Holiday Homecoming Read Online Free PDF

help him clean his apartment?
    â€œWell, the short-needled trees tend to hold their needles longer. But if you like the looks of a longer needle...”
    He touched the sleeve of her navy peacoat. “It’s okay. I was teasing. I know you’re as uncomfortable as I am.”
    Uncomfortable
. He sounded so clinical. And she was being oversensitive. Connor was handing her the olive branch she should be giving him, the branch she didn’t even know how to offer him. Memories flooded her head. Them in the parking lot of the big-box store near her apartment in Syracuse looking at the meager selection of trees left for sale. They’d chosen a long-needled white pine that had started shedding its needles before they’d even set it up. Her making him laugh with stories of tree mishaps she remembered from her childhood as they decorated the tree.
    She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, she’d give away emotions she didn’t want Connor to see, that he probably wouldn’t want to see.
    â€œSince the tree will have to make it through at least a month, I’d better go with something with short needles,” he said.
    â€œThe short-needled balsam firs are to the right.” She pointed in the direction her family had gone, thankful that Connor was back to business. They walked over to the row of trees.
    Connor stopped in front of the first one. “This one looks good.” He started to squat to cut it.
    â€œNo, wait.” She should let him go ahead and be done with it. But she couldn’t without walking around it to inspect the tree from all angles. Too many tree-cutting trips with her mother stopped her from letting him cut the tree.
    â€œWhat?” A note of impatience sounded in his voice.
    She walked around the tree, telling herself this was the parsonage tree. She was being fussy because it needed to be right for the church, not because she wanted it nice for Connor.
    â€œNo good,” she said as she rounded back beside him. “It lists to the side. You’ll have trouble keeping it up, and I noticed some holes in the branches in the back. The trees at the end of the row are probably less picked over.”
    He straightened. “Lead on.”
    She stepped in front of him and walked slowly down the row, eyeing each tree, the scent of pine bolstering her spirits. Picking out a perfect Christmas tree was something she’d always liked, enjoyed sharing with her mother. Natalie stopped at the far end of the row.
    â€œThis one?” Connor asked.
    â€œNo.” Her gaze traveled to the next row. “There.” A twinge of excitement bubbled as she pointed. Without thinking, she grabbed his arm to pull him over.
    He stilled for a moment, his blue eyes clouding.
    She dropped her hand to her side.
    â€œWhich one?” he asked with what sounded to her like forced enthusiasm.
    â€œNext row, second one in.” Natalie rushed over and circled the tree. “It’s perfect.”
    Connor laughed, sending a ripple of remembrance through her.
    â€œI’ll have to move all of the furniture out of the living room and cut a hole in the ceiling to fit it in,” he teased.
    â€œNo, you won’t. All you’ll need to do is trim some of the wide branches on the bottom and take a foot or so off the trunk, like you had to with the tree at my apartment.”
    Connor’s stance stiffened. Why did she have to go and say that when they’d finally reached a friendly comfort?
    Without a word, Connor attacked the tree trunk with the saw he’d brought. Natalie watched his shoulders work as he pulled back and forth, and she lifted a silent voice rusty with disuse.
Dear Jesus
,
I
know I have to talk with Connor
,
clear the air between us if we’re going to work together on the pageant to glorify Your birth.
But I have no idea how to do it.

Chapter Three
    W hen Connor got back to the parsonage, he stuck the tree in a bucket of water in the far corner