Kathryn Springer - The Prodigal's Christmas Reunion

Lucas silently calculated how long it would take to get the nearest gas station without exceeding the speed limit. “Five minutes, Bud.”

“But I haveta go now.”

Erin sighed. “I do have indoor plumbing, Lucas.”

“Are you sure?”

Erin didn’t bother to grace that with a response, just closed the barn door and strode toward the house. They followed her inside, where the scent of cinnamon and apples permeated the air.

She pointed to a door at the end of the narrow hall. “Come into the kitchen when you’re done. I have to take a loaf of bread out of the oven.”

Lucas scooped Max up to hasten the trip but as they passed the living room, the boy let out a squeal that practically drilled a hole in Lucas’s left eardrum.

“Look at Erin’s tree!”

Lucas blinked. It wasn’t just a tree. The entire room resembled a Christmas card come to life.

The roundest balsam fir Lucas had ever seen took up an entire corner of the room, decked out in dozens of shimmering ornaments that caught and reflected the twinkling lights woven between the branches. A pine garland braided with gold ribbons ran the length of the fireplace mantle and a hand-carved nativity set graced the coffee table in front of the green corduroy sofa.

Lucas wanted to smack himself upside the head.

Christmas was only three weeks away and until now it hadn’t even appeared on his radar. His mother hadn’t decorated for the holiday. Maybe she didn’t bother anymore. But after what Max had been through…well, he deserved some of this.

The scents and sounds of the holiday.

A home.

Unfortunately, Lucas didn’t feel equipped to give the boy either one of them.

Erin appeared beside him. “I decorate the house the day after Thanksgiving every year. It’s a tradition Mom started.”

“I remember,” Lucas said without thinking.

Erin’s lips parted but no words came out. Maybe because there wasn’t anything to say that would banish the memories that crowded the air whenever they were together.

Max broke the silence. “What’s that?” He pointed at the nativity set, but Lucas shook his head.

“Sorry, buddy. First things first.”

Fortunately, Max accepted Lucas’s decision without a fuss, but there was no stopping him from taking a detour into the living room on their way back. Erin must have known that because she was waiting for them in the hallway.

“Do you mind?” Lucas needed permission before turning a four-year-old boy loose into her Christmas wonderland.

Erin shook her head. “There isn’t anything he can damage.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Lucas muttered. As well behaved as Max was, he’d managed to turn Lisette’s home upside down in the space of a week. Fingerprints on the walls. A broken dish. Plastic trucks making roads in her potted plants.

Lucas had heard about it all. Which was why they had to find a place of their own. Soon.

His cell phone rang and he glanced at the name on the screen. “It’s Tweed,” he murmured, keeping a watchful eye on Max. “I should probably take it.”

Erin nodded. “Come on, Max. I have a special ornament on the tree. Let’s see if you can find it.” She took the boy by the hand and led him into the living room.

By the time Lucas returned, he found Max snuggled up on Erin’s lap, one of the nativity pieces clutched in his hand.

“Is everything all right?” Erin asked.

“One of Fred McKinney’s steers sliced its leg open and he thinks it’s going to need stitches.”

“What about Max?” Erin frowned. “Is he going with you?”

Lucas didn’t get a chance to answer because Max sat up straight and began to shake his head.

“Nope. I’m stayin’ with Erin.”

“Listen, buddy—”

“Bye, Lucas. See ya later.” Max flashed an enchanting smile that Erin matched with one of her own.

“I guess he’s staying with me.”

Lucas wondered if the preschooler wasn’t smarter than he was. Because looking at Erin, at the warm light in her eyes and the arms wrapped protectively around his adopted son, he was suddenly having a hard time remembering why he’d ever left.

Erin ran a damp dishcloth over the refrigerator door and erased another smudge of green frosting.

The table resembled an artist’s palette and flour dusted the floor, making it look as if her kitchen had been the target of an early snow. By the time Erin pulled the last batch of cookies out of the oven, Max had been coated in a thin layer of frosting and sprinkles, looking a bit like one of the gingerbread men lining the counter.

She couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Max was one hundred percent boy. Bright. Energetic. Inquisitive. And heartbreakingly sweet.

The trouble was, Erin had already had her heart broken once.

She turned the handle of the faucet with a little more force than was necessary.

Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to agree to babysit.

But somehow, Max’s wide, little boy grin had pushed every one of her doubts about keeping her distance from Lucas aside.

She padded down the hallway to the living room, where she’d left Max playing with the nativity set while she straightened up the kitchen. The wooden figurines had fascinated him. Erin had answered a dozen questions about each piece and tried to explain, in a way that a four year old could understand, why there was a baby sleeping inside the miniature barn.

Max’s lack of knowledge about the Christmas story made her heart ache.

As the son of a medical missionary, Lucas knew the Bible inside and out, but he had turned his back on his faith when they were in high school. He’d told Erin that he probably wouldn’t be able to live up to God’s expectations any more than he could his father’s, so why even try?

And even though Lucas had walked away from her, too, Erin had never stopped praying that he would eventually find his way back to God. Over the past few days, she’d felt the burden to pray for him even more.

There’s a reason You brought Lucas back to Clayton, Lord. Show him that You love him and help him let go of the past. Max needs Lucas to be a loving father…and Lucas needs You to show him how.

Peeking around the corner, she spotted the boy curled up on the sofa next to Winston, sound asleep, the ragged tail of his blanket clutched in one small hand.

An image of Lucas, holding the rumpled square of bright green fleece, rose up in her mind. He’d retrieved the blanket from the truck and brought it up to the house to give to Max before he’d left. Erin had been touched by the gesture, but the self-conscious look on Lucas’s face told her that he wasn’t comfortable with his new role.

Erin wasn’t completely comfortable with it, either.

He belongs to me.

Lucas. A father.

How many hours had she spent doodling their names in her notebook during study hall? Planning their wedding? Their family?

Their future.

Until he’d set out on his own and crushed every one of those girlish fantasies. Erin’s faith had been the only thing holding her together during those first few days. And as those days turned into months and the months became years, new dreams eventually began to kindle from the ashes of the ones that had once revolved around Lucas.

If you keep looking back, you might miss something good that’s right there in front of you.

One of her mom’s many pearls of wisdom. And one that Erin had finally taken to heart. It was the reason she kept a smile on her face and her calendar full. Every morning she asked God to teach her contentment—to show her the good that was right in front of her.

And right now, no matter how conflicted her feelings for Lucas Clayton might be, the “good” in front of her was Max.