Kate Welsh - A Family for Christmas

“Oh, no. Here we go again,” Rachel groaned and rolled her eyes.

Too late Maggie remembered Daniel’s penchant for needing to know the literal meaning in everything he heard. “We’ll sort it out later, Daniel Right now Grace needs a nap, and I think you could use a little lie-down, too.”

Grace perked up, and her eyes opened from their half-mast position. “Not tired,” she chirped, then ruined her lively pretense with a wide yawn.

Maggie tapped Grace’s little nose. “Careful before you catch a fly in that mouth.”

“Where’s a fly?” Daniel asked.

Maggie laughed and changed the subject. “Let’s get a move on, everybody. Into the house. We’ll worry about the luggage later.”

They proceeded as always with the routine Sarah had used, and which Maggie had adopted. She took Grace’s hand, Rachel took Daniel’s and they walked across the yard, up the steps and up to the front door. Maggie unlocked the door, opened it and peeked in. She stifled a gasp.

Rachel and Daniel had been alarmingly close in their description of Michael’s latest demolition. The only thing left of the interior front of the house were studs, subflooring and the central staircase horses. Wires hung everywhere. There were holes here and there in the subflooring. She couldn’t take the children in there! It was a minefield.

Maggie felt Rachel tug on her sleeve. “You want me to go and open the door? Mickey did it for Mommy. I’ll be careful and not touch a thing, and I’ll watch out for the holes.”

Just then, however, the door from the kitchen pushed open and a man in jeans and a dark T-shirt came toward them. Dust motes floated in the sunlight between them. “Maggie? What are you guys doing here?”

Maggie squinted. The voice was Trent’s, but it couldn’t be him. He walked closer, and she backed up onto the porch. It was, of course, Trent, but his black hair was dusty and mussed. There were streaks of dirt on his shirt and jeans and on his forehead behind an errant lock. Maggie had never seen him so disheveled. Or so masculine. If this was indeed Trent, he should have gotten into jeans and T-shirts years ago.

“Trent?” she said foolishly, forgetting that she was supposed to be angry at him.

He followed her gaze to his clothes and shrugged. “They’re Mike’s. I didn’t have anything to do this sort of work in.”

“’This sort of work’?”

“I was putting in a new hot-water heater. It’s all set.”

His smile was boyish as if he were showing off a school project. Trent had put in a water heater? Maggie should have been relieved. There’d be hot water after all. But she knew Trent. Lord, she prayed, tell me what to say.

“By yourself?” she asked, trying to keep a neutral tone, still not sure whether to be proud or horrified. This was Trent. The same Trent who had tried to fix a leaking pipe in their first apartment with a wad of chewing gum.

“Yeah. And it wasn’t too bad. Mike has the most incredible set of how-to books. I wanted to get more done before you got back. Why are you here? Why didn’t you warn me? I could have met you at the airport. Is Mickey at Shriners already?”

If you’d called me even once in the last two weeks, you might know. She glanced at the children taking in their whole conversation and guarded her tongue. “He’s all settled in. He still isn’t bouncing back emotionally but he was ready to travel, so I decided it was time to come home. I left messages with our flight number on your answering machine and your voice mail. I even called Ellen. She said you were at home, but I didn’t think of calling here.” I didn’t know to call here, she added silently.

Trent glanced at the children. Did he seem nervous? “Well, this is my home now too, right? I guess I should have had the phone company forward my calls here. You should do the same with your house.”

“Uncle Trent, why did you have a different house from Aunt Maggie?”

“’Cause they’re getting a divorce,” Rachel informed Daniel. “Mommy explained all about it to me. But if Uncle Trent’s moving here with us, how will you get divorced, Aunt Maggie?”

Maggie’s gaze flew to Trent’s. “We’re not,” Maggie said with false cheer. “Uncle Trent and I have been talking about getting back together. We sort of canceled the divorce. We’re going to be your guardians together. Remember? We talked about this.”

“But Uncle Trent never called us. He called Mickey. We thought he didn’t care about us. I’m just a girl and so is Grace.”

“And I’m just a little kid,” Daniel added.

Now she knew she wasn’t imagining Trent’s fear of these children; there was such stark terror in the depths of his gaze that her heart shuddered. Then Trent dropped to one knee. Guilt had replaced the terror. “I love you all very much. I’m sorry you misunderstood. I didn’t think how you’d feel not hearing from me. I’m so sorry. I was very upset by what happened to your daddy and mommy, and when I’m upset I work to help me forget. Unfortunately, that means I also forget things I shouldn’t.”

Rachel nodded sagely. “I heard Daddy say that to Mommy. He said you were sad about losing Aunt Maggie so you were working too much. It sounded very silly to me. You should have just asked us. Aunt Maggie wasn’t really lost at all, cause we knew where she was all the time.”

Trent looked up at Maggie. Two bright flags of red had appeared on his cheekbones. Rachel with her out-of-the-mouths-of-babes wisdom had clearly exposed a truth he’d rather have kept to himself.

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