One Bright Christmas

by Katherine Spencer

  Lauren deeply admired her mother and all the hard work and sacrifices she had made for her family. Molly’s success was more than well-earned and well-deserved. Lauren knew that she and her mother shared so many traits, good and not so good. But she would never change a thing about her mom. Or herself. She had learned that from her mother as well.

  She was so proud of her mom and wanted her mom to be proud of her, too. Maybe that was also a reason she couldn’t turn tail on New York. She would always feel the city had beat her. Her mother would approve of her decision either way. But Lauren felt slinking away from that challenge was something her mother would never do. Molly Willoughby Harding set a high bar. But that was a good thing. “A woman’s reach should exceed her grasp.” Lauren knew that was not the poetic quote exactly, but it was the version she preferred.

  Lauren sat down at the table with her tea. “One of your big, big lists. Right?”

  “That’s right. It’s just a habit. It feels so good when I check things off. Sometimes I add items that I’ve already taken care of, just to get that little ping of reinforcement. Those good brain chemicals?”

  “Mom, you didn’t have to tell me that.” Lauren laughed and shook her head.

  “Try it, honey. It works.” Her mother stopped typing and looked at her over the edge of her glasses. “What’s up, Buttercup? You seem in a quiet mood. Did you and Joe really have a good time? Or maybe . . . some sort of serious talk?”

  Leave it to her mom to hit the bull’s-eye with one dart. Not exactly the bull’s-eye, but close enough.

  “We didn’t. But we probably should have. I didn’t have the heart, or the nerve, tonight. But I will need to do that, and soon. Especially if I keep working at his firm.”

  “And going out to dinner with him. Oh, and playing golf,” her mother added. “Did it ever occur to you that he’s getting the ‘wrong’ idea because you’re giving it to him?”

  Lauren was about to deny the accusation, but then she nodded. “Umm . . . now that you mention it . . . it’s complicated. I don’t mean to. I just enjoy hanging out with him. As a friend,” she insisted. “I’m sure I’ve told him that and made my feelings clear.”

  Had she really? Thinking back, she had hinted, but some guys—especially guys like Joe, who wore their hearts on their sleeves and sallied forth like knights trying to win fair maidens—didn’t get the hint, or even want to.

  “Fine. Then you’ve been honest. But are you sure that’s all you’re feeling? Wait, you don’t have to answer that. It looks to me like you don’t even know. What I will say is that many a wonderful romance has started off as friendship. And being friends with your main squeeze is important, Lauren. I’m sure you know that? Granted, you and Joe go back so long, one would think if that apple was going to fall, it would have by now. He’s certainly given the tree a good shake. But this could be the lucky shot he’s been waiting for,” her mother mused. “And you’ll both look back and laugh and see that it was meant to be all along, and say, ‘Hey, it was just a matter of timing.’”

  “You really think so?”

  Her mother shrugged, totally frustrating her. “What do I know, honey? If it’s meant to be, it will be. You will feel that in your bones. Down to your toes. That light bulb will go off and you’ll just . . . know.”

  “But I thought I knew with Greg. I thought I felt all those things,” Lauren insisted. “He turned out to be Mr. Totally Wrong.”

  “He was Mr. Totally Wrong. I could have told you that, if you’d ever asked.”

  Lauren felt a little jolt at her mother’s bluntness, like she had stuck her finger in the toaster for just a second. She was about to protest, then realized that this was probably how other people felt talking to her. She wasn’t sure she liked being on the receiving end.

  “I wished you’d told me that two years ago. It could have saved a lot of time and energy.” And heartache and disappointment.

  “I wish I could have, honey,” her mom said sincerely. “But—and you’ll see when you’re a mom—parents can’t live their kids’ lives for them. Sometimes it’s like riding a roller coaster and not being allowed to scream. And you know how I feel about roller coasters.”

  Molly hated roller coasters, and the analogy made Lauren smile. “Have we taken you and Dad on that sort of ride a lot?”

  “Rarely, thank heavens.” Her mother looked toward the ceiling with gratitude. “But I think you know what I mean. If I had raised objections to Greg, would you have listened?”

  Lauren knew the answer to that. So did her mom.

  “At a certain time, I had to accept that you and your sisters must learn by the consequences of your own choices. Just like I did. My point is, you can’t overthink these things, sweetheart. Believe me. I know it’s hard for you. We’re so much the same, it’s scary.” Molly shook her head and made a face. “But sometimes you just need to let go and go with the flow. Isn’t that what kids say?”

  “Kids who grew up in the nineteen sixties, you mean?” Lauren corrected her with a laugh. “I get your point.” She paused and stirred her tea. “Is that how it was when you met Matt? Jill and I were too young to know what was really going on.”

  “Good thing, too. I think we both knew, from the first minute we met, that we wanted to be together. But your stepdad and I hit some rough sledding on the way to the altar. We even split up for a while. We finally realized that what we had together was too wonderful to lose. We knew our love was more important than any complications or roadblocks that our minds had conjured up. I think all that silly stuff was just about being scared to take a chance and try again. We’d both been hurt, in different ways. But what would life be if we never took a leap and trusted that wings would sprout on the way down?”

  “Right,” Lauren quietly agreed.

  Lauren knew how her mother had been hurt by her first marriage. And Matt’s first wife had died of cancer when Amanda was barely eleven years old. He’d come to Cape Light to start over and had taken over Ezra Elliot’s practice when the town’s favorite doctor had retired.

  Her mother reached over and grasped her hand. “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

  “About Joe, you mean?”

  “About Joe, about a new job, about everything. I’ve no doubt the pieces will fall into place perfectly.” Lauren knew her mother’s assurances were totally illogical and even unlikely. But hearing them did make her feel better. “Right now, I think you should just relax. Enjoy your visit and the holidays. Whenever I have a big problem with the business, or even a recipe, the answer always comes to me when I’m not thinking about it. When I’m in the shower or washing dishes. It’s weird, but it’s just how it works.” Her mother smiled at her softly in the low, warm light.

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll try to remember.” Lauren grinned. “Is that a hint you want me to help more around the house?”

  “Hey, there’s an idea. By the way, you can leave a quarter in that jar on the counter,” her mother teased, returning to her list making.

  “A quarter? Lucy in the Peanuts comic only charges five cents.”

  “I charge more for my quality products, Lauren. You know that.”

  Lauren laughed as she headed to her room. “Right. The secret to your success.”

  “If you bake it, they will buy it.” Her mom looked up at her for a moment. “By the way, are you coming to church with us tomorrow? It would be nice. We all missed the service last Sunday with your sisters getting ready to go.”

  Lauren never went to church in the city. But she knew it would make her parents happy if she joined them and Betty tomorrow. She wanted to get up early and jog a few miles anyway, before the day got away from her. This was a good reason to set her alarm.

  “Sure, I’ll tag along,” she agreed. “I haven’t been to church in a long time.”

  “I bet.” Her mother’s gaze w
as fixed on the computer screen. “Maybe some insights into your questions will strike, heaven-sent, during the service.”

  Was her mother joking? Molly had a sharp sense of humor, but she was never really irreverent when it came to church.

  “You never know.” Lauren meant it sincerely. She said good night and headed for her room.

  * * *

  * * *

  For Lauren, walking into the old stone church on the village green the next morning felt strange and yet amazingly familiar. The smell of the damp stone outside, and then, within, the floor polish mingled with the fragrant pine and greenery that decorated the church for Christmas, brought back a flood of memories.

  So many friendly faces greeted her with warm smiles—Sophie Potter, Vera Plante, Grace and Digger Hegman. Lucy Bates and her husband, Charlie, who ran the Clam Box diner and was mayor of the town now. Lauren saw Lucy wave to her friend Fran Tulley, who had saved her a seat. Fran’s husband, Tucker, was the quintessential friendly policeman and still had not retired from the force, Lauren had noticed. He was also the church’s head deacon. He roamed the aisles with Lauren’s uncle Sam.

  Lucy had remained remarkably pretty, Lauren thought. She looked wonderful in a sea-blue sheath dress, black patent heels, and the perfect touch of makeup. Lauren almost didn’t recognize her, recalling Charlie Bates’s wife in her waitress uniform. Though she did remember that Lucy was a nurse now and had been for many years.

  Grace Hegman waved at Lauren shyly as she helped her father, Digger, into a seat in a back row. Digger had been a fisherman and clammer in his day, renowned for his ability to find the shellfish. The Clam Whisperer, some would say. Lauren suddenly recalled how his daughter, Grace, a quiet, modest woman, had once made a very grand gesture, gifting Lauren with a piano.

  The instrument had been stored deep in the barn behind The Bramble, the antique shop Grace ran with her father’s help. They lived in an apartment above the store. Lauren had found the piano while visiting her uncle Sam, who’d had a workshop on the other side of the storage space. Not only had she loved playing at the time, but the old upright was especially intriguing. The wood surface had been painted pale yellow and covered with a garden of colorful flowers. By Grace herself, Lauren later learned.

  Grace had caught her testing the keys without permission and scared the living daylights of her. The piano had belonged to Grace’s daughter, who had died years before in an accident. She had been about Lauren’s age, or even younger, at the time. Lauren hadn’t had any way of knowing that, of course. There had been words between Grace and her uncle, she recalled, and she remembered apologizing.

  After some time and thought, and a talk with Reverend Ben’s wife, Carolyn—who was Lauren’s piano teacher—Grace had a change of heart. She insisted that the cherished instrument be passed on to Lauren and Jillian, little girls who would learn and make lovely music on it, as she thought her daughter would have wanted. Lauren had been thrilled. She knew that her mother couldn’t even afford to rent a piano.

  Of course, she and her mother had thanked Grace for the gift, but it wasn’t until years later that Lauren realized how hard it must have been for Grace to part with the treasure, one of her last souvenirs of her beloved child.

  It was an uncommon and even heroic act of kindness. But it didn’t seem uncommon at all when Lauren looked around the congregation, most of whom she’d known since childhood. So many had grown old and frail, but she knew that deep inside, their spirits were still strong. The church had provided good role models for her while she was growing up, seemingly ordinary people she could still admire and be inspired by, she realized.

  Her family walked to their favorite seats, on the left side of the altar about halfway to the front. Lauren sat at the end of the row, with her mother sitting between her and her younger sister Betty. Her dad was all the way on the other end of the family. Still, there was one seat left next to her.

  She gazed around the church, admiring the stained glass windows, which were rarely found in a church this old, but had been installed during the 1800s. Seven years ago, a violent storm had nearly destroyed them, and a stained glass artist had been hired to perform the painstaking repairs. It just so happened that at the time, her sister Amanda was working part-time as the choir director and practicing her cello day and night in the sanctuary. Like a melody written by some unseen hand, a romance had developed between Amanda and her captive audience, Gabriel Bailey, the stained glass artist. By the time Amanda had won a seat as first cello with the Portland Symphony, she and Gabriel had fallen in love. They’d been happily married now for five years. Lauren knew her parents hoped to hear they were going have grandchildren soon. Jillian had confided that she had a serious relationship now, too.

  Lauren was happy for both of her sisters. But, as she studied the sparkling bits of light captured in the mosaic of colored glass, she did wonder when her chance would come.

  She heard voices in the center aisle and saw Lillian Warwick-Elliot being escorted to a pew front and center by Lauren’s aunt Jessica and uncle Sam. It took one escort alone to remove her fur coat, which had to weigh a ton. Lauren wondered where Lillian’s husband, Dr. Elliot, was this morning. Resting at home, perhaps? Living with a woman like Lillian had to be a strain on anybody, and even more so on an old guy like Ezra.

  Lillian was probably the person Lauren would least like to emulate in her old age. At any age. The haughty old dame and her mother got along like oil and water and never missed a chance to lock horns. Lauren would have liked to say that Lillian instigated these petty battles, but she knew her mom was just as bad. Something about the sour old lady never failed to push Molly’s buttons. Probably because Lillian never missed a chance to insult her mother’s cooking or remind Molly that she was once Lillian’s cleaning lady. Until her mom had dumped a pail of water over Lillian’s head. Or so the tall tale went. Lauren doubted it had ever been that bad. Sam tended to exaggerate the details each time he told the story. Still, Lauren had no doubt it was a humdinger of an argument.

  But Lillian was family—Molly was Sam’s sister, and Sam had married Jessica, Lillian’s daughter. Besides, Lauren had been taught to respect adults. Even if her mom did not always follow the rules she set for her children.

  The big wreath outside on the church’s large wooden doors and the decorations inside the sanctuary had set Lauren in a Christmas mood and a more charitable state of mind. She hadn’t really felt that way so far, even though Main Street was decked out with lights and displays in all the windows.

  Her gaze rested on the altar table, decorated with a white cloth and candles surrounded by a ring of pine branches. There were four large blue candles in a separate arrangement as well, one for each week of Advent. The first was lit last Sunday, and today, the second would be.

  The organ sounded the opening note of the first hymn, “Watchman, Tell Us of the Night,” and the congregation rose. She noticed that her uncle, who was a deacon, quickly led a man and a little girl up the center aisle to empty seats just behind Jessica. It was Cole McGuire and Phoebe, which was a surprise; Lauren would never have taken Cole for the churchgoing type. Maybe that was unfair, since she would never label herself that way either, though she did approve of giving children some spiritual background and religious education.

  “Just so you have something to rebel against later,” her mother would tell her and Jillian each time they questioned going to service and Sunday School.

  Molly had been joking, of course. Lauren had never really rebelled, but after she left for college, she only attended church when she came home on holidays. Someday, when she had her own children, she would feel differently, she expected.

  She held open her hymnal but sang along in a halfhearted way. Suddenly, she heard a deep baritone voice singing the lyrics loud and clear, and very close. She turned to find Joe slipping into the empty seat next to her. He stood by her side and reached over with
his left hand to share her hymnal.

  She turned to catch his eye, unable to hide her surprise. Joe smiled and kept singing. As if there was nothing unusual about them attending a service together. Or even standing this way, practically cheek to cheek.

  Joe was giving the church ladies something to talk about at coffee hour, Lauren had no doubt. She loved Sophie, Vera, Grace, and the others, but their eyesight was still sharp and always on the lookout for interesting “news,” especially of the romantic variety. She would not be surprised if one of them asked her mother—in a nice way, of course—about her and Joe, or if any “big news” was expected this Christmas.

  When the hymn concluded, everyone took their seats. A young couple had come up to the altar to light the Advent candle. Lauren recognized Jack Sawyer’s son, David, and his wife, Christine. They had a little boy about five years old, and Christine held a baby in her arms.

  They took turns reading the liturgy, even their son, and then David held the boy up to light the candle. Joe was smiling and looked touched by the scene. Lauren could guess what he was thinking. She didn’t doubt he would like to be in David’s place one day.

  They took their seats again and Lauren saw Jack and Julie Sawyer in the same pew, along with Julie’s daughter, Kate. She also realized David was sitting next to Cole. The two men seemed very friendly, and she wondered if David was Cole McGuire’s connection to Cape Light and that was how Cole came to buy a piece of Jack’s property.

  She was suddenly glad that Cole was sitting in front of her and hadn’t noticed her there. She didn’t think he had, anyway. If he’d been sitting behind her, he’d get the wrong impression about her and Joe.

  Which made no difference at all, she reminded herself. But she was still relieved it hadn’t turned out that way.

  Reverend Ben began the service with announcements. “There’s a meeting of the Christmas Fair committee after the service. Please see Sophie Potter if you’d like to take part. And rehearsals for the pageant begin today as well. Parents and children, please meet in the sanctuary after coffee hour.”