Evergreen by Susan May Warren Page B

up, but she looked away, blinked hard. “I feel terrible. It’s hard enough hearing about my sister’s horrible life andthe choices she’s made that have so wounded Romeo, but knowing I could have helped her . . .”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “She wanted to live with us after Romeo was born. But John said no. We’d just . . . lost a baby. And he thought it would be too hard. I didn’t even know she’d called until weeks later when my parents mentioned it. By that time, she wasn’t talking to me.” Ingrid picked up her phone, began to scroll through names. “I wrote to her numerous times, but she wouldn’t answer.”
    “That’s on her, not you.”
    “I know . . . but I thought taking Romeo in would be a way to redeem that. I honestly thought that living with us would be a blessing for him, but I think it’s only made it worse. He might have been better off going to a foster home.”
    “Why? He had a chance to play football and to be in an amazing family   —”
    “But we’re not an amazing family, Noelle. We’re a normal family, and right now, we’re a broken family.” She didn’t look at Noelle as she said it, the words soft and rough in her throat. “My boys had a big fight right before Eden’s wedding. Casper left and Owen is AWOL and . . . My worst fear is that Owen and Casper end up like my sister and me.”
    “They won’t.”
    Ingrid shook her head. “They might. If only I knew how to fix it.”
    Noelle slid her hand over Ingrid’s arm. “I don’t think you’re supposed to.”
    “I’m the mom. Of course I’m supposed to.” She set down the phone. “I always thought I was this amazing mother. I cooked and cleaned and cheered and created a safe haven for the kids. Now . . . now they’re gone, and although I knew it was coming, I feel a little . . .”
    “Rejected?”
    “Betrayed. By life. By God, maybe. I did everything right, I thought. So why don’t I have a perfect family?”
    “Because our children are destined to leave us from the moment they’re born. And the paths they walk are theirs, not ours. We can only give them a place to come home, stop in, find comfort. But we can’t walk their journey for them. Eventually they have to stand before God by themselves.”
    Ingrid saw the grief of Noelle’s words in her eyes. Her own daughter had walked that path, was already standing before God. She squeezed Noelle’s hand.
    “Even Mary had to let her child go,” Noelle went on. “You have to wonder, as Mary watched Jesus on the cross,did she look back and ask herself if she had made a mistake? God had told her she would be the mother of the Savior. You can’t get more devastated than Mary, watching her Son   —the Savior   —die.”
    Ingrid watched Ellie carry more wings to the children’s church area.
    “But Jesus’ path wasn’t for Mary to determine. Her greatest ability as a mother was to be His mother. To love Him, nurture Him, care for Him. She embraced her destiny, then let Him go to embrace His. You have to let your children embrace theirs. Including Romeo.”
    “He’s not really my child.”
    “Not before. And maybe not tomorrow. But right now?” Noelle finished off her tea. “By the way, have you tried asking Darek and Ivy to play Mary and Joseph?”
    Darek and Ivy! Had she? She thought she’d mentioned it, but . . .
    Ivy picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

    The cold snap of the season was happening right here, two days before Christmas, in his own house.
    John came downstairs to an empty kitchen   —no coffeebrewing, no gingerbread candle flickering to lend ambience to the room. No holiday ribbon twining over the tops of the cupboards, clove-decorated oranges on display on the table, pine boughs on the mantel. No stockings at the hearth, wreath on the door, or eighteen-foot tree towering to the peak in the living room.
    The place had all the Christmas cheer of a July afternoon.
    His wife had given