She set her chin and looked back out the window. "This is Ellen's party, not mine."

He hesitated. "Hey . . . " He slung his arm over her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. Whatever was eating at her, it wasn't going away. "I was just kidding."

"I know." She sighed and stood a little straighter. "I'm sorry." Her eyes narrowed, but she kept her gaze straight ahead. "I can't get something out of my head."

"What?" Shane had no idea where she was headed with this. He removed his arm from her shoulders and turned just enough to see her face. His tone was still light. "Don't tell me you changed your mind about having an engagement party."

"No, Shane." She looked at him. "It's more serious than that." Lines webbed out from the corners of her eyes. More lines than usual. "I need to know something."

"Okay." He let the humor fade from the moment. "Shoot."

She looked around the room, as if she wanted to make sure only the two of them could hear what she was about to say. Then her eyes locked on his. "Are you settling for Ellen, son? I need to know."

A strange sensation worked its way through his gut, something he couldn't identify. Lauren's face came to mind again, but only for an instant. He made a sound that was more exasperation than shock. "Of course not. What would make you ask that?"

She'd always been good at reading him. Whenever she looked deep into his soul, he knew better than to hide the truth from her. And she was looking at him that way now. "Shane, the last thing I want you to do is marry someone because you think your father and I like her. That's not the case, is it?"

"Mother." He raised a single eyebrow. "No offense, but you're giving yourself a lot of credit here." There was a small wall that went two feet up toward the window. Shane put his foot on the low sill and leaned toward his knee. "Ellen's perfect for me. Of course I'm not settling for her. I could've stayed single forever if I hadn't met her."

"Because of Lauren, you mean." Her eyes softened. "Right?"

Hearing her name brought the familiar ache. "Lauren's out of my life."

She watched him, studying him. "Don't lie to me, Shane. Please."

"Mom, listen to you!" Her words were like a slap in the face. "I'm not lying."

"Shane, you loved that girl." She looked back at the view of the distant mountains. "I woke up this morning scared to death that you didn't wind up with her because of something we did. Something her parents did. I just don't want you to marry Ellen if you're still in love with Lauren."

He was about to refute her again, but he couldn't. He let the pretense fall from his eyes. "The truth is," his voice was low, "Lauren's gone forever. I've moved on. That's why I was able to fall in love with Ellen."

She frowned. "You're sure? I don't want you doing this if you're not sure."

"Mother." This time he laughed out loud. "This is ridiculous. Really." He reached for her hand. "Come, enjoy my engagement party with me."

They caught up with Ellen, and his mother stayed with his father and a few of their business associates. He and Ellen made the rounds, visiting with one cluster of their friends after another. Shane focused on matters at hand, refusing to give any real thought to his mother's concerns.

An hour into the party, Ellen's father stepped up to a podium at the center of the room. He tapped the microphone, and when he was satisfied with the sound level, he welcomed everyone.

"The occasion is certainly a wonderful one." He flashed a smile at the crowd, the smile that had earned him a large percentage of the votes in the most recent election. "I want to go on record saying I couldn't be happier about my daughter's choice for her future husband."

A polite round of applause followed.

Shane took hold of Ellen's hand and squeezed it.

Her father went on. "I think it's clear to everyone that Shane Galanter has political potential for the GOP." He found Ellen in the crowd and nodded at her. "I know my daughter thinks so."

Laughter bubbled up around the room.

"He might be a Top Gun instructor today, but the Nevada Senate needs someone like Shane, and one day not too far from now I can see him living in the governor's mansion."

This time a few hoots rippled through the crowd. Shane looked at his feet. What was Ellen's father doing? No one had ever said anything about a political rally. He clenched his jaw. The fact that Ellen's father viewed him as a bright spot on the Republican Party's future road map was clear enough. The point didn't need to be made here, as they announced their engagement.

Besides, Shane hadn't decided anything yet.

He was completely supportive of the party's platform, yes. But he enjoyed flying fighter jets, loved getting into the cockpit with a young gun and showing him the ropes. America relied heavily on her fighter pilots. Maybe teaching the next generation was enough of a contribution.

Her father was saying, "Please help me welcome Ellen and Shane." He stepped back and began the loudest applause yet.

Next to Shane, Ellen beamed. She tugged on his hand. "Come on."

"I'm with you." He took the lead, his head high as he nodded at friends along the way. When they reached the podium, he put his arm around Ellen and dismissed his concerns. This wasn't the time for doubts. He smiled big at the group before him. "Ellen and I will be getting married Saturday, May 20." He directed his grin at her, and then back to the audience. "We wanted you to be the first to know."

The group was warmed up now. They whistled and hollered and called for a toast. By then most of the people in attendance had glasses of champagne. Someone ran a few glasses up to Shane and Ellen, and at the same time her father returned to the microphone.

"To Shane and Ellen. May their influence and power grow even stronger because of their relationship, and may this be a season of love and laughter as they plan their wedding day."

Shane had thought driving over to the hotel that a prayer might be a good idea. He and Ellen both had a strong faith, and since they'd talked about getting even more serious about their relationships with God, the engagement party seemed a good place for a group of people to pray for them. But somehow in a room full of people sipping champagne and celebrating the possibility of another Republican hero in their midst, prayer didn't seem appropriate. Maybe later . . . Before everyone left. Maybe he'd close the night that way.

Ellen's father asked the crowd to return to their discussions and make sure they took a plate of food from the table at the back of the room. The next hour passed in a blur of conversations, nearly everyone of which had to do with politics.

"Shane, you'd be perfect for the Senate," people told him time and again. "You'd have my vote, that's for sure."

Not until the party was over and he and Ellen were outside waiting for his car, did she turn to him and take playful hold of his jacket lapels. "What'd you think of Daddy's speech?"

Shane studied her. "His talk? The one he gave before he introduced us?"

"Yes." She bounced a few times, her voice giggly. "It was perfect, don't you think?"

He blinked. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? "What? It was set up?"

She squealed. "Of course it was setup, silly. Nothing a politician says is accidental."

For a moment he stared at her. Then he looked out at the lights along the ridge of mountains and uttered a single laugh. "Was that the point of the party?" His eyes found hers again. "A chance for your dad to introduce me as the newest political hopeful?"

Her expression fell and she settled back on her heels. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Maybe." He stared at her, then he paced a few steps away. When he turned to face her, his smile was a show of disbelief. "I mean, I haven't signed my campaign contract yet, have I?"

"Shane." Her voice held a reprimand. "Come back here. You're making a scene."

He closed the gap between them and spoke a few inches from her face. "We wouldn't want that, would we?" His tone was just short of rude. "What would your father think?"

"Listen." She pointed a finger at his chest. "That speech wasn't my father's idea. It was mine."

"Yours?" Shane wanted to laugh out loud. "You asked your dad to say that without talking to me?"

"I have talked to you." She lifted her chin, her composure back in place. "For two years I've talked to you. Every time it comes up you tell me it's your dream, running on the Republican ticket."

Anger rippled through his veins. "I'm excited about the party, that's why." He hissed the words. "And yeah, maybe I'd like to run some day." He crossed his arms. "That doesn't mean I need your dad making an announcement at my engagement party."

"He was trying to help." For the first time since the conversation began, she sounded hurt. "We both were."

Guilt washed over him. Why was he fighting with her? The talk was over, done. What had it hurt that her father was proud of him? The man was as honest a politician as he'd ever known, a leader respected around the country for his values and integrity. Most men would've been thrilled with the sort of speech he'd given that night.

He sighed long and hard. "Ellen." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry." He pulled her into a hug. "I guess it just took me by surprise."

She responded to his touch and melted against him. "It's okay." Her cheek pressed against his chest, then she lifted her eyes to him. "You do want it, don't you? A chance to run for office one day?"

The right answer was yes. But standing therein the dark, his arms around her, with the damp December air thick around them, he wasn't sure. "It sounds interesting," he whispered against her dark hair. "I'll have to think more seriously about it."

"Okay. That's all I'm asking." She gave him a squeeze and then stepped back. The valet was pulling up with his car. "I guess I always pictured myself married to a politician like my dad."

They fell silent as they climbed inside. It took half an hour to reach her place, and when he dropped her off he smiled. "Tell your dad thanks for tonight. I'm sure someday I'll be begging him to talk to groups on my behalf."

Her smile lit up her eyes. "You will, Shane. And who knows how far God will let you go with it."

They said good-bye, and Shane drove home. He kept the radio off. The quiet suited his mood better, with all the bits of conversations playing in his mind. Most important were the expectations Ellen and her father had for him. He knew all along they were there, but tonight they'd felt like a noose around his neck. As if his thoughts about the future no longer really mattered. He would be a politician because he stood for all the right things, and because his party needed him. After tonight how could he look at it any other way?

But other memories played in his mind as he pulled into his driveway. His mother and her sudden outpouring of guilt and doubt, for one. Most of the past two years she'd done nothing but gush about Ellen Randolph, the same way his father did.

"A girl like that will suit you well for a lifetime," his father had told him. "We couldn't be happier for you, son."

So what had happened that would make his mother doubt his decision to marry her? And how had she known exactly what had been messing with his mind all day long? He rubbed the back of his neck as he climbed out of his car and went inside. Every now and then, Ellen joined him at his house for a movie or a late dinner. They had agreed to save their physical intimacy for after they were married. Because of that, neither of them thought it was smart to spend too much time alone. Tonight he was glad for the privacy. His thoughts left him feeling like he'd been going Mach five for two hours straight. He went to his room, changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and dropped into his recliner.

Everything in him wanted to go to his dresser drawer and find Lauren's picture again, let her memory keep him company and help him sort through the strange events of the night. He closed his eyes. Come on, Shane, get a grip. God, keep me focused. Lauren Anderson was gone. He couldn't make one more decision with her in mind because she didn't exist. Period.

He willed himself to relax, to let his back muscles unwind against the chair. Something had been missing from the night, but he couldn't think of what it was. He tightened his grip on the chair arms, and then it hit him. He'd forgotten to pray. There they were, a couple of supposedly strong faith, and they'd done a toast - but not a prayer. He frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He didn't even like champagne.

Minutes passed and he still couldn't unwind. Maybe his first instinct had been a good one. He should've avoided an engagement party altogether. That way he wouldn't be thinking about giving up the career he maybe still loved and marrying a girl he maybe only liked.

And he certainly wouldn't be spending the day before Christmas Eve thinking about teenage sons and willowy blondes and the life he could've had. Would have had.

If only he'd found Lauren.

SIXTEEN.

The defender saw Emily coming across the field and she raced toward the wall to stop the pass. She reacted with a quickness that surprised even her. Breathing hard, she drew the ball back, dribbled it through another two defenders, then powered it into the net just as the buzzer sounded.

It was her third score of the morning. A hat trick!

She congratulated her former high school teammates. "It might be the day before Christmas, but it's never a bad time for a game," one of them shouted as she waved. "Tell your grandparents thanks for coming out. They've always been our best fans."

Emily saluted the gang, threw a towel around the back of her neck, and grabbed her gear bag. Her grandparents had a full day lined up for them. Last-minute shopping and an early Christmas Eve service. Playing soccer on Christmas Eve morning was a last-minute plan, but it came together just fine.

A group of girls she'd played with through high school were home for Christmas break. Since the current high school soccer team was always looking for a challenge, they put together a scrimmage at the indoor arena. Emily's squad included three college players. They beat the high scholars, 8 2.

She found her grandparents sitting in the bleachers on the other side of the Plexiglas wall. "Well," she panted, "what did you think?"

Her grandpa was slow getting up. He looked pale and thinner than usual. Emily studied him. Or maybe it was only his new navy Christmas sweater making him look that way. His eyes sparkled in her direction. "I think I love watching you play." He walked toward her and held out his hand. "You're poetry in motion out there, sweetheart."

"Sorry it had to be on Christmas Eve." She fell in beside him, but glanced back at her grandma. "I know you have lots to do today."

"It's okay." Grandma caught up with them. "It makes me miss the days when you were in high school." She smiled at the two of them. "We had four or five games a week."

"Special times, for sure." Her grandpa patted her shoulder. "I'm gonna hate it when you play your last game."

"That won't be for a while." Her grandparents had been to all her home games that college season and a few on the road. "You still have three more years to put up with my schedule."

They fell into a comfortable quiet as they made their way to the car. Emily needed to shower, so she stayed home while her grandparents shopped. The afternoon flew by and the Christmas Eve service was beautiful. The pastor talked about looking for God's fingerprints.

"Miracles still happen today," he told them. "God in the flesh? The king of Kings lying in a humble manger?" He smiled at them and held his hands out. "What about you? A healed marriage? A healthy family? A job you love?" He paused, his voice expectant. "Every one of us has been witness to a whole host of miracles. But what will it be this Christmas? Lift that thing to God and let the Lord of all creation meet you near the manger. Let Him have a chance to work a miracle in your life once again."

The choir sang a haunting version of "O Holy Night." In the midst of it, Emily bowed her head and closed her eyes. God, You know what I need, You know the miracle I'm asking for.

Daughter, I'm with you.

The familiar peace ran through her veins, softening her heart and soul to the presence of the Holy Spirit. Martha, the pianist, was finishing the song and leading into another, the song they always finished with every Christmas Eve service, "Silent Night." Emily opened her eyes as she let the words fill her. Especially the last part. "Sleep in heavenly peace . . . sleep in heavenly peace."

Back at home, Emily and her grandparents sat around the Christmas tree and opened one present - their Christmas Eve tradition. Emily's gift was a new pair of pajamas, same as every Christmas Eve. She giggled and held them up. They were fuzzy and warm, perfect for the coming winter.

Her grandparents opened one gift from each other. Both packages held new pairs of socks. When they'd cleaned up the wrapping paper and exchanged hugs and conversation, Emily bid them good night. "I want lots of energy for tomorrow."

"Emily." Her grandma lifted her brow and wagged a finger at her. "You won't be sleeping. You want Togo through the box, right?"

She winced and gave a little nod. "Is that okay?" Emily couldn't wait to spend time alone with her mother's photos and yearbooks. She touched her grandma's elbow. "Maybe I'll find something we can look at tomorrow."

Her grandma's smile was genuine. "That'd be fine, honey. Take your time. Christmas morning can start as late as you'd like."

Before she went to bed, they stood near the tree and held hands. Her grandpa led them in prayer.

"This Christmas is a special one, God. We canal feel it. Please help us find the miracle near the manger this year. The one the pastor referred to." He hesitated, his voice thick. "I think we could really use one. We love you, Lord. In Christ's name."

Emily kissed them both and went up to her room. With the door shut behind her, she pulled the box close to her bed again, sat down on the edge, and began taking things from inside. The framed photo - the one she'd already seen - she set gently near the wall to make room for everything else in the box. Next was a photo album. She picked it up and opened it on her lap. It smelled musty from being in the garage all those years.

"Wow, Mom." She ran her finger under each of the first photos, beneath which her mother had written a caption. "Look how much you cared."

The pictures started when her mom was in middle school. There were several shots of her with her girlfriends, and Emily studied her mother closely. If her mother's eyes were any indication, she was happy, popular with her friends.

Her light blonde hair hung straight and halfway down her back through most of those early years. Toward the center of the album, her hair got a little shorter, and a boy started appearing in the pictures with her. A smile tugged at Emily's lips. The boy was her father - head to be. He had the same dark hair and eyes she saw every morning in the mirror. But he was skinny and about an inch shorter than her mother.