Holiday Homecoming. Jean C. Gordon

before that because of downsizing. I was fired for not doing what was asked of me.”

      Her mother knit her brows. “That doesn’t sound at all like you,” she said, concern clouding her face.

      “You don’t know what was expected.”

      “Tell me.”

      Natalie’s chest tightened until she could barely draw a breath. “I can’t. I made a poor choice in my personal life, and I paid for it.” Connor’s face flashed in front of her. A couple of bad choices.

      “We’ve all made bad choices, and God forgives us for every one of them.”

      Natalie couldn’t imagine her dear mother making the choices she’d made.

      “How bad is it?” Mom asked.

      She might as well tell all, at least as much as she could bear to share with her mother. “I had to give up my apartment a couple of months ago, and I used the last of my savings for my plane ticket here and some Christmas gifts.”

      “You didn’t have to bring gifts. Having you here is enough for all of us.”

      “Thanks, Mom, but I wanted to, especially for the kids.” And for you and Dad.

      “If I’m not prying, where have you been living?”

      “A friend from the women’s Bible study at church invited me to move in with her.”

      Mom nodded. “I’m glad you’ve been able to hang on to your faith.”

      “I’ve been trying, Mom. It hasn’t been easy.”

      “It often isn’t. When I’m having trouble hanging on, I quote Lamentations 3:24-25 to myself. ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him. The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him.’ Waiting has always worked for me.”

      She hugged her mother, feeling for the moment that she was safe from the ruthless world she’d left to come home, that she was somewhere she belonged.

      Her mother patted her back as she drew away. “So why were you frowning at your phone when I came in?”

      Natalie released a laugh that bordered on maniacal. “Andie called and asked me if I could fill in for her helping the women from church decorate the parsonage this afternoon. She thinks Robbie is coming down with something.”

      “I hope not,” her mother said. “I’ll call her later to check on him. And you’ll have a good time helping decorate. It’s a younger group of women than what you’d remember. Autumn and Becca and some other girls you may know from school will be there.”

      “It’s not that.” Natalie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s Connor’s house.”

      Her usually perceptive mother cocked her head in question.

      Natalie’s throat clogged. “I treated him badly. Every time I see him, I feel like I should apologize, do something to make it up to him.” She waved her hands as if grasping for an answer. “But I don’t know how, what.”

      “You’re not the only young woman who’s turned down a marriage proposal, and you’re not the only one who’s had second thoughts afterward.”

      Natalie chose to skip over her mother’s last words. “But I wasn’t nice about it. In my eyes, he’d become too small-town, and I had cities to conquer. I’m sure I made him feel that being a television reporter was more important than anything he could offer, that he and his proposal would get in the way of my career.”

      A raw laugh caught in her throat. Some career. She’d been so naive. And in the far recesses of her mind, she’d harbored the thought that he’d always be there for her to fall back on. She hadn’t seen him again after that Christmas Eve until the other night at the pageant practice.

      “I’m going to let you in on a secret. I turned down your father’s first proposal. He asked me on my birthday, just before our high school graduation. He had it all mapped out. We’d move to Cobleskill and I’d work while he did his two years of agriculture school. Then, we’d come back and he’d work the farm with your grandfather.”

      “But...” Natalie started. Her parents had gotten married the summer after Dad had finished his two-year ag degree.

      “Let me finish. I had bigger things to do, like make the US ski team. And I would have if I hadn’t torn up my knee,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “But God had other plans. Despite my refusing his proposal, your dad was with me as much as he could be after that surgery, as he has been with this one.” She motioned to her knee brace.

      “Connor’s and my situation is different.”

      “I don’t know. I was hurting. You’re hurting. Talk with Connor. See where it goes.”

      Mom meant well, but Natalie knew where it would go. Nowhere.

      I’m not the girl he wanted anymore. And Connor has become everything I’d expected he’d become and rashly thought I didn’t want.

      * * *

      Connor sawed the trunk of the evergreen above the pail-shaped block of ice and attacked the lower branches to expose enough trunk for the tree to sit securely in the tree stand. He probably shouldn’t have left the tree in the pail of water overnight. But who knew the church women could organize their work day so quickly? One of them must have seen Natalie and him cutting the tree yesterday. An email was waiting for him when he and Hope had gotten home from Josh’s asking if there was any problem with them decorating this afternoon.

      He partially sawed the last branch. Sometimes he thought his parishioners took advantage of his time, thought he was always available because he didn’t have a family. He ripped the branch from the tree. But he was supposed to be available. That came with the job. He glanced at Hope, sitting on the steps from the house into the garage watching. He did have a family. After she’d heard him announce the parsonage decorating at church, she’d asked him if she could stay today, too.

      “What do you think?” He held the tree upright for Hope.

      “It’s big. We don’t have a tree yet. Becca said we’ll get one next weekend when everyone is home and can go. Since I’m going to help decorate your tree, do you want to come over and help us decorate ours?”

      Connor didn’t want to participate in decorating this tree, let alone another one. “I’ll see. I never know when I might be called to help someone.”

      “I know,” Hope said with a deep sigh. “Cami Hill’s grandmother—remember, she was my old day-care teacher before Jared and Becca got married—said you could really use a helpmate.”

      Add another church member to the “get Pastor married” brigade.

      “What’s a helpmate?” Hope asked.

      “Someone who helps you do stuff,” he answered, knowing Karen Hill’s definition was really a wife.

      “I can be your helpmate today,” Hope said.

      His heart warmed. “Yes, you can, starting with helping me move these tree branches out of the garage and into the woods behind the house.”

      Hope hopped off the steps while he lifted the garage door.

      “Hi, Pastor Connor.” The Bissette twins walked up his driveway as their dad’s truck pulled away.

      “We’re here to help decorate your house. Dad had to drop us off early. One of the cows hurt her leg, and he has to get back to meet the vet.”

      “Me, too,” Hope said. “I’m being Connor’s helpmate. Do you want to, too?”

      Aimee and Amelia giggled, reminding him of their conversation he’d overheard at the pageant practice saying he’d make a good Christmas present for their aunt Natalie. He rubbed his neck