“When you see Connor tonight, be sure to tell him again how much I liked his sermon on Sunday.” Natalie’s mother sat at the kitchen table keeping her company as she finished putting the Tuesday supper plates in the dishwasher.
Natalie closed the dishwasher door, dried her hands and folded the dish towel on the counter before pressing the start button. She listened to it whir to life. Connor had preached about rejoicing in the moments of joy in life and called on all of them to take time this week to discover and celebrate those times. He’d urged them to write down one time during each day that they felt God with them, saying that true joy comes from a security with God—a security that was evident in his passion for the subject and the very way he held himself out to others. Natalie had been hard-pressed to catch even a thread of that security in herself or her life. She’d tried to find times yesterday that she’d felt God with her and had failed. One more thing she and Connor didn’t have in common, more ammunition she could use against the pull he exerted on her.
She turned from the counter. “All done.” She held her hand out to help her mother from the chair.
Her mother hesitated before taking it. “I’m getting tired of being dependent on everyone.”
“Try not to let it bother you. You’re doing really well and it’s only for a short time.” Her throat clogged. Like the time I have left with you all and Connor.
Her mother took her hand and pressed her other palm on to the table for support as she rose to her feet. “I talked with Andie today. She said to let you know she’s not coming to practice.”
Natalie handed her mother her cane. “Is she okay?”
“I think so. Just tired. She said she and Rob got tickets to take Robbie on the Polar Express train ride next Saturday. They wouldn’t have spent the money if she didn’t feel up to it. Remember the year we took all of you? Renee and Paul couldn’t have been more than three.”
“Yes. I was in kindergarten. I couldn’t wait to talk about it at show-and-tell. It didn’t matter that two other kids before me told the same story.”
“All of you kids loved Christmas, but I think you loved it most.”
Natalie winced. She had until her Christmas breakup with Connor. After that, all of the light had gone out of the season—literally, when she’d taken down her tree and packed the ornaments, including the star, away for good. She’d attended Advent and Christmas services and dutifully sent off gifts to her parents, siblings, nieces and nephew. But she hadn’t put up a tree again. Nor had she embraced the joy of the season, of celebrating Christ’s birth and the light He brought the world. Talking and being with Connor Saturday night had broken through some of her Christmas darkness, as had his sermon, despite her having trouble applying his words to herself.
“I did—do—love Christmas. Being here with you and Dad and everyone this year is bringing that love back.”
“I’m glad for that and for you coming to help me and for what you did for Andie. We were too close to her. We didn’t see it coming.”
“What I did wasn’t that big a deal.”
“No, what you did was something big, maybe life-changing. After work today, she stopped in at the community college and picked up some information about their degree in early childhood education. She used to talk about going to college when the kids were all in school. Then, somewhere along the way, she stopped talking about it. Robbie will be in kindergarten in the fall.”
Natalie nodded. Her mother’s words warmed her, but she couldn’t take full credit. She’d drawn her strength to help Andie from Connor. “Connor being there, too, helped a lot.”
“I’m sure it was a blessing having him there for you...” Her mother’s voice trailed off.
Natalie silently added the missing words like he used to be. And, as she’d once thought he’d always be.
“I hope Andie seriously considers taking classes. Working with kids at the church day-care center or as an aide at the elementary school would fit Andie a lot better than her job at the sporting goods store.” She hated to admit it, but she was a little jealous of Andie, that she had been able to follow her love for Rob without feeling constrained by a career. Andie was only thirty-two. She could easily pursue a teaching career now, with Rob’s support, Natalie was sure. Even Claire, with her soon-to-be-finished advanced degree and job that she loved, sounded like she’d be able to compromise, balance her personal life and work if the right man came along. What was wrong with her? Why did her life seem like an all-or-nothing choice? Or was this God’s way of telling her Connor wasn’t the man for her?
“Have you heard any more about the job you got the call about last week?” her mother asked.
Natalie shook her head, as much to clear her thoughts as in answer to her mother’s question. “My guess is that my agent found out about it too late and the audition slots were already filled.” The acknowledgment that she didn’t have any job to go back to after Mom recovered opened a void in her—a void she wasn’t sure even a callback from her agent could fill.
He mother squeezed her hand. “You can stay here as long as you like. Maybe you should check in with some of the TV stations in Albany after the first of the year. I know it’s your life, but I’d like it if you were closer.”
“That’s an idea,” she said, half to humor her mother and half because she wouldn’t mind being closer to her family. Or to Connor, a voice in her head said. If she lived closer and neither of them had to choose between their work and a relationship... She stopped her thoughts with a frown.
“Maybe not a good idea?” her mother asked.
Natalie wasn’t sure what her mother was getting at.
“Your frown,” she prompted.
“Sorry. I was thinking about something else. I’ll have my agent put out some feelers in Albany.”
She helped her mother sit on the living room couch next to her dad, who draped his arm around her, reminding Natalie of her and Connor the other night.
Stepping away, she opened the closet and took out her coat. “I’d better get to practice.” She pulled on her coat, said, “Goodbye” and walked out into the wintry night. Maybe the cold air would clear her muddled mind. If she and Connor had any possibility of a real relationship, she wouldn’t be considering how the relationship affected her career. Would she? Her mind filled with more questions she couldn’t answer. Was that her excuse for not giving in to her true feelings? Was she purposely not listening to what God was telling her because she wanted to hear something different? Or was she just plain overthinking things? Her emotions were too raw and jumbled to know.
As she drove to Sonrise, she prayed for direction for her and Connor. The last thing she wanted to do was to mislead him again.
* * *
Connor turned off the light to his church office and closed and locked the door, working hard to throw off the rub of irritation he felt. He should have been at pageant practice forty-five minutes ago. As he’d been getting ready to leave, one of his parishioners had showed up with a “crisis.” The crisis being he was lonely. The man was a recovering alcoholic whose wife had left him earlier in the year before he’d gone into recovery and whose children were reluctant to accept that he’d changed. He was afraid he’d be alone for the holidays.
Connor ran his hand over his hair before he yanked on his ski cap. He usually was patient with the man, and he’d tried to reassure him that he had his Savior and his church family at Hazardtown Community. He’d invited the man to the open house at the parsonage next Sunday. But despite his training and best intentions, as the man droned on, Connor couldn’t keep his personal thoughts out of his head. The man had brought his loneliness on himself. He could sympathize with the man’s children. He’d have a hard time accepting his father, if he was still alive, as sober. Thoughts of his mother and father reminded Connor that sometimes people who thought they were in love just weren’t really suited for each other. As much as he believed in the sanctity of the marriage vow, he wouldn’t wish his father back into his mother’s life.
After the man left, Connor prayed for forgiveness for focusing on himself and becoming impatient with him. Rather than the peace he’d expected his prayer to bring, a chill ran through Connor that had nothing to do with his frigid car. But he and Natalie were right for each other, he argued with himself. They always had been and could have been together the past few years if they hadn’t both acted like pigheaded children back in college. Saturday had proven that to him, proven it so much that he’d emailed his seminary friend Sunday afternoon to say he might be interested in the assistant pastor position. He and Natalie had their differences, but he was confident they could work them out.
More than an hour later than he’d intended, Connor pulled open the door to the Sonrise Conference Center. He whistled to the strains filtering from the auditorium. They stopped as he stepped in.
“Connor,” Jared called from up front near the piano. “We just finished. We’d given up on you.”
Jared’s cheerful dismissal rubbed him the wrong way as much as his parishioner who’d needed him too much. Connor gauged his stride so he didn’t appear to be rushing down to take over from Jared, which is exactly what he felt like doing. He smiled hello to Natalie before facing the choir.
“Sorry, I was delayed. Remember, next Tuesday is dress rehearsal with Becca and the Sunday school kids.”
“Covered that,” Jared said.
Connor went on anyway. “We’ll be meeting an hour earlier, at six, so we won’t keep the kids out too late.”
“That, too.” Jared folded his arms across his chest.
Natalie released a noise that sounded like a cross between a giggle and a choke.
He and Jared were acting on the juvenile side, Connor conceded. He’d be the bigger man. He should be thankful his brother had given Natalie a hand. “And I suppose you all know that, if you can’t make the earlier time, let me know and come when you can.”
“I hadn’t gotten to that.” Jared grinned.
“We’ll see everyone next Tuesday at six, then.”
The choir members filed down from the stage risers, with several people stopping to tell Connor they’d be late for the next practice. He assured them it wasn’t a problem. He understood work and family commitments came first.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie gather her music and push back the piano bench.
“If you can stay a few minutes, we should run through our solo once. This coming week is full and we may not get a chance to before dress rehearsal.”
“Covered you there, too,” Jared said. “And we sounded good together. Maybe I should have taken the part.”
He’d been so focused on Natalie and getting her to stay he hadn’t realized Jared was still there. “Don’t you need to be getting home?”
“I’m waiting for Josh. He’s finishing up the sets.”
Wait somewhere else. He glared at Jared.
“Lighten up, bro,” Jared said. “I was just busting on you.”
“Right.” He attempted a conciliatory smile. “The counseling session that delayed me was a tough one.” It was easier to blame his tension on his parishioner than to admit, even to himself, that Natalie had him so tied up he was jealous of his brother, his very married brother, spending Connor’s time with her.
“You have keys to lock up, so you two can stay and sing to your heart’s delight.”
Connor laughed, letting off more tension. The way Jared had wiggled his eyebrow was as corny as his words.
“Later,” Jared said before strolling up the aisle to the door.
“Brothers,” Natalie said.
“That’s right. You have a couple of them, too.” He leaned against the piano.
She adjusted the piano bench and reopened the sheet music. “Ready?” Her smile hit him in the solar plexus like a hard right. He was ready, all right. Ready to share a whole lot more with her than a song. All he needed was to determine if she was, too, before he made a fool of himself again.
* * *
Connor’s voice blending with hers filled the void inside her like water quenching a powerful thirst. She started her last solo verse with a slight quaver in her voice that made Connor cock his head. She rechanneled the emotion welling in her into the song.
He whistled a cheer when she finished, the sound sending a jolt through her. What she was feeling at the moment went far beyond the friendship she was determined to limit their relationship to.
“You are good,” he said.
“You aren’t bad yourself.” She fumbled with the music, knowing her comment went far beyond his singing.
“Better than Jared?”
She slapped his arm with the folded music. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’m not sure that’s a quality a pastor should aspire to, but from you, I’ll take it as a compliment.”
His eyes softened as he offered her his hand. He closed it possessively around hers and pulled her gently to her feet. He was going to kiss her again, and she was powerless to stop him, despite her determination to discourage anything beyond friendship between them. Connor placed his hands on her hips, lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. As if of their own accord, her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him in a way that was anything but friendlike. Connor pulled her closer and the word lifeline blared in her head. She should stop him, but she couldn’t pull away.
“Natalie, I...” he murmured against her lips.
She pulled back and touched her finger to his lips to stop him from finishing. “We need to talk.” The sense of loss that followed was overwhelming. Why couldn’t she just accept what Connor’s kiss was offering her?
“We do.” His voice was husky.
He dropped his hands from around her waist, and she shivered as much from knowing what she had to say probably wasn’t what he wanted to hear as from the loss of his closeness.
Connor helped her with her coat, then adjusted her scarf after she’d buttoned up. “Don’t you have a hat?”
“No.” She stood looking up into his face, relishing his tender touch and concern. Tenderness and concern she didn’t deserve, but was all too willing to accept.
In one fluid movement, he pulled his ski cap from his pocket and placed it on her head, yanking it down to cover her ears.
“My hair,” she squawked.
“Is beautiful.” He wound a strand around his finger, sending a tremor down her spine when his finger caressed her cheek. “Do you want to stop by the parsonage on your way home? To talk. I could brew us up some coffee or hot chocolate.”
Her and Connor alone at his house? She fingered the button on her coat. The alternative was her parents’ house, and she didn’t need to feed their penchant for matchmaking. Maybe they could drive to the diner in Schroon Lake.
“I’ll behave myself.”
Did he think he was that irresistible? “It’s not that.”
Connor grinned.
Well, maybe he was that irresistible. “I...” She fumbled for words, glad for the interrupting buzz of his cell phone.
“Excuse me.” Connor glanced at the screen, his grin fading. He continued reading and texted back before he clicked the phone off and put it in his pocket.
“Is something wrong?”
“That was Gram. She and Harry are at the parsonage. Their furnace isn’t working, so they don’t have any heat at their house. Harry wanted to wait it out until someone from the burner service could get out to look at it. Gram insisted on coming over to my house. Harry is just getting over a bout with pneumonia, and I have plenty of room for them to stay.”
Connor’s step-grandfather, Harry, was well into his eighties. “I wondered why I didn’t see him and your grandmother at church service. If you’re concerned about my exposing Harry to something, we could go to the diner or my parents’ house—or talk another time.” She held her breath. The sooner she said what she needed to say, the better.
“It’s not that.” He shuffled his feet like her little nephew, Robbie, did when he was being shy. “I was hoping for a little privacy.”
She slipped her arm in his. “At your house, it’s even odds. If we go over to mine, it’s four against two.”
“I hadn’t looked at it that way.” He walked her to her car. “I’ll follow you up to the house,” he said as he closed the car door after her.
Natalie used the five-minute drive from Sonrise to the parsonage to distance herself from the emotions she’d been overwhelmed by the moment before Connor’s grandmother had interrupted them. Her relief at knowing she and Connor wouldn’t be alone at his house was palpable. Natalie simply couldn’t bypass her emotions and think straight when he was near, and she knew only too well the consequences of acting on pure emotion, rather than rational thought. It was a mistake she wasn’t going to make again for her sake and Connor’s.
She let Connor pull into the driveway ahead of her so she’d be able to back out when she left. He parked in the garage and waited in the doorway for her to get out of her car. “I usually go in this way,” he said, waving her in before closing the door and leading her through the garage and up the stairs to the kitchen.
An aroma of chocolate and cinnamon tickled Natalie’s nose as she stepped in the room, taking her back to times Connor had driven her home from high school by way of his grandmother’s. She’d always had a homemade snack for them and some little job she needed Connor to do. That was when his grandmother was a widow and didn’t have Harry to do things for her. But Natalie had always thought the jobs were his grandmother’s way of boosting Connor’s confidence in the shadow of his two older brothers.
“Natalie, it’s so good to see you,” Connor’s grandmother said. “I have hot chocolate all made, and I’m warming up some sugar cookies in the oven.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Stowe.” Natalie slipped out of her coat, and Connor hung it on a hook by the outside door.
“Edna, please. We’re all adults.”
“Edna, then.” Natalie watched as Connor strode across the room and snatched a cookie from the pan his grandmother was taking out of the oven.
“Or—” Edna slapped Connor’s hand “—most of us are adults. Do you want to have your talk and snack here or in the living room?”
“Here,” Natalie said, before Connor could have a chance to say otherwise. In the kitchen, they’d have the table between them.
“Okay.” Edna poured two mugs of hot chocolate and placed them on the table with a plate of warm cookies. “Harry and I will be in the other room reading if you need anything else.”
Connor leaned over and kissed his grandmother’s cheek. “Thanks. We’re fine.”
Natalie slipped into one of the chairs at the table, hoping Connor would still think they were fine after she’d had her say. She prayed so.
“When we were texting, I told Gram you and I needed to talk about the pageant.” He sat in the chair across from her.
“Didn’t want to give her the wrong idea?” Natalie teased, thinking about her matchmaking family members.
“The pageant is one of the things I want to cover.” He offered her the cookie plate. “These are really good.”
She took one. “As good as Autumn’s grandmother’s snickerdoodles?”
Connor made a show of glancing furtively at the doorway. “I wouldn’t want Gram to hear, but no other cookie is as good as Mrs. Hazard’s snickerdoodles. But I didn’t bring you home to talk about cookies.”
Natalie’s heart did a little flip-flop at the words bring you home.
“I talked with my friend from seminary about his offer.” Connor paused, staring into her eyes with an intensity that made her want to look away. “I said I was interested.”
She crushed the sweet cookie between her teeth and swallowed. “Are you sure? I talked with Claire on Sunday. She’s positive the Hazardtown Community Church administrative council will renew your contract.” Her heart raced. She had to get out what she’d come to say. “Please don’t rearrange your life for me.”
He studied her for what seemed like an eternity.
What if she was wrong about his feelings for her? She squirmed in the hard wooden chair. But his kisses. Connor wouldn’t mislead her. Her conscience pricked her. Like you misled him back in college? No, Connor wasn’t vindictive. He was a man of God. His eyes shone with an intensity that took her breath away. But he was still a man.
“Because you wouldn’t for me?” he finally asked.
Natalie didn’t know if he meant past or present.
Connor reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “You know I care for you. I always have.”
Care, not love. She sucked in a hard breath. “And I care for you.”
His gentle expression melted her to her core. “I won’t make a decision without a lot of thought and prayer. And when I do, it won’t be because of anything in the past. It’ll be because I feel in my heart it’s what God wants for me, for us. And I’ll accept His answer.”
Despite all I’ve done, he thinks there’s an us. Natalie pressed the soles of her feet to the floor to control the joy that rippled through her. “Of course,” she agreed once she’d found her voice.
He rubbed her hand with his thumb. “You’ll pray, too?”
“I’ll pray as hard as I can,” she said softly. Pray not to do anything to hurt you, even if it means I can’t be with you.