A Family for Christmas (14 page)

“Trent?” Ed called out a little loudly.

Trent snapped out of his musings and realized that they were both staring at him. “What? Sorry, my mind wandered.”

“Is there anything I need to know?”

Trent shrugged. “Nothing I can think of, and as far
as the divorce, my parents don't know what split us up.”

“Well, that's good. I'd hate to have to explain that you two almost broke up over adoption.”

Again Trent's guilt swelled up and threatened to choke him. How much harder would it be to refute his not having wanted any children at all? He'd never thought he'd be glad for the rift that had divided his family for years, but he was supremely grateful for it at that moment. His parents knew nothing of his personal life.

Ed went over what the court procedure would be like, then got into what he intended to present to the court. “I want you to know that besides the will, I have the letter Albertine sent to Sarah. I'm going to introduce it into evidence to prove how unsuitable they are as parents. And you're going to have to testify about your childhood with them, Trent. I also have to tell you that I think I may need to call at least Mickey, and maybe even Rachel, if I think the judge is leaning the wrong way. I'll avoid it if I can. If not, I'll suggest the judge talk to the kids in chambers.”

“I hate this.” Maggie slapped her palm on the arm of her chair. “I hate involving them!”

Trent felt his heart twist at her distress. “I'm so sorry, Mag.”

Maggie reached across the table and grasped his hand. “It isn't your fault!”

Ed stood. “Look, we've covered enough for tonight You two look beat. Try to relax. It's going to be fine.”

“I know it is,” Maggie told Ed, then stood. “Are
you sure you have to run off? I've got cake to go with the tea.”

Ed picked up his mug and gulped down the rest of his tea. “Nah. You guys get some sleep. We'll get together again soon.”

Trent walked with Ed to the front door. “You really think we can win?”

Ed stepped off the porch onto the first step, then pivoted and looked up. “I don't see a reason you should lose, but that's no guarantee. Your father still throws money at problems, and he hired Jason Wright. He's considered a big gun. On the other hand, I see your mother as their big weak point—like sending that letter to Sarah. If I can bring out that aspect of her personality, we shouldn't have a problem.”

“She isn't that stupid. She'll know what to say.”

“You leave that up to me. Now go spend some time with your pretty wife and try to forget about this.”

He waited on the porch until Ed turned out of the lane. Then, hands jammed in his pockets, Trent went back inside and looked around the entranceway. The woodwork gleamed as did the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. His gaze trailed back down the stairs, noting with pride the way the banister's smooth curves shone in the light He smiled a little as his gaze came to rest on a battered red toy truck that lay next to the stairs where Daniel had abandoned it sometime during the day. He picked it up and made his way to the kitchen. He glanced into the family room. There, too, was evidence of children. Of happiness.
Then a little piece of faded pink satin and lace peeked out from the front edge of the sofa, drawing his eye.

Trent walked in and dug Rachel's doll out from between the cushions. He stared at it, bewildered. Rachel never went to bed without Cindy. She rarely went anywhere but to school without her beloved baby doll. Why, on a night when she needed her security more than ever, would she leave it behind? Trent frowned. No, she hadn't just left it. She'd stuffed it out of sight. Hidden it!

“Why, Rachel?” he whispered to the empty room.

T
rent quickly handled locking up, and took the stairs two at a time. He tiptoed into Rachel's room, softly lit by the night-light Maggie had added after the accident to reassure a six-year-old who was suddenly afraid of the dark.

The light caught her tousled reddish-blond hair, bringing out its red highlights. Trent felt a smile tug at his lips when he saw her scrunched-tight eyes as she feigned sleep. When he'd checked in on her earlier he had only looked in from the doorway, or he would have realized that she'd never gone to sleep.

“I know you're awake, angel,” he whispered as he sat down on the bed next to her.

Her eyes popped open. “Hi, Daddy,” she said.

Trent felt a pain so sharp that he nearly gasped, wishing with everything in him that he could change places with Mike. Were his brother alive, these children
wouldn't be in any danger. He'd never felt as worthless in his life as he did at that moment. “No, angel, it's only Uncle Trent. You forgot Cindy. How come you left her behind?”

Even in the low lighting he could see the sadness written in Rachel's eyes. “I thought I ought to get used to not having her. Just in case. I know
she
wouldn't let me keep her.”

“Your grandmother just doesn't understand how much you love Cindy,” Trent told her as he nestled the doll in the crook of Rachel's arm. Before he could pull his hand away, he felt the doll get a welcoming squeeze. “But you don't have to worry about having to leave Cindy behind,” he continued as he pushed a strawberry-blond lock off her forehead. “Uncle Ed is a great lawyer. And God is on our side, just as Aunt Maggie says. You aren't going anywhere. Now you and Cindy better get some sleep. We have to dig the Christmas decorations out of the attic tomorrow and see what we have to work with. Then we have to go out and buy some more for the outside. This year, Paradise Found gets decorated the way she deserves.”

Rachel nodded and nestled down into her pillows and covers with Cindy, closing her eyes. Trent leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “Night-night, angel,” he whispered, and stood.

A smile bloomed on Rachel's bow lips and she opened her big dark eyes again. The sadness and fear he'd seen before were gone. “Night-night, Daddy,” she whispered back, and closed her eyes slowly.

Trent stood in complete shock. It hadn't been a
mistake. She'd called him Daddy, not once but twice. Through a sheen of tears, he somehow managed to get out into the hall. His composure somewhat restored, he checked on the others, all sleeping soundly, then made his way to his and Maggie's room.

When he entered, the room was bathed in soft light from a pair of wall sconces. He found Maggie sitting in bed wearing a lacy nightgown. “Is something else wrong, or is it more of the same?” she asked.

Trent shrugged and walked over to sit on the bed. She looked so beautiful that she nearly took his breath, but then he remembered her questions and a torrent of emotion threatened to overwhelm him once again.

“Rachel,” he said, but the word sounded rusty and caught in his throat. He cleared his throat, trying to fight tears of overwhelming joy and supreme confusion that threatened to erupt. He hated that Maggie had seen him cry that morning in Florida, and now he feared it would happen again. He didn't want Maggie to lose all respect for him, and what quicker way was there for a man to broadcast his weakness than tears?

“Rachel,” he tried again, and forced himself to continue this time when his voice broke a little. “Rachel left Cindy downstairs. When I went into her room to put it in bed with her, she called me ‘Daddy.'“ He stopped and cleared his throat. “I thought she'd mixed me up with Mike at first, but she hadn't. She meant it. I feel…Maggie I don't know
what I feel. All these emotions are bombarding me.” He hastily swiped at a tear that got past his guard.

“Don't,” she said and grabbed his hand, doing the job herself so gently that she nearly destroyed him right there and then. “Tears aren't a sin.”

Trent found he had to look away from her kind eyes. “The way I was raised they were.”

Maggie stared at Trent's bowed head and realized for the first time just how much damage Royce and Albertine were responsible for in their elder son. Their effect on Michael had always been obvious, but Trent seemed to have left his childhood and his parents in the past. She'd never seen a hint that they'd had any effect on him at all, except his penchant for processing hurt into anger.

She recalled that morning in the hospital in Florida when Albertine had criticized him for creating a scene. He hadn't shown hurt, but had typically put her in her place with a few choice words. But now, after all these years, Maggie understood. The anger didn't heal the hurt, it just covered it up.

She felt remorse that she hadn't understood before. In her own defense, though, she and Trent had had very little to do with the elder Osbornes over the years. His parents' shabby treatment of Sarah had effectively removed them from Trent and Maggie's world as well Michael's, so Maggie hadn't seen the immediate effects their continued presence might have revealed. But he had been scarred by every little cut over the years. He'd just never openly revealed those scars. Until now.

Maggie reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. “Do you know the shortest verse in the Bible?”

He looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn together in a
V.
“No.”

She smiled gently at his obvious confusion. “‘Jesus wept.' That's the verse. Those two words show so much about Him and teach one of His greatest lessons. It shows how much of a human being He was and how deeply He loves us. The lesson is that it doesn't make a man less of a man because he shows his feelings.

“Jesus of Nazareth was no wimp. He was a carpenter back in the days when that meant chopping down a tree by yourself and dragging it back to your shop. Then cutting and splitting it with hand tools before you could make it into something. It was his Godhood that people back then doubted, not his manhood.”

“I never thought of it. like that, but I guess you're right.”

Maggie leaned forward and kissed him. “I don't think you're weak because being called Daddy by a child you love brought tears to your eyes. I think you're wonderful. I love who you are. And I also don't blame you because your parents are like a couple of spoiled children who try to take whatever they want regardless of who gets hurt in the process.”

“Are you sure?”

Maggie sighed at the doubt in his voice, and kissed him again. This time she put her heart into the meeting
of their lips. She would just have to show him how much she loved the man he was.

“Everybody, come get lunch,” Trent heard Maggie call out just as he hung the last light on the tree. The plan was for the family to gather after they ate in the big front parlor, and hang the decorations on the big Douglas fir they'd cut the day after Thanksgiving.

He'd spent some time that morning rehearsing with Grace how to put the angel atop the tree. So far she'd mastered putting a plastic ring over the top branch, a birthday hat and a paper cup. But putting an angel on top of a Christmas tree was a lot trickier, and Trent wasn't sure he and his littlest assistant had mastered it. He hoped she was up to the challenge. As the youngest in the family, tradition said Grace should put the angel on top of the tree as soon as she was able. Daniel, unhappy with being displaced from this last special role as baby of the family, was Grace's disgruntled backup.

Trent stepped out from behind the tree, nearly fell over Mickey and got tangled in the light cord, pulling it out of the wall socket. The lights went out, the tree wobbled a bit, and Trent made a frantic grab to steady it. “Sorry, kiddo. Didn't see you there,” he told the boy. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm his pounding heart.

Mickey hung his head. “Sorry, I guess I got underfoot.”

Since the night they'd told them about the custody suit, all three children had reacted differently. Mickey
was rarely more than one step behind Trent. He'd decided to become Trent's little helper. Unfortunately, he was often getting underfoot and had caused more than one near disaster or minor injury to Trent because of it.

By day, Rachel acted as if all was well, but the nightmares about the accident that had plagued her at summer's end had returned with a vengeance. Neither Trent nor Maggie had managed an unbroken night's sleep since.

And Daniel had become a little monster—and that description was kind. He teased and tormented Grace, taking toys from the toddler that he couldn't possibly want to play with. He had even hidden Cindy from Rachel for two days; when asked why, he'd rolled his eyes and spat back that it was stinky and dirty.

Maggie thought his behavior was his way of acting out his anger at his grandparents. Trent figured it could be that but maybe something more, too, since most of his anger seemed to be directed at Maggie. At this point, if Daniel verbally attacked her again, Trent was going to step in and have a serious talk— husband to four-year-old tormentor.

Trent ruffled Mickey's hair. “It's okay. No harm done. But listen, my back's killing me from standing on the ladder. Suppose you climb back under and plug them in for me.”

Maggie slid the parlor doors open just as Mickey disappeared under the thick bottom branches of the Christmas tree. She stuck her head in. “You two coming?
Soup's on. Oh, the lights are gorgeous!” she exclaimed, and came into the room.

Trent grinned. It was his first eleven-foot Christmas tree. Actually, he and Maggie had always opted for a fake four-footer, so this was his first real Christmas tree, period. He was as excited as the kids. “Thank you, Mrs. Osborne. And it's ready for ornaments right on schedule, thanks to the help of my able assistant. Come on out here, able assistant.”

“It looks wonderful, Mickey,” she said. “I've got all sorts of Christmas music lined up in the CD changer, and hot cider and cookies ready for our treetrimming party after lunch. The turkey soup's already dished. Let's go, you two. We've got a tree to trim.”

As they entered the kitchen following Mickey, Trent watched in shock as Daniel pressed his index finger down on the side of his bowl and purposely tipped it over.

“Oh, my,” Maggie cried, and rushed to mop up the mess. “I don't have any more soup left. Oh, well. Don't worry about it, dear. Accidents happen. You can have mine, and I'll just heat up some of that tomato soup I like so much.”

“No, you will not eat canned soup after you spent all that time making homemade. He did that on purpose,” Trent said, gritting his teeth. “Didn't you, Daniel?”

“Yeah,” Daniel spat back, a defiant expression on his face.

Maggie looked shocked and wounded. “Why?” she asked.

Daniel ignored her and directed his answer to Trent. “I hate her soup. She doesn't make it like my mom did. I'd rather eat peanut butter and jelly. At least she can't wreck that.”

“That's it! Go to your room, boy,” Trent ordered.

“Trent—”

“No, Mag. He's gone after you for the last time.” He looked at Daniel, who sat with his mouth gaping open in shock. “Did you hear me? Go up to your room. Now! I'll be up after I've eaten, and we'll talk about this and the rest of your behavior lately. I, for one, have had it!”

Daniel's lip quivered. “But I'm hungry.”

“You should have thought of that before dumping a bowl of perfectly good soup all over for your aunt to clean up.”

“I'm sorry! I won't do it again,” Daniel rushed to promise.

“Too late. March,” Trent ordered.

Lunch, far from the celebration Maggie had planned, was a subdued affair. Trent was sorry he'd had to spoil the meal, but enough was enough, and dealing with Daniel had been too important to put off any longer. After they'd eaten, Maggie had decided to put on a Christmas video to watch with the other children while Trent went up to talk to Daniel.

He found the boy sitting in the corner of his room, clutching a tattered blanket that Trent hadn't seen in years.

“Are you going to spank me?”

Trent was so surprised by the question that he sank to the bed and simply stared at the forlorn little boy. Spanking was one of those subjects he and Maggie had discussed at length. They both had the same opinion. If any alternative punishment would alter a child's destructive or dangerous behavior, one shouldn't resort to spanking.

Trent couldn't think of a punishment he hadn't tried, but spanking still seemed like the wrong approach. He knew it was the custody suit causing Daniel's bad conduct, so therefore it was Royce and Albertine's fault—not Daniel's.

“I guess you're pretty scared,” Trent commented.

“I never been spanked. My friend in nursery school says it hurts. A lot!”

Trent sighed, hoping to bring the discussion back to Daniel's behavior. “Well, you won't find out now because I'm not going to spank you for spilling your soup.” He paused, watching Daniel intently. “I meant, I bet you're scared about the custody suit. But, Daniel, I will not have you attacking Aunt Maggie. She loves you. She takes care of you. And all you've done for two weeks is make her life and the lives of your brother and sisters miserable. Why?”

“It will hurt,” Daniel said in a pain-filled whisper.

“I already promised not to spank you,” Trent repeated.

Daniel shook his head. “It'll hurt when I have to go live with them. ‘Cause I love you and Aunt Maggie, and it'll hurt like when Mommy and Daddy died if I can't live with you anymore.”

Confused, Trent urged, “And so you're being mean to Maggie and your brother and sisters because…?”

“'Cause then you and Aunt Maggie will always be mad at me and punish me, and I won't miss you so much when I have to leave. But I didn't want to make you so mad that you'd spank me. I really, really didn't mean to make you that mad.” His little freckled face crumpled then and a sob burst forth. Trent was on his knees in a heartbeat with Daniel clasped to his chest.