I'll Be Home for Christmas and One Golden Christmas: I'll Be Home For Christmas / One Golden Christmas

“I’ve never looked at it that way.”

She started to take the tray, but his hand shot out to stop her. “Myla, could we talk some more?”

“No,” she said, not daring to look at him. “I’d rather not.”

“I won’t press you about your life before,” he said. “I just have some questions, about…this unconditional love about which you speak so highly.”

She glanced up then, her eyes wide. “You want to discuss…religion?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling slightly. “I think I’d like that.”

And so they talked. She told him the stories of the Bible that he’d forgotten. As she talked, memories washed over him; memories of his mother, telling him these very same stories, her faith as strong and as shining as Myla’s. How could he have forgotten the beauty in that? How could he have let it slip so far away?

After Myla said a gentle prayer for him to feel better, both physically and spiritually, he sat in the darkness alone, watching the fire. And realized he was tired of being alone in the dark.

Then it hit him—Myla had said something earlier about being afraid of the darkness. They were so alike, he and his Myla. They’d both been out in the cold for too long. Together, maybe they could find the warmth of that unconditional love she’d told him about. Together, with the help of a higher being watching over them.

Outside, the rain fell in cold, indiscriminate sheets and Nick shuddered, thinking again that she might have been out there tonight, all alone and frightened.

But she wasn’t out there. For some strange reason, God had sent her to him instead. He wouldn’t take that obligation lightly.

“Not again, Myla,” he whispered to the fire. “Not ever again, if I can help it.”

Then he did something he hadn’t done in a very long time. He folded his hands and he prayed.

Chapter Five

It was well past midnight. Myla tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to wake the children sleeping in the bedroom just down the narrow back hallway. With Nick being home sick the last couple of days, her mind was in turmoil. Sleep was impossible.

She didn’t want to admit that she’d enjoyed playing nurse to him. The first morning, they’d talked and laughed together, sitting on the sunporch off the second-story hallway. Nick had insisted she sit with him while he had breakfast. It had been a comfortable, cozy distraction, complete with frolicking squirrels putting on a show in the great oaks lining the sloping backyard. Then, later in the day when he’d woken up feeling better, he’d come downstairs to eat a sandwich in the kitchen, reading the paper in silence while she went about her work. So domestic, so homey. So wrong, Myla reminded herself.

Setting the bags she carried on the counter, she pulled out the small treasures her first paycheck from Nick had allowed her to buy for her children. This would take her mind off of dreaming about a man she shouldn’t be thinking about.

A sweater set for Jesse—pink-and-blue striped with little white bows on the Peter Pan collar. An inexpensive fashion doll with two sets of clothes. Some new jeans and an action toy for Patrick, along with a set of army men with tanks and jeeps. It wasn’t much, but they’d have something under the tree. This year especially, it was important to her that her children understand the real Christmas celebration, so she didn’t want to make a big deal out of gift giving. Yet she couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief tonight.

She’d had horrible visions of them spending Christmas out in the cold, or in a shelter. Now, thanks to Nick’s kindness, they were going to be celebrating Christmas in this beautiful, rambling house. Thinking of how lucky they were to be safe and warm, she stood there letting the tears fall freely.

And that’s how Nick found her.

Her back was turned toward him and she was wearing a worn, thick flannel robe, pink with blue faded flowers and small red heart-shaped designs which, in the moon’s soft spotlight, reminded him of aged paper valentines. He felt as if he could watch her forever, but when he heard her soft intake of breath and saw her wipe at a tear, he went to her, touching her lightly on the arm.

“Are you all right?”

Myla jumped at his touch, surprise widening her eyes. “Nick! What are you doing up?”

“Shredder woke me. That sneaky cat’s taken a liking to me, I believe. He’s also taken a liking to the foot of my bed, where I left him fast asleep.”

She laughed then, but the laughter turned back to tears. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so emotional lately. Christmas always does that to me, but this year…well, I have a lot to be thankful for.”

Nick once again felt the sharp contrast in her world and his own. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, out there. You’re very courageous.”

She sniffed back her tears. “Hardly. When it comes to survival, you just do what you’ve got to do.”

“You’re starting over,” he said, careful of how he worded his next request. “Don’t you think it’s time you really left the past behind? Tell me everything about your marriage, Myla.”

She looked up, deciding there in the darkness she could trust him with the truth. “Yes, I think it’s time to move on, and I guess talking about it would help.” Then she gave him one last chance. “Are you sure you want me to burden you with the sordid details, though?”

“Burden away,” he replied, his voice quiet and encouraging. “I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me what’s made you so sad.”

She took a deep breath, then brought a hand up to play with one of the buttons on the front of her robe. “My husband deceived all of us. Sonny was a big fake, in complete control. And he had me trained as his robot. He even had the children trained, too. Only I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

“Tell me why.”

She leaned back against the counter, her eyes shining. “I wish I knew why. Why I let him do the things he did, why I let him make me feel so small and helpless. Looking back, I think it was my need to please—my family, his family, our friends, him. I wanted to be a good wife, a good mother. That was my only ambition in life, because that’s all Sonny wanted me to be. He’d convinced me that I wasn’t very good at anything, but I thought at least I could be good at that. As it turned out, I didn’t do such a hot job.”

Nick took one of her hands. “Hey, who’s doubting now? I can’t believe you’d let anyone make you doubt yourself like that. You seem so capable, so strong.”

“I wasn’t always so surefooted,” she said in a whisper. “I did have doubts, and I’m so ashamed of what I let happen.”

He shook his head. “It can’t be that bad.”

Pulling away, she headed to the refrigerator to pour two glasses of juice. Then she found the cookie jar and placed two fresh oatmeal cookies on a napkin for Nick. “It’s so bad, I’m still ashamed to talk about it. Nick, Sonny embezzled funds from the bank he managed, and when the authorities found out…he committed suicide in his fancy car.”

Nick could only stand there staring at her. The background check had only listed her as a bankrupt widow, just as she’d told him. “Myla, I had no idea.”

“No, how could you? No one did. We went to church every Sunday, we had a nice ranch house in the country. We had everything. But it was all a sham. Sonny only played at being a Christian. He used church for networking and finding new clients. And when that didn’t bring in enough money, he turned to crime.

“He had this obsessive need to always have more. More money, more power, all of the latest things—cellular phones, computers, any kind of gadget that would make him look successful. He never spent much time with the children—he had very little patience with them—but then he’d buy them all sorts of expensive toys to win their affection after he’d treated them badly. And I…I was so blind, so convinced that I had to work harder, try harder to be the perfect little wife, I didn’t see that he was suffering, until it was too late. I never wanted more money or things. I wanted more of him, emotionally. But he couldn’t give me that. And I didn’t do anything to save him.”

“But it’s not your fault—”

“Yes,” she said, bobbing her head. “Yes, it is. And I’ve been running ever since. From my family, because they blame me. From my so-called friends, because they can’t be seen with me anymore. From myself, because I can’t stand to look in the mirror each day. I had to protect my children, and that’s the only thing that kept me going, until that night when I realized I wasn’t alone.” Looking up at him, she said, “Then, not too long after that night, I found you.”

He turned to stand beside her as they both stared out into the bleak winter night. “So you’ve been struggling with this, all this time?”

She took a sip of juice, then set the glass down. “I kept thinking I should have done something to help Sonny.”

“Help him? What could you have done?”

She turned, both hands braced on the counter. “I should have followed my instincts when I suspected something was wrong. But Sonny was hard to deal with even on a good day. He’d threaten me by telling me that I wasn’t a good wife, and that it was my fault he felt so much pressure. Then he’d tell me he’d leave and take the children. I…I began to doubt my own Christianity. I mean, here I’d lived with this man for years and I’d believed he truly felt the same way I did, but he didn’t. He put up this big front, but it was all an act. And I was too afraid to do anything about it, so I did what I had to, to protect my children.”

“Why did you marry him?”

“I loved him, and I wanted a family. Sonny promised me we’d have a good life. He came from a wealthy family—his parents always overindulged him—and I’d never had very much. It seemed like a dream. And turned into a nightmare. After he…after he died, I found out there was no money, no insurance, and most of the expensive things he’d bought got repossessed, right along with my house.”

She faced him squarely now, her pride gone right along with all the fancy possessions and high hopes she’d once had. “I will always remember the day they came and locked up my house. The bank officer had been a friend of ours. He kept telling me how sorry he was, but he didn’t really offer to make things any better. He was just doing his job.”

“You don’t forget that feeling, you don’t forget the scorn and pity you see on people’s faces. Ever. That’s why, this time I intend to do things my way, with the help of the Lord. I won’t ever let anyone make me doubt myself or my faith again.”