Lone Star Holiday

The same golden-brown eyes Lorrie Ann had looked into this morning pierced her heart. What would it be like to see your own features in a child? She doubted she’d ever know.

“Sure.”

Less than fifteen minutes into some princess movie, Celeste fell asleep, curled up like a kitten with her head resting on Lorrie Ann’s thigh. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back on the overstuffed leather sofa.

Aunt Maggie walked into the living room. “I figured she’d go to sleep.” One click of the remote and the princess’s song went silent. “Now, Lorrie Ann Ortega, you will tell me what happened that brought you home.”

Lorrie Ann kept her eyes closed and wondered how long she could fake sleep.

“I know you aren’t asleep.”

Apparently less than a minute. With a heavy sigh, she opened her eyes.

“I needed to get away. Once I was on IH 10, coming here just felt right.” She rubbed her arms and studied the sleeping child in her lap. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I have the holidays off, so here I am. After Christmas I’ll go back to L.A. recharged and ready to take on the world again.”

“Is it your fiancé?” Her aunt’s voice turned quiet. “Does it have anything to do with that bruise?”

“Now that I’m here I’m fine.” As long as I don’t become my mother. “You don’t need to worry about Brent. That’s definitely off, no regrets, no maybes about it. We are over.”

“Okay, then.” She reached over and picked up her quilting hoop. “This is your home. I’m glad you’re here.” She placed her purple reading glasses low on her nose and contemplated the stitching in her hands. “We can throw a party.”

Lorrie Ann groaned and ran her hands through her hair. Ugh, she needed a shower. She rested her head on the back of the sofa. “There are people who won’t be happy I’m back.” The one thing she regretted most was bringing shame to Aunt Maggie and Uncle Billy. “You know I didn’t leave on the best of terms.”

Aunt Maggie slipped off her glasses and moved to sit next to Lorrie Ann. Reaching past Celeste, she put her hand on Lorrie Ann’s shoulder. “Mija, I have prayed every day that God brings you back to your family.” A soft smile eased its way across her milk-chocolate skin. She pushed a piece of hair away from Lorrie Ann’s face. “Let the petty high-school drama go.”

At her aunt’s soft touch, Lorrie Ann felt like a little girl again.

“When you’re ready, you can talk to me.” She gently squeezed her shoulder. “But know this...you sitting here is an answer to many, many prayers.”

Uncomfortable with the love in her aunt’s gaze, Lorrie Ann turned her head and closed her eyes to block the feelings of guilt. Instead, she focused on the heartbeat of the sleeping child in her lap.

Maggie stood and placed her quilting hoop back in the basket. “I need to call around to make sure Amy’s parents have meals.”

Lorrie Ann relaxed and closed her eyes again but couldn’t shut off her brain.

Her hand moved to stroke the silky blond hair of the little person in her lap. She smiled, thinking of Celeste’s father.

Her gaze fell across the family pictures on the bookshelf. Smiling faces of her many aunts and uncles along with all the cousins crowded together in mismatched frames. She lingered over the only picture of her with her mother. Blue-and-purple icing smeared on both their faces at her tenth birthday, the last birthday she’d spent with her mom. Happiness filled the face of the little girl she had been, thinking her mother would stay.

She realized returning to the farm, she wanted to find the family she never really knew and the only place she had felt God.

The image of John holding his daughters crossed her mind and melted her heart. What would it have been like to have that kind of father? Her mother had refused to say her father’s name. Lorrie Ann had eventually stopped asking.

She watched her manicured nail make little circles on Celeste’s shirt. John’s life reflected God. Hers? Not so much.

She rested her cheek on her other hand supported by the arm of the sofa. Even though she shouldn’t want to see more of his dream-changing smiles, she found herself listening for an old blue truck’s tires on the gravel driveway.

Chapter Four

John turned the key and shut the engine off. Sitting in the silence, he watched the full moon reflect over the river below. Rachel had fallen asleep on the way home, her leg now in a black stabilizer from ankle to the top of her thigh. In a few days when the swelling went down, he’d have to take her back for the cast. Her apologies had run nonstop. Several times, he reassured her it would be fine, but his preteen seemed to pick up his doubts.

All the problems bounced around his brain. With his eyes closed, he pressed his forehead against the cracked steering wheel.

“God, I know worry is a sin. Please show me how I can be the pastor people need and the father my girls deserve.”

The to-do list started clicking off in his head. The youth building still needed funds, his house sat gutted and Dub needed help with the ranch. The big annual Christmas pageant loomed around the corner, with no one to direct it. He sighed. Now Rachel required extra help, and his babysitter, Amy, was out while she recovered.

Deep in thought, he jumped when a hand pounded on his window. He opened the door, but before he could move, Celeste had climbed into his lap. Her small hands framed his face.

“Hello, Daddy.”

He smiled and covered her precious fingers with his hands. “Hey, monkey. How are you?” He turned to Lorrie Ann, Celeste’s late-night escort, and grinned. Was it only this morning they’d first met? “Did she cause you any problems?”

She shook her head. “No, we had fun.”

“Daddy, I was good, and Miss Lorrie Ann let me use a knife.”

He shot a heated glare to the woman who had kept creeping into his mind all day. “You let a five-year-old use a knife?”

“No, no, it was a plastic knife. You know, the small picnic ones.”

“Daddy, I’m six now. I turned six at the football game. I could cut my own grapes.” She rested her head on his shoulder, facing her sister. “What’s wrong with her leg?”

“It’s broken. I need to get her into the house.”

“Come here, rug rat. Let your dad out of the truck, and we can get you all settled in the cabin.”

His daughter giggled as she reached for Lorrie Ann’s hand.

“She calls me rug rat, Daddy, because they’re cute, real smart and are always moving around.” She swung her arm back and forth. “Right, Miss Lorrie Ann?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lorrie Ann brought her face back to his. “Aunt Maggie sent some dinner over.” With her free hand, she lifted a foil-covered plate.

Celeste led Lorrie Ann toward the porch. The security light automatically flooded the area as they reached the steps.

“It’s unlocked.” They went inside as he made his way around the truck feeling much older than his thirty-one years.

He opened the passenger door and slipped his arms under Rachel. Careful of her leg, he pulled her to him. She was eleven now. For a moment, he pulled her closer and closed his eyes. When was the last time he had carried her from the car? So many moments in life just slipped past without thought or fanfare.

Headlights came up the driveway and parked behind his truck. His head slumped for a minute as he hoped it was not some concerned member of his congregation, but then he prayed for forgiveness and patience.

“Are our girls all right?”

Relief relaxed his shoulders as his father-in-law’s baritone voice came from the dark. He should have known a phone call wouldn’t be enough.

“Hey, Dub. Celeste doesn’t have a scratch on her. Rachel has a broken leg. Amy has the most injuries, with a broken collarbone and concussion. They kept her overnight.”

“Daddy?” Rachel’s head lifted.