The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

wrong. A few things. But not everything."
    "I haven't been fair to Sam," she said. "Or to Emma and Zach and Grace. You know about them, don't you?"
    "The children left at the Drifter? Of course. You and Sam took them in. Surely that wasn't wrong. Surely that's one little point in your favor."
    "I didn't do it out of the goodness of my heart. Miriam bullied me into it. She had to, because all I was thinking about was myself. I was thinking that I was scared, and I didn't want to get hurt again. I wasn't thinking about them at all."
    "But you took them into your home, and I saw the five of you tonight in town. They looked quite happy. I'd say you've done them some good."
    "They've done more for me and Sam than we could ever do for them."
    Father Tim gave her a stern look. "Rachel, I'd say you've done a whole lot if you managed to soothe their fears at a time like this. They must have been terrified, being left there like that. So you helped each other. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing selfish about it, either."
    "I want to keep them," she confessed. "I thought if they could stay, we could all be a family, and that Sam... Sam would stay, too. And everything would be okay."
    "Sam?" He gave her a gentle smile. "I heard something about that. You can tell me, if you want."
    "He's leaving me," she said miserably. "Right after Christmas. At least, he was, before the children came."
    "You've agreed to separate?"
    "No. He's decided to go. He hasn't told me yet. I just... I heard him on the phone with Rick Brown. You know? He lives over on Elm Street. He has a little apartment above his shop, and Stuart Ames is living there now, but he's moving out. And Sam's moving in. Right after Christmas. I hadn't told anybody that." She hadn't been able to say it out loud. "Not until just now."
    "So you and Sam have been having problems. He was going to leave, but now he might not. Because of these three children? And you think you're selfish for wanting to give them that home. And keep your marriage together."
    "I was just thinking of me. I'm always thinking of me and what I want. I saw that tonight. All they really want is their mother," she said. "How could I want them so badly? How could I be wishing so hard and praying that they could stay with me and Sam, when all they really want is their mother?"
    "You want to take care of them," he said. "That's not a bad thing."
    "But I wasn't putting their needs ahead of mine. Or Sam's. Maybe Sam needs to leave me. Maybe it's unfair of me to even try to stop him."
    "Do you love him?" Father Tim asked.
    "Yes."
    "Does he love you?"
    "I don't know," she whispered. She certainly hadn't found the courage to ask that. Still, "How could he still love me, if he's going to leave me?"
    "He's the only one who can tell you that, Rachel."
    "I've been too scared to talk to him about it, and I guess I hoped we'd never have that conversation. I hoped the children would stay and Sam would stay because of them, and I'd get what I wanted. Me."
    "Could you be a good mother to those children?" he asked.
    "I hope so."
    "I think so. After all, you're doing it right now, Rachel. You're asking what would be best for them, not you. That's what mothers do."
    "But I—"
    "We all think of ourselves. It's only natural. And it's not such a bad thing. Figuring out what you want in life, what's important to you, and how to get it, is usually what makes people happy in this world. Provided we've got our priorities straight and are after the right things. What do you really want? Deep down in your heart?"
    "I want Sam to be happy, and I want the children to be safe and happy and loved," she said.
    "And you'd really like it if Sam and the children could be happy with you?" he suggested.
    "Yes."
    "If they could only be happy without you, you'd let them go?"
    "Yes," she cried.
    "So you're not putting your welfare above their own. You just love them and want to take care of them. You want them in your life."
    "Yes."
    "I don't suppose you climbed onto Santa's lap and told him all that?"
    "No." She laughed.
    Father Tim nodded toward the altar, lined with greenery and candles and all sorts of finery, and Rachel's gaze caught on the stained-glass window behind the altar, a depiction of Jesus awash with light, ascending into heaven. The whole image seemed to glow tonight. There was such power there. It seemed to radiate warmth and reassurance and something else that just made her heart feel so heavy it might overflow in a moment. She