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A Prayer Quilt Christmas

By Nancy J. Farrier

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Sand squished under her blanket as Meg Stratton pulled her knees tight against her chest and tugged her oversize sweatshirt as close to her ankles as possible. Waves gnashed at the beach as weak sunlight attempted to shove heavy clouds aside. Her day off. Working might be better than sitting here with fatigue dragging her under, watching the endless battle between water and sand, and freezing in the late Fall chill.
November.
Two weeks until Thanksgiving.
She had the turkey in the freezer, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and corn, also frozen. Austin and Aaron helped her plan pecan and apple pies, croissants, and her boys even conceded to her making a salad, although they were unlikely to eat much of that dish. They’d had such fun with the planning. That was the first time the three of them had connected with such enthusiasm. The excitement and anticipation had been building. They were even going to make their own decorations for the table.
Not anymore.
Last night, Darrell, her ex, swept in and announced he wanted the boys for the holidays. He was back in the country, a last-minute change, and he had full custody. The right to rip her children out from under her roof. She had no say in the matter. Barely had time to hug the boys before they disappeared into the dark of the evening.
For who knew how long.
Leaving her alone in that empty house she rented, her ears tuned to the silence, aching for the sound of a snore, or that—at times—annoying call of, “Moooom.” What she wouldn’t give to hear a bit of bickering right now.
Instead, there was only the sound of waves crashing, the piercing cry of the seagulls, and the wind whistling past carrying a chill that battered her exterior. Her interior chill had settled in last night when she listened to her ex’s car fire up and disappear down the street.
She dropped her forehead to her sweatshirt-covered knees and squeezed her burning eyes shut. Was this another example of her past coming back to bite her? For sure. If she hadn’t made those very selfish choices years ago, she would still have a husband, a home with her boys, and a life that had meaning. Maybe.
Something pricked her heart. She did have a life with meaning. She loved her job. She loved her friends. And she loved living in Driftwood Cove. The small-town life appealed way more to her than the hectic pace and anonymity of the big city. People liked her here. They didn’t have huge expectations about how she should act. How she should dress. How she should be the little cookie cutter wife—one who would enhance her husband without having any life of her own. That’s what she’d escaped.
Escaped the wrong way.
The wind gusted, sending her short hair swirling, the strands stinging her face. Heavy clouds turned the ocean slate-gray, threatening rain. Yet, she stayed. She had no energy to climb to her feet and trek up the path to her car. If she tried, they would find her crumpled in the sand like some beached ocean creature.
Far down the beach to her right, motion caught her eye. She watched the tiny figure running toward her. Running. Who had the energy to run? She certainly didn’t. Who would want to run? She snorted. She might run for some of the barbecue and pie at I-BBQ, but not for much else.
This person moved with an easy grace, more of a lope than a jog. Male? Female? She squinted, studying the runner. Male. Or not.
She turned away, staring out at the roiling waves battling one another for dibs on the beach, and wished she could see some dolphins or seals. Something to brighten the inner and outer gloom of the day.
Her friends were all Christians and their voices admonishing her to pray rattled around in her head. Pray. Like that would help. Her uncle’s sonorous voice lecturing her about religion and the evils of the world shivered through her.
She’d prayed when she struggled with addiction trying to get clean so she could get her boys back. No one answered that prayer. She hadn’t seen Austin and Aaron for seven years, even though she’d broken free of the grip drugs had on her.
On her own. Thank you very much.
She didn’t begrudge her friends their beliefs. After all, she’d once believed—sort of. She loved Ian, her boss, his girlfriend, Asia, and Cinda, Asia’s sister. Didn’t know what she would do without them. But what worked for them had no place in her life. Not anymore.
The runner had drawn closer. Yep, male. For sure. No woman she knew had shoulders that broad. Or hips that narrow. She glanced at her own hips, hidden by the sweatshirt. They weren’t narrow by anyone’s standards. They were pie-and-ice-cream hips. She might work like an ant gathering for winter, but she also liked to eat. No matter how she tried, her hips always made her look more like a pear than an hourglass. She did not like pears.
She rested her chin on her knees and watched the clouds swirl overhead. Kept her focus off the runner. No need to invite some stranger to sit down and have a chat. She wasn’t good company today. Not for a stranger. Not even for a friend.
Her phone chimed. Her heart leaped. Had Darrell changed his mind? Had one night with the boys been more than he could endure? Never mind he’d had them for seven years on his own or with his girlfriend of choice. After being without them maybe he couldn’t take the noise and constant motion that came with a teen and a pre-teen.
She dug her cell from the pouch on the front of her hoodie. Ian. A text. Slight emergency. Can you come in for a couple of hours this afternoon? Sorry to ask.
Sorry to ask? Yes, of course she could come in. Work gave her purpose. Work filled the empty hours and helped pass the time. She would be there and put in more time than he needed. If he let her. She typed a quick text to ask what time and nodded at the answer. She still had three hours.
Time to continue this well-attended pity party.
Her friends had no idea Darrell had taken the boys. She hadn’t the strength to tell anyone. If she’d messaged Ian, he would have shared with Asia and Cinda. Next would come a flurry of texts. Then visits. No way that could happen.
The slap of feet on wet sand drew her attention back to the runner. She drew in a sharp breath. Brushed the stinging hairs from her face. Wade Palmer. Ian’s friend.
The shattered pieces of her heart gave a low throb. She hadn’t thought her heart could react to anything right now, but apparently, she was wrong. Every time he came into the restaurant, she had to make a conscious effort to direct her course away from him. He pulled at her like he was her magnetic north.
Watching him run sent her pulse racing. This close, those broad shoulders took on definition. His t-shirt clung to his chest, showing not an ounce of fat and more muscle than any man deserved to have. She dragged her gaze away from the corded length of his legs as he continued that graceful lope. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her. Too late to bury herself in the sand like Aaron, her youngest son, was apt to do.
“Meg?” The steady slap of footfalls stopped. He stood close enough for her to hear his elevated breathing as it steadied. Not like the gasping, dying-any-moment breaths she’d give off after running like that.
“Hey.” She held her hair back as she met his gaze. Why did the man have to be drop dead gorgeous? He should be some musclebound oaf who didn’t appeal to her at all. Almost seven years since her divorce was final and not one man had romantically captivated her.
Until Wade.
“Mind if I join you?” He didn’t wait for a reply but dropped on the blanket beside her. “Not working today?”
“This afternoon.” Why hadn’t she forced her lifeless body and spirit to drag up that trail when she first saw him coming toward her? Driftwood Cove wasn’t that big. Chances were she would know the runner. 
But, knowing the runner proved different when that person was Wade.
“A little chilly today for sitting on the beach.” His warm tone and caring words wrapped around her. Better than a heated blanket.
“Sometimes it’s nice to get out for a bit. I spend a lot of time working indoors.” She dug her toes into the loose sand under the blanket. Why did she have to sound so stupid? Maybe he would get up and run off back the way he came. And forget he’d seen her. 
Except, the vision of him loping toward her would be forever seared in her memory Never to be erased. No matter how hard she tried.
“Looks like rain will be here soon.” He shifted on the blanket, his arm brushing against hers. Her body canted in his direction, and she jerked back to safety.
Another set of waves crashed on the shore and against the rocks just down the beach. The tide crept closer to where they sat.
“Where are your boys? They didn’t come with you?” His query drew her gaze and just like that she lost the battle as grief and despair fought for her soul.
* * *
Wade’s whole body chilled as he watched Meg’s face crumple. She turned away but not before tears spilled down her cheeks. Her body heaved with the sobs she tried to hold inside, the battle for control obvious to him.
His mother’s words to him as he grew up with three younger sisters ran through his mind. Young man, girls don’t cry so you can fix everything for them. They just need you to hold them and let them know you care.
He slid his arm around Meg’s shoulders and gave a light tug. She stiffened for the merest of seconds before collapsing against his chest, her face buried against his shirt. Thank you, God, this had been a chilly day and he wasn’t drenched in stinky sweat.
Whatever happened, the mention of her boys brought on this bout of tears. Had something happened to them? Were they defying her? He knew from past experience how trying teen boys could be. He winced as he thought of his own growing up years and the grief he gave his parents.
At least his parents stood together and had each other’s backs. How did a single parent manage if they had a strong-willed child like he’d been? He tightened his hold on Meg and pulled her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. From now on he would pay more attention to her boys and see if he could help out. His best friend, Daniel, would help too. He enjoyed reaching out to teens in need.
He watched the susurration of the waves, the dipping and soaring of the seagulls, and enjoyed the cool touch of the salty breeze. Some people would call this day cold, but the weather was perfect in his view.
The scent of coconut drifted up from Meg’s hair and he inhaled the fragrance. The soft strands tickled against his neck until a gust hit, then they stung like harmless needles that didn’t have much oomph. Her sobs weren’t as wrenching, but Meg still cuddled against him and he did not intend to move. She fit against him. Fit in his arms.
Fit his idea of what he liked in a woman.
Meg worked hard. Had a great personality. A sense of humor and a laugh that caught the attention of the whole room. She bubbled over with compassion for others. He’d watched her from a distance for months now.
Because there was that one flaw. The flaw he couldn’t excuse.
Meg had a history with drugs. She didn’t deny the fact. Didn’t hide it. That was admirable.
But evidence showed what could happen. All it took was one catastrophic event, or maybe not so catastrophic. The user would be back, and the clean person would fade away. He’d seen that happen over and over in his job as a police officer.
Hadn’t that happened with his sister? Pain echoed through his chest. Sandra. Sissy to him. The youngest and most vulnerable of his sisters. Drawn into a dark life while he fought terrorists in the Middle East. He turned his thoughts before he donned the proverbial horsehair shirt he’d nearly worn out.
Meg shifted. The sobs were gone. She pressed her face tight to his chest. He brushed his lips against her hair. Why did she have to have that past? In every other way she seemed so perfect for him. The nudges he felt in her presence couldn’t be from God. Because so far, Meg hadn’t demonstrated a drop of interest in attending church, praying, or giving her life to God.
That left a chasm between them.
“Sorry.” She surged away, turning to fumble in the bag at the edge of the blanket. She snatched up a tissue and wiped her face. Blew her nose. Still didn’t look at him.
“Hey, you okay?” Well, how stupid was that? A woman having a complete meltdown was the opposite of okay. He rolled his eyes toward the sky. Why had God skipped him when it came to the wisdom department? At least, at this moment, he didn’t have a shred of discernment.
He put his palm against her back. Felt a tremor run through her. Rubbed a gentle circle.
“Want to talk?” He rubbed circles up her spine to her neck where knots of tension bumped under the skin.
“I can’t.” She shuddered with another repressed sob.
Please, God. If You brought me here to help her, You’ve got to give me some inspiration.
“I have to go.” She surged to her feet. Wobbled. Took a step and stumbled to the side.
“Hey.” Wade jumped up and caught her before she landed face first on the ground. Instead, she landed face first against his chest. For the second time. His arms closed around her as if this were the most natural act in the world. As if she belonged to him. 
As if she’d been made for him.
“Here.” Wade steadied her on her feet. “Wait here.”
He grabbed her blanket, shaking out the sand and folding it into a neat square. He tucked the blanket inside her oversize bag and slung the bag over his shoulder. Then he slipped his arm around her waist and steadied her for the walk up the steep trail to the parking area.
A smattering of cold drops hit against his arms and neck as they breached the top of the slope. He headed for his truck, closer by a hundred yards, and the better choice as the rain picked up and the wind gusts rocked them on their feet. Meg stumbled. Did she even understand where they were? Had she already fallen back into old habits? Please, no.
He swung the passenger door open. “Here, climb in.”
She glanced around, clearly searching for her car.
“We’re going to get soaked in about ten seconds. Climb in.” He slung her bag behind the seat and helped her make the high step. Slammed her door and jogged around to his, ducking inside just as the clouds dumped a wall of water over them. The noise deafened him. Meg’s eyes rounded. The blue-gray color almost matched the ocean today. They were clear. Questioning. No signs of drug use. His muscles relaxed, and he released a breath, along with the tension he hadn’t realized was there.
“Cold?” He watched her kick off her sandals, pull up her knees, and tug a sweatshirt the size of a tanker down to her ankles.
“I’m okay.” Her mouth wavered in a semi-smile. “Sorry about the meltdown.”
“I have sisters. I know what meltdowns are, and there’s no need to apologize.” He pressed his palm against his thigh to keep from reaching over to touch her. As withdrawn as she was, she didn’t need him invading her space right now.
“Sometimes it does help to talk. I can turn my back, and you can pretend I’m not here.” He grinned at her eye roll. The rain steadied into a comforting rhythm, still heavy but not enough to wash them away.
“I take it something happened with your boys. Teenagers can be trying. My mom would tell you that, and she only had one boy.” He caught his breath and pressed his lips together. Just be quiet, Palmer. Why do you have to keep flapping your jaw?
She leaned her forehead against her drawn-up knees. Her fingers were wrapped so tight in her sweatshirt he wasn’t sure she could get free.
“He took them back.” Her words were almost lost in the steady drumming of the rain.
Wade straightened. Sucked in a breath. “Someone took your boys? Who?” He grabbed up his phone, thumb already hovering over the buttons when she snatched it away and dropped it on the seat.
“Stop. There’s nothing you can do.” Tears glittered in her eyes. Her dark hair fell on her brow as she ducked her head again. “He has every right.”
This time he did touch her. Wrapped his fingers around her arm and held on. “Who has the right? What are you talking about?”
“Their father. He has full custody.” She palmed her hands against her eyes and rubbed but didn’t pull away from him.
“I thought he was out of the country. That’s why you had them.” He shifted and rubbed at the knots in the back of her neck. The rumble of a low moan echoed through the contact.
“He’s back for four months. He showed up last night out of the blue. Had the boys pack and said he’ll bring them back in the Spring. Maybe.” She shuddered. He continued the gentle massage.
“He didn’t call first?”
She shook her head without looking at him. Swiped at her eyes.
And understanding hit. For the first time in years, she had her boys at her house. There for the holidays. Planning their family time. Talking about gifts and decorations. They probably had the meals already mapped out. She wouldn’t be alone. For a single person that was huge.
And now that had been stripped away. By one thoughtless ex-husband.


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