Jessica turned away from the mirror, far from satisfied but more or less resigned.
They arrived at church with a few minutes to spare before the service began. There were still many people milling about in the narthex and corridors.
Jessica felt everyone turn to look at them as they entered. Sam stopped to speak with Tucker Tulley and his wife, Fran. Jessica smiled and nodded a greeting but kept walking toward the sanctuary, her hand on Tyler’s shoulder. Darrell followed a few steps behind.
She spotted Emily and Dan already seated in a pew near the front. Jane sat between them, and on Emily’s other side sat their mother. Jessica headed for the empty row just behind them.
“Jessica, you poor dear.” Sophie Potter seemed to pop out of nowhere. Her hand rested on Jessica’s arm, detaining her.
“Hello, Sophie. How are you?” Jessica smiled mechanically.
“How are you?” the older woman said pointedly. “We were all so sorry to hear the news about your house. What a tragedy. You must still be in shock.”
“Yes, it has been a shock.”
It was hard to talk about the house. Even with people she had known since childhood, like Sophie. Jessica wasn’t sure why. She just didn’t want to discuss it, sift over the details, relive the horror over and over again.
Sophie nodded knowingly. “We had a fire once. It burned down the apple shed, but we caught it in time, before it spread to the house.” She shook her head. “You were blessed that night, getting your family out safely. That’s the main thing.”
“Yes, it is. We were very lucky,” Jessica said.
How many times had she repeated that phrase? She was beginning to feel hypocritical saying it lately. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful; she was still thanking God every day for getting them all out safely. But what they’d been through that week—Reilly’s death, moving from place to place, feeling the loss of their home and all their belongings, the boys’ nightmares—none of that felt lucky.
Sophie put a hand on Jessica’s arm. “We have tons of stuff out at the orchard, a house full of things I don’t need anymore. If there’s anything at all you want, you just let me know.”
“Thank you, Sophie. That’s very kind.” Jessica knew the older woman meant well. But she could hardly imagine what Sophie Potter’s castoffs would look like—afghans knitted in 1955? Pots and pans that dated back to World War II?
“I’ll talk to Sam. See what you need. He can come by anytime.” Sophie nodded, satisfied with that idea.
She patted Jessica’s arm then headed for her seat. But several others now stood in line to offer their sympathies—Grace Hegmen and her father, Digger; Vera Plant and Carolyn, the minister’s wife. Jessica nodded and smiled, thanking them each in turn for their concern.
Sam came down the aisle, and they walked to their seats together. The boys were already there, talking with their uncle Dan and amusing Jane over the back of the wooden pew.
“Good timing,” Jessica murmured. “I was hoping you would come along and save me.”
Sam gave her a puzzled look. “Save you? From what?”
She knew he didn’t understand and she couldn’t explain then and there. The chorus of well-wishers had made her feel as if she were on the receiving line at a funeral, and all the sympathy had sent her spirits plummeting again, reminding her of all they had lost.
She sat down and Emily whispered to her, “Nice suit. You have good taste.”
“It was a gift. A very thoughtful one.”
“I recognize that suit.” Lillian cast a discerning eye over her youngest daughter. “Emily wore it during her last campaign. Are you trying to tell us something, Jessica? Planning on running for office?” That was her mother’s idea of a joke.
“Not at all, Mother. I think Emily is doing a fine job. I wouldn’t want to challenge her in this town.”
The truth was, the way things were going, Jessica had been seriously thinking of returning to work full time. The suit would come in handy if the bank took her back. She hadn’t spoken to Sam about it yet. They had both been so busy and there had been so little privacy while living at Emily’s and then with Molly. But, the way things looked now, another salary seemed a necessity. Besides, Jessica couldn’t imagine Sam objecting. He would probably feel relieved by her decision, she thought.
The chorus had begun singing the introit, and Reverend Ben took his place at the pulpit. Jessica tried to focus her full attention on the service, hoping to get a spiritual boost this morning. She certainly felt she needed it.
Unfortunately, her cares and worries soon distracted her, and it was hard to concentrate, even on the sermon, which she usually found interesting. Reverend Ben was speaking about the hidden need in the community, the food pantries and agencies where struggling families came to get warm clothes and enough food to put on the table for their children.
“We live in a land of plenty. In a comfortable, if not outright affluent community. Yet within a few miles of this church people are struggling. People are choosing between turning up the heat and buying their children new shoes. People are choosing between buying medication and food to eat. . . .”
That was true, Jessica thought. Some people had so little. Her mind lurched. She had so little. She was now . . . one of those people. One of the needy. A charity case. It hurt to realize that, but she couldn’t deny it. The simple idea made her nearly burst out in tears.
“This is the season for trading our Christmas wish lists,” Reverend Ben continued. “Trying to choose between cell phones that play music and send out e-mail. Or gigantic TV screens that make our living rooms look like drive-in movie theaters. . . .”
That line drew a few chuckles, though not from Sam, she noticed. He would miss watching the weekly football game this afternoon in their family room. He would probably watch it with Matt, Molly’s husband, on a TV even bigger than the one they used to have. But it wouldn’t be the same.
Reverend Ben paused and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses a bit higher on his nose. “This is the season of giving, all the TV commercials tell us. But giving what, and to whom? More cell phones and iPods to those who already have so many high-tech toys?”
Jessica sighed. How would she do her holiday shopping this year? It was going to be difficult. The boys still wanted nice gifts, and it seemed more important than ever to try to make them happy this Christmas. Material things, yes. But if it made them feel better, was that so bad?
The sermon ended, and it was soon time for Joys and Concerns, the part of the service when the church members shared their happy moments and challenges. As Reverend Ben went around the sanctuary, people asked for prayers for the sick and announced anniversaries and birthdays or reunions with relatives.
Sam raised his hand and Jessica cringed. Didn’t they already have enough attention? “Yes, Sam?” Ben said, recognizing him.
Sam stood up. “As most of you know, my family survived a terrifying experience last week when our house caught fire and burned down.”
Jessica heard a few people murmur, and one person actually gasped. Apparently, the news had not reached everyone in town.
“But we’re truly thankful that everyone escaped the house safely and we’re able to join you here today. We’re also very grateful for all the thoughtful calls and messages from our friends and the help of our family as we get reorganized.”
Reorganized? That was a nice way of saying it. Jessica looked down at her hands, not daring to meet Sam’s eye. Was he done yet? She felt everyone staring at them.
“Tucker Tulley just told me that a lot of people brought items to church today that they thought we might need to set up a new home,” Sam continued. “Jessica and I want to thank all of you for your thoughtfulness and support.”
Jessica forced a smile as Sam sat down. She had often volunteered at the church’s annual rummage sale. She imagined the collection of donated goods would look much the same—plastic dishes, worn pieces of furniture, mugs with dopey sayings on them, and t
acky seascapes. Nothing she would ever want to have in her home.
Maybe she was more like her mother than she had ever wanted to admit. Proud and very particular, even when it seemed completely irrational. Just like her mother, she had a strong sense of privacy and a need to present a certain face to the world. Why else would she be wearing this suit that didn’t really fit her all that well?
It was hard for her to have everyone looking at her family now as if they were needy and homeless. Which, in fact, they were. But she just wasn’t comfortable with that idea of herself. The fire, their neediness, all of it made her feel shame.
Apparently, Sam didn’t feel that way at all. She glanced at him, sitting beside her, looking comfortable with himself. As he always did. They really were so different in so many ways. Sometimes she didn’t notice it at all. But sometimes, that was all she saw.
AFTER THE SERVICE, EVERYONE DROVE OVER TO LILLIAN’S HOUSE FOR lunch, as they had planned. Sara and Luke had stayed home from church to get everything ready. Much like her mother, Emily, Sara was not very interested in cooking. She was a reporter and her schedule so scattered, she didn’t get many chances to fix real dinners for herself and Luke.
Luke, however, was quite able in the kitchen, just like Sam. It was always fun to hear the two “macho” guys trading recipes. Today the young couple had prepared a buffet, with bubbling hot quiche, cold shrimp salad, mesclun greens with vinaigrette dressing, and scones.
Luke even remembered to set Lillian’s portions aside, free of any “exotic spices,” which meant any seasoning beyond salt and pepper.
As usual, they ate in the formal dining room, the table set with one of Lillian’s many sets of fine china and flatware, which she often spoke of passing on to her daughters and granddaughter. But somehow never did.
Dining at her mother’s house had been a challenge ever since she and Sam had started a family. Jessica followed the conversation with one ear, listening for sounds of her children playing in the next room with the other.
“So when will you hear back from the insurance company?” Luke asked Sam.
“Not for a few weeks. They take their time.”
“Insurance companies run the world, don’t kid yourself,” Dr. Ezra Elliot chimed in. Dr. Elliot had been part of the family circle for as long as Jessica could remember. He had been her father’s friend, but was also a good friend and a great support to her mother, especially after her father had died. Ezra had a sweet spot for Lillian, Jessica knew, and it surprised her that his role had never moved beyond that of a loyal friend and companion. Jessica also realized she probably didn’t know the entire story. Her mother still had some secrets, that was for certain.
“Insurance and drug companies,” Lillian agreed, “they have us all over a barrel. And speaking of barrels, the oil companies are outright bandits. Did you see my oil bill this month? I thought I was having one of my spells and seeing double.”
The conversation bounced from one topic to another, as usual. Jessica was relieved to be in the company of her family, who talked about things other than the fire, and who didn’t ooze sympathy all over them.
That would never be the problem with her mother, she thought with a small smile.
She remembered her conversation with Sam, and how she had planned to ask her mother if they could stay in her house awhile. But so far, she hadn’t found the right moment to bring it up.
“Did you hear that?” Lillian sat up sharply. She listened intently, like a hunting dog stalking prey. “Did something break in the living room? Where are those children?”
Sam traded a look with Jessica as he got up from the table. “I didn’t hear anything. But I’ll go check.”
“Yes, go look, Sam. I didn’t hear anything, Mother,” Jessica said. “I’m sure it’s okay.”
Jessica remembered the first time they had brought Darrell here. How he had started playing under the table and nearly pulled down the tablecloth, almost breaking everything above. Then, for the second act, he had slid down the long stairway on an area rug, pretending it was a boogie board. Though an antique bean jar had been the only casualty, her mother had acted as if Darrell had swung a wrecking ball at the house.
The boys were older now but still full of energy. Jessica kept a watchful eye on them. She didn’t want to find herself bidding on another antique bean jar on eBay this week.
Sam soon returned and took his seat again. “They’re just playing a board game. Nothing to worry about.”
Lillian looked at him suspiciously, as if she didn’t entirely believe the report, but she didn’t press the point.
“So, you’re living at Molly’s house now,” Sara said, turning to Jessica and Sam. “How’s that working out?”
“Couldn’t ask for more,” Sam replied. “She put us in a big bedroom with a private bath. The boys have the same setup. The place is as big as a hotel.”
“Molly’s been very generous. But Sam’s sister Laurie is also living there now with her two children, and the four boys don’t get along very well,” Jessica confessed.
“Goodness me. Sounds like a madhouse.” Her mother’s eyes widened.
Perfect opening, Jessica thought. “It is very stressful, Mother. We were wondering if we could come and stay here awhile. You do have lots of spare rooms upstairs, and we would help with your bills. The food and utilities,” she offered, remembering her mother’s rant about the oil bill.
Jessica felt Sam staring at her, but she didn’t meet his glance. Her gaze was fixed on her mother, who seemed to be considering the idea.
“Live here with me? I must be very popular. Everyone in the family wants to move in,” she quipped, looking at Sara and Luke.
“We’d love to have you here,” Sara said. Luke nodded. “Not that it’s our decision,” Sara added carefully.
“It most certainly is not,” Lillian affirmed. She turned to Jessica. “How long do you think you would need to stay?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A few . . . weeks?” That seemed the right answer, she thought. It would probably be six months or more before their own house was livable. Especially since it was the middle of winter, which meant it would be hard to get the house rebuilt quickly. But she couldn’t tell her mother that and ruin their chances completely.
“A few weeks? Hmm . . . I don’t know. Possibly . . .” Lillian wavered. She looked at Sam. “What do you think?” she asked bluntly.
Sam was taken by surprise. Jessica knew what he thought. She just hoped he wouldn’t be honest with her mother.
“About staying here?” he asked.
“Isn’t that what we’ve been talking about?” Lillian replied sharply, and Jessica saw Sam’s typically relaxed expression grow tense.
“If you’ll have us, I would be grateful. It seems to be what Jessica wants,” he answered in an even voice.
Her mother sniffed. She seemed disappointed she hadn’t caught him in her trap. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, Jessica thought.
Suddenly, they all heard a crash from the living room. A real crash, not an imagined one. Then the sound of Tyler crying. Sam jumped up from the table and jogged into the next room.
Jessica saw the expression on her mother’s face and knew the delicate balance had not tipped in her favor.
Lillian shook her head. “That’s just what I mean. I can’t have all these disruptions. It’s not good for my blood pressure. I had a bad report from the doctor on my last visit. I can’t risk another stroke, Jessica. These boys and all their activity—it would be too much for me. Too much,” she repeated, shaking her head.
“I understand, Mother. I just thought I would ask.”
Across the table, Emily cast her a sympathetic look.
Sam returned again. “Tyler and Darrell were fooling around. Tyler fell and knocked over a lamp, but it didn’t break.”
“Miraculously,” Lillian murmured. She didn’t ask how Tyler was, Jessica noticed.
“He isn’t hurt?” she asked.
Sam shook his head. “He’s fine.” He pulled his chair up to the table again. “Did I miss anything?”
“Mother has decided she’s not able to have us here, after all. It would be too much for her. Her blood pressure is acting up again.”
Jessica heard Sam’s sigh of relief. “That’s too bad. Thanks for considering it, Lillian,” he said cheerfully. “I guess we’ll stay at Molly’s and see if we can work things out.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Luke cut in. “What if you took a cabin at New Horizons? It’s almost time for the winter break. I can move around a few of the teachers. They’re going to leave soon anyway. There’s a very nice cabin with two bedrooms and a fireplace. It’s not as luxurious as Molly’s house. But you’ll have your privacy.”
“Hey, that’s a great idea.” Sam grinned at her, and Jessica could tell he loved the idea.
Luke, who had been a police officer in Boston, had founded the center and now ran it. Offering the cabin was his call. A good thing and a bad thing, Jessica thought. It was a thoughtful gesture, she knew.
Except that she didn’t want to live there. The cabins, which were originally summer cottages, weren’t so bad. They had been renovated and winterized a few years ago when the center opened. But they were definitely rustic, with a sleepaway camp atmosphere. Jessica could see spending a weekend in the country at such a place. But live there? Indefinitely?
“Thank you, Luke. It’s nice of you to offer,” Jessica said. “Sam and I will talk it over.”
She cast Sam a look that said, Slow down, pal. I have a say, too. Remember?
Sam sat back in his seat. “Sure, Jess and I need to talk. But it’s a great idea and very generous of you. Thanks, Luke.”
Luke and Sam exchanged a glance. Jessica felt as if the entire situation was already decided and nothing she said would make the slightest difference.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A Christmas Star Page 11
