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That’s the point, he wanted to say. Fewer recipients would mean less baking and less time spent with all those extra hands. “Just a thought.”
His mother rolled her eyes, turning back to the group. “Then Monday night we have tickets to the see The Nutcracker. Third row.” She shot her arm into the air as if she’d just won a medal. “And then we’ll take a car tour to see the Festival of Lights.”
Dylan’s frustration built with each event his mother listed. Why couldn’t she see that all this busyness had nothing to do with the true meaning of Christmas? And of all the women in this world, why had Matthew chosen to marry a Scott sister? Okay, he would concede that point. Haley and Matthew were too perfect together for God not to have planned that one.
But if Matthew had married someone else, they could have been enduring these excessive Christmas festivities with another family. Instead of this one. Now he would have to spend a miserable holiday trying to avoid the one person who’d always been able to send his stable life crumbling into invisible fault line: Jenna. Always Jenna.
She represented his life’s biggest disappointment—the person he’d always loved who’d always been out of reach. She’d made him question everything he knew to be true: his values and even his faith. How could he not when he’d always been so certain that God intended them to be together? Even now, after working as hard to forget her as he had to finish his degree, he could no more prevent his gaze from shifting her way than he could have given time a lunch break.
At twenty-six, she looked impossibly young with all that caramel-colored hair wrangled into a long ponytail. The only difference between the way she’d worn it in junior high and the style now was the longer bangs off to one side. Her face was thinner now, too, but that only magnified the impact of the high cheekbones and generous lips that were Scott family traits. She was painfully, perfectly beautiful.
Stop. He looked from side to side to be certain he hadn’t said that aloud. After four years he should have been unaffected by those eyes, the color of iced tea, and that skin, like a porcelain doll.
He hated that she still had such an effect on him. Why, around her, had he always been like a kid with a milk allergy who couldn’t resist a scoop of ice cream? Would he ever be able to look at her and feel innocuous familiarity and nothing more? Because the answer to that question could incriminate him, Dylan was grateful to Jenna for the night she’d pressed his hand regarding their friendship.
It wasn’t the first time Jenna had behaved selfishly—far from it—but it was different from the rest. After he’d spent months scraping up the courage to ask her on a date, he’d finally asked and she’d accepted. Then, as he was leaving for his five-hour trip to the Michigan State campus to meet her, she’d called to reschedule their “buddies’ weekend” because some rugby player had asked her to a movie.
In that moment, when the proverbial straw broke the camel’s back, he’d told her he was finished with her. He wouldn’t be her friend anymore. If not for that night, he might still be there, serving as her longsuffering best friend and always wishing for more.
“Dylan, are you listening?”
He shifted, glancing up to see his mother watching him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Sure, Mom.” At least he was now.
“After church Sunday, we can get started on the Christmas-ornament project.” Amy turned to explain to the Scotts. “We do one every year. We need to find a new service project, too.”
She paused finally, tapping her head with her index finger as though wondering if she’d forgotten anything. “Oh. Right. Rehearsal for Christmas Eve services. It’s our tradition to sing together in the choir, and I’m sure Matthew could use the extra voices.”
Matthew appeared apologetic as he turned to his wife’s sisters. “I can always use every available voice.” He took his new bride’s hand. “I’ve already recruited one Scott sister for the choir.”
“As if I had a choice,” Haley offered with a wink.
“Now for the events on Christmas Day,” his mother began again.
Amy Warren must not have heard Logan’s sigh because she prattled on, describing the elaborate Christmas dinner they would share. Dylan tuned out again, his attention pulled by something as strong as gravity toward the face he had no business looking at, the person who was toxic to his best interests.
Jenna caught his gaze this time, pink lips lifting in a tentative grin. Ignoring the jolt he would probably always feel when she smiled at him, he turned away from her and focused on his mother again. Jenna wanted things between them to be the same as they’d always been. She’d made that clear enough in a few letters and during a stilted conversation at the wedding. But their relationship could never be the same.
They were different people. At least he was. He was an adult now, a respected member of the Markston community, not the everyman she’d found so easy to overlook. And this new Dylan Warren refused to allow Jenna Scott to get under his skin again.
Dylan planned to keep his distance from her during this visit just as he had for the past four years, just as he had at the wedding. Although he still felt guilty for using his graduate studies as an excuse to avoid going to Michigan for her father’s funeral nearly two years before, he couldn’t think about that now, not when he needed to focus on giving her a wide berth during her visit. If he could avoid caving in to her attempts to get close to him for the next two weeks, maybe he could finally exorcise her from his heart for good and get on with his life.
His plan in place, Dylan sneaked another look at Jenna to test his resolve. Immediately he realized his mistake. As she listened to his mother’s speech, Jenna had tilted her head to the side, revealing a long expanse of her elegant neck above the collar of her uniform. The impulse to brush her skin there was so strong that Dylan had to fist his hands and turn away to shake it. He was in trouble, and he knew it. If he wanted to have any hope of maintaining his distance from Jenna Warren this Christmas season, he needed to start praying for strength right now and keep right on doing it through the New Year.
Chapter Two
Dylan slipped out of his muddy hiking boots and gave his head a hard shake, sending droplets of water from his hair flying every which way. Dripping less than he had before, he stepped through his mother’s front door.
“I’d like to see a Currier & Ives painting of that precious holiday scene,” he groused.
“I heard that, Dylan Thomas.” His mother came down the hallway and handed him a towel.
“Sorry, Mom.” He toweled off his hair.
He didn’t know how his mother could still call her twenty-six-year-old son by both his names when he annoyed her, any more than he could understand how she was still in a festive mood after such a disastrous tree-cutting outing. It had begun to sprinkle the moment they’d pulled up at the tree farm, and by the time they’d left with that gigantic, soggy Scotch pine, Dylan had been looking around for animals lined up two by two.
Matthew opened the storm door and stuck his head inside, raindrops running down the lenses of his glasses. “Hey, little brother, we could use a hand out here. We’re setting up the tree in the garage so it can dry out.”
Dropping the towel on the tile, Dylan retrieved his boots and followed his brother. So much for his much-needed break from being around Jenna.
“Any chance Mom’s decided to cut festivities short tonight?” Matthew asked over his shoulder.
“Are you kidding? She and your mother-in-law already have the hot chocolate simmering on the stove, and I could hear their bad duet of ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’ as soon as I walked in the house.”
“I figured we wouldn’t get out of it,” Matthew said. “Never let it be said that a little rain could keep our mom from her holiday celebration.”
“At least you aren’t the newest matchmaking target.”
Matthew laughed the laugh of someone who’d been there. “Stay strong, brother.”
As they stepped into the garage, Caroline and Jenna were holding the tree upright while Logan crouched below, twisting the braces of the tree stand into its trunk.
“Could you two hold that thing straight?” Logan called up from the bottom.
“Come on, Nature Boy, don’t you know how to deal with trees once they’re cut down?” Caroline chided.
“I can with some proper help. Who cut this trunk, anyway? It’s crooked.”
Jenna caught Dylan’s eye and laughed, and even he couldn’t resist smiling at that. Logan, the resident park ranger among them, had cut the tree himself. They rested it on its side so Logan could even up the trunk and remove the lowest branches. Then, with several hands and a lot of grumbling, they finally secured the tree in its stand with only a slight lean.
Their work finished, they filed into the house, leaving their boots and soaked coats near the door.
“Everyone in here,” Trina told them, ushering them into the family room, where Amy sat on the edge of the brick hearth.
Although they’d had only minutes to put the party together, the mothers had risen to the occasion. Now orange and yellow flames danced in the gas fireplace, strains of recorded Christmas carols filtered from the stereo speakers, and a spread of finger sandwiches and snacks rested on the side table. And because no Warren-Scott gathering would be complete without them, two of his mother’s famous cakes were arranged on cake stands.
They were preparing to say grace when the doorbell rang, and Matthew hurried to let Reverend Leyton Boggs and his wife inside. They conferred in hushed voices as they hung up their coats and then made their way into the family room, their faces stoic.
“Is everything all right, Reverend?” Amy Warren asked.
The minister smiled in that comforting way he’d used in every memorial service Dylan had ever attended. Something was wrong.
“Late this afternoon, there was a fire downtown that destroyed a young family’s home,” Reverend Boggs began. “Brad and Kelly Denton were already struggling since Brad was laid off from his job, and their car wasn’t running, so this fire came at a particularly tough time. The home was rented, and they had no insurance.”
“How awful for them,” Jenna said. “Do they have children?”
Lila Boggs nodded. “Two boys. Seven-year-old twins named Connor and Ryan. But praise God, they all got out safely.”
“Yes, praise Him for that.” The minister told how the Dentons had been trying to provide at least a simple Christmas for their sons, only to have their few gifts go up in flames along with the rest of their possessions.
Empathetic murmurs filled the room as the minister told more of the specifics. But Dylan barely heard the details. The story made him so uncomfortable that he found it hard to sit still. A family already limping along through life now had the burden and indignity of being homeless at Christmas. He’d heard dozens of those tragic holiday stories before, but this one touched him in a special way.
It had to be the mention of those two little boys that spoke to him. His heart ached as he imagined the confusion they had to feel after today’s events, after the security blankets of home and safety had been ripped from them. He’d known a day like that once himself: the day his father left. At twelve years old, he’d been older than these boys, but he remembered how powerless and small he’d felt. How frightened he’d been that his world would never the right again. Now he grieved for these children, who’d lost their childhood just as he had.
“I spoke with the Dentons by phone, and then Lila and I drove them to the Markston Inn for the night. I paid for their night’s stay with church emergency-relief funds,” Reverend Boggs was saying when Dylan tuned back in to the conversation.
“But they’re going to need more than temporary help. We’ve offered on behalf of the church to adopt this family through the holidays, so I’ll be seeking support from church members like yourselves…” He let his words trail away as he waited for someone to step up to the challenge.
“Of course, we’ll help,” Dylan’s mother answered. “We’ve been looking for a Christian service project, so we’ll make a donation.”
“That’s a great idea,” Logan said, and the others chimed in their agreement.
“I knew I could count on the Warrens and, of course, the Scotts.” The minister smiled. “I’m sure this young family will appreciate whatever you can give.”
Neither the accolades nor his mom’s best chocolate walnut torte sat well with Dylan tonight. He felt as if they were all taking the easy way out—himself included. What they were willing to offer just didn’t feel like enough.
Reverend Boggs glanced at the wall clock. “Some Indianapolis news vans were at the scene of the fire, so the story should make the ten-o’clock news.”
“Hey, somebody turn it on,” Logan called out.
Dylan stretched toward the sofa table and retrieved the remote, flicking on the flat-screen television in the corner.
“The holidays will be a little less bright for a young Markston family who narrowly escaped tragedy today when a blaze broke out in their northside rental home,” said a reporter whose bright red coat appeared too festive for the somber news.
As the reporter continued her story, the camera panned first to the smoldering structure and then to the couple and their sons, huddled together in the chilly rain with blankets draped over their shoulders.
No longer hungry, Dylan set his plate aside. The story had been stirring enough, but to put faces to the tragedy brought the sad situation right into the family room. He’d pictured those children in his mind, but on the screen they appeared smaller than he’d imagined. Defenseless. Their bright eyes peeked out from beneath their parents’ arms as they watched the firefighters wage a losing battle with the blaze.
Stark reality was clear on Brad and Kelly Denton’s faces. Dylan remembered that his mother wore an expression like that during the early days after his father left. Matthew had looked that same way after his first wife had deserted him and Lizzie. The Dentons might have escaped with their lives, but the young couple, like his mother and his brother, had been unable to protect their children from life’s unfortunate truths.
In the next shot the reporter was standing with the family, all of them under the shelter of two large umbrellas. Brad Denton squeezed the boy next to him and said, “We feel blessed that we all got out safely. As long as we’re together, we’ll figure out the rest.”
Dylan could only stare at the screen. He’d been feeling sorry for himself all night when people like the Dentons, who had real problems and every right to their own pity party, were counting their blessings. He’d forgotten to count his.
Around him the room had fallen silent as the news broadcast moved to commercial break.
“It’s a sad story,” Reverend Boggs began again as Dylan shut off the television. “Still, I feel God has a blessing planned here. I’m sorry to run, but I need to call some of the other church members.”
“It won’t be necessary to make any more calls, Reverend.” Dylan waited as the others turned their surprised expressions his way. He couldn’t blame them—he wasn’t usually the idea man in this crowd, but he had to be this time. No one else was stepping forward, and he couldn’t turn his back on those little boys.
“Look at all of us.” He held his hands wide to indicate the size of the group. “Sure, we can write a check, but I think we can do a lot more.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan could see Jenna watching him, a strange expression on her face. He pressed on. “Between our two families, we should volunteer to adopt the Dentons ourselves.”
Everyone spoke up at once—that is, everyone except Jenna. She was too busy staring at Dylan, who didn’t sound at all like the Dylan she’d once called her best friend. Who was this take-charge guy? Her Dylan would have been more than happy to let other people make plans and then join in for the ride.
That he’d spoken aloud the exact idea she’d been bouncing around in her head surprised her even more. How could they not do more for that poor family? Her worries about reconnecting with Dylan seemed small when compared to those of these young parents who had no place to live and no way to feed and clothe their children. It wasn’t right for her to warm herself by the fire while this family had been huddled under blankets, trying to shield their children from the cold.
“He’s right,” Matthew said, his voice rising above the rest. “We have so much. We don’t need anything for Christmas. The Dentons will need everything.”
“That’s a great idea,” Haley chimed in.
“We have to help them,” Jenna told them. Her throat clogged with emotion as she tried to put herself in the shoes of those young parents. She could only imagine the hopelessness they felt.
Mrs. Warren stood up, shaking her head. “I don’t know. That’s a big project you’re taking on, Dylan. We can help, but it might be better if we spread the load among various church members.” She frowned as if realizing more pitfalls. “And we would have to cancel some of our holiday plans—”
“Not cancel, Mom,” Dylan said, standing beside her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Just tweak. Remember, you wanted us to spend quality time with the Scotts during the holidays, and what could be better than spending that time helping others?”
“We wanted to share our Christmas traditions, too.” Mrs. Warren’s face fell in disappointment.
“And we will,” Dylan assured her. “Some of them.”
“We already have,” Logan said. “We found the tree.”
Mrs. Warren shrugged as she sat on the hearth. “If you’re sure we can handle that much work…”
“Of course we can.” Dylan nodded as if to emphasize his words. His mother’s reticence appeared to surprise him. Jenna, too, found the woman’s reaction strange. Mrs. Warren was one of the most kind-hearted people she knew, so Jenna assumed something else was bothering her.
“What did you have in mind?” Matthew asked after a long pause.
“We could put some of the money and effort we would have used for Mom’s great list of activities toward making Christmas bright for someone else.”
Although Dylan glanced his mother’s way, the first response came from someone smaller.
“Do we have to give away our Christmas tree?” Lizzie asked, her eyes sad.
“Of course not, silly.” Dylan crossed the room and scooped up his niece. “But don’t you think that other family should have a nice Christmas, too?”
When she nodded, he tugged on one of her braids and lowered her to the floor. Jenna couldn’t help smiling at the sweet gesture. Dylan really seemed to adore Lizzie. The two of them had been so inseparable at the wedding that Jenna had been ashamed to be jealous of a child.
He turned to the minister. “Now, Reverend, you and Mrs. Boggs have met the Dentons. Can you give us an idea of what their needs are?”
“You’ll need to start with the basics. Food, clothing and shelter. Lila and I are planning to meet with the family for breakfast tomorrow morning to find out the specifics. We wanted them to rest tonight.”
Dylan nodded. “Would you mind if a few of us joined you so you could introduce us?”
“That might be best,” Lila answered for her husband.
“You should go, Dylan.” Matthew gestured toward him from the sofa. “This was your idea.”
Dylan appeared surprised by his older brother’s suggestion, but he nodded. He was probably as used to Matthew assuming plans in his family as Jenna was with Caroline taking over organizational duties in theirs.
“I would like to go.”
He smiled that boyish Dylan smile that Jenna had missed while he’d been dodging her efforts to talk to him all evening. He hadn’t been mean exactly, unless treating her as if she was invisible counted as mean. She marveled at his compassion for the Dentons. She could only hope that one day he would send some of that kindness her way and finally forgive her.
Jenna realized that she’d never thought to appreciate Dylan for the gift he was. She wished he would give her the chance to tell him how sorry she was for that and to show him she wasn’t the same selfish person he used to know. God had made sure of that change.
“Who else would like to join us for breakfast?” Reverend Boggs asked as he took a seat next to his wife.
Jenna’s mother spoke up. “Caroline should go.”
