“It was our pleasure. He’s fun to be around. And he has some great stories. You should consider writing some of them down, for posterity if nothing else.”
Tom’s quick smile came like a flash of sunlight. “Not a bad thought. I’ll see what Grandpa thinks of it.”
Marilyn came back to the door. They said goodbye to Tom and Gerald and walked away.
“Let’s take a walk by the lake,” Marilyn said. “I need to work out a few of these kinks. I don’t think I can bear going back to the cabin and sitting down just yet.”
Maybe now was the time to tell her about LeRoy’s job offer in Botswana. Now, in the peace of the afternoon with the winter sun glinting on the freshly fallen snow. Right now, before he chickened out.
Except.
Telling her about Botswana meant telling her that he didn’t think he wanted to do pastoral ministry anymore. A year running away to Botswana wasn’t what he needed. This break, this absence of work pressure and any need to be the spiritual one in any conversation, was what he needed. He just wished it could last for longer.
Maybe what he should be telling Marilyn about was the fatigue that crept over him when he thought of standing in front of a congregation again.
No.
He wasn’t going to burden her with any of that. It was his problem, and he needed to deal with it. She was always so supportive of him—he could spare her this heartache and worry.
Besides, he didn’t want to hear her confirm that she was disappointed in him for even thinking of leaving the ministry.
Most of all, he couldn’t risk that Marilyn would think it was a good idea. Couldn’t imagine hearing her confirm that his fear was coming true—that he was losing it.
“Can we slow down?” Marilyn’s breath came in short puffs.
He pulled up short, and she stumbled to a stop beside him. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how fast I was going.”
“You are like a locomotive. Is there something on your mind?”
Her gentle invitation stopped him for a moment. But. Picturing her saying the words “I can’t believe you’d quit the ministry” shut down any thought of sharing. Until he figured things out, he wanted to keep this close. “Nope.”
Her face closed. She started walking again. Her next comment was oh so casual. “I brought a couple of strings of lights. I thought we could hang them over the fireplace today. You know, make the cabin a little more festive.”
She’d done what?
What part of skipping Christmas didn’t she understand? Okay, even to himself that was harsh. But, “I don’t want any of that.”
“I know you don’t want a big Christmas thing, but I thought a few twinkle lights would be fine. Just to add some atmosphere and romance.”
“I don’t want any of that.” And yeah, he was repeating himself, but he couldn’t help it. Even thinking of stringing up lights was causing an itch to develop along the top of his shoulders.
She stopped, moved in front of him, and stared at him until he met her gaze. “What. Is. Up. With. You?”
“I’m fine.” Liar. “I just don’t want any of the trappings of Christmas this year.” He resisted the urge to rub at the itch spreading to his chest. “We talked about this.”
“I thought maybe it would be different now that Stella is here. Maybe we’d want it to be more like normal.” She finally broke her intense gaze. “I threw the lights in the trunk when I put the gifts in there. It wouldn’t take much to hang them up.”
“It’s not the work, it’s the principle of the thing.”
She considered him a long moment, as if trying to read his mind. He finally looked away.
She sighed. “Fine. You’re right. We agreed not to do traditional Christmas this year. Forget I said anything.” She turned and walked away.
The sight of her walking away from him, back stiff, hands clenched, jostled something loose in his heart.
He’d hurt her.
“Marilyn, wait!” He jogged after her, nearly to the driveway. “Marilyn!”
Her head was down, and maybe she was crying, because that could be the only reason she didn’t step out of the way as a truck came barreling into the lot.
It hit the brakes and slid, and Bob reached her just in time to yank her into a snowbank.
Romeo barreled out of the truck. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry—I didn’t see you.” He walked over to them, panic in his eyes.
“We’re fine. But maybe you need to slow down, son.” He helped Marilyn up.
“Mom!” Stella came around the truck. “Are you hurt?”
Marilyn glanced at Bob, then back to Stella. “I’m fine.”
Stella stuck her arm through hers. “Good.” She glanced at Romeo. Smiled.
Something shifted inside Bob. Wait—was something going on between the resort manager and his daughter?
Romeo lifted a hand. Turned to Bob. “Sorry, again. The last thing I want is to run over your wife!”
Bob gave him a thin smile. Yeah, well him too.
But it seemed that he’d already done that.
CHAPTER 6
THURSDAY, 6:00 P.M.
He’d almost lost his wife. The thought kept pounding through Bob’s mind as he followed his wife down the path to the cabin.
Stella and her friend Romeo had pulled up shortly after, but Marilyn hadn’t said anything to her about the near accident as they walked together. So, yeah, maybe it hadn’t been that close, but for a moment there, the close call had left Bob breathless.
He might walk away from his ministry, but he couldn’t imagine a life without his wife.
Tonight. He would tell her everything tonight.
They reached the cabin, and Marilyn pushed ahead to brush some snow off the steps. She turned back and gave them a tiny smile as she pushed open the door.
With so much to be thankful for, why did he always want more?
Stella went into her bedroom, and Bob met Marilyn by the kitchen table. “I have an idea.”
Marilyn gazed steadily at him. “Oh? What’s that?” She tugged her jacket off and reached for his.
“Let’s give Stella her gift now.”
Marilyn blinked. “Stella’s gift?”
“Yeah, let’s give it to her now.” He handed his jacket over. “She just seems a little lost and could use some cheering up. We’re not doing the traditional Christmas thing this year, so why not?”
Marilyn folded the jackets over her arm. “Okay, I guess. I don’t see the harm. Go and get it and I’ll hang these up.”
In three steps he was in the bedroom and shuffling through the luggage. Three packages were tucked into Marilyn’s bag. Shoot! The tags had fallen off of them. How many did Marilyn say she’d brought for Stella?
Picking up all three, he figured Marilyn could sort them out.
His girls were already sitting by the fire. He set the packages on an end table and grabbed the fire poker. He gave the burning log a turn before adding another one.
“Hot chocolate!” Marilyn punctuated her declaration by standing. She swiped a package off the stack and headed to the kitchenette.
“Did you have a good day?” Bob asked Stella. Honestly, she looked a little dazed. Not for the first time, he wished he could peer straight into her thoughts.