The Blessings of Christmas

Chapter 1

The smell of fresh bread welcomed them when Sarah ushered Nathan and Justin into the back room of The Full Cup. Her cheeks and lips felt chapped, and she closed the door on the cold December day. “We finally made it.” She got busy unwinding the scarves that covered her little boys’ faces.

“I hate winter.” Yanking off his mittens, Nathan threw them on the floor.

“Nathan,” Sarah said, raising her voice over the rock music. She’d tackle that in a minute. “Please put those on the sink to dry.” With the heat in this room, it wouldn’t take long. Grumbling, her five year-old did as he was told while she tended to Justin.

Her three year-old stared up at her, eyes solemn and blonde hair upended when she whisked off his cap. “Thank you, Mommy.” He was way too serious for a boy his age.

She tousled his hair. “You’re welcome, handsome boy. Hang your jacket up, please. You too, Nathan.” Her voice rose. Her hands stayed on her hips until Nathan did as he was told.

Christmas was bearing down on them. The fragrance of pumpkin pies had barely faded from The Full Cup when Christmas ads began to blare from the TV, glittering with holiday cheer.

Not for her. Not this Christmas.

But what about her boys? The war in a country far across the ocean meant nothing to them. But it had taken their daddy. Jamie would want Nathan and Justin to have a good Christmas. Whatever it took, they would get what they wanted. Sarah hitched up the jeans that wouldn’t button any more.

Emotional eating. She was all about it.

Now, the music. Ryan’s loud music throbbed in her ears, not exactly the fluffy stuff that would raise your sprits.

Jamie’s younger brother would be deaf by the time he was thirty.

“Turn the radio down!” she called out, slipping off her coat and hanging it on one of the hooks.

Her day of babysitting for seven small children had gone well but left her exhausted.

She’d formed the group with her friend Lindsay and other young mothers in Gull Harbor.

The oven clanged shut behind her. “The music, Ryan. Please.”

“Okay, boss lady.”

The teasing smile in Ryan’s voice wore on her like summer sand in her sandals.

Sarah hated his nickname for her––a sure sign of his immaturity.

She helped the boys off with their boots and snowpants.

The music changed to a Christmas favorite about having “holly jolly” Christmas.

Good luck with that but at least the volume had dropped.

“Thank you, Ryan. Nathan and Justin, set your boots on the rug next to the door.”

The warmth of the room seeped into her bones.

Usually her mother worked back here but the heavy trays had become too much.

Mom had suggested that Ryan might help out if he had time.

But they couldn’t afford to pay her brother-in-law, so it felt like begging.

“All the cookies you can eat,” she’d joked when she brought it up.

“No problem,” Ryan had said, shifting his stance the way he did when his old injury bothered him. “Do you mind if I split the shift? Cookies in the morning and bread dough at night?”

“Of course not.” After all, he worked full time at Branson’s Motors. “I appreciate your help.”

He’d given her a lopsided grin. “This will be my Christmas present. Not the Porsche I had my eye on for you.”

Always kidding. “A Porsche,” she’d sputtered.

So far, Ryan had been reliable. Every morning he was here when she arrived and he closed up at night, driving up Red Arrow highway in between shifts to work at the garage. Jamie would be proud of him.

She’d just have to live with this for a few weeks. If it weren’t for the Christmas baking, she could handle the back work room alone. But her taxes were way overdue. She needed to keep the display cases full and the cash register ringing.

Staring at herself in the mirror above the coat hooks, Sarah wondered who this woman was. Her hair was a rats’ nest and dark circles smudged her eyes. Who had time for makeup? Fluffing her tangled curls, she caught sight of the image reflected in the mirror. “Oh, my.”

Muscles flexed under the gray T-shirt of the man hoisting trays from the oven.

A mop of curly hair hid his face. Just for a moment her heart stopped.

Jamie. How many times had she seen her husband like this, shuffling the trays like cards in his poker game with the guys?

Her throat closed and a tear squeezed from her eye.

The man turned. Ryan.

Of course. Only Ryan.

“What is it?” He swept the damp hair from his forehead.

“Nothing.” She hoped he didn’t notice her damp eyes.

“I didn’t expect you back today. Usually you go straight home after picking up the boys.”

Running her hands over her jeans and a tattered Say Yes to Michigan! sweatshirt, Sarah felt frumpy. “My mother wasn’t answering her phone.”

He nodded toward the stairway. “She went up to her apartment a while ago. You should have called me instead of driving over. The streets are slippery.”

“I––I managed. Think I’ll just run up and check.”

Grabbing a sheet of caraway rye from the oven, Ryan shoved it onto the cooling rack. Then he shut the oven with a clang and ripped off the protective mitts with his teeth. “I locked the front door. No one came in after three. The snow, you know.”

“Did my mother look sick?”

“Maybe a little flushed. Lila’s getting older, Sarah.” He propped a hip against the work counter.

“I know.” As if she needed reminding. Giggling and jostling, the boys disappeared into the front of the coffee shop.

“No cookies!” Sarah called out. “You haven’t had dinner yet.”

Silence out front. Ryan chuckled and they exchanged a glance. “Double trouble,” she said.

“They’re good boys, Sarah. And I’ve got news.” His lips twisted into a smile. “Boys are trouble.”

Well, he should know.

“Just one cookie?” Nathan’s wheedling voice called from the front.

“It can’t hurt.” Ryan always took their side. “One cookie, Mom?”

“You’re no help at all.” Sarah got tired of saying no. That was her role now. Disciplinarian. Not a wife, just a mother. “Okay. Just one. Then you both get back here.” After a suspiciously long time, they burst through the swinging door, waving oatmeal cookies.

Going over to the butcher block table in the center of the room, Nathan ran a hand over the floury surface and munched. “Aren’t you cold in just your undershirt, Uncle Ryan?”

Embarrassment flooded Sarah’s face. “Nathan, don’t be rude.”

But the comment didn’t seem to bother Ryan.

“I wear this because it’s hot in here. And I think you owe me a bite from your cookie.

” But just as Ryan reached to snatch it, Nathan offered the cookie up.

He gave his uncle a sweet smile that tugged at Sarah’s heart.

Ryan was right. They were good boys. Taking a tiny bite, Ryan chewed with exaggerated lip movements.

“Nice. Real nice,” she said. He could be such a clown with the kids.

One hand smushed across his face, Justin giggled, peaking at his uncle from between his fingers.

“Are you laughing at me? I’ll sic the tickle bug on you.” Ryan made a move to scoop Justin up, but he ran around the end of the table. They adored Uncle Ryan. Sarah just didn’t want them turning out like him.

“You boys are getting cookie crumbs all over my workroom,” Ryan said.

“Now you sound like me.” Sarah chuckled. But Ryan’s comment brought the boys up short. Walking to the wastebasket, they dusted the crumbs off their hands.

“Man, it’s hot in here.” Ambling over, he shoved open a window. Muscles rippled as he moved, his limp hardly noticeable. She’d never noticed those etched biceps.

“You are hot,” she murmured. Oh mercy. “Warm. I mean warm. It’s so warm in here.” Sarah fanned herself. What was she saying?

“Yes. It is,” he said, turning slowly, the hint of a smile dancing across his lips.

Sarah clapped her hands. “Okay, time to check on Grandma.” She herded the boys toward the back stairs. “We’ll be right back. Have to check on my muscles. I mean, my mother.”

“I’ll be here.” Ryan adjusted his apron. “Still have lots of work to do.”

“Right. You just...get to work.” Why was she so rattled?

“You bet, boss lady.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” My, her nerves really were on edge.

“Sorry. I’m just teasing.” He didn’t look sorry at all.

Her heart was racing. Must be the heat. “I’ll be right back.”

Escaping to the stairs, Sarah led the boys up to the second-floor apartment over the shop.

Her parents had lived up here from the very beginning.

Sarah remembered her dad getting up in the dark to go down and set the bread dough to rise.

Jamie had taken on the role after her dad passed away. Their own house wasn’t far away.

Sarah knocked on the door before cracking it open. “Mom? It’s me. Sarah and the boys.”

The TV was off. The living room, silent.

The latest issues of The National Enquirer were neatly arranged on the coffee table.

Her mother liked to stay current on her Hollywood news.

Sarah sniffed. Usually Mom would be eating an early dinner.

But no stew or a pork chop aroma hung in the air.

She poked her head into the small kitchen. Nothing.

Sarah had planned to have grab bars installed in the bathroom. Her mother’s Christmas present would be a safety system with a button to wear. One touch and EMS would come screeching to her aid.

Cold fear skittered down her spine. “Boys, sit on the sofa. Not a peep out of you.” Eyes wide, they sat down.

“Mom?” As she walked down the long hall toward the bedrooms, a sweet smell drifted from the bathroom. Soap or perfume? Her mother was singing.

“Mom, are you in there?” She knocked on the door.

The singing stopped. Slowly the door cracked open. “Did you need me, sweetheart?”

Sarah stared. Green goop covered her mother’s face.

The door closed. “Just give me a second. I’ll be right out,” her mother said above the sound of splashing water.