A Christmas Message

by Debbie Macomber

  After a while he said, “My dad’s going to be mad at me.”

  “It was brave of you to tell him you did something you weren’t supposed to,” she murmured.

  Gabe looked away. “I told him he doesn’t need to send me anything for Christmas. He said there was a special gift on the way but it hasn’t come. He probably won’t send it now.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” She pulled on the skein of yarn as she continued knitting.

  “What if Santa finds out what I did?” His face crumpled in a frown. “Do you think maybe he won’t bring me the robot ’cause I went to Finley’s by myself and I didn’t tell anyone where I was going?”

  “Well, now, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

  Gabe climbed onto the sofa and rested his head against the arm. “I didn’t think Aunt Holly would be so worried when I didn’t go to Jonathan’s house after school. She got all weird.”

  “Weird?”

  “Yeah. When we were still at her office, all of a sudden she put her arms around my neck and hugged me really hard. Isn’t that weird?”

  Emily shrugged but didn’t answer. “Are you ready for Christmas?” she asked instead.

  Gabe nodded. “I made Aunt Holly an origami purse. A Japanese lady came to my school and showed us how to fold them. She said they were purses, but it looks more like a wallet to me, all flat and skinny.” He sighed dejectedly. “I wrapped it up but you can’t really see where the wrapping stops and the gift starts.”

  “I bet Holly will really like the purse because you made it yourself,” Emily said with an encouraging smile.

  “I made my dad a gift, too. But Aunt Holly and I mailed off his Christmas present a long time ago. They take days and days to get to Afghanistan so we had to go shopping before Thanksgiving and wrap up stuff for my dad. Oh, we mailed him the picture of me and Santa, too. And I made him a key ring. And I sent him nuts. My dad likes cashews. I’ve never seen a cashew in the shell, have you?”

  “Why, yes, as a matter of fact I have,” she said conversationally.

  Gabe sat up. “What do they look like?”

  “Well, a cashew is a rather unusual nut. My goodness, God was so creative with that one. Did you know the cashew is both a fruit and a nut?”

  “It is?”

  “The fruit part looks like a small apple and it has a big stem.”

  The boy’s eyes were wide with curiosity.

  “The stem part is the nut, the cashew,” she explained.

  “Wow.”

  “And they’re delicious,” she said. “Good for you, too,” she couldn’t resist adding.

  “What are you doing for Christmas?” Gabe asked.

  “I’ve been invited to a party, a big one with lots of celebrating. I’ll be with my friends Shirley, Goodness—”

  “Goodness? That’s a funny name.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Anyway, the party preparations have already begun. It won’t be long now.”

  “Oh.” Gabe looked disappointed.

  “Why the sad face?”

  “I was going to ask you to come here for Christmas.”

  Emily was touched by his invitation. “I know you’ll have a wonderful Christmas with Holly,” she said.

  “I invited Aunt Holly’s boss, too.”

  She had to make an effort to hide her smile. This was all working out very nicely. Very nicely, indeed.

  “Lindy didn’t say she’d come for sure but she might.” He paused. “She said to call her Lindy, not Ms. Lee like Aunt Holly said I should.”

  “Well, I hope she comes.”

  “Me, too. I think she’s lonely.”

  “So do I,” Emily agreed. The boy was very perceptive for his age, she thought.

  “I asked her what she wants for Christmas and she said she didn’t know. Can you believe that?”

  In Emily’s experience, many people walked through life completely unaware of what they wanted—or needed. “I brought along a book,” she said, changing the subject. “Would you like to read it to me?” She’d put the children’s book with its worn cover on the arm of her chair.

  Gabe considered this. “I’m not in school now. Can you read it to me?”

  “The way your dad used to when you were little?” she asked.

  Gabe nodded eagerly. “I used to sit on his lap and he’d read me stories until I fell asleep.” His face grew sad. “I miss my dad a lot.”

  “I know you do.” Emily set aside her knitting. “Would you like to sit in my lap?”

  “I’m too big for that,” he insisted.

  Emily could see that despite his words he was mulling it over. “You’re not too big,” she assured him.

  Indecision showed on his face. Gabe wanted to snuggle with her, yet he hesitated because he was eight now and eight was too old for such things.

  “What book did you bring?” he asked.

  “It’s a special one your grandma Larson once read to your dad and your aunt Holly.”

  “Really? How’d you know that?”

  “Oh, I just do. It’s the Christmas story.”

  “I like when the angels came to announce the birth of Baby Jesus to the shepherds.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “It was the most glorious night,” she said. “The sky was bright and clear and—”

  “And the angels sang,” Gabe finished enthusiastically. “Angels have beautiful voices, don’t they?”

  “Yes, they do,” Emily confirmed. “They make music we know nothing about here on earth... I’m sure,” she added quickly. “Glorious, heavenly music.”

  “They do?” He cocked his head to one side.

  “You’ll hear it yourself one day, many years from now.”

  “What about you? When will you hear it?”

  “Soon,” she told him. He climbed into her lap and she held him close. He really was a sweet boy and would become a fine young man like his father. He’d be a wonderful brother to his half brother and half sister, as well—but she was getting ahead of herself.

  “Tell me more about the angels,” Gabe implored. “Is my mom an angel now?”

  “No, sweetheart. Humans don’t become angels. They’re completely separate beings, although both were created by God.”

  “How come you know so much about angels?”

  “I read my Bible,” she said, and he seemed to accept her explanation.

  “I never knew my mom,” he said somberly. “Dad has pictures of her at the house. I look at her face and she smiles at me but I don’t remember her.”

  “But you do understand that she loved you very much, right?”

  “Dad said she did, and before she died she made him promise that he’d tell me every night how much she loved me.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “Do you think there are lots of angels in heaven?” Gabe asked.

  “Oh, yes, and there are different kinds of angels, too.”

  “What kinds are there?”

  “Well, they have a variety of different tasks. For instance, Gabriel came to Mary as a messenger. Other angels are warriors.”

  “When I get to heaven, I want to meet the warrior angels.”

  “And you shall.”

  “Do you think I was named after the angel Gabriel?” he asked.

  Emily pressed her cheek against the top of his head, inhaling the clean, little-boy scent of his hair. “Now, that’s something you’ll need to ask your father when you see him.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  “Gabriel had one of the most important tasks ever assigned,” Emily said. “He’s the angel God sent to tell Mary about Baby Jesus.”

  He yawned. “Can people see angels?”

  Emily’s mouth quivered with a smile she couldn’t quite suppress. “Oh, yes, but most people
don’t recognize them.”

  Gabe lifted his head. “How come?”

  “Not all angels show their wings,” she said.

  “They don’t?”

  “No, some angels look like ordinary people.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, sometimes God sends angels to earth. But if people saw their wings, they’d get all excited and they’d miss the lesson God wanted to teach them. That’s why angels are often disguised.”

  “Are they always disguised?”

  “No, some are invisible. Other times they look like ordinary people.”

  “Do angels only come to teach people a lesson?”

  “No, they come to help, too.”

  Gabe yawned again. “How do angels help?”

  “Oh, in too many ways to count.”

  He thought about that for a while, his eyelids beginning to droop.

  “Are you ready for me to read you the story?” Emily asked.

  “Sure.” He rested his head against her shoulder as she opened the book. She read for a few minutes before she noticed that Gabe had fallen asleep. And she hadn’t even gotten to the good part.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When you flee temptation, don’t leave a

  forwarding address.

  —Shirley, Goodness and Mercy,

  friends of Mrs. Miracle

  The Christmas party was well under way by the time Holly and Jake arrived. When they entered the gala event, the entire room seemed to go still. Holly kept her arm in Jake’s, self-conscious about being the center of attention.

  “Why’s everyone looking at us?” she whispered.

  Jake patted her hand reassuringly. “My father and I usually show up toward the end of the party, say a few words and then leave. No one expected me this early.”

  He’d mentioned that before. Still, she hadn’t realized his arrival would cause such a stir. Jake immediately began to walk through the room, shaking hands and introducing Holly. At first she tried to keep track of the names, but soon gave up. She was deeply impressed by Jake’s familiarity with the staff.

  “How do you remember all their names?” she asked when she had a chance.

  “I’ve worked with them in each department,” he explained. “My father felt I needed to know the retail business from the mail room up.”

  “You started in the mail room?”

  “I did, but don’t for a minute consider the mail room unimportant. I made that mistake and quickly learned how vital it is.”

  “Your father is a wise man.”

  “He is,” Jake said. “And a generous one, too. But he’d describe himself as fair. He’s always recognized the value of hiring good people and keeping them happy. I believe it’s why we’ve managed to hold on to the company despite several attempts to buy us out.”

  It went without saying that Jake intended to follow his father’s tradition of treating employees with respect and compensating them generously.

  Ninety minutes later Holly’s head buzzed with names and faces. They sipped champagne and got supper from the buffet; the food was delicious. Numerous people commented happily on seeing Jake at the party.

  His father appeared at about midnight and immediately sought out his son and Holly.

  “So this is the young lady you’ve talked about,” J. R. Finley said, slapping Jake jovially on the back.

  “Dad, meet Holly Larson.”

  J.R. shook her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, young lady. You’ve made a big impression on my son.”

  Holly glanced at Jake and smiled. “He’s made a big impression on me.”

  J. R. Finley turned to his son. “When did you get here?”

  “Before ten,” Jake said.

  His father frowned, then moved toward the microphone. As was apparently his practice, he gave a short talk, handed out dozens of awards and bonuses and promptly left.

  The party wound down after J.R.’s speech. People started to leave, but almost every employee, singly and in groups, approached Jake to thank him for attending the party. Holly couldn’t tell how their gratitude affected Jake, but it had a strong impact on her.

  “They love you,” she said when they went to collect their coats.

  “They’re family,” Jake said simply.

  She noticed that he didn’t say Finley’s employees were like family but that they were family. The difference was subtle but significant. J.R. had lost his wife and daughter and had turned to his friends and employees to fill the huge hole left by the loss of his loved ones. Jake had, too.

  As they stepped outside, Holly was thrilled by the falling snow. “Jake, look!” She held out her hand to catch the soft flakes that floated down from the night sky. “It’s just so beautiful!”

  Jake wrapped his scarf more securely around his neck. “I can’t believe you’re so excited about a little snow.”

  “I love it.... It’s so Christmassy.”

  He grinned and clasped her hand. “Do you want to go for a short walk?”

  “I’d love to.” It was cold, but even without boots or gloves or a hat, Holly felt warm, and more than that, happy.

  “Where would you like to go?” Jake asked.

  “Wherever you’d like to take me.” Late though it was, she didn’t want the night to end. Lindy Lee had never thrown a Christmas party for her staff. Maybe she’d talk to Lindy about planning one for next December; she could discuss the benefits—employee satisfaction and loyalty, which would lead to higher productivity. Those were the terms Lindy would respond to. Not appreciation or enjoyment or fun. Having worked with Lindy as long as she had, Holly suspected her employer wasn’t a happy person. And she wasn’t someone who cared about the pleasure of others.

  “I thought this would be a miserable Christmas,” Holly confessed, leaning close to Jake as they moved down the busy sidewalk. They weren’t the only couple reveling in the falling snow.

  “Why?” Jake asked. “Because of your brother?”

  “Well, yes. It’s also the first Christmas without my parents, and then Mickey got called up for Afghanistan so there’s just Gabe and me.”

  “What changed?”

  “A number of things, actually,” she said. “Meeting you, of course.”

  “Thank you.” He bent down and touched his lips to hers in the briefest of kisses.

  “My attitude,” she said. “I was worried that Gabe would resent living with me. For months we didn’t really bond.”

  “You have now, though, haven’t you?”

  “Oh, yes. I didn’t realize how much I loved him until he went missing the other day. I... I don’t normally panic, but I did then.”

  Holly was still surprised by how accommodating her employer had been during and after that crisis. First Lindy Lee had allowed Gabe to come to the office and then she’d actually chatted with him. Holly didn’t know what the two of them had talked about, but her employer had seemed almost pleasant afterward.

  “Remember the other night when you and Gabe decorated your Christmas tree?” Jake asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Gabe asked me about mine.”

  “Right.” It’d been an awkward moment. Gabe had been full of questions. He couldn’t understand why some people chose not to make Christmas part of their lives. No tree. No presents. No family dinner. The closest Jake and his father got to celebrating the holidays was their yearly sojourn to the Virgin Islands.

  Holly knew this was his father’s way of ignoring the holiday. Jake and J.R. left on Christmas Eve and didn’t return until after New Year’s.

  She was sure they’d depart sooner if they could. The only reason they stayed in New York as long as they did was because of the business. The holiday season made their year financially. Without the last-quarter sales, many retailers would struggle to survive. Finley’s De
partment Store was no different.

  “You told Gabe you didn’t put up a tree,” Holly reminded him.

  “I might’ve misled him.”

  “You have a tree?” After everything he’d said, that shocked her.

  “You’ll see.” His stride was purposeful as they continued walking. She soon figured out where they were headed.

  “I can’t wait,” she said with a laugh.

  When they reached Rockefeller Center, they stood gazing up at the huge Christmas tree, bright with thousands of lights and gleaming decorations. Jake gestured toward it. “That’s my Christmas tree,” he said.

  “Gabe’s going to be jealous that I got to see it again—with you.”

  Music swirled all around them as Jake slipped his arm about her waist. “When I was young, I found it hard to give up the kind of Christmas I’d known when my mother and sister were alive. Dad refused to have anything to do with the holidays but I still wanted the tree and the gifts.”

  Holly hadn’t fully grasped how difficult those years must’ve been for him.

  “Dad said if I wanted a Christmas tree, I could pick one in the store and make it my own. Better yet, I could claim the one in Rockefeller Center and that’s what I did.”

  Instinctively she knew Jake had never shared this information with anyone else.

  “Well, you’ve got the biggest, most beautiful Christmas tree in the city,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  “I do,” he murmured.

  “Jake,” she said carefully. “Would you consider having Christmas dinner with Gabe and me?”

  He didn’t answer, and she wondered if she’d crossed some invisible line by issuing the invitation. Nevertheless she had to ask.

  “I know that would mean not joining your father when he leaves for the Caribbean, but you could fly out the next day, couldn’t you?” Holly felt she needed to press the issue. If he was ever going to agree, it would be tonight, after he’d witnessed how much it meant to Finley’s employees that he’d attended their party.

  “I could fly out later,” he said. “But then I’d be leaving my father alone on the saddest day of his life.”

  “I’d like to invite him, too.”