by Leah Atwood
His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t found one of the famous candy cane wishes since two Christmases ago. All last year he’d searched for one to no avail. He’d never forget the first one he found—he’d needed it that first year after Deana left. The divorce hadn’t been finalized yet, and he’d thrown himself into work to avoid the loneliness. It hadn’t worked, not really.
In his darkest moment, he’d wondered how he could go on—desperation weighed down on his shoulders until simply standing demanded all the energy he possessed. Then he’d found it. A nondescript candy cane with a small note that said You are not alone. Isaiah 41:10.
He’d looked up the verse from his phone before he’d reached his car. Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with My righteous right hand. That single verse of Scripture had been the beginning of his healing. He was a child of God and never alone.
Anxious to escape the freezing temperature, he tucked this year’s wish and candy cane into the side pocket of his camera bag and hurried to his car. Who’s behind the candy canes? He asked year after year, but no one knew the answer. Not that they’d admit to at least. His journalistic mind wanted to know the person behind the tradition. If he could find out who, he’d have a hit story on his hands.
Five hours later, he’d turned in his article, overslept on his nap, and arrived at the church half an hour later than he’d planned. By the other cars pulling into the lot, it appeared others were arriving late as well. He didn’t see the church bus, which meant it had already left to pick up the tenants of the homeless shelter.
He wrapped the scarf around his neck then jumped out of his blue sedan. The already freezing temperature had dropped lower, dipping into the low twenties with a wind chill in the teens. He hunched his shoulders and held his hat on his head as he ran into the large fellowship hall.
Once he’d hung his coat and hat on the rack along the wall in the foyer, he entered the large room to a flurry of activity. Men carried tables and set them upright and circled them with metal folding chairs. Women followed behind them to decorate the tables as they were ready.
Seeing the preparations already running so far behind filled Donovan with guilt for oversleeping. The meal would start in less than an hour, and a lot of work remained to be done. He caught up with Pastor Jessup who was busy extending the legs of a table. “Where do you need my help?”
Pastor Jessup looked up, a hint of stress tugging at the corners of his eyes. “Can you follow behind us and take over with the chairs? We’ve never run this far behind, but Milo Wilston, who usually comes in the early afternoon to set up, had an accident this morning.”
“Is he okay?” Donovan had a soft spot for the Korean War veteran whose age never slowed him down.
“Other than a fractured wrist, he is fine, but the doctors are keeping him overnight for observation.” One side of the pastor’s mouth curled up into a wry smirk. “I’m sure you can imagine how that went over with him.”
Donovan laughed and helped Pastor Jessup set the table upright. “He’ll give the nurses a run for their money.”
“I plan to stop in and visit with him after tonight’s meal.” Pastor Jessup winked. “Take him a piece of Dottie May’s sheet pan pecan pie.”
“That’s almost worth landing in the hospital for.” His gaze traveled to the three tables lined with desert, and his stomach rumbled. Nativity Community Church counted the best bakers in the county among its members. If there were any leftovers, maybe he’d snatch a piece at the end of the night.
He left the conversation and embarked on his task. Ten minutes before the doors opened, every table the church owned had been set up in the fellowship hall along with every folding chair in the building. Each table had a Christmas plaid tablecloth and a floral arrangement in a glass jar with a ribbon tied around it.
The kitchen volunteers formed a serving line, while a second crew remained in the kitchen preparing to-go containers for those who couldn’t stay and eat. A third group—the teens led by the youth pastor—positioned themselves as backup. They’d act as the runners for the evening, bringing fresh food to the serving line when the trays ran low.
The after-Thanksgiving meal had grown into a massive undertaking, but the entire church worked in unison to pull it off. No one would know the frenzy of the last hour that had occurred to bring this together. All their guests would see was a hot meal and a church welcoming them with open arms.
Two minutes to show time, Donovan stood at the beginning of the serving line. He’d assist any families with children, or guests with disabilities, with getting their food and transporting it to a table. Several others held the same role, and it was Donovan’s favorite part of the evening. He enjoyed serving others, but he especially loved the interaction with people and having the opportunity to hear their stories.
He liked to believe it’s what made him a good journalist, and it’s why he stayed in Nativity, even when bigger opportunities had called. Yes, he often filled more roles than his job title listed since The Daily Nativity was a small operation compared to national newspapers—even the larger state brands—but it had heart and a sincere dedication to serve the community.
The church doors opened, and a flood of guests entered the fellowship hall. An elderly gentleman had the first spot. He wore an outdated, threadbare brown suit. His hands shook, but he accepted a plate with a smile on his weathered face. He shuffled slowly from one spot to the next as each lady placed a scoop of food on his plate. He gave each of them a profuse thank you.
Donovan watched him closely, noticing the increasing shake in the man’s hands, but the food didn’t appear in danger of falling. A fine line existed between offering help and saving dignity. Walking behind the serving line, Donovan knew how to do both. He met the man at the end of the tables. “What would you like to drink, sir? I’ll grab it for you and bring it to your seat.”
The man didn’t argue, only issued a grateful and understanding smile. “A sweetened tea would be just fine, thank you.”
“Coming right up.” Donovan walked to the drink table and reached for a pre-poured cup of tea. He scanned the fellowship hall to see where the man had sat, then approached him.
The man bowed his head, and his lips moved. Donovan realized he was praying, and he stood silently until the man lifted his head before setting the drink in front of him.
“This is a wonderful thing your church does,” the man said in a gravelly voice. “My wife and I never had children, and since she died, I spend my holidays alone. This is the one day I look forward to and don’t feel so dreadfully lonely.”
Empathy and compassion sprung in Donovan. “It’s the least we can do. What is your name, sir?”
“Gary. Gary Randall.”
“Nice to meet you, Gary.” He extended a hand. “I’m Donovan Byrne, and you’re welcome to come here anytime.”
“I don’t get out much, but I do watch some of those TV preachers from time to time.”
“Even so, know you always have a place here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Gary’s gaze dropped to his food.
When did he last have a home-cooked meal? “Enjoy your meal. If you need anything, just flag me down.”
Donovan returned to the serving line, freeing the man to eat. He spotted James Akron at the far door and hurried to speak with him for a minute before resuming his tasks. “Have a second?”
“Sure.” The rotund man had a high-pitched voice that didn’t match what one would expect him to sound like, but his enthusiasm for life and Jesus outshone every other quality about him.
“See that man wearing the brown suit in the third row of tables?” He tilted his head in that direction.
“Yes. I believe he came last year.” James tapped his chin. “Name’s Gary, I believe.”
“Gary Randall.”
James nodded. “Yes, now I remember.”
“He’s lonely, mentioned
he doesn’t get out much.” Compassion for the man filled him anew. “Could you spend some time talking to him? Maybe share some of the activities and services we offer for seniors?”
“Say no more.” A wide grin stretched across James’ mouth. “It’s one of the many things I love about being the senior adult leader.”
“Thanks.” Spotting a family with four young children and all volunteers helping others, Donovan rushed to assist. He grabbed two trays to carry the plates for the kids, following the parents’ instructions on what foods the little ones would eat.
The remainder of the evening passed in a blur, and once every person had been served, eaten, and left, cleanup began. The church hired a cleaning crew to come in twice a week, but this mess went beyond their scope.
Donovan went up and down each aisle with the rolling trashcan, discarding all the plates and food left on the tables. Once finished, he tied off the bag and carried it to the dumpster outside behind the fellowship all. Getting rid of all the trash would take several trips.
He had his hand on the door, about to re-enter the church, when a movement caught his eye. The overhead lights provided enough light to see Zoe Daniels bent over with her fingers wrapped around an object. He peered more closely. A candy cane.
Was it one of the candy canes?
“Zoe? What are you doing out in the cold?”
She jerked upright. “I, uh, was walking to my car when I spotted this on the ground.” She held up the peppermint candy. “It’s one of those candy canes someone leaves around town.”
“What does it say?”
“I haven’t looked yet.” She glanced down and held the message part straight. “For nothing will be impossible with God.”
“From Luke, when the angel appeared to Mary.”
She broke into a smile. “That’s right. It’s always been one of my favorite verses.”
“I’m glad you found it.” Donovan rubbed his bare hands then blew into them. “Have a good night, and drive safe. It’s going to be icy still.”
“I will.”
As he gathered the other trash, the encounter with Zoe stuck with him. She’d begun attending about five years ago, but he didn’t know her well. Although friendly, she kept to herself and connected more with the ladies twice her age than those in her own demographic. He’d heard through the grapevine that she was a widow, and he assumed that somehow accounted for the unusual connections she made.
But something didn’t add up. Why would she have left through the back door to go to her car? The parking lot covered several acres on the opposite side of the church, and no parking was available where she’d been headed.
Then she’d fumbled on her words when he’d asked an innocent question.
Could she be the benefactor?
The candy canes did start appearing five years ago—Zoe’s first Christmas in Nativity.
Curiosity latched onto him and wouldn’t let go. His gut instinct said Zoe was the mystery person.
But why would she risk distributing any on church property while a dozen people remained on the premises?
More questions than answers flew through his mind. He needed a plan.
He knew from past years that a fresh batch of candy canes was distributed around town every night between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Would it be weird to follow her home and see where she stopped? He’d have to hurry to catch up to her. Pursing his lips, he shook his head. That might be taking it too far.
However, if he made an educated guess about where she might go tonight, and they both happened to show up, that would be a different story.
Chapter Three
Zoe breathed a deep sigh. She sat in her car, replaying the events of an hour ago. Her careless actions had almost disclosed her identity as the candy cane giver. She’d watched the back door for fifteen minutes without seeing a single person enter or exit. How was she to know Donovan Byrne would be out there? She must have been outside already, absorbed in her mission when he’d exited the building.
She’d performed a decent cover-up. People expected to see the candy canes in random places so it wouldn’t be strange to find one on the way to the youth building. Regardless, she’d have to exercise more caution in the future in order to keep her secret.
The thought of exposure threatened to break her out in hives. She didn’t want to be known, didn’t want the attention. Had received enough of it in her past to last a lifetime. She only wanted to make a difference in people’s lives, even through a brief message on a small candy cane. If igniting an ember of hope in one lonely soul was all that she accomplished, then that would be enough.
Headlights interrupted her musings. She looked up to see a car parking in the spot across from her. The passengers got out and went on their way with smiles and laughter like countless others had before them. Whatever problems they faced were shoved aside to live in the moment.
A shot of jealousy ran through her veins. She’d been part of that group once upon a time. Not of those specific people, but of the Christmas shoppers out with friends to enjoy the holidays … who stopped at the coffee shop to indulge in an eggnog latte before hitting the stores … who tried on ugly sweaters for the fun of it and laughed in the mirror as she looped arms with her friends.
But she’d lost all that and more. So much more.
Don’t go down that road.
She’d come far, but the grief had a habit of erupting at unexpected times. No tears came this time, though—a positive sign of the progress she’d made over the years. She closed her eyes, drew a long breath from the depths of her stomach, and clenched her fists, tightened her shoulders.
Ever so slowly, she exhaled and relaxed her muscles. The moment of tension slid away, replaced by a focus on her mission. She’d come to the mall to kill time shopping before passing out more candy canes, and that’s what she would do. A small setback-inducing trip down memory lane wouldn’t deter her.
Snow crunched under her feet and got into her shoe when she exited her car. That’s what she got for parking next to a plowed pile. Then again, her flat dress shoes weren’t an ideal choice for the weather. She’d chosen her boots first, then decided flats presented a better option since she’d be on her feet all evening. Leaning against the car, she removed her shoe and dumped out the snow.
Her foot didn’t warm on the way inside or as she walked around. The idea crossed her mind to find a bathroom and stick her foot under a hand dryer, but she bought a pair of socks and new shoes instead. Money wasn’t a concern, and even if it were, she needed a new pair of tennis shoes, anyway.
Before leaving the shoe store, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked like the people she used to make fun in college at Columbia—those who wore sneakers with professional outfits. She had promised herself she’d never do that no matter how much walking she had planned. I’ve grown up since then. I’m not even sure there’s a semblance left in me of that young girl.
Taking a left, she headed toward Marcy’s Department Store for a snack of freshly roasted pecans. Although it was too late for a full meal, her stomach begged for food. Only small portions of food remained after the dinner at church, and she couldn’t bring herself to accept any of it. Not when she knew Mike and Lori Druthers had worked hard to serve the community’s needy all evening, all while facing financial difficulties of their own. The leftovers could feed their family for a night, possibly two.
She ordered her pecans and ate them as she wandered the mall, not caring who saw her in the clashing outfit. Her feet were warm, dry, and comfortable—that’s all that mattered to her. She snuck into every women’s bathroom she passed, and if it was empty, she left a candy cane by each sink.
Several times, she’d duck into a store that didn’t appear too busy with a constant stream of patrons coming in and out of the dressing rooms and she’d ask to try on a shirt. Instead of trying it on, she’d stand there for several seconds, then emerge with a candy cane left behind. Whether it was found the next day,
or that night by an employee cleaning, she prayed the candy cane and hand-written note would serve its purpose.
A closing announcement came from the mall’s PA system. Attention all shoppers. The mall will close in thirty minutes, and we ask that you finish your final purchases. We will reopen tomorrow at eight a.m. for your convenience. Thank you for making the Mall of Nativity your shopping destination this Christmas.
Zoe threw away the paper cone her pecans had come in and made her way to the food court for a hot chocolate before Miss Kandy’s Konfections shut down for the night. She’d need the warmth in her shortly and the sugary drink would complement the pecans she’d eaten. Okay, okay. Not really, but it sounds like a good excuse to have one.
She carried the hot chocolate to her car and drove to the post office with plans to return to the mall in an hour once the employees had left. In the meantime, she had other stops to make. Even though it didn’t make sense to backtrack, there were nights she didn’t want to be alone in her apartment, tonight included.
The trip to the post office had to be timed just right. The day crew left no later than seven, but a twenty-four-hour pharmacy had been built next door with any number of customers coming in and out at any given time, increasing her risk of being spotted. She’d almost been caught the last two years, but then she realized she’d been going soon after the two urgent care clinics closed and sent their last patients there to fill prescriptions. If she pushed her time back a half hour further, there were fewer customers at the pharmacy.
A line extending twelve cars waited at the traffic light to leave the mall. Zoe sipped her hot chocolate between outbursts of Christmas carols. Nothing could take away her love of the holiday music. Even that first Christmas after life changed forever, she’d sing along with them, albeit in a small whisper and often in the midst of tears.
