Leaving clumps of snow in his wake, Josh headed for the steps. “I’ll get my toy rifle. The snow soldier needs a gun.”
The crew reassembled outside. After taping the rifle to the soldier’s curtain-rod arms, Dorie played drill sergeant. “Fall in!” she commanded. Boomer sat at attention while the rest honored their soldier with a salute.
Josh cocked his head to one side. “I think he should be a captain, like Daddy.”
Dorie wept. When Devon died, she didn’t believe she could go on. Somehow she did. But not a day passed without him in her thoughts. Though he’d never lived in this house, his memories were constant, especially every time she looked into Josh’s eyes.
Josh cried too. “I miss Daddy.”
Emma hugged them both.
And Boomer added his whines.
A voice yelled to them from the driveway. “Did you order a pizza, ma’am?”
Pizza and hot chocolate warmed their bellies and bedtime came all too soon. When baths were finished, tired, pajama-clad children climbed into bed. Dorie pulled back Emma’s sheets and handed over Mr. Bear.
Emma bit her lip. “I think he should stay in my chair tonight.” When her head hit the pillow, she rubbed her eyes. “I’m not scared of the dark anymore, Mommy. But Mr. Bear is, so we’d better leave the light on for him.”
Dorie kissed Emma goodnight, turned on her bedside lamp, and clicked off the overhead light.
When she checked in on Josh, she found him on his knees next to his bed, the way Devon prayed—hands folded and chin touching his chest. “Dear God, Mom is really sad. She doesn’t think she should work. Could You help her know Emma and me will be okay if she does? She’s sad all the time. And she said a job would make her happy. Amen.”
It’s time.
Dorie rushed to her room, then brought Devon’s Bible to Josh. “This is your daddy’s. I think you should have it.” Josh sat on his bed and thumbed through its pages, a portrait of blended maturity and vulnerability.
“Can I look at it for a little while?”
“Sure.”
“Did Daddy have a favorite story?”
Devon never mentioned any particular passage as being a favorite. He had highlighted meaningful verses and written notes while he studied Scripture. Dorie read a few of those passages to Josh. He pulled at an envelope that had stuck to one of the pages. “What’s this, Mom?”
She eased the military envelope from the page, taking care not to rip either. Then she sniffed it and caught a hint of Devon’s cologne.
She opened the envelope and pulled out a letter dated the day before he died. Like most of his letters, he began with how much he missed Dorie and the children and how he looked forward to coming home soon. Her heart pounded as she read on with tear-dimmed eyes:
Dorie, I don’t expect you to understand, but I want you to support me in this. Of course, I’ll be home for a short time, but I feel God wants me to come back here. The Lord is moving. I see men, women, and children accepting Jesus as their Savior every day. The insurgency doesn’t want the Christian influence. It isn’t America they fear as much as the Gospel. If I don’t make it back home, honey, I don’t want you to mourn for me. I’m not afraid of death. Whether I live or die, I am Christ’s. I want you to go on with your life, to be happy and free. That’s what I’m fighting for. If you have a chance to get married again, I’d want that for you. You deserve that, my love. If I can’t be there for the children, I trust you to find a good man to help raise them.
She sighed from deep within her soul. Josh clung to her as she closed the letter and put it back in the envelope. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Josh, your daddy wrote me a wonderful letter before he died. He loved us all so very much. He doesn’t want us to be sad. He wants us to remember him with smiles, like Captain Snow Soldier.”
“I don’t want you to be sad any more either, Mom.”
“I know, sweetie. And guess what? I’m keeping my job.”
Josh’s eyes widened with wisdom far beyond his years. “Mom, I’m still a kid. I won’t leave you for a long time, but when I do, I don’t want you to be sad again.”
“When that day comes, I’m sure I will be sad for a little while. I promise you this, though. I’ll always look for sunshine around the corner. No matter what.”
The phone rang and jolted them both.
“Maybe it’s Grandma,” Josh said.
Dorie rushed to answer and checked caller ID. No, not Mom. Gillian.
“I thought I’d give you a call to see how you and the kids were doing. If you need an emergency sitter, I’m available.”
“I appreciate the offer, but you’re so busy—”
“There’s nothing in my schedule I can’t rearrange for a friend’s daughter.”
“I may take you up on that. Jamey said I could enroll the kids into the after-school program until my mother gets back. So I should be okay. It’s still nice to know I have a backup.”
“One never knows. How’s the publicity coming along?”
“I’ll work on an article tonight.”
“Great. See you at next play practice.”
Dorie went downstairs, booted up her laptop, and typed in: Midville Players Set to Open—
Too journalistic.
How should she present the cast? Each member paraded before her. They were parents, store clerks, retirees, teachers, and doctors. And one was a son who’d sacrificed his dream in order to keep the family business afloat. That would be the slant she’d use. The words flowed until the phone rang again. Mom.
Dorie moved from the table to the recliner and swung her legs over the arms. “How’s JJ?”
“Engaged, apparently. He’ll be hobbling on crutches at his wedding. Otherwise, he’s fine. He’ll be home after the physical therapist is certain he can manage the stairs. They’ll put on a different cast in six weeks. By then he’ll be able to bear weight. He and Natasha want to get married on Valentine’s Day.”
“Nice of him to let you know.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. He says they got engaged the night before his accident. When he drove to work the next morning, he didn’t have his mind on the road. He hit one of those monster trucks with his little pickup.”
“Did you meet his fiancée?”
“She’s a dear. And a Christian. JJ says he’s been going to church and rededicated his life to the Lord last week.”
“I’m glad.” Maybe now, JJ would start to grow up.
So, there’d be a wedding to look forward to. Life went on. The world didn’t stop spinning because Dorie Fitzgerald grieved. She forced good wishes for JJ in spite of her own uncertainty.
Daddy always said that a positive attitude was like a coat, and a person could choose to wear it when the hard times rolled in. Thursday she would celebrate Thanksgiving alone with the kids, and she’d make sure they had a good time. She’d cook a turkey with all the trimmings. After dinner, if Captain Snow Soldier survived the expected warmer temperatures, they could build him a fort to guard. She’d take the kids Christmas shopping over the weekend.
Dorie peered at the spiraling snowflakes. Snowdrifts stretched across the street. Let winter rant and rave. The howling of the night couldn’t make her tremble. Perhaps that’s where trust was born—in the belly of the storm.
***
Jamey had been praying since Dorie called.
What more could he do to convince her that Sullivan Enterprises needed her skills? How could he tell her he wanted her there for himself too—especially now that she wasn’t seeing Gabe? Of course, she hadn’t said anything about the breakup. Jamey wouldn’t have known if Gabe hadn’t called, blubbering like a baby.
Even with Gabe out of Dorie’s life, dating her still seemed inappropriate. He was her boss. Besides, Jamey’s life was evolving into one big question mark, and Dorie didn’t need more instability.
Who was he kidding? He had fallen for her, big time. He should forget about common sense and ask her out—see w
here it led. “Lord, I don’t know what’s right. When I asked You to protect her, I didn’t think it might be from me.”
Jamey picked up his script and rehearsed his lines until the phone broke his concentration. He checked the caller ID. Hey, Dorie. How’s your brother?”
“He’ll be on crutches for a while, but he should make a full recovery.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Is my job still available?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She disconnected before he could tell her how pleased he was with her decision. He gazed at the blowing snow. Tempests brought change, and with that change a new order of things.
Let the winds buffet. Tomorrow would find him a happier man. Tomorrow, he’d ask Dorie for a date.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Mom, the water disappeared. You gotta do something.” Dorie awoke to frantic shoves and Josh’s pleas.
“That’s impossible.”
“Come on. I’ll show you.” Josh led her into the upstairs bathroom and turned on the faucet. Nothing came out. “See?”
Frozen pipes—great! At least that’s what she thought might be the problem. She couldn’t be sure without calling a plumber. She’d be late for work. She dialed Jamey from her bedroom phone.
“It’s probably slush in the waterline. Take a hairdryer to it. Should unclog in a jiff. Want me to come over?”
Yes. “No. That’s okay. I’ll give your suggestion a whirl.”
“Your furnace okay?”
“The house seems warm enough.”
“Better check your cellar windows. The cold might have seeped in from the outside. The most likely culprit would be an open or broken cellar window.”
“Snowballs!”
“What?”
“The kids and I made a snowman yesterday. Emma played closed to the house. I’ll check the cellar as you suggested, then call as soon as I know what time I’ll be in.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll see you when you get here. I planned on being at Bargains Galore all morning anyway. I need to ask you—well, I—I’ll explain when you get here.”
She didn’t have time to pull the question out of him, although judging from his stammering, it might be emotionally charged. “Thanks for your patience. I feel terribly irresponsible.”
“You’re not. Sometimes frustrations heap so high we want to scream. Peaceful valleys can stretch a long way too. You’ll take a bend in the road, look back, and laugh at these days.”
She chewed a little on Jamey’s philosophy. George Bailey wanted to throw himself off a bridge because he saw his predicaments as failures. Maybe Jamey was her real-life Clarence, sent by God to keep her from jumping.
“Thanks, Jamey.” She hit end.
When Dorie opened the basement door, a blast of arctic air whirled up the steps. Boomer’s ball lay at the bottom of the steps, a trail of glass leading to a broken window, like a murderer’s fingerprints.
Dorie yelled upstairs. “Emma Faith Fitzgerald. Come down here this instant.”
Emma appeared, clad in a half-buttoned white blouse and underwear on backward. She dragged Mr. Bear behind her. Josh followed behind.
“Emma, what happened to the window?”
“Boomer broke it.”
Dorie stared until Emma finally told the truth. “Boomer’s ball made a hole in the window.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Accidents happen. I wouldn’t have punished you.”
“You cried at Captain Snow Soldier. And later I forgot.”
“Next time, you tell me. Even if I’m on the phone or whatever. Got it?”
“’Kay.”
“Josh, bring down my hairdryer.”
She grabbed a newspaper from the unread pile and another roll of duct tape off a shelf and went downstairs to tape the newspaper over the broken window.
Josh came down the steps seconds behind her. “Here’s your hairdryer, Mom.” He stepped back. “Wow! Look at that!”
“Look at what?”
“That picture! It’s of everybody in the play. You too, Mom.”
“Well, I’ll have to replace this one then. Josh, get me a different newspaper.”
While waiting, Dorie plugged in the hair dryer and aimed it at the pipe next to the window. Though her arm began to sag, her determination held.
Emma squealed. “I heard a whoosh, Mommy.”
Dorie jumped from the stool, pumped her fists and danced in a circle with Emma. Josh handed her the substitute paper. “Did the water come back?”
“I think so. Let’s test it.”
Tucking the paper under her arm, Dorie and the kids ran upstairs and turned on the kitchen faucet. When the water gushed out, they joined in a chorus of “Woo-hoo! Mommy made the water come back!”
Her first solo home repair. Daddy would certainly be proud. She would be late … very late. She would replace the duct-taped picture later. She took the paper from under her arm and put it by the basement door as a reminder. The headline at the bottom of the front page leaped out at her: Jamey Sullivan Named Scoutmaster of the Year.
Chapter Twenty-two
On the way to the break room, Jamey slammed his elbow into the cosmetic display. He should move it, but where? The shelves bulged with inventory, a claustrophobic’s nightmare.
He checked his watch, wishing he’d gone to Dorie’s house and helped her in spite of her protests. Then again, that would have alienated her for sure. Most women he knew took pride in their independence.
A cold breeze blew in from the back and Dorie strode up the aisle, out of breath yet exuberant.
“Watch out—” He pointed to the cosmetics display. Too late. Her purse caught in the jutted pegs and ripped open, the display crashing to the floor. Keys, pens, personals, and a wallet spewed across the floor, blending in with packaged mascara and lip gloss.
Dorie dropped to her knees and separated the heap like multi-colored Legos. “Here I am, with six seconds to spare. I thought for sure I’d be at least an hour late. Amazing.”
Yes, you are.
Jamey righted the fallen display unit and knelt to assist. “Sherrie’s on an errand. We’ll have the display back to rights in no time. She’ll never know the difference.”
“Sure about that? She seems pretty observant.”
He picked up a stash of safety pins, and Dorie stuffed them into her purse. “I’m so sorry about all this craziness.”
“No need to apologize. You haven’t found a routine yet.”
“I’ll need to leave at three today to pick up Josh and Emma if that’s okay. They don’t start their after-school program until Thanksgiving break is over. I think I should keep them enrolled after Mom gets back. I take advantage of her too much.”
A stray mascara tube peeked from underneath the comic book rack. Jamey retrieved it and tossed it into a nearby bin. “The store will be closed Thanksgiving Day. Pop traditionally gives office staff the long weekend off.”
“That’s Black Friday. I’d think you’d be extra busy.”
“True. We give the clerks a bonus when they work over the holiday weekend.”
“I’m sorry I made such a mess.” She sighed, then wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m doing it again. I cry at stupid stuff.”
“Really, the display will be fine.”
“No. Not that. Holidays are tough.”
“You’re welcome to have dinner with me and the folks.”
“Thank you. But I’m looking forward to making it extra special for the kids. Time to start making new memories.”
Jamey moved the display tower away from the entrance.
“At least we get a break from rehearsals until Monday. Can you believe the play opens two weeks from Friday? I’m still pretty rusty on my lines.”
“Rehearsals. Oh, shoot!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Mom and Daddy may not be back before the play opens. I don’t know what to do with Emma. I can’t bring her every night.�
��
Sherrie came in and picked up a tube from the floor. “This yours, Mr. Sullivan? I didn’t know you wore blush.”
Dorie giggled and took the tube from Sherrie. He could listen to her infectious laugh all day.
“That’s mine,” Dorie said. “Long story short, I made a mess of your display tower. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Don’t bother. This stuff’s being transferred into sales bins later today. I hope you didn’t waste too much time trying to put things back the way they were.”
Jamey caught Dorie’s knowing smile. Their first secret together.
“Let me know if I can help, although I’m sure you’ve got it all under control,” Dorie said.
“As for your babysitting problems during rehearsals, maybe I can help find someone for you.”
Sherrie returned carrying a stack of Christmas wrap. “Find someone for what?”
“Dorie needs a sitter for Emma during rehearsals.”
“Want me to fill in?”
“I hate to impose.” Dorie said.
“Not an imposition in the least.”
Jamey put his arm around Sherrie’s shoulder. “Sherrie’s great with kids.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
While Sherrie busied herself stacking Christmas wrap, Jamey gestured for Dorie to follow him. When they reached the break room, he filled two cups and handed one to her before preparing his own.
Why was it so difficult to talk to her? Most people in Midville would say he was easy-going. Not around Dorie. He stammered like a confused teenager. He cleared his throat. “I know you’ve been fragmented. Do you have any ideas yet on how to streamline some of our data?”
“At home yesterday, I made a spreadsheet for staff scheduling. I put it on a flash drive so I can work on it here.”
“Great. Scheduling is one of Sherrie’s biggest headaches.” This small talk stuff wasn’t getting him any closer to asking Dorie out.
She turned the cup he’d given her around in her hands. “I’ve never seen a John Wayne cup before. What’s the writing on the back say?”
It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long Page 12
