Christmas Homecoming

Chapter Two

A chilly wind whipped at Gabi’s wool overcoat as she hurried the girls toward the sanctuary of the Northside Community Church. “C’mon, we don’t want to be late for the service.”

The century-old white-brick church located across the river from Davis Landing in Hickory Mills was all abuzz this morning as the faithful filed out of the education buildings tucked behind the sanctuary, headed to hear one of Reverend Charles David Abernathy’s rip-roaring sermons.

The big, redheaded preacher could be as blustery as this wind, but he had a heart of gold and he loved each and every one of his parishioners. That membership included both the affluent people from Davis Landing and the average working families here in Hickory Mills, where Gabi lived.

“I’m cold,” Talia whined, pulling her pink down jacket over her pleated plaid skirt.

“Well, the sooner we get inside, the warmer you will be,” Gabi pointed out, a strand of dark hair blowing across her face. “Roni, hurry up,” she said over her shoulder, her hand coming up to pull the escaping strand back from her jawline.

Veronica was giggling and whispering to her older friend Samantha Hart. No telling what those two were cooking up. But Gabi was glad her girls had such good role models as the Hart family. She knew her children were always safe and well taken care of when they were with Angela and Dave and their girls.

Gabi made it up the steps, then turned one more time to call out to her lagging older child. “Roni—”

She stopped, her heart picking up its pace as she saw him. Gabi took a second glance, just to make sure. It was him all right. The man she’d talked to two days ago in the daycare room of the church. He’d just gotten out of an expensive sedan, and he was walking up to the church with some of the Hamilton clan.

He sure cleans up nicely, Gabi thought as she took in the tall man dressed in a tailored overcoat and dark wool suit. His outfit probably cost more than one of her weekly paychecks, Gabi decided, wondering who this man really was.

He looked up then, his eyes locking with hers. At first, he seemed apprehensive and unsure, but then he sent her a hesitant smile, and he kept looking until Gabi felt a tug on her coat.

“Mom?”

Gabi glanced down at Talia. “What, honey?”

“Inside, remember? You wanted to get inside.”

“Right, so I did.” Gabi dropped her gaze, then turned to find her friend Dawn Leroux coming toward her.

“Dawn, hi! I tried to call you the other night. I wanted to talk to you about him. Only I didn’t know that he was…well, him, then.” She lifted her head toward the stranger. “You weren’t home.”

And now she wished she’d left a message. But Gabi had decided then that Dawn’s not being home had to be a sign to drop the whole thing. She had no business asking questions about a handsome stranger, especially since the stranger was obviously a friend of the Hamiltons. And way out of her league.

Dawn glanced in the direction of Gabi’s gaze. “Oh, him. I wanted to talk to you about him, too,” Dawn said, her tone a bit too smug, her blue eyes bright with hope. “He does have a striking presence, doesn’t he?” Then, as if realizing what Gabi had said, she asked, “What about him?”

“I’ve met him,” Gabi whispered as they walked into church. “He was painting in the daycare the other day.”

“Really? That’s great,” Dawn said, grinning. “I convinced him to help out. Oh, I’m so glad he actually took my advice.”

Realization flared through Gabi. “That’s the man you told me about—the man who left town because of a personal crisis?”

“That’s him,” Dawn said. “My future brother-in-law, Jeremy Hamilton.”

Jeremy Hamilton. He seemed so different from all the rest. Of course, if the rumors were true—he was different.

They found a pew and both women sank down, the girls settling beside Gabi. Her mouth fell open as she turned to whisper to Dawn. “He’s a Hamilton? You sure didn’t mention that,” she said, her gaze scanning the church doors for any sign of the topic of conversation.

Gabi quickly turned to face forward as Jeremy entered with his brother Tim. Suddenly all the pieces began to fall into place. This explained his almost aloof behavior the other day when she’d stumbled upon him painting. The man had every reason to be aloof. The Hamiltons were the local dynasty in these parts. Upper crust and top shelf. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t at least recognized him that day. But she’d never mingled in the same social circles as Jeremy Hamilton.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” she whispered to Dawn.

Dawn glanced down at the church bulletin, then frowned. “But I did. I told you all about him.”

Leaning close, Gabi replied, “You just said you had a friend who’d been going through a rough time and needed some space, so you suggested he volunteer at the church.” Then she brought a hand to her mouth. “He’s the older brother. The one who—”

Dawn interrupted with a whispered sigh. “He’s still a Hamilton, no matter who his biological father was. And he’s struggling, Gabi. With so many things. Jeremy and Tim have been at odds for a long time, but Tim wants to make amends. Jeremy is still hurting, though, and he needs to feel the love and trust of his church home. That’s why I suggested he volunteer here.”

Gabi lowered her head. It was so like gentle Dawn to figure out a way to put Jeremy at ease, and to bring him back to his faith. “I understand that, but you could have warned me. I actually flirted with the man!”

Dawn lifted an eyebrow, then smiled. “I didn’t tell you his name because I didn’t want to gossip in detail about his personal problems,” she said, glancing back to wave to other church members. “And I didn’t know he’d show up at the church so quickly.” Then she grinned again. “And I certainly didn’t plan on you running into him there, even though that worked out perfectly, if you ask me.”

“What do you mean?” Gabi said, careful to keep her voice low. All around them, people were greeting each other and laughing and talking. It was always like this before the service began.

Dawn shot her another hopeful glance. “Oh, nothing. Just…well…he’s lonely, Gabi. He needs a friend. And you’re—”

“A single mother,” Gabi reminded her, her eyes going wide as she emphasized that fact. “A single mother from the wrong side of the tracks. And he’s the CEO of Hamilton Media. Dawn Leroux, are you trying to set me up with Jeremy Hamilton?”

“Maybe,” Dawn replied. “And he’s not the CEO these days. But I’m hoping we can work on that, too.” Then her smile widened as Tim Hamilton came up the aisle and sat down beside her.

Gabi spoke to Tim, then stared ahead, listening while Dawn and Tim whispered softly to each other, their newfound love endearing and sweet. Then she felt Dawn’s arm on hers.

“Scoot over.”

Gabi glanced up as she moved down to make room. She knew who it would be, waiting to take a seat at the end of the pew. Jeremy Hamilton looked at her, waved a hand, then sat down, his head turned toward her. He mouthed a “Hi, there,” his eyes moving over Gabi and her girls.

Gabi gave him a weak smile, then turned to fuss over Talia and Roni as the organ music indicated the start of the service.

“Who is that, Mommy?” Roni asked, leaning forward to peer down the pew.

“Just a friend,” Gabi said, pushing her inquisitive daughter back. “Don’t stare, honey. It’s impolite.”

“Well, he keeps staring at us,” Talia pointed out, waving at Jeremy.

He waved back. And finally cracked a smile.

“He’s just being friendly,” Gabi said. Then she handed her daughter crayons and a fresh sheet of notepaper from her purse. “Draw me a picture.”

As the choir began singing the intro, Gabi stole another glance down the pew herself. Jeremy Hamilton was indeed smiling at her. And that smile sent a warm thrill all the way down to Gabi’s black leather ankle boots.

Oh, Lord, she began to pray. I’m sure in trouble here. Please help me to put this man out of my mind. Let me be a friend to him, to minister Your tender mercies, nothing more.

But that particular prayer seemed to go unheard. Because all during the service, Jeremy Hamilton was front and center in Gabi’s thoughts, and for more reasons than just tender mercies.

Jeremy was glad to be out of the old church. Slipping on his overcoat, he took a long breath of the frigid December air, his gaze scanning the sloping churchyard and the footbridge covering a gurgling creek that met up with the Cumberland River just beyond the trees. The familiar stained-glass windows, oak-paneled walls, and high-arched ceiling of the old sanctuary should have brought him some sort of comfort. Months ago, he’d prayed for his father in the tiny prayer room inside the church. He’d felt safe and secure there, having no doubt that God would take care of his father. And that God would take care of him, too.

Now, in spite of the familiar surroundings and all the smiles and greetings, he’d felt uncomfortable sitting there with everyone glancing at him. He wasn’t so secure in his faith on this cold Sunday morning.

They all knew his shame. They all knew his pain. Thanks to someone leaking his true parentage to their rival paper the Observer, everyone in Davis Landing knew that Wallace wasn’t Jeremy’s father. And while no one at church today had been unkind to him, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel their intense scrutiny. He’d been away; he was estranged from his powerful, sick father. He and his brother Tim had been feuding and at odds. Jeremy wasn’t at all surprised that the grapevines and gossip mills were going full throttle against him.

But Tim wants all of that to end, Jeremy reminded himself, still surprised that his high-maintenance younger brother had mellowed over the last few months. Maybe it was time for Jeremy to take some initiative and try to meet his brother halfway. Coming here today had been the first step, but now it seemed to be just one more bad decision.

Feeling determined after hearing Reverend Charles David’s impassioned sermon about King David and how he’d overcome all his mistakes, Jeremy held his head up, taking in the crisp noontime air. He’d go and visit his mother later, after he’d had some time to think. Right now, he only wanted to get away from the cluster of after-church minglers who seemed intent on laughing and talking their way out of the sanctuary.

Like David the shepherd crying out in the wilderness, Jeremy wanted to be alone with his torment. There were still so many things he needed to sort through—such as what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He also wanted to contemplate who could be trying to destroy his family, since someone obviously continued to leak one scandal after another regarding the Hamiltons. The latest had involved his baby sister Melissa’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Thank goodness Melissa now had Richard McNeil to love and protect her. She could probably use some kind words from her oldest brother, too, Jeremy thought. He hadn’t been very kind to anyone lately.

Glancing around, he looked for Tim to tell his brother he was leaving. In spite of his tentative truce with his brother, and his mother Nora’s pleas for him to forgive and forget, he wouldn’t be attending Sunday dinner with the family today. Since his mother hadn’t been in church, she would probably be at the hospital with Wallace anyway, and Jeremy wasn’t going there. He couldn’t bring himself to take up where he’d left off. It didn’t seem natural. None of this seemed right or natural.

Closing his eyes, Jeremy sent up a prayer. I need Your strength, Lord. I need to feel Your love. Help me make things right again. Help me find my purpose here.

He opened his eyes to find Gabi Valencia and her girls exiting the church. He’d been both surprised and cautious about seeing her again, since he’d never divulged his identity to her. She looked pretty in her sensible brown coat and long corduroy skirt, her hands holding on to her daughters on either side. The maternal scene stood out in sharp contrast to Jeremy’s rebellious thoughts. On impulse, he hurried to greet her.

“Hello,” he said, waiting at the bottom of the steps.

“Hi.”

Her greeting was short and distant. And he thought he knew the reason why.

“I never did introduce myself,” he said, hoping she’d give him a chance to explain. “I’m Jeremy Hamilton.”

The two little girls gazed down at him with wide-eyed curiosity, while their mother looked everywhere but at him.

She finally lifted her head, disappointment and distrust in her eyes. “No introductions needed now, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Jeremy,” he said. “I’m Jeremy. And as I said the other day, it’s complicated.”

“And none of my business,” she replied, already distracted as one of her pretty little daughters ran off with some playmates. “Talia, we have to go.”

The child kept on running. “Veronica, go get your sister and take her to the car,” Gabriela said, pushing the other girl toward the cluster of kids prancing around the parking lot.

“I’m Roni,” the one she’d called Veronica said to Jeremy. “I’m the oldest.”

Gabi shook her head, a wry mother’s smile turning up her mouth. “Which you remind everyone of constantly,” she said. “Now, scoot.”

“Nice to meet you, Roni,” Jeremy said, taking the girl’s hand to shake it.

The slender girl giggled, pulling away to hurry after her sister.

“They’re both lovely,” Jeremy said, not willing to give up just yet. “Like their mother.”

She looked back at him then. But the smile was gone. Her expression held doubt, her dark eyes going cynical. “Thank you.”

Feeling awkward and completely at a loss for words, Jeremy looked around. “I’d like to meet your husband.”

She lifted her head, her eyes filling with a deep pain. “I…I’m a widow. My husband…died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, understanding that sadness in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she replied, a soft smile lifting her full lips. “It was good to see you again.”

She moved to go after her girls, but Jeremy reached out a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was. I just needed…some time.”

She seemed to absorb that as her distant stance changed and a flicker of compassion came into her eyes. “I understand. Being a Hamilton probably does carry a lot of complications.”

He nodded, feeling the gentle censure in that remark. “You know all about me, I’m sure. So I can honestly say that in my case, not being a Hamilton carries even more complications. But I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

Her eyes widened at his implied remark. “Oh, no. You think—you must think—Mr. Hamilton, I mean, Jeremy, it never occurred to me—”

“It’s okay. Everyone’s curious. It’s understandable you’d be put off by all the scandal surrounding me. I guess my coming to church today wasn’t such a great idea, after all.”

He turned to leave, his heart hurting with the weight of his shame. And the weight of her rejection.

“Jeremy?”

He heard her call out. He stopped, but refused to turn around.

“I don’t back off very easily,” she said in a soft voice as she came closer. “And I don’t judge too harshly. You could have told me who you were the other day. It wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

He looked back then, caught up in her understanding gaze. “I appreciate that, at least. And I hope to see you again.”

She didn’t respond in words, but she did smile. It was a bittersweet smile, as if to say, “Sure, we’ll see each other again, but that’s about it.”

It was obvious they were from two very different worlds. It was also obvious that Jeremy had too much baggage surrounding him to let a nice woman like Gabriela Valencia get involved in his problems. She’d told him everything he needed to know. She was a working mother and a widow. She was a faithful churchgoer who didn’t want a man like him in her life. She was nice, pretty, polite, and way out of the realm of possibilities, because Jeremy wasn’t ready for anything near serious with a woman, and because this particular woman’s whole attitude toward him had changed now that she knew he was a Hamilton, or rather, now that she had found out he was the Hamilton.

The one everyone was talking about, the one everyone was feeling sorry for. He could certainly understand her hesitancy and her doubt. He had too much to get straight in his personal life before he plunged into any kind of relationship.

That much was apparent.

But something else was also apparent to Jeremy. Gabi Valencia represented the beautifully chaotic, homey existence he’d somehow lost out on, the kind of life he’d only dreamed about. But he’d always put that kind of life on hold, all for the sake of Hamilton Media. Those days were over, maybe for good.

For the first time in months, Jeremy had something, someone, other than himself and his family to focus on. He liked Gabi. He was intrigued by her, he was interested in her. And he really did hope to see her again. Very soon.

Chapter Three

Bright and early Monday morning, Jeremy stood in front of the Hamilton Media building, memories floating through his mind with the same drifting rhythm as the puffy clouds moving through the sky over Main Street.

Standing here now, he recalled in vivid detail the first time his father had brought him to this building. Jeremy must have been around five or so, and for months, he’d been begging Wallace to take him to the newspaper office. Wallace had always had an excuse.

“You’ll get in the way, son.”

“I’m too busy today, son. Maybe another time.”

Finally, one morning at the breakfast table, her teacup in hand, his mother had gently pleaded with Wallace to take Jeremy to work.

“Show our son what you do all day, darling. Show him the legacy of Hamilton Media. After all, it’ll all be his someday.”

“His—and his brother’s and sister’s, too,” Wallace had replied, his eyes still on his paper.

There had only been three Hamilton children then—Jeremy, Tim and tiny baby Amy. The twins and Melissa hadn’t even been born. But they’d all learned at very early ages about the Hamilton legacy, about how Jeremy’s namesake Jeremiah had started the Davis Landing Dispatch in the 1920s and had carried it through both the Depression and the Second World War. It was just assumed that every Hamilton child would be a part of this legacy.

At such a young age, however, Jeremy hadn’t been sure just what a legacy was, but he’d been very sure that his father didn’t want to take him to the office that day. He could still remember the whispered words between his parents, his father seeming stubborn and defiant, his mother, as always, gentle and persuasive. Finally, Wallace had given in, perhaps because his father had one soft spot and that was his wife.

Jeremy closed his eyes now, remembering the smells that had hit him when he’d entered the revolving doors to the lobby with his father. The aged, musty scents of antiques and old leather had mingled with the more modern smells of copier ink, new carpet and steel and plastic cubicles.

Then he’d heard the sounds: The ringing of many different telephones, the click-click of typewriters, and the easy, chaotic banter of reporters and editors had all assaulted Jeremy at once. It was an adrenaline rush that he’d never forgotten.

From the time he’d entered the building, the stain of printer’s ink had settled over Jeremy like a mantle. He’d figured out what the word legacy must mean. It meant power. He’d seen that as his father hurried to the old, rickety elevator and headed to his plush office on the third floor. He’d felt that when Wallace barked orders and had people scurrying to do his bidding, from his prim secretary bringing him fresh coffee and the Wall Street Journal, to the nervous staffers who knocked on his door bringing him many questions. Everything here flowed through Wallace Hamilton. Jeremy had been in awe of that.

And he’d also clung to his father’s every word, since Wallace rarely had time to spend with his oldest son. But on this day, only for today, Wallace had given Jeremy his undivided attention, simply by letting Jeremy watch him work. Wallace hadn’t explained or lectured or hinted at what was required of Jeremy. But Jeremy had immediately understood. And, still in awe, he’d sat quietly, trying very hard not to bother his busy, powerful father. Jeremy watched and listened and learned, all the while being taken care of by his father’s willing staff. If Jeremy wanted something, it immediately materialized. If he whimpered or whined, he was instantly hushed and handled.

But that day, as Jeremy had sat at his father’s feet playing with an old ink stamp, he’d been hooked. As he’d grown older and found any excuse to come to work with Wallace more and more, he became caught up in wanting to spend all of his time here in this powerful, exciting place. Jeremy became a part of Hamilton Media by showing up whenever he could to help out, to learn, to absorb every nuance of this place and the work that happened here. His father had noticed, had grudgingly approved, and…Jeremy had simply slipped into place as second in command.

He loved the way the Dispatch brought news to people, and the way Nashville Living magazine informed and enlightened people. He loved the way the reporters worked day and night, getting their facts, gathering their information. He loved the way a deadline hit, all chaotic and full of stress, to be followed by a long, collective sigh of relief that filtered all the way down from his father’s office to the lobby at day’s end.

Now he missed the fast-paced confusion of a work day, and the satisfied feeling of getting the job done.

Now, he didn’t know his place in the overall scheme of day-to-day life here at Hamilton Media. So he just stood, remembering, afraid to step back, afraid to move forward.