Joseph blinked. Had he missed something? “I’m sorry?”
“Are you willing to help me with the manger scene? I would pay you, of course. I understand you’re quite an artist.”
Joseph almost dropped the paper with the sketches and backed away from Noell. “I thought you wanted to consult me on a legal matter.”
A smile creased Noell’s face. “Ah. I’m sorry I didn’t make myself clear. Just like me—I let my carvings do my speaking for me. No, I’m seeking your help about a different matter. Please say yes.”
Joseph studied the sketches Gabe had made. The faces were blank, ready for an artist’s brush. He could picture them in his mind. The strong, faithful man. The sweetly slumbering infant. But Mary … His mind flew back to the pastor’s sermon yesterday. Mary praised God. What else did he know about her? He couldn’t picture her in his mind. “I usually paint from real-life models. I don’t know …” Am I actually considering the project?
“You don’t know who is worthy of representing the Lord’s human family? I understand your dilemma.” Gabe chuckled. “Ask God. He’ll show you.”
Joseph took Gabe to mean he should search for someone who looked like Mary inside and out. I’m foolish to even consider it. I need to start my business. But he heard himself say, “I’ll give it a try.”
Noell shook Joseph’s hand. “So it’s agreed. I’ll meet with you again on Thursday.”
On Tuesday morning, Polly headed for church after the children went to school. Was it only last year that Miss Berry, the teacher, had encouraged her to attend normal school? Polly liked the thought of teaching. But Pa and the family needed her too much at home. Leaving to go elsewhere would only indulge her selfish desire to remain in the comfortable confines of the classroom. A part of her had held on to the hope that her Prince Charming, Joey, would sweep in and rescue her, but she knew that was no more than a childish dream.
At least I do get to teach, at Sunday school. At the age of fourteen, she had taken over the little ones at church at the same time Miss Berry had asked her to lead the youngest reading group at school. So when the pastor asked her to help plan the Christmas program, she accepted. This year she had written the script for the play. She clasped the pages of the manuscript in front of her, hoping the committee would be pleased with the result.
Sunday’s meeting had been brief. In addition to Pastor and Mrs. Denton, Mr. Post attended to discuss the music they would use. The pastor mentioned that he was looking for another person to help with the rehearsals. He liked for most of the work to be done by church members, to “spread the blessing.” Had he found a volunteer?
When she arrived at the church, she heard whistling and followed the sound around the corner to where Gabe Noell worked in his lean-to. Hoping not to disturb him, she watched him studying a block of wood almost as tall as he was, making marks here and there along the length of it. How could someone create things that looked alive out of tree limbs? She had seen samples of his work, forest creatures that looked as though they would jump off the tree branch where they sat. She couldn’t wait to see the finished manger scene. “How’s he doing?”
At the sound of the familiar, deep voice, Polly stumbled back a step—and into Joey’s broad chest. “I didn’t know you were there.” Breathy, her voice sounded accusatory.
He put out an arm to steady her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you here for the meeting about the Christmas program?”
Her eyes opened wide. “I am. Are you the new committee member?” Joey?
“Don’t act so surprised. I guess Pastor Denton figures putting on a play can’t be much different than defending people in court.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Come to think of it, he might be right.”
Polly relaxed. This was the Joey she remembered, even if he was hidden underneath a breasted suit and vest. “Putting on a play is one thing, but what about the twenty children we have to corral to get it together? We need to start rehearsals right away. I’m worried we don’t have enough time to get ready before the program.”
“I wouldn’t worry. People enjoy watching their children—even the mistakes. Maybe especially the mistakes.”
Maybe parents did, but what about the children? “That’s no excuse for poor preparation.” How well she remembered the humiliation of stumbling through her one line in her first Christmas play five times before she gave up and ran, crying, to where her mother sat in the audience. She never forgot her lines again and, in fact, went on to excel in memorizing scripture. She hoped this year’s program would spark the same passion in the youngsters who participated.
“Oh, Polly.” He tucked her arm beneath his and headed for the door. “I can tell we’re going to have fun.”
Pastor Denton was arranging a small circle of chairs when they entered the sanctuary. His wife murmured a greeting.
“Here they are.” The pastor smiled. “Joseph, I believe you know Mr. Post.”
“Very pleased, I’m sure.” Mr. Post extended his hand.
“How is your mother faring these days?” Joey asked.
That was Joey all over again, a born politician. Polly would remind herself as often as necessary that he made everyone feel special. Anyone who kept company with Alice Johnson couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like her.
Polly became aware that the group had turned quiet.
Pastor Denton cleared his throat. “Miss Jessup, we’re all interested in hearing your ideas for the program.”
She shuffled the pages in her lap and took a deep breath. “My idea is to let Mary tell the story.” She handed out different copies to everyone. “I’ve used Mary’s actual words where they’re recorded in the Bible.”
“That will tie in nicely with my sermons.” The pastor thumbed through his script quickly. “I see that you’re covering everything I intend to preach about this month. I like it. A lot.”
Joey’s face wrinkled as he read and reread the first page. “This is a lot for one person to memorize. Do you have someone in mind?” He smiled, as if to take the sting out of his words. “We’re not all as gifted as you are.”
Pleased at his compliment, Polly glanced away, hoping to hide her blush. “I was thinking of Jemima Fuller.” She caught her breath, waiting for reactions from the others.
“Jemima.” Mrs. Denton’s voice was thoughtful. “I confess I wouldn’t have thought of her, but now that you mention it, I think she’d be perfect. She always studies ahead for Sunday school.”
“I hope doing this play will encourage her to keep learning. I’d like to see her in the scripture contest this year. It would mean so much to her if she could win something like that.”
“Doesn’t Jemima have a pack of brothers?” Joey asked.
“Six of them.” Polly nodded. “I hope they’ll take part as well. We can never seem to get enough boys interested.”
“Are they as rambunctious as I remember?”
“They can be … high-spirited,” Mrs. Denton said.
“Sounds like fun.” Joey chuckled. “I’m glad you asked me to help.” He winked at Polly.
Polly drew in her breath. With Joey involved, did the stakes for the Christmas program now include her heart?
Chapter 3
A lice Johnson has offered to help with the Christmas play,” Mrs. Denton told Polly before rehearsal the following Monday. Her nerves, already stretched, threatened to snap. Alice? Alice had never taken part before. Polly could think of only one reason why she had changed her mind this year: Joey. “That’s nice,” she stammered, her heart protesting against the intrusion. Be kind, she reminded herself.
How far she fell short of the biblical Mary. Yesterday Pastor Denton had preached about her obedience and humility. When God called her the most highly favored among women, Mary replied that she was only His servant. Some servant I am, if I can’t accept Alice’s help without questioning her motives.
In spite of her resolution to accept Alice’s help, Polly
felt relieved when she didn’t arrive before they started rehearsal. As Polly hoped, Jemima needed little direction as she rehearsed Mary’s response to Gabriel’s visit. The pastor’s son Peter, as the angel, stumbled over several words.
“Let’s try that again,” Polly said. “Peter, it’s acceptable to read the script for now. Stop and let me know if there are any words you don’t understand.”
Midway through, Alice swept in with a young woman Polly didn’t recognize and marched up to her.
“I understand you’ve written a little play about Mary for this year’s Christmas program.”
“That’s right.” Polly’s throat almost closed from the effort to keep her tone pleasant.
“Martha has been the star in several programs at her church in Dallas. I’m sure she would be perfect for the role.”
From the look on Martha’s face, Polly guessed she hadn’t suggested this invasion. The expression on Jemima’s face told Polly all the confidence she had displayed could drain out of her more quickly than runoff after a hard storm. She had to speak, now. “But as you see, we already have someone to play the role of Mary. Would Martha be interested in portraying Elisabeth?”
Martha spoke before Alice could protest. “I’d love to be Elisabeth, or even one of the angels.” She smiled. “I just love Christmas. As long as I can be in the play, I’ll be happy.”
Polly’s heart warmed toward the girl. “We’ll be practicing the part with Elisabeth in a few minutes. Why don’t you read the script while we finish running through this scene.”
Alice harrumphed and took a seat in the front pew. Polly shifted her attention back to the scene in front of her. “That was good, Jemima. Peter, that was better. It’s okay to speak slowly. Just speak up a little louder. Let’s start again from the beginning of the scene, and then we’ll move on.”
Whatever the reason, Jemima didn’t do as well the second time through. Alice whispered in Polly’s ear, loud enough for the children to hear, “I thought you said she could act.”
Polly chose to ignore both Alice’s comment and Jemima’s second-rate performance. “That’s an excellent start. Martha, are you ready to practice your scene?”
Martha nodded, and Polly held her breath, hoping the girl would do well. To her relief, Martha’s reading of the “Who am I, that the mother of my Lord should visit me?” speech sounded genuinely heartfelt. She hugged Jemima, an extra touch not written in the script. Jemima relaxed and hugged her back, and Polly’s fears fled. These two girls could work together and be friends, in spite of their elders. Thank You, Lord.
“Excellent, girls. Let’s take a break while I call in Mr. Carpenter and the boys for the scene with the shepherds.”
Going above and beyond his responsibilities on the committee, Joey had taken the boys outside to run off energy. Like Mary, he gave of himself with a servant’s heart.
Polly turned toward the door and was surprised to see Joey in the back row with half a dozen boys gathered around him, sitting quietly. He smiled and touched his fingers to his eyebrow in greeting, and her heart flipped.
The Fuller boys had worn out Joseph sooner than he thought possible. Too many years had passed since he played rough-and-tumble with a gang of kids instead of hunkering down with a pile of law books. They had accepted with good grace his suggestion that they end the game and followed him inside.
They slipped through the door as Alice was introducing Martha to Polly. When he mentioned the play to Alice, he hadn’t expected her offer of help. Polly handled the situation with her usual charm and common sense. She would make an excellent lawyer herself, if women did such things. The rehearsal had made good progress under her direction.
“That’un’s a keeper.” Gabe’s soft voice carried only as far as Joseph’s ears. A few minutes earlier, he had noticed the wood-carver slip into the sanctuary.
“Polly’s got a good head and a good heart,” Joseph agreed.
At that moment, Polly turned around and saw him. Her step hitched, and a faint pink blush stained her cheeks. Alice turned her head around then, her wide, fruit-crowned hat looking out of place for a midweek meeting. Polly’s plain dress suited the occasion better, but her beauty still shone through.
Beauty. He shook his head. Never before had he thought about Polly in those terms. But already since his return he had seen she was a woman with wisdom and tact who loved God’s Word. A woman who found joy in serving others.
He rose to his feet before his thoughts ran too far ahead of him, fighting the nerves that tingled along his arms and hands, the same way he felt when he stood before judge and jury for the first time. “Are you ready for the boys now?” He rubbed his hands together, as if he could rub out his uneasiness with the action.
“Yes, we’re about ready to practice the scene with the innkeeper and the shepherds, and then we’re done for the day.” Polly smiled at the boys and beckoned them forward.
Entranced, Joseph watched as she worked with the children for another half hour. She encouraged, prompted, assisted, but never scolded. Even shy little Reuben Fuller managed to kneel when the angel appeared. Because of Polly’s efforts, these children would understand Christmas on a whole different level.
While they rehearsed, Alice promenaded down the aisle with Martha trailing behind. The girl looked over her shoulder, watching the action at the front. They paused by the pew where Joseph sat, and Alice bent slightly toward him. “I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow night, won’t I?”
Joseph had forgotten the invitation until that moment. Acceptance meant implying his intention to court Alice Johnson; refusal could create repercussions for his fledgling practice. The banker could direct a lot of business his way. He managed a weak smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Wonderful!” She started to clap her hands together and then, with a glance at the children practicing, thought better of it. With a quick look over her shoulder and her hips gently swaying, she left the building with Martha in tow.
“I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.” Gabe put a hand on Joseph’s shoulder and slipped out.
Joseph thought about his commitment to paint the figures the wood-carver was working on. How would he paint Mary’s face? He had no more idea now than he had when he started.
The sky had deepened to twilight by the time they finished their afternoon practice and Polly headed home. She considered stopping by the emporium to look for ideas for Christmas presents. Perhaps she would see something she could make at home. The few coins in her reticule might purchase some penny candy but not much more. She bypassed the shop and headed home.
A faint odor of something burning disturbed the crisp cool air, mixing with the scent of pine that was as much a part of Breading as the church steeple. She thought back to the breakfast Dolores had scorched last Saturday and shook her head. Her sister still didn’t cook well, but only practice would improve her skills. The scent grew stronger as she approached their house, and her steps sped up. Smoke fogged the kitchen window. She dashed into the room and removed the guilty pan from the stove. Couldn’t Dolores fry up a bit of ham without burning it to a crisp? Where was her sister, anyhow?
First things first. She removed the pot from stove. Most of the beans seemed unaffected except for a layer stuck to the bottom. Setting them aside, she pulled corn bread from the oven. God had spared them in His goodness. If she hadn’t come home when she did, why, the house could have burned down around their ears.
In the silence that descended after her mad dash around the kitchen, she heard Hazel’s voice crooning to her baby doll. Out the window, she caught sight of the twins chopping firewood. But she didn’t see any sign of Dolores—or Pa. He should have returned from work by now.
Where could she be? Polly pondered what to do next.
The door rattled and Dolores ran in, eyes open wide in panic. Seeing Polly, she sagged against the table in relief. “Oh, Polly, thank goodness you’re here. After I left, I realized I had forgotten to take the corn bread out a
nd I was afraid …”
Before Polly could utter a word of remonstrance, she heard two other, deeper voices on the front porch.
“Here you are, Mr. Jessup.”
Polly recognized that voice. Joseph. What was he doing here?
Moments later his broad shoulders filled the doorway as he led Pa inside.
“This isn’t my home!” Pa looked bewildered. He saw Polly standing by the stove. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, saw Mr. Jessup headed down toward your old farm.” Joseph shuffled his feet. “When I was escorting the Fuller children home. He seemed to have forgotten that you have a house in town now….”
“That’s where I was headed,” Dolores said. “Miss Berry said she saw him going in that direction.” She sniffed and seemed to notice the odor permeating the kitchen for the first time. “Did anything burn? I’m so sorry.”
Polly wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. How much more would she have to deal with tonight? First the house could have burned down, and then Pa went wandering.
Pa sat down at the table, looking lost and forlorn, and Polly’s heart went out to him. She dished out beans and corn bread on a piece of Ma’s china and set it in front of him. “This is home, Pa. See? Here’s Ma’s china. No one else would have it in their house.” She held back the tears that flooded her heart.
Pa pushed the beans around the plate, as if the pattern on the china would change if he moved them enough. “This does look like my Mary’s china. But I don’t recall this house, no, I don’t.”
“Go ahead and eat. You’ll feel better then.”
Pa brought a spoonful of beans to his mouth and sighed with pleasure. After refilling his plate, she set out dishes for the rest of the family. She paused with an extra plate. “Do you want to join us for dinner? It’s the least we can offer after all your help.”
Woodland Christmas Page 9
