Holiday Homecoming. Jean C. Gordon
said, “you’ve been spending a lot of time at the movies. Or is that a lot of time with the theater owner?”
Josh shrugged him off. “What can I say? She lets me watch the movies from the projection room.”
“Cool! Can we do that next week?” Hope asked.
“I’ll check with Tessa,” Josh said, “but I don’t see why not.”
“Hey, guys. I thought we were here to work, not discuss Josh’s love life,” Connor said in an effort to deflect Josh before he decided to move on to him and Natalie. Connor had ignored, not missed, the gleam in Josh’s eye when he’d filled in Jared on his and Natalie’s former relationship the other night.
“Yeah,” Josh said. “I want to get this room walled in today. It’s Saturday, and some of us who aren’t old and married have plans for the night.”
Connor guessed Josh’s plans were more adult than his. His insides hollowed. Maybe he should start taking up some of his parishioners on their matchmaking, if for no other reason than to get some woman other than Natalie in his thoughts.
“Brendon, set Hope up with her art stuff in the other room,” Jared said, “and we’ll see what Uncle Josh has for you to do.”
His brothers would probably laugh if they knew how much he liked Becca’s son and her daughter, Ariana, calling him Uncle Connor instead of Pastor Connor. It gave him a feeling of family that he hadn’t had growing up in their too-often chaotic household.
“Josh, don’t you have something I can do, too?” Hope asked.
“No, you’re too little,” Brendon said in the true fashion of an older brother, even though he actually was Hope’s nephew by marriage.
“It just so happens I do,” Josh said. “The box with my nails and screws and bolts is a mess. You could sort through them and put the ones that are alike together in the different compartments.”
Jared gave a thumbs-up behind Hope.
“Brendon, it’s in the back hall where you came in,” Josh said. “You can carry it for Hope.”
“Thanks, guys,” Jared said after the kids had headed to the hall. “Ari went home with a friend after play practice this morning, and Brendon’s staying over at his friend Ian’s tonight. Hope was feeling left out.”
Jared didn’t have to add what the three brothers were all thinking. I know how that feels. Connor learned young that because of their father, they couldn’t have friends over. His behavior was too unpredictable. And not being able to ever reciprocate made for fewer invitations to other kids’ houses.
“And I’ll have you know, Josh,” Jared said, “since us old marrieds are kidless tonight, I have some Saturday night plans, too.”
Josh threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I concede, maybe you aren’t all of the way over the hill. Yet.”
Connor grabbed the broom from the gutted wall beside him. He swept a section of the floor large enough to roll out and cut the batt insulation. If not for his little sister, he’d be left out—again.
Brendon popped back in the room. “So, what can I do?”
“You can help Uncle Connor measure and cut the insulation.” As usual, Jared took charge. “Josh and I’ll staple it up.”
Relegated to the easy job as he always had been, being the youngest. Connor stalked across the room, heaved a roll of insulation on his shoulder and crossed back to the spot he’d swept. He let the roll drop to the floor.
“Think fast.” Josh shot a tape measure at him. By reflex, Connor reached his hand above his head and caught it. He was acting as childish as Hope, only she had reason to. She was a child. He pulled out the tape and let it snap back in. He was a grown man, secure in his profession, secure with who he was. Or he had been until Natalie had returned.
She’d caught him by surprise, and that surprise had somehow stripped him of all the confidence he’d built in himself at seminary through prayer and hard work. It had also washed away the foundation of the wall he’d put up to keep her out of his thoughts. Natalie was seeping in them all too often. Like now.
“I don’t get to use tools or anything?” Brendon complained.
“Hey, bud, you don’t need hammers and staple guns to do a man’s work. Our part of the job is the thinking man’s part. Jared and Josh’s is just grunt work.”
Brendon eyed him.
“If we don’t measure and cut the insulation right, it won’t work right and the room will be drafty.” Connor sliced the roll open with a utility knife.
Brendon probably bought that as much as he bought his plan to keep Natalie out of his head by avoiding her as much as possible outside of the pageant. Look at how well that had worked this morning.
* * *
“Nat, you have to do me a favor.” Andie had started the phone call without even saying hello. “You have to fill in for me this afternoon decorating the parsonage for the open house. Robbie is sick.”
Natalie’s nephew had seemed okay an hour ago at church service. Was her sister purposely trying to make her uncomfortable by pushing her to go help Connor decorate his house?
“He’s had the sniffles, but now he’s spiked a temperature. If it goes higher, I’m going to have to take him to urgent care.”
Natalie twisted her hair around her finger, her throat tightening with concern for the four-year-old. She was doing what Andie often accused her of—making it all about herself. “Sure. What time?”
“Two thirty.”
That only gave her an hour to prepare herself. “Will Connor be there?”
“I don’t know. Probably. You’re not still carrying a torch for him after all these years, are you? You lost your chance when you let him get away in college.”
No, no torch. Only regrets for her callousness. But leave it to big sis to go right for the jugular without even meaning to. “I need to check a couple things with him about the pageant music.”
“Oh. Thanks for doing this. The twins were going to come with me, so I’ll have Rob drop them off at the parsonage. That way you don’t have to come out of your way to pick them up. You’ll just have to drive them home. Dad was right when he said having you here for the holidays would be a help for us all.”
Natalie was sure Andie’s take on Dad’s words wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. “Hope Robbie feels better,” she said, then ended the call.
“Bad news?” her mother asked.
Natalie almost dropped her phone. “Mom! I thought you were resting.”
“I tried. It doesn’t feel right, lying in bed during the day.”
“You need to be careful not to put too much stress on your knee. Sit down at least.” She helped her mother from her walker onto the couch.
“You’re changing the subject. Something’s wrong. You didn’t get called back to work, did you? You said it was no problem to take family leave.”
No, no problem at all. Natalie didn’t know how to start. “I don’t have a job,” she blurted.
Her mother patted the spot beside her. “They called you on a Sunday afternoon to tell you that?” Outrage colored her words. “You’re on family leave. I thought that gave you job protection.”
Natalie dropped onto the couch. “I lost my job several months ago.”
Her mother hugged her shoulder. “More downsizing?”
Good old Mom, always thinking the best of her, of all of them. It wouldn’t occur to her that Natalie would be fired or quit