted granddaughter. It looks so good on you.”
“Thanks. I’m enjoying the time with her, and I mean that. I can’t help but worry about my job, but…”
He let the string of lights sag in his hand and gazed at her. “Tell me about this guy—your boss.”
“Chet.” She drew up her shoulders while frustration charged through her again. “You’ll ruin my evening if you make me talk about him.”
“Sorry, but I’d like to understand what you’re going through.”
“It’s something I’m ashamed of, Will. I haven’t told anyone, and it’s been eating at me. I was gullible and naive. Stupid is an even better word.”
He let the string drop to the ground and moved two steps toward her. He took the lights from her hand and drew her closer. “Whatever you did or said, it’s easier to live with when it’s out in the open.”
She noticed his expression and suspected he also had things in his life he’d rather forget.
Christine looked into his eyes, and as his discomfort faded, she saw the same gentleness arise that she’d seen when he cared for her grandmother. Will’s natural inclination toward compassion aroused her longing. She wished she had the same ability to put others first always.
He guided her to the sofa and motioned for her to sit. She wanted to pull away and to decorate the tree rather than bare her past—the embarrassing, disgusting truth of her gullibility.
Will didn’t move, and she gave in and sat. She tried to hide her trembling hands, but Will noticed.
“When you say things aloud, Christine, it gets rid of them.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Tell me about Chet. Don’t let the past spoil what we have.”
Don’t let the past spoil what we have. But what did they have? She knew what she longed for, but she also knew a relationship with Will was destined to failure. They were worlds apart, and the knowledge squeezed against her heart.
Yet she looked at his face, so open to hearing, and realized he’d offered her a gift. What difference did it make? If nothing were to become of their relationship, then she had nothing to lose except finally confessing her wrongdoing—a sin that had eaten at her for years and for which she’d already paid a depressing price.
She swallowed, then lowered her head to collect her thoughts. How had it all begun? “Chet was a new, upcoming man in the company when I met him. I’d joined the team a few months before he had.” The words tasted bitter, and the acrid memory churned in her throat. “He flirted. I flirted. After a few weeks, we dated. He told me how much he admired my work. My ideas. Me.”
Will shifted and rested his hand on her arm, his finger brushing along her skin.
“He started talking commitment. Life plans.” She sorted her thoughts, trying to remember what had happened first. “He told me how good our lives would be if he became a top adman. He suggested I help him. We’d brainstorm, and he’d present the idea as his own.” She turned to look at Will. “I’d become very respected when I joined the company. They said I had innovative ideas with a touch of wit.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Will said. “I love your spunky attitude.”
“Spunky?” She thought back and agreed she had been spunky with him from the beginning. “Chet wanted the top guns to think the ideas were his and not mine. He said it would be better for our relationship and our status as a couple.”
“That’s chauvinistic,” Will said, the disapproval evident in his voice.
“But I was smitten. I fell for it. I was flattered and foolish. I gave him my best ideas, and he became their golden boy over the next few months.”
“How could you do that? You’re so strong.”
“I am now. I wasn’t then. But when I saw what was happening, I started to back away. I told him he was set, and I needed to show I had talent.”
“What did he do?”
“He said he wanted to marry me.” She swallowed again, feeling tears fill her eyes. “He said once we were married and settled, then it wouldn’t matter. He would be my director. I’d be his wife, and he knew my talent.”
“Slick move. Disgusting, but slick.”
“That’s not the worst. He knew me well.” Christine swallowed back the revulsion that the memory evoked and wondered how Will would react. “Without a wedding or a wedding date, we became—became involved, and I felt trapped. He knew that I had a Christian upbringing and I had morals. If I revealed the truth, he could do the same. I felt sick.”
Will released a deep groan, and she felt him flinch, but his finger kept its steady rhythm along her arm.
“When he was promoted with his own office, he suddenly lost interest. I realized I’d been duped, and I was disgusted with myself.”
“Christine. I don’t know what to say.” He lowered his head and was quiet while she struggled with what he was thinking.
“I shouldn’t have told you. I knew you’d think less of me.”
“No, I don’t. You were naive. Those are the reasons I didn’t want to go into corporate business. I don’t play games. I don’t stab my friends in the back. I don’t lie or use people.”
“I know you don’t, Will.”
“Couldn’t you do anything?”
“What? He had me in the middle. I’d make a fool of myself no matter what I did or said. First I’d have to admit what I’d done, and then, he could say it was all sour grapes. I felt trapped in my own sin.”
“And now?”
“He’s confident I still won’t say anything. I’m very respected. Once his promotion became solid, he didn’t need to prove anything. He’s the team director, and he knows I’ll continue to work hard and give the company what they want—innovative ads with a unique twist.”
“Why is he fighting you now? You’d think he’d be happy to have you on leave for a couple of months.”
“It’s control. It’s cat and mouse. He loves the torment. He threatened my job.”
“To fire you?”
“No. To give my clients to someone else to direct. I don’t have much to stand on when I’m not there. It means struggling to get a foothold again when I get back. It’s the principle of the thing, but I’m not going to sit back and take it. I have rights, and I’ll go to the top if I must.”
“I would expect nothing else. God knows the truth, Christine, and the truth will win out.”
His words wove through her mind. Will’s faith amazed her. She longed to understand. “Will, I really want to know—”
Before she finished the sentence, he’d risen and held his hands out to her. “We need to get this tree finished. It’s late and my parents arrive tomorrow.”
She glanced at her watch. Nearly ten o’clock. She rose, and he drew her into his arms and gave her a reassuring hug. She held her question and joined him in untangling the tree lights.
Lights led to the ornaments, and when he began hanging them, Christine darted from the room and found the surprises she’d purchased for him. When she returned, he was standing back and looking at the tabletop tree.
“Not bad,” he said. “A little scanty, but that’s okay. I’ll enjoy your grandmother’s more than this one.”
“I can fill in a couple of gaps.”
He gave her a tender look when he saw the two packages in her hand.
She extended the one. “This is probably silly, but I thought it was lovely.”
Will took the bag and pulled out an orb wrapped in bubble wrap. “Why is it silly?” He peeled away the protective covering while the question hung in the air. When the ball appeared, he lifted it and held it to the light. “Christine, it’s beautiful. This is handblown.”
“I know, but you could probably make one yourself.”
“What difference does that make? This was from you and that makes it special.” He turned to eye the tree, and when he located a larger opening in the branches, he added a hook to the ornament and hung it there. The ball twirled below the limb, the light refracting in the swirls of color.
“It is pretty,” she said, pleased that he really seemed to like it. She fingered the next package and felt color rising up her neck, wondering if she’d made a mistake with this gift. She prayed he didn’t misunderstand.
“So what’s in the other bag?” he asked.
“Don’t laugh and don’t embarrass me with this one. I spotted it in the mall at one of those craft booths, and I couldn’t resist. Please take it in the spirit it’s given.”
A questioning frown filled his face. She handed him the package. When he opened it, the frown shifted to a broad smile.
“I’m taking this in the spirit that I prefer. I hope you don’t mind.” He looked at her with eyes that made her melt. “I love it.”
“I thought it would remind you of the photo you entered in the calendar contest.”
“It reminds me of more than that.”
She looked at the white handcrafted wooden heart personalized with their initials in red and the plus sign, just as they’d written it in the snow.
“This deserves a prominent spot,” he said, moving an ornament to place the heart at the front of the tree. “And the gift deserves a real hug.” He turned and opened his arms to her.
She stepped into his embrace, amazed at the feeling of comfort and familiarity that washed over her.
When she eased away, he urged her closer. “I bought a surprise, too,” he said, reaching beneath the tree.
His hand reappeared from under the branches, and she caught her breath. A sprig of mistletoe hung between his fingers. His eyes captured hers as he raised the mistletoe above her head, his eyes asking if it was okay.
She couldn’t respond, her own heart fighting for and against his action. They were spiraling even more deeply into a whirlwind relationship too fragile to withstand a gale.
He gathered her into his arms, his mouth finding hers. When she closed her eyes, her thoughts swirled like the colors of the lovely glass ornament. The gentle touch, the warmth that swept through Christine stunned her. His hand holding the mistletoe lowered to her back, nestling her closer as his mouth found hers again.
Reality smacked her. Why had she allowed this to happen? Sadness pried at the lovely liquid emotion that washed along her limbs. Nothing could undo their differences.
Will must have sensed her reserve, because he eased back, confusion spreading to his face. “What is it?”
She lowered her head. “Nothing you can fix.”
“It’s not the past, is it? I understand about that. Please, don’t let those memories ruin what we have.”
Ruin what we have? Again the words wove through her mind. “It’s not that, Will.” What did they have? A new friendship? Was it more? It couldn’t be. “It’s us. My work is downstate. Yours is here. I live in the city. You live on an island.”
He rested his index finger on her lips. “Shush. I have no idea what this means, but God is in charge, and with Him all things are possible.”
If God were in charge, He’d made a bungle of her life. She looked into Will’s pleading eyes but couldn’t tell him she disagreed. All things were not possible. She knew that for certain.