The Christmas Town

by Donna VanLiere

  Gloria walks her to the front door. “Listen to you being all deep!”

  “You’re not talking to a duffer, you know.”

  “I don’t know what that means but I’m pretty sure I am.”

  Miriam bursts into laughter and opens the door.

  TWENTY

  The air turned colder overnight and as Lauren drives to work that morning she finds herself thinking of Grayson, the little boy at Glory’s Place who never wore a coat. “Not my problem,” she says aloud. She decided last night that she would not go back to Glory’s Place. She is embarrassed and disappointed and discouraged. She wanted so much to believe that there was a place for her somewhere, but the failed dinner with her mother has taken all hope from her. She is not up to facing Stacy, Miss Glory, Miriam, Holly, Travis, or even Ben at the grocery store. She isn’t a part of their lives and can’t pretend that she is.

  When she arrives at work the manager asks if she’d be interested in extra hours today and she says yes. Work just might keep her mind off her mother and the responsibilities that she’s stepping away from in Grandon. She pictures Cassondra’s mouth formed in that perfect O as she sings, but dismisses the thought. “Stacy doesn’t need my help,” she reasons.

  On her break Lauren opens her e-mail and sees one from Craigslist. She is reluctant to read it but clicks it open anyway. As she reads the e-mail from Mary Richards and Laura she is confused to learn that they waited at Betty’s for her to show up, even though Holly had told her that no one beyond the regular customers was there. She is interested to read that Mary and Laura know each other and doesn’t blame them for questioning her motives. She doesn’t respond but shuts her phone off, regretting having pulled strangers into the drama of her life.

  * * *

  Cassondra is sitting at her spot for rehearsal when Stacy arrives at Glory’s Place. “She’s not here yet,” she says, watching Stacy take off her coat.

  “Who’s not here?”

  “Lauren.”

  Stacy turns, looking around the room. Dalton, Heddy, Miriam, Gloria, and other volunteers are here but Lauren isn’t among them. “I’m sure she’ll be here and it is going to make her feel so good to know that you’ve missed her.”

  “She won’t be here,” Cassondra says, swinging her dangling legs.

  “Why do you say that?” Stacy asks, placing sheets of lyrics on each chair.

  “Something in my head told me last night that she left and she’s not coming back.”

  Stacy stops what she’s doing. “Of course she’s coming back.” She looks across the room toward the parking lot beyond the windows, watching for Lauren’s car, and hopes she’s right.

  As Stacy leads the children through one song after another she gives Cassondra a wan smile. Lauren never returned any of her calls, but maybe she should have been more persistent about calling her. There has always been an unnamed sadness that surrounds her, and Stacy has wanted to be kind without being intrusive. Perhaps Lauren needs an intrusive friend. As the children sing she reaches for her phone inside her purse and quickly redials Lauren’s number. It goes straight to voice mail. “Lauren, it’s Stacy,” she says, holding a hand over her exposed ear. “The kids are rehearsing and asking about you again. We’re all hoping you’re okay. Please call me back. Listen to them.” She holds the phone out toward the children and records the chorus of “The First Noel” for her. “They’re sounding great,” she says. “Please call me.”

  As the final notes fade Grayson raises his hand. “Where’s Lauren?”

  Stacy shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Is she ever coming back?” Madison asks.

  “Maybe she’s a spy and got called out to a job,” Isaiah says.

  “She’s not a spy,” Landon says, pointing to his head. “She doesn’t have a spy hat or the glasses or anything.”

  Stacy tries to regain control. “As soon as we contact her we’ll ask if she’s a spy, but for now let’s keep singing so we can show her how good you’ve gotten!”

  At the end of rehearsal Cassondra helps Stacy gather the lyric sheets. “So,” Stacy says. “What’s your head telling you now?”

  “My mom was talking to my dad once and said that somebody they knew was like closed doors.”

  Stacy thinks for a second. “Did your mom say that someone was ‘closed off’?”

  Cassondra thinks, then shakes her head. “That doesn’t make sense. Closed doors makes sense because you can open and close a door. Lauren’s got closed doors.” She hands the papers to Stacy. “Can you get her to come back?”

  She taps the papers on top of Cassondra’s head. “I’m trying my best. I am determined to get to the bottom of this mystery!” She watches as Cassondra and Aidan and the other children gather their backpacks and coats to get ready for dismissal. Looking at her phone, she hopes a voice mail will be there from Lauren that she missed. There’s no message and no text. Open all the closed doors in Lauren’s life, Lord, and bless all that you find inside!

  Stacy, Dalton, Heddy, Miriam, Gloria, and two of the volunteers are stacking chairs and spraying and cleaning tables when Travis Mabrey appears at the front door and waves to get someone’s attention. “Your friend from the parks department is here, Miriam,” Dalton says, trying to keep from smiling.

  Miriam stiffens. “He is certainly no friend of mine. Gloria! Go see what he wants.”

  Gloria puts a fist on her hip. “And I thought that all of the children left for the day.” Miriam shoos her with her hands and Gloria sighs, smiling at Travis. “Hi, Travis! I thought we sent the paperwork back for the gazebo. Didn’t you get it?”

  His eyes are scanning the room and Gloria looks behind her, wondering what he’s looking for. “We did get it.” There’s an awkward pause and he sticks his hands in his coat pockets. “I was just wondering if Lauren has been able to practice at the gazebo and if it worked out okay.” His eyes are still roaming the room and Gloria smiles.

  “Stacy, could you come here for a minute?” Stacy is putting on her coat as Gloria talks across the room to her. “Travis is wondering how the gazebo is working out for you and Lauren?”

  “It’ll be fine,” Stacy says, a bit confused. “Lauren wasn’t there but I took a look at it the other day and it’ll be great.”

  Travis nods, glancing over her head. “Does Lauren need to see it?”

  Stacy looks at Gloria, who’s smiling like a Cheshire cat, and says, “Um. She should see it but she hasn’t been here for two days.”

  He lifts the parks department cap off and scratches the side of his head. “Is she sick?”

  “Nobody knows,” Gloria says. “Stacy’s called. I’ve called. She won’t return any of our messages. I’ve even thought of calling Gordon’s Grocery, where she works in Whitall, to see if she’s there. We’re very concerned about her.”

  Travis takes a step back toward the doors while pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Just let me know if I can help with anything!”

  “Will do, Travis,” Gloria says, waving as he leaves.

  “He didn’t seem to be too interested in what I thought about the gazebo,” Stacy says, watching him get inside his truck. “That sure was helpful of you to let him know where Lauren works. You know, just in case he wants to call and talk about the gazebo.” They look at each other and laugh. “What has happened to her, Gloria? Did something happen with her mom?”

  Gloria shakes her head. “I wish I knew. I wish she’d open the door and let some of us in.”

  Cassondra’s words echo in Stacy’s mind and she prays for open doors again as she watches Travis pull away.

  * * *

  Stacy walks inside Clauson’s to let Ben know she’s waiting in the parking lot. His line is long as shoppers wait for a message from him. She watches him chat with a customer as he bags the groceries and her heart swells. This isn’t what she’d imagined for Ben when she was pregnant with him. She thought of sports and college and a good-paying job that would provide for his ever-in
creasing family. She and Jacob hadn’t pictured long days at the end of a cashier’s line and tossing canned tuna, grapes, and milk into plastic bags, yet through every doctor’s appointment and stent adjustment for Ben, she has discovered that even broken dreams are a means of grace that she and her family may not have come to any other way. A year into this job and Ben is content and happy. She wishes again that she could be more like him: always hopeful, always observing, and always caring. He has taught her more about grace and hope than anyone, and her eyes glisten watching him. She waves when he notices her and he finishes bagging for the final customer in his line before clocking out and meeting her at the front of the store.

  “How was your day, my love?” she asks.

  “Good! We’re getting busier.” He zips his coat as he waves to the cashiers and the employees behind the customer service counter before exiting.

  Stacy unlocks the car doors and as she gets in she says, “Did you see the friend you wanted to ride on top of the carriage with you?”

  His face looks concerned. “No. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “Well, some people only go to the grocery store once a week. Don’t worry. She’ll be back in.”

  Ben reaches for the seat belt and buckles himself in. “I hope so. She kind of seems sad to me.”

  Stacy looks at him. “I know a girl like that, too.”

  “What do you do for her?”

  She smiles. “Probably not enough but I try to be kind and encourage her and I pray for her.”

  “That’s what I do, Mom. I hope it works.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Miriam opens the door to Thrifty Seconds, determined to find some last-minute discoveries for the silent auction. She makes her way through the aisle of home goods and picks up several pieces of artwork, glass vases, and dinnerware but nothing that is worth much. She moves into a section displaying furniture, but everything is worn out and tired. Hoping the book section will offer some hidden treasure, she takes several minutes to scan through the titles. Disappointed, she walks to an aisle that holds lamps and an array of knickknacks, then sighs when she sees the lack of prizes in this aisle as well. A pretty younger woman stands at the end of the aisle, and when she takes a step back, Miriam notices a wooden box and wonders if it could work as a replacement for Cassondra’s. She walks closer to the box and reaches for it just as the other woman does.

  “I’m so sorry,” Miriam says. “Were you looking at that?”

  The woman withdraws her hand and smiles. “Not really but sort of.” She laughs at herself. “That didn’t make any sense. This looks exactly like a box I gave my husband to take to his office. I got it for him because I thought it was one-of-a-kind, however, seeing this one makes me believe that it wasn’t so unique after all.”

  “Did you want to get it? You were reaching for it first. I was just going to look at it because I was hoping it might replace a box that was inadvertently thrown away for a silent auction I’m helping with.”

  “No, no!” The woman picks up the box and lifts the lid. “I didn’t know if I would buy it. I was just so curious when I saw it because it looks so much like the box I purchased a couple of years ago.” She closes the lid and looks at the writing on the top. She shakes her head. “I remember it had this verse and everything.” She hands the box to Miriam. “What is the silent auction for?”

  Miriam holds the box and runs her fingers over the engraving on top. “Glory’s Place. We hold a fund-raiser each year but this year we’re also having a sing-a-thon in the gazebo on the day of the parade. We’ll have lots of silent auction items out there for sale. You should come.”

  “We make it to the parade every year. Our kids love it.” She extends her hand to Miriam. “I’m Meghan Andrews.”

  “Miriam Davies. Lovely to meet you. Would you like to purchase the box?”

  Meghan shakes her head. “No. You should buy it for the auction. As a matter of fact, could I purchase it for you? It’d be my donation to the auction.”

  “Of course! Yes! That’s very kind of you.” She walks with Meghan to the front of the store.

  “Maybe I’ll end up buying it on the day of the auction,” Meghan says.

  “That would be wonderful! We do hope to have it filled with lovely pieces of stationery and pens.”

  Meghan pays for the box and hands it over to Miriam. “I hope we get to see you that day and that it’s your best fund-raiser ever!”

  “Thank you, dear.” She feels a tad awful that she has already forgotten the woman’s name. “And thank you again for this lovely donation.”

  * * *

  Lauren slides her card into the time clock and grabs her coat and bag from her locker. She has stopped checking her messages because she cannot bear to hear Stacy’s and Miss Glory’s voices asking her if everything is okay. She hasn’t looked at e-mail, either. She smiles at Jay and one of the cashiers who catch her eye on her way out of the store, and is digging in her bag for her keys when the front doors slide open.

  “Hi, Lauren.”

  She lets the keys fall back into her bag. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was just driving through,” Travis says. He looks at her and shuffles his feet. “Actually, that’s not true. I drove here on purpose.”

  This is the first time she’s seen him without his parks department clothing. He’s wearing jeans and a flannel shirt and Carhartt coat. “Why?”

  He sticks his bare hands into his pockets to keep warm. “Could we go somewhere else and talk?”

  They are quiet inside the cab of his truck as Lauren directs him to a coffee shop just up the road. “Do they have real food in here?” Travis asks, turning into the parking lot. “I mean, besides crumpets and coffee, because I haven’t eaten dinner and I’m…”

  She laughs. “Yeah, they have sandwiches.”

  “That’s awesome! I could eat a sandwich at every meal.” He notices that she smiles and he feels more relaxed.

  The coffee shop is filled with hipsters sporting beards, big glasses, knit caps, and flannel shirts, and Travis looks down at his own flannel shirt. “Do you think these guys will try to recruit me into their club?”

  Lauren laughs, sitting down in a booth. “No. You have to have the beard and the right kind of boots. Your boots are clearly park department boots, not hipster boots.”

  He folds his hands in front of him on the table. “So how are you?”

  She shrugs, looking away. “Fine. Busy with work.”

  He nods, taking a menu from the waiter. “A Coke is great,” he says when asked what he’d like to drink.

  “Same,” Lauren says, avoiding Travis’s eyes.

  Travis keeps the menu closed and looks at her. “Nobody’s been able to reach you, so everyone at Glory’s Place is pretty worried.”

  “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t been able to make it there.”

  “So busy that you can’t even return phone calls?” The waiter returns and they place an order for a roast beef sandwich with Swiss cheese and a turkey club sandwich, each with a side of potato salad. “So what’s up?” Not wanting to talk, she looks down at the table. “You seemed to really like helping at Glory’s Place.”

  “I do like it,” she says, glancing up at him.

  “So why the big freeze?”

  She feels her throat tightening and holds back tears. “I don’t belong there.”

  He leans onto the table. “You don’t belong at a place that helps children? I don’t get what you’re saying.”

  Tears are filling her eyes but she wills them back. “I thought things would be different if I helped but they’re not. They’re the same.”

  He’s watching her, trying to meet her eyes but she keeps avoiding his. “I didn’t think you knew anyone in Grandon. I thought helping at Glory’s Place was new for you. How are things the same?”

  His voice is low and kind, and despite Lauren’s best efforts to keep them at bay, a tear sneaks down her cheek. “My mom is the same. I’m
the same. My life is the same.”

  He wants to take hold of her face and force her to look at him, but instead he leans back, clasping his hands in his lap. “Of course you’re the same. You’re the person that everybody wants at Glory’s Place.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t belong there.”

  “You keep saying that but I don’t know what it means. Everyone there is wondering what happened to you. They told me they keep calling you. You were a huge help and now you’re just gone. I know I’m a guy and I can be really stupid, but can you help a nonhipster doofus out?”

  Lauren laughs and swipes the tear off her cheek. “You’re not a doofus.”

  “I must be because I really don’t get it.”

  She looks at him and smiles. “I wanted a family for Christmas. I’ve been in a lot of homes all my life, and even though a lot of them were great people, I never felt like a part of the family. When I was in Grandon I began to feel like I was part of some kind of family. Then my mom contacted me and said she wanted to meet me for dinner a few days ago but she never showed up.” The words are coming slower now and she shuts her eyes, holding them closed with her fingers, as tears squeeze out between the lids.

  “I waited so long for her and she kept saying that she was coming and I believed her. I left the restaurant and realized that nothing has changed in my life. Everything is exactly the same.” She uses a napkin to catch the tears and forces herself to look at Travis. His smile is soft as he leans forward onto the table.

  “Your mom may be exactly the same but you’re not. You’re a rock star to those kids at Glory’s Place. Miss Glory told me that they keep asking where you are and when you’re coming back. It doesn’t matter to them who your mom is or what she does or doesn’t do. They love you. Miss Glory and Stacy love you.”

  “They don’t know me.”

  He nods his head. “Oh, yes they do! They know that you show up. You care about kids who aren’t even yours. You drive an hour one way just to help them. I don’t know your mom but I doubt she is someone who would do that. And I worked with your dad and I know for a fact that he’s not someone who would do that. You say that everything is the same, but actually, everything is different, mostly you.”