Christmas Homecoming

When Jeremy had arrived home just in time for Thanksgiving dinner at the Hamilton estate, he’d been surprised by two things. First, his brother Tim had apologized to Jeremy and welcomed him back home and back to Hamilton Media, when he was ready. And second, Tim introduced Jeremy to his fiancée, Dawn Leroux, and explained that because of Dawn, he was now a changed man. After some quiet conversation around the fireplace later, Dawn had gently suggested Jeremy might enjoy doing some volunteer work at the church to get his mind off his problems.

Painting had certainly done that, he thought now as he gave up and came down off the ladder, his manners kicking in, in spite of his discomfort at being here. “I’m kind of new to this type of work.”

“I can see that,” the woman said, circling the long room with a critical eye. She pointed to the wall he’d just finished. “You missed a spot there.”

Jeremy looked up, then laughed. “Or two. I guess it’s true you get what you pay for. I painted the ceiling, too, but I think I got most of the paint on me and the drop cloth.”

She nodded. “It’ll turn out just fine, I think. This old building has seen a lot of children come and go, my two girls included. We want to give it a fresh start for all the other babies we hope to bring into the church.”

“A fresh start.” Jeremy wiped his hands on an old rag. “I like the sound of that.”

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked as she started toward the door. “We have some coffee in the office and there might even be a pastry from Betty’s left in the break room.”

Jeremy closed his eyes for just a minute. “Ah, Betty’s Bake Shoppe and Bookstore. Fuel and knowledge all in one place—what an unbeatable combination.”

“You’ve eaten there?”

He liked the slightly accented sound of her question. And he really liked the beautiful flash of fire in her eyes.

“Many times,” he said, not bothering to explain. “But I don’t need anything, thanks.” Then, since he wasn’t quite comfortable being back home, let alone working at the church, he looked at his watch and started putting his brushes in the soak bucket in the corner. “I have to go. I’ll clean up here and try to hide the mess I made.”

She looked confused and a bit disappointed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

Jeremy regretted being so standoffish, but he was still uneasy with his new identity, or lack thereof. “No, no. It’s just that I only had a couple of hours and I’ve already worked past my time here. I’ll be back to finish the job, I promise.”

“Okay, then.” She pointed to his hair. “You…uh…have a big glob of paint right in the middle of your head.”

Jeremy reached up to rub his fingers over the sticky matted spot of cream in his dark hair. “I don’t think I’ll give up my regular job just yet.” Whatever that job might be.

“Turpentine,” she said, nodding. “It smells terrible, but it’ll take the paint out. Just be careful, or you might wind up with a bald spot.”

“Right.” Jeremy wondered how such a dainty little woman could possibly know anything about remodeling and repair. But then, she obviously was a married woman. She’d mentioned two kids. Probably helped her husband around the house on weekends. That image brought Jeremy a pang of regret, to be quickly replaced with a resolved indifference. “I’ll have to get a shower before I go—”

He’d almost said before I go to Hamilton Media, but Jeremy remembered he didn’t really have a place there anymore, in spite of his brother Tim’s efforts to bring him back into the family business. “Before I go to work,” he finished, uncomfortable with the way her big eyes watched him.

“You must keep long hours,” she said as she led the way out the door. “It’s close to five now.”

“I have odd hours, true,” he replied. And lately, those hours had tumbled over each other with a never ending frequency that seemed as long and winding as the nearby Cumberland River.

She tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder as she headed back down the church hallway. “Tell me about it,” she said turning to give him a direct gaze. “Isn’t life always tough for the working man, or in my case, the working woman?”

Jeremy caught a hint of some deep sadness in her eyes as she voiced those words. Did this pretty woman in the flowing skirt and warm green sweater have problems, too?

He couldn’t imagine that. Her smile was too bright and sure, her walk too proud and precise. She obviously had a strong faith, since she taught Sunday School here at the church. But he supposed a lot of people put on a happy face over their worries, faithful or not. His parents had certainly been doing that for years. For all his life.

She lowered her head, looking shy for just a minute. “Thanks for helping out. Maybe I’ll see you in church.”

Jeremy held her gaze, but he couldn’t muster up another smile. “Maybe.”

He watched as Gabriela Valencia disappeared into the room down the hall. And took all the light with her.

He never told me his name.

Gabi hurried inside the house, intent on getting the girls a quick supper while they finished their homework. As she opened the door, she was bombarded by voices and barks and the blare of the television, all coming at her at once.

“Mommy, can Lauren spend the night with us Friday?” This came from her youngest, Talia. The eight-year-old jumped and bounced around as Gabi dropped her groceries on the tiny kitchen counter.

“I told her it’s my turn to have a friend over,” Veronica, her oldest, ten and going on twenty, said before Gabi could take a breath. Pushing her younger sister out of the way, Veronica stomped her purple-sequined sneakers on the tile floor. “It’s my turn, Mommy.”

“I can’t sit with the girls tomorrow, Aunt Gabi. I have to stay after school and work on a project for my English class.”

Gabi turned, almost tripping over the barking mutt they’d picked from one of her brother Arturo’s many litters. “Down, Tramp. I’ll get you a treat in just a minute.” Letting out a long sigh, she stared at her sixteen-year-old niece, Sonia, oldest child of her brother Juan Carlos. “That’s okay, Sonia. I’ll just have to ask Mama to come sit with the girls tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Sonia asked, heading out the door. “I have to do this project to bring my grade up.”

“Not a problem,” Gabi responded. “School comes first, even if it means these two have to occasionally get spoiled by their grandmother.”

Sonia grinned, then left to walk the short distance to her own house. “See you later.”

“Yes,” Talia said, pumping her little fist. “Maybe Nana will help me make cookies for my class party.”

“I’m sure she’d love to do that, honey,” Gabi said as she put away milk and eggs, ignoring Talia’s obvious frustration that Gabi hadn’t had time to help with cookies at the last class party. “And about this weekend, Talia, let’s let Roni have a friend over Friday, since she and her friends stay up later. You can have someone over Saturday night—and take your friend to church with us Sunday, okay?”

The girls eyed each other, each trying to decide who’d gotten the better deal.

“I can live with that,” Veronica, or Roni as everyone called her, said, nodding her head. Her long brown ponytail bobbed as she strolled away, her whole stance reminding Gabi of the girls’ deceased father, Octavio.

“Works for me,” Talia said, launching her tiny body against Gabi’s skirt. “I’m glad you’re home, Mommy.”

“Me, too, baby,” Gabi said, her thoughts still on the handsome stranger she’d found painting the daycare room at church. “Now do me a big favor and turn off that television. You need to finish your school work before you watch any more TV.”

Talia mumbled her protest, but did as Gabi asked, while Gabi went back to thinking about the man she’d met today.

He sure did fit the role of the strong, silent type. Not too forthcoming with details. Good-looking and surely a gentleman. It wasn’t so much his clothes—even though they’d been old and paint-covered she could tell they’d probably cost a pretty penny new. It was the way he carried himself, the way he smiled, or tried not to smile. He seemed like a man who could be comfortable in any setting, even a church nursery. Could be. At first, he’d seemed unsure, until she’d made him laugh. And what a nice laugh he had, a little rusty and throaty, but very enticing.

Stop it, she told herself as she opened a can of vegetable soup, then dug inside the refrigerator to find cheese for grilled cheese sandwiches.

But Gabi had always been too curious for her own good. She’d always been able to single out wounded souls, according to her mother, Marisol Marquez.

“You have a gift for helping others, Gabi,” her mother used to tell her. “A nurturing soul.”

Well, that nurturing soul hadn’t helped her save her own husband, Gabi thought now. Which was why she’d made a solemn vow since his death to put her children first. Love wasn’t in her future, except for the love she felt for her girls, and the love she felt for God’s enduring salvation. She was a working mother and a widow who’d soon turn thirty. She had a steady job in administration at Community General and she had a good solid group of friends at church. She mostly met herself coming and going—no room for romance in her busy life.

And yet, as she sat down to say grace with her girls, Gabi couldn’t help but think of the interesting, quiet stranger she’d met that afternoon. He should have looked so out of place standing there, all splattered in paint.

But to Gabi, he’d looked just right for some reason.

She’d have to call her best friend Dawn and give her the lowdown. Just for fun. Just for some girl talk. After all, it had been a very long time since Gabi had felt like talking about a man.