by Susan Wiggs
Jabez’s voice transcended everything, holding the entire audience in its thrall. The holy family showed up in ordinary street clothes, though Cecil Byrne’s Joseph added a touch of humor with a T-shirt that said Eat at Joe’s. Maureen was so busy orchestrating everything behind the scenes she didn’t see Eddie take the stage with his acoustic guitar. Seated on a stool in the middle, a single candle burning nearby, he offered his song like a benediction. The melody alone was beautiful, enhanced by lovely backup vocals from his own parents. Maureen felt their emotions mingling together, and the performance seemed at once intimate and expansive, a song that spoke to everyone in different ways.
Somewhere, somehow, between the first “And it came to pass” to the final “Hallelujah,” the magic did its best work. Maureen felt tears in her eyes. She was as enraptured as everyone in the congregation, faces aglow, voices raised, joined in a rousing “Joy to the World,” filling the sanctuary with the special grace Maureen had been looking for all season long. It was a beautiful program, and the applause at the end of it all was thunderous. She never should have doubted it.
During the final ovation, she spied Jabez, grinning from ear to ear. She touched his arm.
“It’s a miracle we pulled it off.”
His grin softened into a sweet, shy smile. “Nah, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Good point. A lot of work went into that miracle.”
He nodded. “A lot of things would be lost or undone if people sat around, waiting for a miracle.”
She studied him for a moment, such a singular boy, so open but at the same time hard to know. “Are they here tonight?” she asked him. “Your family?”
He looked around at the surging crowd, ducked his head a little bashfully. “Yeah, they’re all here.”
She wanted to ask who he meant, but they were both soon swept and separated by the crush of people everywhere. Maureen found herself swimming in accolades. People brought her flowers and cards, homemade candies and shiny-bright gift bags. “That was so wonderful,” someone told her. “It made my heart soar,” declared somebody else.
“Mine, too,” she said, regarding the milling crowd with apprehension. The place emptied out quickly, as people were eager to head off into the night. Maureen didn’t want to ruin the buoyant feeling in her heart with a confrontation with Eddie. Inviting his family to Avalon had been a mistake; she was well aware of the blunders she’d made. But it was done, and so were she and Eddie. There was no point in mooning about it. She ought to be grateful she’d ended their relationship sooner rather than later.
Suddenly the urge to flee overtook her. She had to get out of here before she lost it. She needed to be alone right now. And tomorrow, she wanted to celebrate Christmas with her family as she’d always done, and then move on.
Moving furtively through the crowd, she headed for the back door. She paused on her way out, looked around at the luminous decorations and gave thanks for all the blessings that were hers. She had an adored and adoring family, her friends, her cats and her good health. And she had a future, perhaps not the one she’d expected, but one she would grow into cautiously, getting used to her new life bit by bit.
Then she left the sanctuary through the back, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Part Six
Christmas gift suggestions:
To your enemy, forgiveness.
To an opponent, tolerance.
To a friend, your heart.
To a customer, service.
To all, charity.
To every child, a good example.
To yourself, respect.
—Oren Arnold (1900-1980), American writer and editor
Twenty-Five
Maureen didn’t sleep well that night. The headboard of her bed was still decked with the colored lights Eddie had laughingly hung there, just before he’d made love to her. She curled herself into a ball and tried not to think about it, but the memories of that night wouldn’t leave her alone. She could still remember every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise.
Let it go, she tried to tell herself. Let it go. It never would have worked, anyway. They were too different, she had to accept that. But she couldn’t. He’d brought laughter and love into her life, and now it was gone. She felt completely emptied out, and she wondered if, in fact, Eddie was right about Christmas after all.
No, she thought, drawing the covers over her head. She wouldn’t let him be right. Just because she’d let him break her heart didn’t mean he got to ruin Christmas for her, too. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the sound of carols and loud chatter, and she decided it was a sign that someone, somewhere, agreed with her.
In the morning, she woke up slowly and cuddled with the cats, sipping hot tea and watching out the window. The world always looked different on Christmas morning. It was a quality of the light, a tingle in the air, that singular sensation that all was new. Merry and bright, as the old song went.
Kids were trying out their toys from Santa—sleds and ice skates, cross-country skis, snowshoes. Maureen loaded the car with all her carefully wrapped presents and headed to her parents’ house, which by midday would be filled with family. Surrounded by them, she’d share in the laughter and love, watch the faces of her niece and nephews when they opened their presents, help prepare a sumptuous feast. She drove slowly and carefully, past strolling couples and families, rollicking children, the faint ringing of bells in the distance.
Her family swarmed her when she walked in the door. The niece and nephews were eager to show off their Santa gifts and then get down to the unwrapping. In the midst of the festivities, the doorbell rang.
“Maureen, would you mind getting that?” Hannah trilled.
She opened the door, and there was Eddie, looking tired but happy. “Merry Christmas, Moe,” he said.
This man was bad for her heart. One simple greeting, and it was once again trying to leap out of her chest. “Um, same to you.”
“I brought you something.” His smile could melt icicles.
“Oh! I didn’t get you anything, Eddie, I—”
“Hush. I’m not worried about a gift from you.” He stepped aside and held the door wide open.
There, on the street in front of the house, was Lonnie’s big flatbed truck, hastily swagged with pine boughs and jammed with passengers—library patrons she recognized, kids and adults alike. Others congregated on the snowy lawn. What appeared to be the whole town had shown up. Christmas music streamed from speakers.
“Now hear this.” Mr. Shannon’s voice spoke over the music. “The Avalon Free Library is staying open. Just after midnight, the funding goal was reached.”
Maureen walked out onto the porch, her family crowding around behind her, and a cheer went up. “We’re keeping the library!” people shouted.
She turned back to Eddie. “What did you do?”
He told her that like a parade float, Lonnie’s truck had lumbered through the streets of Avalon all night long, exhorting people to save the library. Others had gone door to door, soliciting donations and pledges. Kids and their parents had pitched in. Emergency e-mails had gone out, and a phone tree of volunteers had worked tirelessly. The boys in the pageant, with Cecil Byrne taking the lead—had hastily produced a version of his Christmas song and offered it up on the Internet, with each download adding to the library fund. The combined effort pushed them over the top. The library would be safe.
Maureen was speechless for quite a while. She hugged everyone, she cried, she laughed. “We got our library back,” she told anyone who would listen. There was a spontaneous songfest right there on the frozen front lawn.
Eddie took Maureen by the hand and drew her inside, to a quiet corner by the fireplace. She wanted to beg him not to touch her, not to remind her that there were some things that couldn’t be fixed, not even by an entire community. Still another part of her wanted to hold on to him and never let go. Very carefully, she extracted her hand from his.
“What you di
d—what everyone did—it’s just so huge, Eddie. How do I say thank you for something like this?”
He smiled down at her, then gently cupped her cheek in his hand and caught an errant tear with his thumb. “You just did.”
Her gratitude was one thing, but it didn’t begin to cover their troubles. She remembered how furious he was at her for inviting the Havens to the pageant. “And your parents?”
“I was pissed as hell that you told them to come here for Christmas.”
“I shouldn’t have interfered. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”
“Was it wrong if it worked out right?”
“What do you mean?”
Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her toward the kitchen, where her father and Hannah were serving coffee to the Havens. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said gently in her ear. “I was a jerk, and you were right about them. I’ve never been with someone who made me want to be better than I am. I guess that’s why I panicked and pushed you away.”
She held hope at bay, not trusting what her heart kept telling her. She kept thinking about the previous night and how lonely she’d felt, how empty. She couldn’t survive another night like that. “I’m happy for you, Eddie. And for your family. But the two of us…I just don’t see it.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “Sorry. Baloney. You’re hiding behind that old hurt, or using it as an excuse, I’m not sure which. And don’t tell me you can’t fall in love again because you might get your heart broken. Well, guess what, Maureen? You might. You wouldn’t be the first, or the last. And guess what else? You might not get hurt at all—this could be exactly what you’ve been waiting for. But you’re equally scared of both outcomes.”
“Who made you such an expert?” she asked.
“I’ve been in love before,” he said. “I just didn’t stay that way. This time is different.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t have any guarantees. Nobody does. But I have faith in us. Take a leap of faith with me, Moe. We can do this.”
His words wrapped around her heart, and she stopped trying to tally up all the ways she might get hurt. Eddie had come through for her in so many ways. He’d saved the pageant, bringing in band members at the last minute. He’d had Lonnie drive a truck all over town to raise money for the library. She could trust Eddie with her heart; she finally knew this with a certainty that took her breath away. Slipping her arms around him, she pressed her cheek against his chest. “It was an amazing Christmas, wasn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll always wonder about Jabez, though. The mystery kid.”
“Something tells me he’s going to be just fine. And so are we, Moe.” He lifted a sprig of mistletoe over her head and kissed her. “So are we.”
Epilogue
One year later
“Hold it right there,” Eddie said. “Smile.” He snapped a picture of her as she hung a sign on her new office door: M. Davenport—Branch Manager.
These days, Maureen had a lot to smile about. Thanks to the now healthy library fund, she was able to expand her office beyond the little space she’d occupied previously. She and Eddie were cleaning out a big, unused space on the upper floor. It was going to be converted into a sleek new office, just for her.
She had a lot more to be thankful for, and a lot more to smile about, than just the library. In the aftermath of the most surprising and triumphant Christmas of her life, she’d had a glorious year. Her personal life had been turned upside down, and she couldn’t be happier.
Well, she could. But the next step was up to Eddie, and she wasn’t going to push it. He lived in Avalon now, and for the past year, they had been nearly inseparable. They told each other more of their secrets, laughed together, sometimes fought, and always forgave each other. She greeted each day like a gift, soaring with love.
She used to think she knew what romantic love was. She thought she’d experienced true passion in her youth, and decided it was too risky and overwhelming. And then Eddie had come along, and everything changed. His presence in her life was like a love song in her heart—powerful and compelling, its gentle rhythm unending. With Eddie, she felt the expected giddiness, but there was something deeper. It was brand-new, and yet as old as time and familiar, although she’d never felt it before. She could not imagine spending any part of her life without him.
The notion made her smile even wider, because only a year ago, she hadn’t been able to imagine spending even one moment with this man.
He surprised her at every turn, proving himself to be a man of his word who cared deeply for others, even burying his own hurt rather than bringing those around him down. He’d become her best, most intimate friend, entrusted with her deepest secrets. When she’d told him about the miscarriage, he’d held her while she cried, and then whispered that he wanted her to have his baby one day. Sometimes she thought she’d dreamed him. With his shaggy beach-boy hair, soulful eyes and athletic body, he was unbelievably sexy.
Just how sexy was something she had discovered this past year. And there was still a lot more to find out.
“All right, enough of that,” he told her sharply, setting down a crate of old files.
“Enough of what?” she asked.
“Checking me out like that.” He caught her against him, drew her close. “If you keep staring at me, we’ll never get any work done.”
She smiled up at him. “I think we earned a little break.”
“Good plan,” he murmured, and lightly kissed her, drawing a sigh from her lips.
The only thing that could have made her happiness more perfect would be to know they would be together forever, that this never had to end. Her stepmother was completely out of patience with the situation. “Cripes, Maureen, if you don’t marry him, then I will,” Hannah had said recently, all but stamping her foot in frustration.
Maureen refused to feel frustrated. He hadn’t asked. He wasn’t ready. She wasn’t going to push. She tucked away a tiny snippet of disappointment and told herself not to be greedy. Still smiling, she kept her thoughts to herself; if he realized what was on her mind, he would probably go screaming into the hills.
“Hey, look outside,” he whispered, turning her toward the window.
Snow had begun to fall in big flakes, settling softly on the sloping roof and turning the library grounds and gardens into a winter wonderland.
“The first snow of the year,” she said. “I know I’ll be sick of it by March, but the first snow always makes me happy.”
“You know what always makes me happy?” he asked. “You do. And you always have.”
Reaching up, she flung her arms around him. She couldn’t believe she used to be afraid of this, afraid of feeling this much. There would be no more hiding in books to avoid making herself vulnerable. Now she wanted to feel everything, life in all its richness and depth. She never doubted she would stumble and fall, tripped up by hurt. Yet Eddie made her see that life was not about avoiding pain. It was about living every moment, good and bad.
So simple, she thought. That was the miracle of loving Eddie. That was—
A gust of Arctic air slipped through the window caulking, rattling the brittle glass panes and rustling through old papers stacked on the floor. Her gaze fell on an ancient yellowing newspaper. The Avalon Troubadour had been in publication for more than a century. The headline was spelled out in old-fashioned type:
UNIDENTIFIED BOY PERISHES IN LIBRARY FIRE.
“Look,” she said, “it’s an article about the first library. I knew it burned to the ground a hundred years ago, but I’ve never seen an original account of the disaster.” She stooped and picked up the yellowed paper, dry as leaves in autumn. She cradled the section carefully as she angled it toward the light.
It was front-page news, with a grainy photograph of the burned-out building. The article reported that apparently a vagrant had sought shelter at the library, hiding away after hours. A Mr. Jeremiah Byrne was quoted as saying, �
��I have the most profound of regrets over the life that was lost. Constructing the new library is an act of contrition for me.”
Her attention was caught by one of the photographs that accompanied the article. The caption read, His life was cut short when he died in the fire. Her heart skipped a beat, and she glanced up at Eddie.
“Is that…?” She didn’t quite know how to ask it. “Do you see what I see?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s a ringer for Jabez.”
“It’s like some kind of miracle.” She had the oddest feeling, looking at a photo from a hundred years ago and recognizing the features of the boy they’d once known, a boy who had slipped away after the performance last Christmas Eve and hadn’t been seen since. Truly hadn’t been seen. In going through Daisy Bellamy’s photographs of last year’s pageant, Maureen had not found a single shot of Jabez. The PBS documentary, Small Town Christmas, had recently aired, but there was no footage of him there, either. Josie, the producer, reported that some of the digital files of the filming had been corrupted.
“I knew there was something about Jabez,” said Maureen. “He was…do you believe in angels?”
Eddie smiled at her. “Oh, hell, yeah.”
“I’m not kidding. I—”
He pulled her close. “They come in all shapes and sizes. You were there the night I wrecked my van,” he said.
She didn’t say anything. They’d never talked about it. “I thought you were an angel,” Eddie said. “And I was right.”
