Another Cliche Christmas

by Sarah Hualde

  The pastor struggled to remain unmoved though amusement flickered across his smile. “No, I’ve been here for a couple hours.” He handed her a towel and offered to grab her cup of coffee. She declined the coffee and wrapped the towel around her hair. Going outside with wet hair, in Honey Pot, in winter, could mean losing a few strands due to freezing.

  “I just came from my office to see if you needed help to open the supply room. But I see you’ve got it. You’re fast, already to work.”

  “I’ve been here nearly an hour.”

  “You didn’t just come in. I thought I heard the doors open and close. But I didn’t hear your kids, so I decided to check it out.”

  “I heard that too, but I’m alone today. I thought it was just the building acting its age.”

  Flora pulled herself up the steps and wrapped her shoulders in her robe. Pastor Dean frowned. Flora’s goose flesh returned but not only as a reaction to the cold air hitting water droplets.

  “Well, I’ll look around but you’re probably right.” Pastor Dean retreated leaving Flora with frosty water in her nose.

  The water felt strange on Flora’s tan legs. It started to dry out her skin. It also smelled. She hoped the smell wasn’t due to tile cleaner, she was allergic to most soap. Being immersed in a stringent detergent was definitely not soothing to her skin or good for her hair.

  Gathering up her dry clothes she retreated to the baptismal prep room. Robes, shower caps, feminine products, and fresh towels stocked the shelves. Flora tugged the changing curtain closed and dried off. Pulling a t-shirt over damp skin always started a wrestling match of will against fabric and she stumbled into the wall. She crushed a small plastic bottle right before claiming victory.

  The tiny baby shampoo package lay smashed beneath her. She bent to pick it up and knocked down a jar of hairbrushes, creating another chore for herself.

  “I didn’t find anything.” Pastor Dean called down the corridor as Flora gathered her purse. He came to his office doorway to continue his conversation. “I’m glad you finished the baptismal today. The smell of bleach was driving my sinuses crazy yesterday. But I guess you need to let it sit a bit before you scrub, right?”

  Flora never used bleach, not even at home. She had specially designed cleaners and cloths she used, to avoid harsh chemicals on her skin and in her home. “If you’re on your way out, could you do be a favor? Please?” Pastor Dean rubbed his eyebrows, clearly suffering from a headache.

  “Of course,” Flora responded dazed, sniffing her arm for scents of chlorine.

  “There’s been a cat outside my window. Off and on, all morning, it’s been crying. It’s about to make me looney.”

  “Got it. I’ll see what I can find.”

  But outside, there was nothing. Flora drove her truck, its heater blasting, slowly around the parameter. It was too cold to walk the outside of the building, especially with wet hair. Still her search produced nothing. Maybe a cat got inside the attic. That would definitely explain the weird noises.

  After thirty minutes of searching, with not even a paw print of proof, Flora headed to her vehicle. Hoping for a pleasant drive home and dreaming of a steamy shower and a mug of earl gray.

  *****

  Lydia slept until nine am. To be any help to anyone, she needed solid rest. She rolled over and switched on the silenced phone. One missed call, from Kat, ridiculously early that morning. Downstairs, she checked her message machine. "What could Kat be freaking out about at 2 am," she thought. After executing the required steps, the message played gravelly and low.

  “Lydia,” panting on the line. “It's Ivy. Please, I need help. Please. I’m…” The call ended with a clatter and an anguished gasp.

  “Oh, dear Jesus, please!” She prayed violently and set down her voicemail. Lydia dialed up Gus in a panic and relayed the message to him. He calmed her with the promise of his quick arrival and she hung up. She flung on jeans, chilly from the early morning air, a t-shirt and her winter wrap. With her socks and boots squeezed on just as lights from Gus’s car lit up her driveway, Lydia was ready.

  Though he would object, most likely in loud adamant tones, she planned to refuse his request to stay put. Being ready to go would only help her in her plight.

  Gus listened to the message and then called the Millers. He rang Thaddeus, just in case, Kat or her phone was in danger and needed to keep quiet. He didn’t think they were but Lydia had insisted. Gus knew the woman well. He knew she would not stop when she had a serious intuition about something. Since Ethan was away, it was much easier to do what Lydia asked than fight her.

  Thaddeus didn’t answer his cell. He was at work. The deputy called the Hive Bed and Breakfast. “Yes, Thad, this is Gus. You all right, man?”

  “Yes, just working. How can I help you, Gus?”

  “Is Kat at home?”

  “She should be. We had quite the wild night, last night.”

  Gus nodded as he listened. Lydia paced. “What kind of wild night?”

  Thaddeus explained Kat’s trek to the church building, the mystery driver, and the outgoing call on Kat’s phone. He told Gus how the couple completed a quick search of the building and found nothing. “Does Kat have her phone now?”

  “As far as I know. What’s going on, Gus?”

  “Not sure. I’m sure everything’s all right. Call Kat, will you? Tell her to meet me,” Lydia interrupted Gus by pulling on his jacket sleeve and pointing to herself. "me and Lydia at the B.F.F. Do you think Pastor Dean is there yet?”

  “Probably.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure Lydia or Kat will fill you in later.”

  “No doubt.” The men ended the chat, and both got back to work. Thaddeus called Kat as he returned to the kitchen of the B & B.

  *****

  Flora was busy picking ice off her windshield when Deputy Gus blazed up the drive with Lydia in his passenger seat. Warmth would have to wait.

  She sat beside Lydia in the kitchen as Pastor Dean and Gus talked in the pastor’s office. Dean explained the noises he’d heard in the building but that nothing abnormal had happened since the stolen water well jar. Gus nodded and took notes.

  He then searched the building, himself, with Pastor Dean trailing behind him. Nothing appeared disturbed or unusual until they reached the attic. The door was locked or jammed. Pastor Dean could not find the key.

  Kat walked up behind them, startling the men. “Thad and I had it open last night. There was nothing to see.”

  “Did you lock it behind you?”

  “I’m not sure. I was exhausted. We probably did. But I’m telling you, it was the same old dusty boxes.”

  Gus shrugged. “Okay,” he clapped his hands and started down the hall. “Keep searching for the key. But I think, whoever was here must’ve left.”

  Lydia quizzed Kat and Flora and Gus did the same until they used up every idea. The deputy left the women gathered around a sputtering coffee machine. “It’s creepy to think someone else used my phone, while I was in the other room. Worse, it might have been Ivy and something nefarious was going on.” Kat polished off the last of coffee.

  “There’s no other proof that anybody was here, at all. Do either of you know how to hack into someone else’s phone?”

  “Yeah, Flora, in my career in the underground, I often bugged and cloned church lady cell phones.” Morning Kat was a grumpy Kat. She caught her attitude after uttering the words and apologized.

  “It’s fine. I was only being hopeful.” Flora smoothed a stray gray strand from her face. “I’ve got to get home. Kevin’s got the kids, but I needed to be back an hour ago.” She stood up and stretched her spine, with a pop and a crack. Scrubbing the building was a pain, literally.

  Lydia washed the used mugs and coffee pot and put them away. The smell of strong chlorine fizzed up from the faucet. “I didn’t think you used bleach.” She tossed back at Flora.

  Flora straightened her purse strap and wandered closer to Lydia. “I don’t. But you smell it,
too, don’t you?”

  “Yes. It’s really strong.”

  “I smelled it over by the baptismal, too.”

  “So, it can’t be the water department flushing the lines. We only drain it once a quarter.”

  Lydia investigated the baptismal but there was nothing there but the out of place chemical smell. Gus and Flora already informed her of the odor. The ladies left at the same time.

  “Hear that?” Flora asked. The wrestling cat sound reoccurred and cut off. “Pastor Dean said that's been happening all morning. I searched all the building, not even a fluff of cat hair around.” She shrugged, got in her car and drove Lydia home before retreating to her shower and tea.

  Chapter 10

  Lydia plopped on her microfiber couch and soaked in all the decorations that glistened and glittered around her home. The house was still lonely but now it had a heart. She would rest under the Christmas lights, and nap watch It’s a Wonderful Life until dinnertime. The evening would bring busyness. It was the night of the pageant and Lydia was arriving early to help Kat with last-minute preparations.

  Nighttime in Honey Pot, near Christmas, was a fantasy of lights and ribbons. The Christmas tree in the town circle glimmered with twinkle lights. They changed in color from year to year. This time the town council voted on a blue and silver Christmas. Their shimmery sparkle enhanced the frosty magic of Main Street.

  Lydia drove through town in silence, soaking in the scenery. A power glitch interrupted her online session, on her family's side. She spent an hour emailing Ethan with the town happenings and getting him up to speed on her search for Ivy. Lydia figured it was better to tell him herself than to have him come home and find out from Kevin or Thad. Or worse, Gus.

  The girls were clued in to her quest and both kept their eyes peeled. However, other than Flora’s bathroom encounter and Kat’s split-second spotting neither had seen the young woman.

  The parking lot was empty except for Kat’s minivan. The main participants should show up in an hour and the attendees in two. By 7pm most of the town would flood into the B.F.F. building and sing praises together. Flora always commented that Christmastime in Honey Pot was a tiny taste of Heaven. Lydia agreed.

  She exited her husband’s truck and hit the lock key twice. She secured her purse snuggly on her shoulder and tugged her coat about her. Kat met her at the door, panting and waving her arms.

  Not again, Lydia was certain her friend was having another pageant induced panic attack. But no, the woman was holding the water well jar. “You found it!” No wonder she was yelling. $1500, once missing, was rare to find. Kat shook her head speechless. “What’s wrong?”

  “Come. Look.” Kat gagged and wheezed and staggered back into the sanctuary. “Shut and lock the door behind you.” She called over her shoulder. Lydia obeyed, wide eyed. She followed Kat up onto the stage and right into the middle of the stable.

  “I found the jar, right up front.” She pointed to a pew. “And then I found that.” Her index finger shivered as she extended it toward the form of a newborn baby, tucked firmly in the prop manger and sleeping peacefully. “Tell me I haven’t lost my mind.”

  Lydia lowered herself to her knees. She reached out and gently laid a hand on the infant’s chest. It rose and fell beneath her palm. She smiled and brushed the thin spiral of hair puffing from the top of the baby’s head. “It’s real. There’s a baby in the manger.” Kat toppled off the stage, banging her bad foot on the hump of a wise man’s pressed wood camel cut out.

  *****

  Dr. Lawrence took Kat to his office to x-ray the re-damaged appendage. Thad called the Honey Pot phone tree leader, Mrs. Mitra, ensuring the news spread quickly. The Christmas pageant was cancelled. Bailey Family Fellowship was a crime scene and off limits for the evening.

  Flora inspected the baby, along with Dr. Lawrence’s nurse and proclaimed it less than a week old. “It still has its umbilical cord.” She stated upon first look. Then she jumped on her cell and called Mrs. Hurley.

  Deputy Gus was methodical but out of his element without Ethan. He took all the photos and notes but knew little about his next steps.

  Mr. Mike refused to take in the baby. His youth center didn’t have resources for a newborn. Next on the list was Lydia, wife of the sheriff, already background checked and on the Honey Pot safe drop list. She would take the baby home.

  She cooed and nestled the infant to her neck. The baby girl curled into the warmth and rooted for skin. Lydia was smitten. Flora rushed the nursery closet and removed a box she put there previously. Equipped with a second-hand car seat and sling, Lydia drove home.

  Following her, a crowd of cars made an impromptu procession to her driveway. They watched as she carried the little one inside. Then one car at a time peeled away from the parade and went home.

  “Only in Honey Pot.” Lydia whispered to the baby.

  The infant stirred and whimpered. The time to eat was now, but there was nothing to feed the sweet thing. Flora was taking care of the baby groceries. Lydia hoped she did so quickly and without distraction. In the meantime, Lydia took to her feet pacing and humming to the brand-new person.

  “I’m here.” Flora chimed, disturbing the scene. She hurried to the kitchen and set down an enormous bag of supplies. “I didn’t bother to bag this one.” She passed a warm bottle to Lydia, who tested its temperature and offered it to the baby. It took a few desperate minutes of confusion before the tiny lady latched and suckled. The soft slurping noises were musical in their magic, drawing the full attend of the women in the room.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Mrs. Hurley has way too much milk for her baby. She’s been bagging extra supplies, for weeks. This bottle was pumped not fifteen minutes ago.” Lydia was pleased with the selfless offering of mother’s milk. “You remember how to heat it?” Flora peaked over Lydia’s shoulder and watched the baby eat.

  “In the microwave, right? “I’m joking, I’m joking. Don’t panic.”

  Flora gasped, “That joke was Kat’s style.” Flora settled into the couch beside Lydia as Kat sneaked in the front door. Her hobble had doubled and her crutches were back in play.

  “What’s my style?”

  The ladies waved her off. “What are you doing here?” Lydia asked. “You should be home and knocked out on pain medication.”

  “In a little while.” She planted herself on Lydia’s free side and rested her friend’s working elbow on her leg. “You’ll get a cramp, if you don’t prop up that arm.”

  “Thanks.” Lydia had forgotten about nursing and its odd set of supplies.

  “They’re calling her the Honey Pot Christmas Baby.” Flora and Lydia both clicked their tongues in disgust. “Creative, I know. But seriously, what should we call her?” Lydia cleared her throat.

  “Listen, ladies, we can love this little girl but we cannot attach ourselves. She’s not ours. Her mommy is out there and she’ll be back for her. I’m not sure it's wise to name her.”

  “She’s not a wild cat.” Flora brushed the baby’s cheek with her pinkie. “She deserves a name. We know it’s not permanent. Let’s call her Honey.”

  “No way.” Kat protested, too many movies had Honeys in them. Movies, she was certain, Lydia and Flora had never allowed on their screens. This baby would not bear a title after one of them. “How about Bea?”

  “Like Honey Bee?”

  “If you’d like.” Kat suggested. Bea was close enough to baby it didn’t risk intimacy but still a respectable handle.

  “Okay, Bea. But just for now.” The ladies watched the baby eat and drift back to sleep like lifeguards on Red Bull scanning a kiddie pool. Each fell in love with the bundled Bea.

  *****

  Thaddeus greeted his hobbling wife with a warm hug. He also had a small plate of treats and pain pills waiting on the kitchen countertop. Kat welcomed the concern and babying. In prior weeks, she’d openly scoffed and shunned such sweetness. Now, humbled and heartsick, she dropped her feeble barr
iers and soaked in the support.

  The family huddled on their homey couch wrapped in electric blankets and fluffy pajamas. Kat selected a family favorite Christmas movie and made her seasonal popcorn with sugar and cinnamon sprinkles. Sam and Jess dove into family time eager for the Holiday to begin. Finally, mom was home and ready to celebrate.

  Sam took tender measure to prop up his mother’s wrapped foot and pad it with pillowed protection. Jess tucked herself into Kat’s side, pushing on her mom’s crutch bruised armpit. Kat didn’t even wince. She sunk into being home. She'd set it aside like an old dirty quilt, but home was the feeling she had been pandering after.

  Near the start of movie number three, the kids were snoring on their mother’s lap. She, herself, drooled. Her head bent, awkwardly, against the back of the couch. Half asleep, muddled in a medication haze, Kat reveled over the Christmas baby. God’s sense of timing and humor astounded her.

  "A baby.” She mumbled, Thad dozing beside her, followed her thoughts. “God used a baby to ruin my pageant and stop my insanity. Because breaking my foot wasn’t enough to hold me back. The flu outbreak didn’t even slow me down. But a baby, smack in the middle of my mess. Yup, that’s what it took.”

  *****

  The church building was shut down tightly for the weekend. Members of the B.F.F. joined the Church of Christ family until it reopened. Most attended. Kat’s family was no exception. Too exhausted to attend class, the Millers drifted into services right after morning announcements. Not a single seat remained vacant. Jess and Sam plopped on the floor, beside Ever, Eden, and Eloise. Kevin rose from the back pew and offered his seat to Kat. She took it.

  Communion took an entire half an hour. The trays had to be replenished twice. Preacher Steven invited Pastor Dean to lead the ending prayer and the blessing over the community. It was exhilarating to be part of such a unified group. Flora whispered to Kat, “A taste of Heaven.” For the first time, Kat felt her friend’s meaning.

  Lunchtime, at the Miller’s was a fast food feast, the offerings spread out on the dining table. Dusty cardboard Christmas boxes covered the couch cushions. Kat, even on her crutches, sang along with her children. Not a single decoration, no matter how old or how broken, lie alone on the bottom of the box. Thad beamed, exhausted but encouraged, at his family’s reuniting. There were many amazing families in Honey Pot, but none could replace his.