I'll Be Home for Christmas and One Golden Christmas. Lenora Worth

lifted his tray away, her eyes downcast. “Do you need anything else?”

      He looked up at her, thinking how right it seemed to have her here with him, thinking he needed her strength. “No, thanks. You’ve spoiled me quite enough, I believe.”

      His words soothed Myla like a balm. “Nick?” she called from the door.

      “Hmmm?”

      “Thank you, for understanding.”

      He wanted to tell her he didn’t understand, really. But the weight of sleep blocked out his reply. He didn’t understand how one minute he could be so sure, so secure in his firm, smug convictions, then the next, begin to doubt everything he stood for.

      He wasn’t as fearful as he should be. He wasn’t so much afraid of reaching out for love now. Myla had done that for him. She’d opened up her heart and told him a story of faith that left him humbled and ashamed. For so long now, he’d been afraid of the power of love. He’d believed loving someone could make a person weak, just as his grieving, dying father had become. But he’d been so very wrong. Nick needed to hold Myla again, just to be held himself.

      Instead, he reached for his pillow and buried his dreams and his doubts in a deep, troubled sleep.

      Nick woke hours later to find his room dark, except for the flickering light from the fire someone had lit in the sitting area fireplace. The room was cozy, but a flash of thunder and lightning told of the wintry chill settling over the city. He shuddered to think Myla and her children could have been out there, alone, in that cold night. And he wondered how many people were cold and shivering and afraid this night.

      Groaning, Nick rolled over, acutely aware of his own discomfort. This was a mean flu bug, that was for sure.

      His throat felt like he’d swallowed a jalapeño pepper and his head throbbed with each beat of his pulse. Craving a long, hot shower, he rose to calculate the distance to the bathroom. A bold knock hit the bedroom door before he could attempt the trip, causing a ricocheting rumble in his head.

      “Come in,” he called in a raspy voice.

      Lydia popped her head in the door. “Well, big brother, sleeping the day away won’t get your Christmas shopping done.”

      He moaned, rolling over to face the fire. “Go away.”

      “Glad you’re feeling better,” she replied as she tossed him a bag of prescription medicines. “Dr. Loeffler sent you these—antibiotics and a decongestant. He said to take all of it.”

      “He’s just trying to poison me so I won’t beat him at racquetball again.” Giving her a false smile, he added, “I don’t like being sick.”

      Lydia handed him two drawings. “Maybe these will cheer you up.”

      Nick grinned. Jesse had reproduced the kitchen disaster, complete with Shredder sitting on the ceiling fan and Pooky lapping away amidst a pile of food. Patrick had drawn a Christmas tree loaded with colorful gifts.

      “Your two biggest fans send their regards. Aren’t those two adorable?”

      Nick laid the pictures on the nightstand. “Yeah, and very well-behaved, as far as children go. Lydia, has Myla told you anything about their past?”

      “A little. Why?”

      “We had a long talk today. She’s had a rough time, but she won’t tell me exactly what happened in her marriage.”

      Lydia sat down to stare at her brother. “Well, don’t press her. I introduced her to Reverend Hillard. I’m sure he can give her some spiritual guidance.”

      “Maybe,” Nick said, remembering the story Myla had told him. “But I think her faith’s intact. It’s her self-esteem I’m worried about.”

      Lydia sat up, her eyes squinting toward him. “You’re worse off than I thought. Did I hear you say something good about someone’s faith? And that you’re actually aware of another person’s mental stability?”

      He nodded, then shot her a wry smile. “Yes, you did. I want to help her, Lydia. She’s a good woman.”

      “Well, praise the Lord.” Lydia hopped up to give her brother a breath-stopping hug. “Oh, Nicky, I knew you’d come around. You really want to help, really, really?”

      “Yes, really, really,” he said, laughing. “I’d be a real Scrooge if I didn’t see how much Myla and her children have been through. But don’t make more out of this than it is. I think this flu’s gone to my head.”

      “Or maybe Myla’s gone to your heart,” Lydia said softly. “After all, it is Christmas. A time for miracles.”

      He patted her on the back. “I’d forgotten what a joyous time it can be. And I’m sorry, really sorry, for being so hard to live with since Father’s death.”

      She kissed him on the temple. “No need to apologize. Welcome back, Nick.”

      When Nick came out of the bathroom, his food was sitting on a tray in front of the leather armchair by the fireplace. Glancing around, he was disappointed that Myla wasn’t there to make sure he ate everything on his plate. He still had a lot of questions to ask her.

      Lydia was right. He did have a soft spot in his heart for Myla and her two children. And the spot was opening to include other possibilities such as attending church and opening the Bible he’d tossed aside years ago.

      He should be scared, yet when he searched for the old fear, he only found a new, growing strength. Now, he was beginning to dread the time when Myla would have to leave.

      Two weeks until Christmas. Usually, this old house was hushed and quiet around this time of year, haunted by the memory of his parents. Not this year. This year, things were going to be different.

      A soft knock at the door caused him to put down the spoonful of beef stew he’d been about to eat. Two reddish blond heads bobbed just above the ornate door handle. Patrick and Jesse eyed him curiously.

      “You two going to stand out in the hall all night, or are you going to get in here before your mother catches you?”

      “We ain’t supposed to be here,” Patrick said in a small whisper. “But we wanted to say hi.”

      “It’s aren’t—we aren’t supposed to be here,” Jesse corrected as she pushed Patrick into the room.

      Patrick made a face at his sister’s redundancy. “I know that. That’s what I just said.”

      “Where’s your mother?” Nick asked, smiling at them.

      Jesse tossed her ponytail. “Talking to Miss Lydia. Mama’s gonna go to school at night and she’s looking for another job, for when Miss Henny comes home. We’ll just have to live in the shelter for a while, that’s all.”

      Nick didn’t want to think about that, so he changed the subject to more pleasant things. “Well, Santa’ll be coming soon,” he said, hoping to find two worthy allies in the children. “What do you want him to bring you?”

      Both children rushed to his side, talking at once. Nick heard it all, registered each request and vowed to travel to the North Pole if he had to, just to get them all the loot they wanted.

      “And what about your mom?”

      “Oh, that’s kinda hard,” Jesse said, giggling. “Mama wants stuff you can’t find in the mall.”

      “Yeah, like what?”

      Jesse settled down on the floor, wiping her nose with her hand. “She wants a house, of course. She talks about having a home of her own again. And she wants a job. She doesn’t like not having any money. Oh, and once, she told us she’d like a long soak in a tub of hot water, then get dressed up in a pretty green dress for a special Christmas dinner. She loves to cook, you know.”

      Nick once