by Mary Manners
“Are they yours, Uncle Ben? Did you used to wear them?”
“They were…once.” Ben tried to forget…to force the memories from his mind, but they washed over him with the force of a raging thunderstorm. “And yes, I did wear them a long time ago.”
“But why?” Abree’s mouth twisted into a pout. Clearly, she had no comprehension. “They’re so scary.”
“Yes, they’re ugly. I’m ashamed to say I wore them when I was in high school, but they should have been tossed years ago.” Ben gathered the box in his arms and headed toward the kitchen, where a trash bin was hidden beneath the cooking island. “I don’t know why I kept them.”
“Maybe you still like them.” The heels of the boots clunked over tile as Abree followed him. “Maybe—”
“I don’t.” He shook his head firmly, crushing the box to make it fit into the bin. Sometimes Abree bewildered him with the way she sounded like an analytical adult trapped in a miniature body. “I really didn’t back then, either. I was very confused and misguided so I just thought…”
What had he been thinking? Like smoke rising from a bonfire, memories swelled in him, bringing feelings of resentment that he thought were long dead. Now that they’d resurfaced, would he bow to them once again? Ben’s blood chilled at the horrifying thought and his head swayed in silent answer.
An angry man stirs up dissension, and a hot-tempered one commits many sins. Proverbs 29:22 washed over him. No, he would not cave to the resentment and tumble into the dark crevasse that had once served as a cold, stark dwelling for his heart.
Abree headed to the doorway where the rest of the discarded clothes sat in a pile on the floor. She scooped up a mound of fabric. “What about these?”
Ben studied the pair of faded jeans, now several sizes too small for him, that Abree held up. The knees were nothing more than torn shreds of denim and suddenly a vision flashed clear and bright as if it had happened just yesterday—him scraping tender skin against wood as he launched himself through the second-story window of a framed, white house to land below in a blood-red knockout rose bush in full bloom. Thorns gnawed into his flesh, raking welts along the tender skin. Ben gasped; his left forearm still carried a crisscrossed quilt of scars. He rolled back his shirt sleeve and ran his fingers along the raised flesh, feeling the fiery sting of pain once again.
“They need to go, too.” Ben forced away the memory as he readjusted his sleeve and pressed his forearm to his side to hide the evidence of the wound. He motioned to Abree. “Bring them over.”
“But, Uncle Ben, when we outgrow our clothes, Mama donates them to the resale shop so someone else can use them.” She crooked a finger at him. “Don’tcha wanna do that instead of throwing these away?”
“No.” Ben shook his head. No room for argument here. “Nobody will want to wear them.”
“Are you sure?” Undeterred by his no-nonsense tone, Abree captured her lower lip and gnawed for a moment. She wiggled her tongue into the space her loose teeth created before letting it go. “But you wore them.”
“Yes, I wore them a long time ago when I was young and foolish.” He’d rather burn the shirts and the jeans than take the chance they’d fall into the hands of a kid who’d think wearing them was cool. But that wasn’t an option right now, so stuffing them into the trashcan would have to do—the way he’d stuffed the memories of his terrible transgressions deep down inside so long ago.
“You’ve never been foolish, Uncle Ben. You’re the smartest grown-up I know. Well…maybe except for my teacher, Miss Sims. She knows an awful lot—like the names of the planets and how to find China on a map.”
“Is that so?”
“Uh huh. So it’s a tie…you, Miss Sims, and Mama.” Abree patted Oscar’s head as the dog ambled over to give the opened trash bin a sniff. He peeled off a sharp bark. “See, Oscar thinks so, too.”
Ahh. From the mouths of babes…and animal shelter mutts...
“Well, Oscar’s smarts only go so far. He drinks water from the toilet bowl sometimes, you know.”
“Oooh…yuck.” Abree wrinkled her nose as she took a giant step back from the overgrown canine. “That’s…dis—dis—”
“Disgusting, I know.” Ben waggled his fingers at her. “Just bring me those jeans and I’ll get this all thrown away before it…well, before it has a chance to make a wrong impression on anyone.”
“Well, okay…” Abree gathered the jeans in her tiny hands and started over. One leg of fabric flopped behind, dragging along the wood. As she handed the denim to Ben, something dropped from the pocket to the floor. As it bounced over wood, it caught the light—a tinkling shimmer of silver—before finally coming to rest at Ben’s feet.
“Ooh…pretty. Look, it’s got a picture inside.” Abree reached for the necklace. “It’s a—”
“No! Don’t touch that.” A line of sweat scalded the nape of Ben’s neck as memories from the past rose up once again in a firestorm of unwelcomed emotions. His pulse stammered and his breath caught on a single, painful gasp before launching into an all-out assault to his system. For a moment, he felt sure the rapid pace would cause his heart to explode like an active grenade.
“Why?” Abree ignored his warning as she took a step forward. “I don’t understand, Uncle Ben. It’s so pretty.”
“Stay back. Wait!” Ben’s voice bit the air.
“O…okay.” Abree paused. She glanced up at him with huge, fawn-like eyes as her lower lip quivered. “But, Uncle Ben…”
“I’m sorry.” Ben gathered her in as a sniffle broke through and she slumped over like a deflated balloon.
She sniffled as a single tear spilled over to trail down her left cheek.
“I didn’t mean to be short-tempered with you.” He inhaled the scents of peanut butter and chocolate milk as he wrapped his arms around her and held tight.
“It’s okay.” Abree pressed a small, cool palm to his cheek, stroking gently as she wiggled from his grasp. “Are you sick, Uncle Ben? You feel hot and your cheeks look gray, like Mama’s do when she gets one of those real bad headaches.”
“They’re called migraines.” Yes, his head ached with the pulsing echo that assaulted both of his weary temples. He could barely form a single word; his tongue felt like an oversized, dry sponge. He opened his mouth and waited for the right words to come. “Just…give me a minute…”
“Oh, wow, it’s so pretty.” Abree seemed to forget his warning as her hand left his cheek and she raced across the room to snatch the piece of jewelry from the floor. Each thump of the boots proved a sledgehammer to Ben’s thrumming skull. “It’s a heart…and it opens, Uncle Ben.”
Yes, he remembered now…full disclosure. Inside they’d find a pair of women’s faces—older women with eyes as bright as gemstones and bowed lips that seemed to know all his secrets. The images were burned into his memory.
Abree was undeterred by his silence as she chattered on. “What do you call this kind of necklace?”
“It’s a…” Ben sat mesmerized by the shimmer of silver as he sifted through the wad of cotton lodged in his throat to summon an answer. “It’s a locket.”
“Right, a locket,” Abree parroted as she slipped a sliver of fingernail into the slight crevice at the center of the oversized heart. The size of a half-dollar, the polished silver would prove impossible to miss while worn—or while tucked neatly into a jewelry box. The embellished heart opened and Abree gaped at what she found there. “Who are these ladies inside?”
“I’m not sure.” Ben studied the images, though he remembered every detail without so much as a second glance. How could he have forgotten the way he’d hurriedly crammed the silver into his pocket, thinking it was worth money beyond his wildest dreams, as he scrambled from the room that long-ago August afternoon, the house alarm screeching in protest? It all came rushing back now…every glimmer of that moment in time, as if each composed a series of images in a slow-motion movie reel.
“Then how’d it get in your pocket?” A
bree brushed a corkscrew curl from her pretty blue eyes. A smudge of grape jelly from her after-school snack clung to one cheek. “Did you put it there?”
“I did…a long time ago.”
“Why? Do the ladies know?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” Difficult questions, for sure. Ben failed to form a cohesive answer—at least one a five-year-old might understand—so he settled for, “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it now.”
“Mama says talking things out usually makes them better. Like when I have a bad dream, and I can’t fall back to sleep.”
“This isn’t a dream, Abree.” Ben shook his head firmly. “So, no, I don’t want to talk about it here…like this.”
“Well, what’re you gonna do with the locket now?” Abree watched as the nugget of silver swung by the chain in her fingertips, sparkling beneath the overhead lights. “Maybe you should call these ladies. Maybe they want their locket back.”
“It’s a little late for that.” Or…was it?
“So, you’re just gonna keep it? I don’t think Mama would like that. She would say—”
“I know what your mother would say, Abree. Remember, she’s my sister. She’s been telling me things for…well, forever.”
“Uh huh.” Abree tilted her head to the side as Oscar settled on his haunches beside her. “Do you want me to put it back in the pocket, then?”
“No. Hand it to me.”
Abree dropped the cool silver into Ben’s palm, and the pair of faces, frozen in glossy black-and-white photo paper, gaped up at him. For a moment, Ben found himself transported back in time. Sirens wailed and a voice shouted. His knees, skinned and bloodied from their battle with the second-story window ledge, throbbed in time to the searing scratches along his forearms as he fought his way out of the thorny rose bush and took off running. The day was hot, the sunlight a torch of fire against the back of his damp black T-shirt. Sweat dripped into his eyes, turning a shimmer of neatly-manicured grass to muddled waves. Something—someone—body-slammed him and he tripped, stumbled. The breath rushed out of him as he sledgehammered the concrete sidewalk. A weight fell on him—someone much larger and stronger—and his arms were wrenched back and pinned behind him at an impossible angle. The pain came in a hot slash of pain as something in his shoulder tore. The day went black as his knees weakened in a wave of agony. The voice, gruff and angry, veiled over him in a condescending threat as he fought for air, for breath…for life. Darkness closed in as he began to suffocate—
“Are you okay?” Abree’s tug on the hem of Ben’s suit jacket coaxed him back. “You look real sick, Uncle Ben. Are you gonna throw up? Sometimes Mama does when her head hurts real bad.”
“I’m okay.” But Ben shuddered and rubbed his shoulder as the memory faded. It had taken months for the tear to heal, and even now, on cold, damp days, he still experienced a slight throbbing. He sucked in a single, deep breath as his vision cleared. Sunlight streamed through the living room windows, but its warmth failed to chase away the chill that had seeped into his bones. “I’ll be fine.”
But he wasn’t…at the moment, he was anything but fine.
If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. The promise from 1 John 1:9 washed over Ben to reassure him. He’d confessed to his Heavenly Father several years ago, the horrible events of that afternoon—as well as the days and nights leading up to it—and had found a sense of peace. But that peace had come before he realized he still had the locket. Now, he knew there was more work to be done before Divine calm could have any chance to be permanently his.
He had to return the locket to its rightful owner. But, after all the time that had passed, who, exactly, might that be?
~ About Mary Manners ~
Where friendship blossoms and love blooms…
Mary Manners lives in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee with her husband Tim and their rescue dog Axel, mischievous cats Colby and Rascal, a dozen rambunctious chickens, and 13 fish.
Mary writes small-town family romances laced with faith, hope, and humor. Her books have earned multiple accolades including two Inspirational Reader’s Choice Awards, the Gail Wilson Award of Excellence, the Aspen Gold, the Heart of Excellence, and the National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award.
Mary loves long sunrise runs, Smoky Mountain sunsets, flavored coffee, and chocolate…lots of chocolate.
~ More Titles by Mary Manners ~
Honeysuckle Cove Series
Sunrise at Honeysuckle Cove
Beyond the Storm
Honeysuckle Cove Secrets
Showered by Love
Moonlight Kisses
Sweet Tea and Summer Dreams
A Pair of Promises
Honeysuckle Cove Collection 1 - Kindle
Honeysuckle Cove Collection 1 - Print
Diamond Knot Dreams Series
A Tender Season (Diamond Knot Dreams Prequel)
Veiled Gems
Jeweled Dreams
Precious Fire
Crystal Wishes
Diamond Knot Dreams: The Collection - Kindle
Diamond Knot Dreams: The Collection - Print
The Mulvaney Sisters Series
Love on a Dare (The Mulvaney Sisters: Alana)
Captive at Sea (The Mulvaney Sisters: Claire)
Landing in Love (The Mulvaney Sisters: Erin)
Serenity Lake Series
Dream Come True
Christmas Collections
Love at Christmas Inn: Collection 1
Love at Christmas Inn: Collection 2
Stand-alone Titles
Promises Renewed
Tragedy and Trust
Hopes and Kisses (A Sweet Little Sequel to Tragedy and Trust)
Proven Love
A Pocketful of Wishes
Winter Wishes and Snowflake Kisses
Seasoned Lies
~ Connect with Mary Manners ~
I hope you enjoyed reading Christmas in Miracle Cove. If you did, please consider leaving a short review on Amazon. Positive reviews and word-of-mouth recommendations honor an author while also helping fellow readers to find quality fiction to read.
Thank you so much!
If you’d like to receive information on new releases, please follow me here: Author Page.
Want to join the fun on my street team and help spread the word about my books? Find information here: Mary Manners Page Turners
Please visit my website for more of my books:
www.MaryMannersRomance.com
You can also find me on social media:
