Sam muffled her laugh behind a cough. She had missed the craziness of Bramble. Missed it more than she’d realized. In the last seven years, she’d tried to become a cosmopolitan girl. But all it had taken was five minutes in Josephine’s to realize she was small town through and through.
“Not to say that Darla ain’t gifted,” Rachel continued. “Why, her manger-decoratin’ skills are gonna surprise the pants right off of Pastor Robbins when he gets back from that preacher convention in Dallas.”
Mayor Sutter nodded. “The pastor might’ve had a nice enough live nativity at his last church, but it’s not gonna hold a candle to ours.”
There was a chorus of “shore ain’ts” before the conversation moved on to Hope and Faith’s pregnancies and what they should name their babies. After a good hour of listening to children’s names weirder than Hollywood movie stars’, Sam decided she had delayed seeing her family long enough and got up from the stool.
“If you stop by the church a little before six, Sam, I’ll fix you up with a costume,” Rachel Dean said as she handed Sam her change. “We don’t got any more heavenly hosts’ wings or shepherd sheets, but I’ll find you somethin’.”
Sam smiled. It was so like the people of Bramble to include everyone.
“I’ll try to be there,” she said as she made her way to the door.
The weather had turned while Sam had been in the diner. Gray clouds blocked out the blue west Texas sky, and a cold wind press against her as she hurried to her rental car. She probably could’ve called her sister, Marcy, to pick her up from the airport in Lubbock. But she wasn’t willing to be stuck at her father’s house without a means of escape.
The one-story stucco house she’d grown up in hadn’t changed all that much over the last seven years. The lawn and flower beds were better cared for, and the yellow trim looked freshly painted, but other than that, it looked the same. It wasn’t a big house-no more than six rooms total-but it had been a comfortable home.
At least physically.
Emotionally was another story.
Ever since Sam could remember, there had been underlying tension in the house. When her mother and father weren’t arguing, they weren’t speaking. And their discontentment had filtered down to their children. By the time her mother had left, Sam felt almost relieved. Until she realized she was stuck with a father who didn’t know the first thing about showing love to his two teenage daughters.
As Sam got out of the car, a black Lab and a Yorkshire terrier came running up. But since her father had never particularly cared for animals, she figured they belonged to a neighbor. She gave each dog a good scratch before heading up the steps of the porch.
Rather than just walk in, she tapped softly on the screen door. But when the sound of Christmas music drifted from the closed windows, she pressed hard on the doorbell.
The door was pulled open by a woman Sam recognized immediately from the wedding pictures she’d sent. A puff of orange hair surrounded a round face with laugh crinkles at the eyes. Those eyes widened for only a second before the screen door was pushed open. The dogs squeezed past Sam’s legs just as she was pulled against a bright red sweatshirt with reindeer appliqués and a soft body that smelled of gingerbread.
“You came,” Laverne said against her hair. “I worried myself sick that you wouldn’t.” The back door slammed, and before Sam could utter a word, Laverne was herding her over to the large Christmas tree set up in the corner.
“I know I shouldn’t have kept it a secret,” Laverne whispered under her breath. “But I just didn’t want him to be disappointed if you didn’t show up.” She grabbed a big gold bow off a package beneath the tree and slapped it on Sam’s head. “There.” She grinned so brightly, her eyes disappeared. “You’re going to be the best Christmas present he’ll ever get.”
“Laverne!”
Sam’s father’s voice boomed from the kitchen, and Sam jumped. But Laverne didn’t seem to be too intimidated by the gruffness.
“Would you keep it down, Phillip!” she hollered back as she hurried toward the kitchen, the dogs on her heels. “I swear you’re goin’ as deaf as Moses Tate.”
“I’m not deaf, woman,” her father said, “I’m starvin’. When will that turkey be done?” There was a creak of the oven door, followed by a sharp slap.
“Oh, no you don’t, Phillip James Henderson,” Laverne scolded. “You’re not gettin’ a taste until it’s finished.”
“Blame ornery woman,” her father huffed, but with more humor than anger. “Well, if I’m not gonna get any turkey, I might as well get me some sugar.”
In the silence that followed, Sam stared at the doorway and tried to reconcile the happy, loving man in the kitchen with the angry, bitter father of her youth.
It proved impossible.
Pulling off the bow, she tossed it to the coffee table and was halfway to the door when her father’s voice stopped her.
“Samantha?”
She turned. Unlike the house, Phillip Henderson had changed a great deal. His hair was completely gray, and he was almost as chubby as his wife. Sam had to admit that the added weight looked good on him. It softened his features and made him seem more approachable. Or maybe it was the smile on his face. A smile that had been missing for much of her childhood.
Not knowing what to do, Sam held up her hands. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
They stared at each other for a few moments until Laverne prodded.
“Well, go on, Phillip. Hug the girl.”
Her father hesitated only a moment before taking the three steps necessary to pull her into his arms. It was awkward. Sam didn’t pull away; nor did she sink into the broad chest that smelled like Old Spice and chewing tobacco. She just stiffened up and waited for it to be over so things could go back to normal. But when her father finally pulled back, he didn’t appear normal. He appeared to be crying.
And Laverne wasn’t far behind him.
“I’ll just let you two chat,” she sniffed before heading back to the kitchen.
Once she was gone, Sam moved over to the partially decorated tree so she wouldn’t have to look at the man she no longer recognized. She had just leaned closer to examine a clay horse ornament when he finally spoke.
“I wrote you some letters.”
Her hand stilled on the bumpy horse’s mane. “I didn’t get them.”
“Because I never mailed them. I never could get the words right.”
Sam turned to find him standing close behind her. His eyes still glittered with tears, but his voice was strong.
“You made that one in fifth grade.” He nodded at the horse ornament. “I always refer to that year as the year of the horse. Every drawing, every library book, and every gift you asked for-or gave-always had to do with horses.” He reached down and lifted another ornament from the box on the table. His callused fingers gently removed the cotton before lifting a red-glitter pinecone. “Now, this one you made in first grade. It started losing its glitter the second year, which was why your mama wrapped it in cotton from then on.”
Sam hadn’t remembered that, and she wondered how he had. He went on to describe every ornament she’d ever made, recounting the year and details that she’d long forgotten.
“This one you and Marcy made.” He pulled out a colorful beaded wreath. “First time you’d ever worked on something together without fightin’.”
Sam couldn’t help the words that spilled from her mouth. “Unlike you and mama, who could never do anything without fighting.”
A sad smile played around his mouth as he hung the ornament on the tree. When he didn’t say anything, she continued with the questions that had eaten her up over the years.
“I realize people get divorced when they discover they don’t love each other anymore, but what I don’t understand is why you waited so long. Why did you continue to put your children through that?”