“I can’t take the kids to church either,” he told her. “I have to work.”
“On Sunday? You never go to your shop on Sunday.”
“I’ve got a lot of furniture projects that people want finished for the holiday. Christmas Eve is tomorrow, Jess,” he reminded her.
“Believe me, I know all about it,” she said glumly. “I promised your sister I would bring pecan pies. But there’s something wrong with this oven. The temperature isn’t right.”
“We’ll just get a cake at the bakery. Why fuss?”
Jessica sighed. “That’s a solution, I suppose. It just feels like I’m in a bad place when I can’t even bake one pie for Christmas.”
She and Sam were usually the ones who gave the annual family Christmas Eve party. It was a huge event, but Jessica had always loved preparing for it. She was a wonderful cook and a terrific hostess who knew how to decorate the house beautifully and add all the right touches.
Sam guessed that she was thinking about those parties and missed entertaining this year, despite all the work and bother. They had been invited to his sister Molly’s for Christmas Eve, and to Jessica’s mother’s house for Christmas Day. Molly’s party would be totally over the top, he knew, and at Lillian’s, it would be hard to tell the day was different from any other.
Sam was not looking forward to either get-together, but he knew the boys would enjoy themselves, and it was important for them, most of all, to be with their family on the holidays.
This year, Christmas was something he just wanted to get over with. He knew that was the wrong attitude—not the Christian attitude, for sure. But that was just the way he felt.
He took one last sip of his coffee and put the mug in the kitchen sink. “Okay, I’m leaving, Jess. I’ll see you later.”
“Sam, aren’t you forgetting something?”
Jessica looked up at him from where she now stood, folding a basket of laundry. He thought, for a moment, that she meant that he hadn’t kissed her good-bye.
He felt bad. He always kissed her hello and good-bye, no matter how angry they got with each other. He walked toward her. Was she ready to talk things over and make up?
She pointed at the dog’s crate. “You’d better take Sunny. The boys are going to be out all day at a basketball game, and I have to do some more shopping.”
Oh, so she just meant the dog. It wasn’t what he thought at all. He let out a frustrated sigh, picked up the big dog crate with one hand, and lugged it out of the cabin.
In his shop, he felt a bit calmer. He liked the quiet space and the solitude. He put on his apron and got back to work on the set of antique chairs. They had to be ready by tomorrow. It wasn’t a big project and he couldn’t charge for his real time, but the client was important. Mrs. Madeleine Norris was on the board of the Cape Light Historical Society. Her own Victorian house on Mariner’s Way was a jewel of the historical register and a favorite stop on the annual walking tour.
The gracious old house was also perennially in need of repair. Mrs. Norris had been dangling the possibility of a substantial job—rebuilding the porch in the spring—but so far had only offered the chairs. Sam considered the smaller furniture repair both a favor and an investment.
At about noon, when he was thinking about breaking for lunch and walking the dog, he heard a knock on the shop door. He opened it to find Reverend Ben, wearing his big down jacket and earmuffs.
“Reverend Ben, come in. It’s getting cold out there.”
“A little colder than it should be for this time of year,” Ben agreed. He tugged off his gloves and rubbed his hands together.
“Do you track down all your wayward sheep on Sunday afternoon, or am I a special case?” Sam asked, with a slightly guilty smile.
“You’re always a special case for me, Sam. Very special,” Ben said warmly. He sat on a stool near Sam’s workbench and watched Sam return to his project. “I was out shopping and saw the lights on. You’re not usually here on Sunday.”
“No, I’m not,” Sam agreed.
Sam’s shop took up one half of a barnlike building behind the Bramble Antique Store, which was on the first floor of an old house. The store’s owner, Grace Hegmen, and her father, Digger, lived on the floors above. Half the barn was used by Grace for storage and the other half she rented out to Sam.
“I have to deliver some work tomorrow. An important client. She needs these chairs back for the holidays.”
“People want their homes looking perfect this time of year.” Ben gazed down at the worktable then picked up a piece of wood Sam had started carving. “This is pretty. Is it going to be an angel?”
Sam nodded, keeping his eyes on the joint of a chair leg he was gluing back together.
“When Jess and I got married, I made her a set like that for our first Christmas. She put them on the mantel every year with pine branches. I was trying to make her new ones, but I don’t think they’ll be finished on time.”
He hadn’t focused very hard on finishing the project, he realized. He had been distracted by the house and the insurance claims and by his arguments with Jessica, first about the insurance and yesterday about the earrings. A general tension about everything, he reflected. Sam could do all kinds of work for pay under pressure, but when it came to his own artistic projects he had to be in a calm frame of mind.
Ben looked over the angel once more and set it down. “How is Jessica? How did she take the news about the insurance settlement?”
“I couldn’t tell her right away,” Sam admitted. “But I did tell her on Monday. She didn’t take it very well. We had sort of an argument. We’re having some problems right now,” he added. “We went shopping yesterday and had another big fight in the mall.”
“What did you fight about?” Ben asked curiously.
Sam put a clamp on the chair leg to hold it in place while the glue set. “I wanted to buy her some earrings she saw in a jewelry store window. She lost so much jewelry in the fire, lots of pieces from her family that we can’t replace. I thought she deserved a nice gift after all we’ve been through. But she got really mad at me,” he said, still surprised at his wife’s reaction. “As if I wasn’t thinking at all about our problems and responsibilities. That’s all I think about, Ben.
“Of course I’m worried about money and what we’re going to do, where we’re going to end up,” he continued. “But I just wanted to make her happy. Is that so awful?”
Ben shook his head sympathetically. “I understand. You were just trying to do something nice for her and she misunderstood. It sounds as though she’s so worried, it’s clouding her perspective. It’s coloring everything she sees.”
“It makes everything I do or say come out wrong. That’s how it seems to me.”
“This is a tough time for both of you,” Ben said. “One person has to bend, and one person has to step back and take control—before things go too far.”
Sam set his jaw. He knew Reverend Ben would say something like that, counseling him to take the first step and apologize. As far as he could see, he had nothing to apologize for. Why did he always have to make that move toward her?
“I tried to talk things out with her the other night when I told her about the insurance claim. She just wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Maybe that wasn’t a good time, Sam. She must have been very shocked by your news.”
“Yes, she was,” Sam admitted. Okay, so that wasn’t entirely fair of him.
“Forgive her for whatever she did or said, Sam. She’s in a lot of pain,” Ben reminded him.
“I understand that. But she’s not the only one. I thought we had a strong relationship, Reverend. I thought we had a really great marriage, and if something bad ever happened to us, I was sure we would stick together and work it out, not pull away from each other.” He set the chair down and picked up another one. “I guess my marriage just isn’t what I thought it was. We were happy when things were going smoothly and we had all the comforts. Anybody would be. Bu
t once that was taken away, our relationship began to fall apart. I think that says it all.”
He and Jessica didn’t always agree. But Sam had never doubted her love before. They were very different, yet that had been part of their attraction to each other, what kept things interesting, he thought. Now all he could see were their differences. And he didn’t feel as if she loved him, or even respected him anymore. He felt as if all that had been lost in the fire. Or very soon after.
Ben stood up, holding his hat and gloves in his hand. “Make up with her, Sam. Be a peacemaker. That’s your nature, you know. Your gift,” Ben reminded him. “It’s Christmas, a time to reconcile and put aside grievances. This is an especially important Christmas for your family. Show your children that bad things can happen, but life can get better, too. Not worse. Don’t let this distance between the two of you grow any wider,” he warned.
Sam guessed Reverend Ben meant that if he and Jessica didn’t work things out, they were heading toward divorce.
Once Sam would have said that very idea was impossible. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
He glanced at the minister, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t going to make any eager promises this time.
“I know what you’re trying to tell me,” he said finally. “I’ll think about it.”
Ben nodded and pulled on his cap. “Fair enough. . . . Oh, one more thing.” He picked up the wooden angel again. “You really ought to finish this and give it to her. It will help a lot. I guarantee it.”
Sam took the sculpture in his hand. “I’ll try.”
“That’s all any of us can do.”
Ben left and Sam got to work on the set of chairs once more. The unfinished angel kept catching his eye. He would try with Jessica, he told himself. But she had to try, too. Or he couldn’t say what their future would hold.
AFTER VISITING SAM’S WORKSHOP, BEN DECIDED HIS ERRANDS IN THE village were completed. Carrying two shopping bags of gifts, mainly for his wife, he walked back down Main Street to his car. He had parked in front of the Clam Box and though he was hungry, for once he didn’t go inside. He knew Carolyn had a nice meal waiting for him at home.
The parsonage was not very far from the village, and he was home in a matter of minutes. He let himself in and hung his coat on the coat tree near the front door. He heard Carolyn in the kitchen, talking on the phone. When he walked in he saw that she was also in the middle of baking something, all the ingredients and the cookbook laid out on the counter.
“Yes, dear. I wrote it all down. Are you sure you don’t want your father to come pick you up? Or maybe Rachel? She would drive down to meet you, I’m sure. . . . ”
Ben’s senses were alerted by the one-sided conversation. “Is that Mark?” he asked.
Carolyn nodded, smiling. “He finally got a flight in from Portland. He’ll be in tomorrow night, very late.” She turned back to the phone. “Your father just came in. Here, he wants to say hello. . . .”
Ben stepped closer and took the phone. “How did you ever manage that? I thought you said it was hopeless.”
“I’m not sure. Mom just told me she’s been praying on it,” his son teased.
Ben had been praying on it, too, if the truth be told. But he didn’t want to admit that right now. Not over the phone.
“Well, your mother has some sway. I always said that,” he joked back. “Thanks for trying so hard. We’re all very happy you’ll be here.”
“So am I,” Mark admitted. “I didn’t get to tell Mom but . . . Moira is coming with me. I hope that’s all right?”
Ben felt like the wind had been knocked out of him for a moment and struggled for a quick recovery. Mark had mentioned that he was seeing a young woman he had met at school. But Ben didn’t realize it was serious. Mark was not the type to bring his girlfriend home to meet the family unless it was very serious.
“Of course it’s all right. We have plenty of room. Your mother will be thrilled.” He glanced at Carolyn.
She was measuring out flour and pouring it into a big bowl, her reading glasses balanced on the edge of her nose. “I’ll be thrilled about what?”
Ben shook his head. “I’ll tell you in a minute,” he said, covering the phone a moment. He turned his attention back to Mark. “Can’t wait to meet her,” he said to his son.
Carolyn put her measuring cup down and stared at him. He avoided her intensely curious look.
“Great,” Mark was saying. “Listen, I’ve got to run, but Mom has all the information. If there are any delays, I’ll call you.”
“That’s fine. Have a safe trip. We can’t wait to see you,” Ben added.
“Me too,” Mark said happily before ending the call.
Ben set the receiver back in place. Carolyn stood inches away. “What were you talking about? Is Mark bringing someone home with him?”
Ben nodded. “Yes, he is. His girlfriend, Moira. Just like him to give us five minutes’ notice.”
Carolyn practically gasped. “Moira? She’s coming here for Christmas? Do you think they’re engaged?”
Ben sighed. “Well, I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, dear. He seemed serious about that last girl, Erin, remember?”
“Oh, yes, Erin. She was very sweet. But I wasn’t surprised when they broke up,” Carolyn added, turning back to check her recipe.
Ben had to agree. Mark had spent last Christmas with Erin’s family in California, and she had visited Cape Light last summer. Ben had found her charming and bright. But he also had a feeling she wasn’t the one for Mark. His intuition had eventually proven right.
He wondered what Moira would be like. Was she going to be the one? Would Mark have big news for the family?
“Much as I would like to, I can’t call back and ask him,” Ben said with a laugh. “I guess we just have to wait and see.”
“I suppose so. But it is fun to think about.” Carolyn cracked an egg and added it to the batter. Ben could see she was already getting excited about a wedding.
Anything was possible with Mark. Ben knew that by now. Mark had never given them much trouble in high school, though he had always been intellectually challenging as a teenager, questioning the value of church and even the belief in God. Ben had been able to handle that. The truth was, he enjoyed those philosophical debates most of the time. But once Mark left for college, things changed. He began to challenge everything. To challenge and doubt. He lost his center, his very foundation. He dropped out of school after his first year and roamed around the country. Sometimes they didn’t even know where he was living or how he was surviving.
Then, about five years ago, Carolyn fell ill after suffering a stroke and Mark finally came home. It was a difficult reunion, but the family finally worked out their issues and grievances. Mark stayed in Cape Light for a while, working at a bookstore in Newburyport, then decided to start school again. He went out to Portland, Oregon, and took up environmental studies. Coming to the end of his four-year degree, he had decided to pursue a career in environmental law.
Ben was proud of him. Proud of their family, too, for surviving those challenging times. If Mark was engaged to this girl, it would be something to celebrate. A real Christmas surprise.
Carolyn returned to her recipe, measuring out a spoonful of vanilla. “We’ll just have to see when he gets here, I guess. I wish he had given me a little warning. I would have fixed up the guest room a bit.”
“Oh, don’t worry dear. Any girl Mark chooses won’t be fussy about decorating, believe me.” Mark was remarkably nonmaterialistic, and Ben couldn’t imagine him choosing anyone much different.
Carolyn laughed in agreement. “You have a good point.” She put down her measuring spoons and stared at him. “I’m a bit in shock. At first, he wasn’t coming at all, and now he calls, and not only will he be here, but he’s bringing a girl who could be his future wife.”
“Yes, it’s a lot to process.” Ben sighed happily. “It’s all good though, right?”
“Yes, all good,” Carolyn r
epeated. “I’ll have to get her some gifts to open—little things, perfume or something.”
Leave it to his wife to think of buying gifts for a girl she’d never met and had not even invited. But it did seem the right thing to do, Ben realized. They wanted Mark’s girlfriend to feel comfortable and welcome, whatever the status of the relationship and especially if they were about to announce their engagement.
“I bought a few odds and ends in town today,” Ben said. “Some small things for my secretary and Rachel,” he explained. He still liked to choose a gift or two for their daughter, though Carolyn was in charge of most of the shopping. “Maybe you can find a gift in there.”
“Oh good. I’d rather not go to the stores again tomorrow.” Carolyn gave her husband a curious glance. “Is that why you’re back late from church?”
“Yes, I did a little shopping and I stopped to see Sam Morgan. He wasn’t in church and I noticed the lights on in his shop.”
“How are the Morgans doing?” Carolyn asked with concern.
“Not too well right now, I’m afraid,” Ben admitted. He knew whatever he told Carolyn would be kept in strictest confidence, but he still hesitated to disclose personal information members of the congregation had entrusted to him. “They’re having a hard time. There’s a lot to figure out, and it will take a while before things are back to normal for them. Their relationship is definitely feeling the strain,” he confided.
“Oh, that’s too bad. They always seemed so happy together. So . . . in love. So crazy about those boys,” she added.
“They are in love,” Ben replied. “But marriages go through hard times—foggy weather when you can’t see what’s really there, right under your nose. We went through our difficult years,” he reminded her.
“Yes, we did,” she agreed. “More than some, maybe.”
Carolyn didn’t like to talk about her bouts with depression, which were, at this point in her life, very much under control. And Ben didn’t like to remind her of the darkest time of that battle, which had certainly contributed to Mark’s rebellion.
A Christmas Star Page 20
