One Imperfect Christmas by Myra Johnson Page B
Authors: Myra Johnson
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women
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world would never change the fact that this time of year, a season when the whole world should be joyful and full of love, would never be that way for Natalie again.
“Come on, Nat, talk to me. Haven't you heard a thing I've said?”
Her cracked words came out in a ragged rush. “How many times do I have to say this? I can't deal with it now. Birthday, Christmas, any of it. Please .”
“Fine. If you don't want to come to dinner, then don't. Happy birthday, Natalie Rose.” The phone slammed in her ear.
Don't you cry, Natalie Pearce, don't you dare cry.
She sucked in a breath and gripped the arms of her desk chair. She had entirely too much work to do, and she couldn't let herself be sidetracked by Hart's disappointment. Blinking several times, she watched the Christmas shoppers bustling in and out of shops along the sun-dappled town square. Despite all the holiday advertisements she'd prepared for clients, she hadn't let herself think about her own Christmas shopping. She should find something for Lissa, at least, but she wasn't sure she even knew what her daughter wanted this year.
Sighing, she allowed Deannie's elaborate Christmas window art to distract her, and once again gratefully transferred her prickling irritation from herself to her capricious red-haired assistant. If Deannie so desperately needed an outlet for her creative energies, she could do something useful instead of wasting office time and resources.
Oh, great, Natalie, you're starting to sound like Ebenezer Scrooge.
Still, picking on Deannie gave her a moment of perverse pleasure. Who could deny that Jeff Garner's niece had grown into the classic underachiever? She'd been a problem child ever since Natalie used to babysit her some twenty-odd years ago. Several years later she and Daniel made the mistake of trusting Deannie as Lissa's babysitter, only Deannie couldn't keep her mind on her duties and off her many boyfriends. She'd taken almost seven years to finish college, changing her major at least that many times, and then flitted from one dead-end job to another, trying to “find herself.”
In October, when Deannie expressed an interest in learning the printing business, Jeff had hired her as Natalie's assistant, over Natalie's protests and against her better judgment. Someday, somehow, she'd get back at her partner for this. He owed her. He owed her big-time.
As she toyed with how she could plot her revenge, her gaze settled on Deannie's window stencil of a horse and sleigh. The horse reminded her of the farm, which reminded her of the birthday dinner, which reminded her of Mom.
Face it, Natalie, you've let down your mother. You've let down your husband and daughter. And now you're about to let down your dad.
You can change things , a voice in her head seemed to whisper.
It sounded too easy. Was it even possible that one birthday dinner with her family might be the beginning of a way back?
She pressed shaking hands to her cheeks. For the first time in months, a genuine prayer filled her thoughts. Dear God, please give me the strength to do the right thing … for my family and for myself.
Summoning her courage, she picked up the phone and dialed Hart's number at the veterinary clinic, but almost changed her mind again as she waited for his receptionist to get him on the line.
Too late. “Hey, Nat, I'm sorry for picking on you. This is a rough time for all of us. If you're not up to celebrating your birthday this year, Dad will understand. We all will.”
“It's okay. I'll come. What time?”
A pause. She could picture the satisfied grin accompanying her brother's intake of breath before he asked, “When do you close up shop?”
She glanced at her watch and tried to control the tremor in her voice. “I should be out of here by seven.”
“Great. See you at the farm at seven-thirty.”
Daniel unsnapped his Putnam Panthers jacket as he
“Come on, Nat, talk to me. Haven't you heard a thing I've said?”
Her cracked words came out in a ragged rush. “How many times do I have to say this? I can't deal with it now. Birthday, Christmas, any of it. Please .”
“Fine. If you don't want to come to dinner, then don't. Happy birthday, Natalie Rose.” The phone slammed in her ear.
Don't you cry, Natalie Pearce, don't you dare cry.
She sucked in a breath and gripped the arms of her desk chair. She had entirely too much work to do, and she couldn't let herself be sidetracked by Hart's disappointment. Blinking several times, she watched the Christmas shoppers bustling in and out of shops along the sun-dappled town square. Despite all the holiday advertisements she'd prepared for clients, she hadn't let herself think about her own Christmas shopping. She should find something for Lissa, at least, but she wasn't sure she even knew what her daughter wanted this year.
Sighing, she allowed Deannie's elaborate Christmas window art to distract her, and once again gratefully transferred her prickling irritation from herself to her capricious red-haired assistant. If Deannie so desperately needed an outlet for her creative energies, she could do something useful instead of wasting office time and resources.
Oh, great, Natalie, you're starting to sound like Ebenezer Scrooge.
Still, picking on Deannie gave her a moment of perverse pleasure. Who could deny that Jeff Garner's niece had grown into the classic underachiever? She'd been a problem child ever since Natalie used to babysit her some twenty-odd years ago. Several years later she and Daniel made the mistake of trusting Deannie as Lissa's babysitter, only Deannie couldn't keep her mind on her duties and off her many boyfriends. She'd taken almost seven years to finish college, changing her major at least that many times, and then flitted from one dead-end job to another, trying to “find herself.”
In October, when Deannie expressed an interest in learning the printing business, Jeff had hired her as Natalie's assistant, over Natalie's protests and against her better judgment. Someday, somehow, she'd get back at her partner for this. He owed her. He owed her big-time.
As she toyed with how she could plot her revenge, her gaze settled on Deannie's window stencil of a horse and sleigh. The horse reminded her of the farm, which reminded her of the birthday dinner, which reminded her of Mom.
Face it, Natalie, you've let down your mother. You've let down your husband and daughter. And now you're about to let down your dad.
You can change things , a voice in her head seemed to whisper.
It sounded too easy. Was it even possible that one birthday dinner with her family might be the beginning of a way back?
She pressed shaking hands to her cheeks. For the first time in months, a genuine prayer filled her thoughts. Dear God, please give me the strength to do the right thing … for my family and for myself.
Summoning her courage, she picked up the phone and dialed Hart's number at the veterinary clinic, but almost changed her mind again as she waited for his receptionist to get him on the line.
Too late. “Hey, Nat, I'm sorry for picking on you. This is a rough time for all of us. If you're not up to celebrating your birthday this year, Dad will understand. We all will.”
“It's okay. I'll come. What time?”
A pause. She could picture the satisfied grin accompanying her brother's intake of breath before he asked, “When do you close up shop?”
She glanced at her watch and tried to control the tremor in her voice. “I should be out of here by seven.”
“Great. See you at the farm at seven-thirty.”
Daniel unsnapped his Putnam Panthers jacket as he
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