Free One Imperfect Christmas by Myra Johnson Page B

hungrily. With a furtive glance toward the doorway, he quickly added Lissa's dinner to his own. He grabbed a knife and fork and the glass of iced tea he'd already poured and started for the living room. No way he could sit down at the kitchen table, hidden beneath Lissa's schoolbooks, his gym bag, a batch of chapter questions he'd barely started grading, and a folder of basketball stats he needed to sort through.
     
    He pursed his lips. Eating meals at the table had gone out with the return of “bachelorhood.” Even after Lissa moved in with him, they'd both gravitated toward the sofa with their morning bowls of cereal. Daniel's unimaginative evening meals—usually hamburgers, TV dinners, pancakes, or omelets—didn't inspire table dining, either.
     
    Chomping down on a tough piece of fake chicken, he regretted turning down a bowl of Bram's homemade four-alarm chili for this.
     
    Far more disappointing, however, was missing the chance to spend the evening with Natalie. Maybe they wouldn't have fought this time. It might have been okay … maybe. He tried to picture Natalie's reaction when she received the flower arrangement. Would she be touched, angry, or worse, completely indifferent?
     
    Thinking of you. How lame was that? He could have at least signed it, With love.
     
    Abruptly, he didn't feel so hungry after all. He set the plate on the coffee table and pressed a hand to his chest, willing away the suffocating emptiness. If he couldn't do anything tonight about his marriage, at least he could try to make peace with his daughter. He walked down the hall and tapped on Lissa's door.
     
    “What?”
     
    “Can I come in?” He opened the door a crack. “I really lost it earlier, and I want to apologize.”
     
    He heard the rustle of paper and the squeak of her desk drawer closing.
     
    Finally, Lissa answered with a tremulous, “Okay.” As he sidled into the room, she murmured, “I'm sorry too.” She lay across the bed on her stomach, chin propped on folded arms, her long blonde hair almost hiding her small face.
     
    Daniel's chest tightened. His normally outspoken daughter suddenly seemed so much younger than her thirteen years. He settled beside her on the edge of the bed. On her computer screen a colorful horse graphic with the look of an oil painting caught his eye. He recognized Lissa's unique artistic style. “You just do that?” At her nod, he said, “Cool.”
     
    She grimaced. “Tell my art teacher. She doesn't think computer-assisted art is 'creative.'”
     
    “Bet your mom would disagree.” When she didn't answer, he tried another tack. “Hungry yet?”
     
    “Sort of.” She rolled over and stared with red-rimmed eyes at the ceiling light. “I still think you and Mom are being jerks.”
     
    He winced. “Yeah, you're probably right. What can I say?”
     
    “You could say you and Mom are getting back together.” That quaver again.
     
    His own voice shook as he answered. “I hope and pray we will someday. But the decision is up to your mom.”
     
    Lissa jerked upright, her gaze accusing. “You could try harder, Dad. You could have gone to her party tonight. You could call her more. You could—”
     
    “Stop right there.” Daniel raised a warning hand. “We've already had this argument, and look where it got you.”
     
    “Okay, okay.” She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. “Can I get something to eat now?”
     
    Daniel could tell it was not “okay,” but Lissa's stiff spine as she marched out the door told him their conversation had ended. He didn't know when he'd ever felt so alone and helpless. Even his prayers seemed to bounce off the ceiling and back into his lap.
     
    The phone rang, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. He imagined Natalie on the other end of the line, calling about the flowers. A thousand possible scenarios played through his brain, none of which gave him any peace.
     
    He heard Lissa pick up the kitchen extension. “Dad, it's