As Pastor Garman was fond of saying, however, nothing is impossible with God. Was that what was happening? Josh wondered. Was all this some unbelievable, divine plan for his life? Because if it was, it was certainly nothing like the way he had envisioned his future before coming here.
For the first time since his decision to follow Jesus and join the church, Josh began to wonder just how far back God’s plans for him might go? If, as the Bible said, God had known him before he was even born, then perhaps his altruism in regard to the struggling old town had been predictable.
Granted, he could still make enough mistakes to thwart any good heavenly influence. That was scripturally clear. So the question then became, What did God want and was it the same thing he, himself, wanted?
Was he willing to take the chance of confessing everything and accept whatever Whitney said and did as a result? Was it possible she might be so angry and disillusioned she’d never speak to him again? The thought of that happening was so depressing it hit him like a punch in the stomach.
The bells on the door tinkled musically. The wreath swung slightly as Whitney swept through. She was all smiles.
Allowing himself to reflect the same elation, he grinned and waved. “Hi. You’re early.”
“I didn’t want to leave my car out in the cold and take a chance on damage to the top, so I walked over. I didn’t know how long that would take me in this weather. I didn’t want you to think I’d stood you up.”
“Never.” Josh chuckled low. “After all the trouble you took to railroad me into agreeing to go with you, I knew you’d show up.”
“Of course.” She made a silly face at him, her eyes sparkling like polished emeralds. “My dad often says he hears train whistles when Mom and I arrange an outing that includes him. Now, of course, he can get out of doing just about anything if he blames his sore knee.”
“My knees are fine,” Josh told her, knowing he was grinning inanely and not caring.
“And your cold is gone?”
“Like I was never sick.” Untying his apron he wadded it into a ball and tossed it into a laundry basket behind the curtain to his workroom. “Matt’s agreed to close up for me tonight so we can get going early. Like you said, it’s going to be really cold later.”
“Wonderful.” She pointed at the counter as if she could see through it. “Still got that classy hat?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to be taken for a foreigner.”
“That is part of the usual dress code around here. Although a feed company hat would make you look more like a real farmer.”
“When I was a kid I wanted to be a cowboy. I suppose this is about as close as I’ll ever get.”
Whitney giggled. “Probably. Next time I pay a call on a feed mill to ask them to advertise in the Gazette, I’ll see if I can get you one of their hats.”
“Thanks. I think.” He slipped his jacket on and zipped it, then squared the red baseball cap on his head, running his hand down the back of his neck. “Feels like I need a haircut.”
“You’re fine. The first time I saw you, you had one of those fancy Hollywood haircuts and it made you look out of place in Bygones.”
“I’m better now?” He scrubbed a palm over his cheek. “Do I need to shave again before we go? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
“You’re fine. Wonderful,” Whitney said, taking his arm. “Dad always claims a day’s growth of whiskers keeps his face warmer in the winter.” She laughed again. “Of course, it’s possible that’s just a good excuse to skip shaving once in a while.”
“Your father is a real character,” Josh said. “I liked him. A lot. And your mother.”
“Good. They thought you were okay, too, especially after all the wonders you performed on Dad’s laptop. I still can’t believe your friend hasn’t marketed his idea. He’d make a fortune.”
“Maybe someday,” Josh said, wondering if this was the opening he’d prayed for. “I imagine it would be lucrative.”
“Well, don’t you worry about things like that,” Whitney said as he led the way to the white van he always drove and held the passenger side door for her. “I’m not the kind who judges a person by his checkbook. As a matter of fact, I think too much money can be a real trial. People who live the way you and I do are much happier and more content, don’t you think?”
Josh circled and slid behind the wheel before answering. “Oh, I don’t know. Money is just a tool. It’s no different than this van. If I drive recklessly I may get hurt or hurt someone else. But if I’m careful, it’s not at all dangerous.”
She was shaking her head as she fastened her seatbelt. “Uh-uh. Bad analogy. The problem is the sense of absolute power that rich folks get. They think they can do anything if they’re wealthy. They can lie and cheat and behave abominably as long as their bank accounts are full enough to bail them out of trouble.”
“Not everyone is like that.” He paused for effect. “Look at the guy you call Mr. Moneybags. He’s doing good, isn’t he?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
When Josh glanced over at her she was frowning and her lips were pressed into a thin line. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the secrecy that bothers me most,” Whitney said. “If there’s nothing for him—or her—to hide, then why be so mysterious?”
Before he had a chance to come up with a plausible reply she added, “I think I may have figured out who it is.”
His hands tightened on the wheel. Was she about to call his bluff? “Really?”
“Uh-huh,” Whitney said, sounding excited. “I think it’s Robert Randall.”
Josh felt as if all the air had suddenly left his lungs and deflated him like a balloon. “Randall? Why him?”
“Because he’s the only one I know with that kind of cash, although there are a few holes in my theory. He claimed he was almost bankrupt when he closed the plant and laid everybody off. If he was fibbing, it’s going to kill Miss Coraline when she finds out.”
“Coraline Connolly? My SOS mentor?”
“Yes.” Whitney lowered her voice and cupped a hand around one side of her mouth despite the fact that they were inside the van where no one could overhear. “She and Robert have been dating.”
“Well, well.” He gave her time to say more. When she didn’t, he asked, “If they’re so fond of each other, why would she doubt that his motives were honorable?”
“A lie is a lie,” Whitney said flatly. “If he cared about her the way she thinks he does, he’d have confided in her long ago.” She brightened. “Hey! Maybe he did and she’s in on the whole thing. The last couple of times I talked to her, I got the impression she knew more than she was letting on. When she wouldn’t show me the original paperwork for the grants, she really set off my internal alarms.”
“Before you go casting blame and make a mistake, maybe it would be a good idea to bide your time.”
“Oh, I will, I will. Which reminds me. I managed to find one of the copies she passed out when this Main Street project began. It had a different email address on it. You can help me figure out who that one belongs to.”
“I told you. I’m not a hacker.”
She sent him a disgruntled look. “Oh, okay. You’re probably right about the legalities and I wouldn’t want to break the law. Are you sure you can’t just bend it a little?”
Not if I want to keep my top-secret clearance to provide essential defense programs to the U.S. government, Josh thought.
All he said was, “Does Pastor Garman know you’re a wannabe sinner?”
Whitney giggled. “No. And don’t you dare tell him.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Park behind the church,” Whitney said, pointing. “There should be room back there.”
“I can’t believe all these cars and pickup trucks. Does the pageant always draw such a big crowd?”
“Usually. Even in bad weather most of the town turns out. I love to come.”
“Still remembering your angel wing
s?”
“Something like that. If you try, you may find yourself imagining being there when this actually happened, although scholars disagree about many of the details.”
“Seasons and travel times for the Magi, you mean?”
Whitney nodded, impressed that he would make a special effort to study Christ’s birth. “You’ve been doing your homework.”
“I figured I should know all I could, particularly if I was going to have to defend my faith.”
“Have you had to?” It gave her a sense of relief when he shook his head and said, “No. Not yet.”
“Well, I suppose you will. I have a terrible time explaining why I believe the way I do. There are times when I envy children their simple faith. Adults tend to muddy the waters with too much logic.”
“I totally agree.”
She chuckled. “That’s a surprise. I’ve never known anybody more rational than you are.”
“Is that a compliment?” Josh asked as he wheeled into an empty parking space.
“I’m reserving judgment,” Whitney said. She climbed out before he could circle the van and open her door for her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to exhibit good manners, she simply wanted to exert her independence.
Josh joined her. “Okay. Where do we go first?”
“Inside the church to get a guide and join a group.”
Leading the way, she couldn’t help feeling elated. Not only was she among old friends, Josh was with her.
As he followed he said, “I was kind of hoping you and I would have some private time. It seems like we’re only together when there are a gazillion other people around.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Whitney told him. “My folks haven’t done any decorating this year. What do you think about us picking up a tree and a pizza and taking it to my house as a surprise for them after we finish here?”
Whitney, who was used to jumping at chances for fun, thought Josh was taking an inordinately long time to decide. She supposed it was only a second or two but it seemed like ages.
When he finally said, “Okay. Sounds good to me,” she almost cheered.
Slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow she urged him forward. “Wonderful! Come on. Let’s see who got to play the angels this year.”
“Probably some kids who are usually in trouble,” he quipped. “Just the way I picture you as a child.”
She had to laugh. “You are getting to know me far too well, Mr. Smith.”
When Josh replied with, “Not nearly as well as I’d like to know you,” Whitney’s breath caught, her insides quivering.
Make up your mind, she lectured herself cynically. Either you want him to get serious about you, or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways.
No, she couldn’t. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared. Her life had been settled and predictable until she’d started to care for Josh so much. If their relationship progressed and grew as intense as the ones she’d been writing about lately, everything would change. It would have to.
Worried, she wondered if she was merely caught up by the epidemic of romances that had filled Bygones in the past six months. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Maybe leading her to imagine love where there was none?
There was only one sensible option. She had to let this relationship develop and see where it took her, because there was no way she was going to walk away from Josh Smith after what he had just said.
*
Sensing Whitney’s reticence, Josh satisfied himself with her company and remained silent as they made their way to the makeshift city of Bethlehem, portrayed as it was over two thousand years ago. The story the guide was telling was obviously a memorized speech but the man delivered it well.
Teens and adults dressed as Roman soldiers accosted the group on the trail as if they were true pilgrims on their way to pay their taxes to Caesar Augustus.
Along the make-believe road were small recreations of huts that represented villages, with occupants who were clad in the robes typical of so long ago. Each place had its communal fire burning inside a rock ring, providing both atmosphere and warmth to the actors.
“I hope they have jackets and boots under those loose robes,” Josh whispered to Whitney. “This is no desert.”
“I’m sure they’re warm enough,” she replied. “When I played an angel my mother insisted I wear three layers of clothes. I kept insisting that angels didn’t get cold.”
“Sounds like you.”
“Thanks, I think.” She laid a finger across her lips. “Shush. We’re almost there.”
Passing through wooden gates, the party was told they were entering Bethlehem. The notes of heralding trumpets sounded over loudspeakers. A spotlight illuminated a group of angels, complete with halos and wings, as one announced the birth of the Savior.
Then, there was the manger scene. Actors bowed before the baby king in the manger and pronounced him Lord while the spectators watched.
Josh felt Whitney take his hand.
“You’re not wearing gloves,” she said. “Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine.”
He knew this was not the time to tell her how her mere presence warmed him all the way to his heart. That would come later, after he had bared his soul and judged her reaction.
Diverting his attention on purpose, he made a subtle gesture with his free hand. “Nice angel. Was that your part?”
“No. I was one of the smaller ones around the manger. Only my arms kept getting really tired.” She grinned up at him. “Mom has a photo of me. I look as if I’m about to collapse and fall asleep on top of baby Jesus.”
Josh gave a quiet laugh. “Cute.”
“I was. At least that’s what everybody said then.”
“You’re still not bad,” he gibed, hoping she’d accept a compliment that wasn’t too flowery. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away before he had a chance to confess his love.
It was that, wasn’t it? He did love Whitney. Being unable to imagine any future without her in it was a sure sign; one he had battled against for weeks.
How would that fit in with his business? he wondered. He supposed he could take Coraline’s advice and think seriously about relocating the headquarters of Barton Technologies. Or, he could continue to handle things the way he had been, by telecommuting and making occasional trips back up to St. Louis. Anything was possible. He’d make it work. For Whitney.
The Magi were arriving, shooing real sheep out of the way and leading a motley group of camels. Josh had to smile. “There’s your other costume choice, right?”
“Right. I figured I’d look better with a halo and wings.”
“Absolutely.” He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze as the narrative continued.
The wise men knelt before the baby and presented their gifts. One of the foil and paper crowns slipped as they did so and tumbled into the manger. The girl playing Mary snatched it off her doll and thrust it at the hapless boy, beating him with it as if he’d purposely harmed her make-believe baby.
Titters erupted from the crowd, including Whitney. The narrator never missed a beat. He mentioned the shepherds, who were present but having no luck keeping their actual sheep from nibbling the hay that was part of the scenery. Thankfully, one was tethered so the others didn’t stray far from it.
Finally, it was time for the journey into exile in flight from Herod’s murderous edict. Everyone rose. Joseph took the halter of the lone donkey and waited while shepherds and Magi helped the girl playing Mary onto its back. All was set for the grand finale. The group started to move off very solemnly—until Mary realized something was amiss.
The audience had seen the error, of course, and there was an undercurrent of whispers and giggles passing among them. In the background, the adult supervisor was waving her arms frantically and trying to signal the earnest children.
Josh had to grit his teeth to keep from erupting in laughter when the girl squealed, slid off the don
key, left all the other players, and hurried back to the manger.
All would have been well if she had simply cradled the doll at that point. She didn’t. She grabbed the pretend baby by its foot and rushed to resume her place in the company of child actors, trailing swaddling and scattering straw to mark her path.
That was all the crowd could take and still remain solemn and respectful. Funny was funny, no matter what the circumstances. And once the peals of laughter began they multiplied like the sands of the desert the players were supposed to be crossing.
Josh could see many shoulders shaking with mirth. Even the play’s director had lost her cool. The poor, red-faced woman had her hands clapped over her mouth to mute her giggles and tears were streaming down her cheeks as she laughed along with nearly everyone else.
Leaning to speak softly to Whitney, Josh said, “Well, you told me it would be memorable.”
She was laughing so hard she had trouble talking. “No…kidding!”
“I’m glad the real Mary took better care of her special baby.”
Recovering, Whitney nodded. “It must have been a heavy burden, knowing who He was and why He’d been born. I can’t imagine.”
“You know, if you consider the problems we all think we have now, ours are nothing.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders as the play concluded and the actors regrouped for their next performance.
“You’re right, of course. I hadn’t made the comparison before. Not really.”
“So, what now?” Josh asked. “Do you still want to pick up a tree and a pizza?”
“If you’re up for it.”
“I am. And I’m starving. How far do we have to go to find a tree?”
“Not far. Last time I looked, there were still some stacked outside the Hometown Grocery the mayor’s wife manages. If we’re not too fussy, one of those should do.”
“It’s up to you,” he replied. “I’ve never bought a dead tree before.”
Love Inspired December 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Cozy ChristmasHer Holiday HeroJingle Bell Romance Page 12
