Christmas Comes to Bethlehem - Maine

by Ludwig, Elizabeth

  “Wow. It smells good in here.” Callen stopped in the doorway, his hand holding Lily’s. “A man can never get enough homemade cookies.”

  Seeing him in her kitchen, Lily at his side, made Angie realize why she’d invited him. Because Callen made her feel like her family was complete. He made her happy. He was the man she loved. Hot, stinging embarrassment flooded her cheeks and she turned away. “Well, I didn’t ask you here to watch, you know. You’ll have to pitch in.”

  “We’re going to decorate the sugar cookies later.” Lily made her announcement with great seriousness.

  Callen chuckled. “I’m honored. I don’t know how good I’ll be with icing, if that’s the kind you’re talking about.”

  Lily climbed back onto her stool. “That’s okay. You can put the sprinkles on. Mommy and I will do the hard stuff.”

  “I’m relieved. Just show me what to do. I can follow orders pretty well.”

  Angie kept her gaze on the bowl, stirring in the raisins as Lily dumped them into the batter. What would Callen say if she gave him an order to join her life and be a father to Lily? Would he follow that order?

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. Absurd. What had come over her? She’d spent too much time in the last three weeks imagining Callen in her life. She shouldn’t be creating scenarios for her future based upon a magical Christmas encounter.

  Several hours later, Angie walked beside Callen toward the nativity stable. This was the final weekend of the nativity presentation and her turn to play the part of the angel, and she couldn’t wait. The white flowing garment she wore hid the winter clothing underneath, along with the hand warmer in her pocket and the heated boots on her feet. The wind had kicked up in the afternoon and a heavy snowstorm was on its way. It would make for a long performance standing on that tall tower platform above the stable scene.

  “Are you going to be all right up there? Maybe you should get someone else to do it.”

  “I’ll be fine. Cold, but fine. Really.”

  Callen smiled and touched her cheek. “Baker. Stage manager. Angel on high. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  A shadow shifted across his face, and Angie quickly held a finger to his lips. He’d forgotten about her damaged voice. The one thing she couldn’t do was sing. “I’m an expert at lip syncing. You watch. You won’t be able to tell if it’s a CD or me.”

  “Are you using one of your tracks tonight?”

  “No. That might be tempting fate. It’s a recording a member of my church did.”

  Callen pulled her close, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Be careful. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

  The performance went off without a hitch, despite the increasing snowfall, but Angie was disappointed by how few audience members came forward to speak to the minister afterward.

  “You all right?” Callen stepped forward and put an arm around her shoulders.

  She shivered. “The crowd was really light tonight.”

  “It’s the weather, Angie. They’re probably all at home curled up by the fireplace. You’re freezing.”

  She allowed Callen to hold her close as they walked back to the church fellowship hall where the staging area and dressing rooms were located.

  After hanging up her angel costume and checking on the last stragglers from the pageant, she locked up. Callen walked with her to her car. She pressed the unlock button on her key fob then turned to him with a teasing smile. “Can I drive you home?”

  He shook his head, took hold of her shoulders, and pulled her close to his chest. “You make a beautiful angel.”

  His voice was husky, thick, melting her bones. She leaned into him, slipping her arms around his waist. He tilted her chin upward, his eyes devouring her lips before taking possession.

  All sense left her mind, cold vanished, all she knew was warmth, strength, and belonging. Her last line of resistance was giving way when Callen ended the kiss and stepped back.

  “I’ll see you in church tomorrow.”

  Unable to speak, she nodded and climbed into the car. Before shutting the door she caught his gaze. “Please let me drive you home. It’s cold.”

  He smiled. “A blessing I’m most grateful for. Good night.”

  Chapter 9

  The night sky over Bethlehem Sunday evening was clear, sprinkled with brilliant stars piercing the navy blue canopy. A light snow was falling, but the air was calm, and several degrees warmer than the night before. The Christmas lights from the surrounding buildings twinkled with holiday cheer, splashing down on citizens as they scurried about their shopping.

  And in the center of town, the majestic Bethlehem display stood waiting. In a short while the stable would come alive with the presence of Mary and Joseph. Shepherds and livestock would seek out the newborn child. Camels carrying wise men robed in splendor would come to honor the King.

  “Misser Grant!”

  Callen turned to see Lily running toward him. He bent down and opened his arms, catching her to his chest as she propelled herself into his embrace. “Hello, Lily Belle.”

  “My name’s not Lily Belle.” She smiled and patted his cheeks with her pink-mittened hands.

  “Sure it is. Belle means pretty, and you’re very pretty.”

  Callen turned his attention to Edna and Simon, who had brought Lily with them. “Thanks.”

  Edna smiled. “We came a little early. She was afraid she’d miss her mommy as the angel.”

  Callen knew how the little girl felt. He couldn’t wait either. In fact, he didn’t want this day to end. After church, he’d taken Angie and Lily to lunch then they’d gone sledding on the hill behind Angie’s house, something he hadn’t done in years.

  Lily had fallen asleep in the afternoon, and he and Angie had spent the time enjoying each other’s company. Now it was time for the last nativity. Tomorrow he was due back in Boston. He needed to make a decision about his future. His failure to dig up information on Angie had lost him the top reporter’s job, which had reinforced his decision to leave the Wilcox organization. That left taking the bottom-of-the-rung position in Clearwater. Not his first choice.

  He set Lily on the ground, and she danced around happily as she waited for the nativity to start. Watching her brought a sweet ache to his chest. He wanted to stay in Bethlehem, but he had no job. Angie, of course, was convinced whatever happened would work out for his good.

  “Look, I see goats.” Lily grabbed Callen’s hand and tugged him closer to the stable scene.

  He’d seen the performance several times now over the last three weekends, but watching Lily’s excitement gave him a new perspective. The robed shepherds strolled slowly toward the rustic stable, two goats and a sheep walking beside them. The lights came up, revealing Mary and Joseph and the infant settled around the manger.

  The narrator began the story, and carols filled the air as the wise men and their camels entered from behind a large fir tree at the edge of the green. Lily lifted her arms to Callen, and he picked her up for a better view.

  Something about tonight’s event was different. There was an energy in the air, an anticipation that had been missing before. It might be because Christmas was only three days off, or it might be he was viewing this as the end to his weeks in Bethlehem and with Angie.

  The play continued and Callen’s anticipation grew as Angie’s appearance drew closer. When the moment arrived, he pointed toward the spot above the stable where he knew Angie would be illuminated any moment. Lily stared intently.

  He waited, but the light failed to come on. Odd. The tower should be lit by now, Angie should be visible, and the carol playing loudly over the scene below.

  Something was wrong. Maybe she’d fallen off the tower. He’d never felt comfortable with that arrangement. Turning to Edna, he handed Lily off to her. “I’ll be right back.”

  He walked quickly across the green toward the back where Angie would be. The narrator spoke again, reading the Christmas story from Luke. That wasn’t part of the
program. Now he knew something was wrong.

  He ducked behind the canvas curtain shielding the tower and found Angie talking to John Roland, the man in charge of the sound system. “What’s wrong?”

  Angie turned, and the expression on her face sent a rush of alarm through his chest. “The CD player isn’t working.”

  John stepped forward and began clipping a lapel mike to her costume.

  Realization of what she was planning to do sliced through Callen like a knife. He held up a hand. “Whoa, what are you doing? Get someone else.”

  Angie shook her head. “We have to finish the program. I’m going to sing the carol.”

  “No! Angie you can’t. You know what will happen.”

  A smile brightened her face, and she touched his arm. “I’ve prayed about this. I know what I have to do, and I know it will be all right.”

  Callen grasped her shoulder. “Angie think about what you’re doing. The doctor warned you to not strain your voice. You could lose your ability to speak. No. I won’t let you do this.”

  “It’ll be okay. Trust me.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I asked the Lord what I was supposed to do, and He told me to sing. I can’t explain it to you. I just know I have to do this.”

  “Angie.”

  She moved away, allowing John to attach the safety line before starting up to the platform. A sour pool of dread churned in Callen’s gut as he watched, helpless to stop her.

  The light burst on as Angie topped the platform. She spread her arms; the light evening breeze stirred her white robes. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. But she was risking everything for this event. He didn’t know whether to be proud or furious.

  She began to sing. Each note flowing from her lovely throat tore another piece from his heart. He turned and left the backstage area, walking off a short distance and willing himself not to watch her destroy her voice. But he found he was unable to keep his eyes from her as she sang.

  Then he realized what he was hearing. Angie, the woman with the silken voice. She was singing strong, sweet, and with a passion that reverberated along each nerve. It was as if her vocal chords had been restored, but her voice now held a new, softer, richer tone.

  The notes issuing forth from her throat took on a life of their own. They were like a sermon, a divine message from the Almighty Himself. He glanced around the crowd and saw expressions of peace and joy. His own heart swelled with a sensation of love and peace that he’d never known before. He looked back at Angie, the words from the carol seeping deep into his spirit. Tears stung his eyes, and he wiped them away with his thumb and forefinger. “Please, Father, protect her voice. Take care of her, because I can’t.”

  Angie sang the last note. It hung in the air like an amen. Callen opened his eyes, afraid to look upward at Angie for fear he’d see pain in her eyes. Instead he focused on the crowd. Dozens of visitors were making their way toward the minister near the front of the stable. More were coming, striding forward, to speak to the pastor. A sob lodged in his chest. Angie’s song, her voice, had drawn these people like nothing else could have.

  He turned back and ducked inside the canvas. Angie was coming down the steps. He searched her face and saw tears running down her cheeks. He didn’t want to think what that might mean. He opened his arms, and she hurried toward him, sobbing against his chest.

  “Angie, are you all right?” She nodded. He set her away from him so he could see her face. He cleared his throat and regained control of his raw emotions. “Can you speak?”

  Her hazel eyes looked into his. She shrugged and whispered, “I’m not sure.”

  His heart cried out, and he pulled her close again. “Angie, I love you.”

  She looked up at him and whispered, “Me, too.”

  Chapter 10

  The winter sun was shining as Callen and Angie pulled into Angie’s driveway late the next morning. He’d volunteered to drive her to the throat specialist in Portland to see what kind of damage her singing had done to her vocal chords. He’d hoped and prayed that her voice had been restored, but the doctor had confirmed that her condition was unchanged, and he couldn’t explain how she’d been able to sing.

  Callen turned off the engine and gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t understand.” They had ridden home in silence.

  Angie looked at him, a smile on her face. “I do. It was a miracle.”

  “I know, but I’d hoped…”

  Angie reached over and took his hand. “I’m just grateful I could complete the nativity. What happens now isn’t important.”

  Callen turned to face her. There was something more serious they had to discuss. “Angie, hundreds of people heard you last night. What if someone recognized your voice? What if your life here is exposed?” He could tell by the look on her face she hadn’t thought through the consequences of singing in public.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think about that last night. I should have.” She closed her eyes and rested her head against the seat. Then she straightened. “No. The Lord told me to sing last night, and He gave me the ability to do it. Even if it was only one time. He has something already worked out. I know it.”

  Callen wished he had her faith. “Angie, I have something to tell you. I had a call this morning from my boss. He’s already heard a rumor that the singer at the Bethlehem nativity last night was Silky Blaine.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That I was there. That it was a local woman, who sounded nothing like Silky. I’m going to meet with him this week, and I’ll make him believe me.”

  “Do you think you can?”

  “I will. Don’t worry.” He walked Angie to the door, gave her a kiss, and returned to his car. He’d tried to sound confident when he told her he’d protect her anonymity. He only hoped he could.

  Angie curled in the corner of the sofa, her gaze focused on the tree, but her thoughts on Callen. She hadn’t heard from him since Monday afternoon when he’d left for Boston. Her emotions bounced between confidence that the Lord and Callen would keep her world in Bethlehem protected, and fear that she’d misunderstood the Lord’s prompting and destroyed her life by singing the carol.

  Today was Christmas Eve. She’d wanted to spend the holiday with Callen. Lily was deeply disappointed that he’d left, and Angie had found it difficult to explain. His profession of love still floated like a beautiful snowflake in her mind. Had he meant it? She loved him. But her first concern was Lily and keeping their life protected. How could she ask Callen to live here and keep her secret forever? And the thought of leaving Bethlehem, to settle elsewhere with him, was too frightening. She had people here who cared for her and would protect her secret.

  Her gaze fell on the article about the nativity Callen had written. He’d done a wonderful job of capturing the essence of the nativity, the performers, and the town of Bethlehem. He’d even praised her efforts as director. He’d made no mention of the last angel song.

  Reaching for her cell phone, she selected his number, but hesitated to press the call button. She wanted to hear his voice. She wanted to know if he’d convinced his boss that Silky Blaine wasn’t the one who sang that night. But she’d promised herself she’d wait for God’s plan to unfold no matter how much her stomach churned with anxiety.

  “Mommy, can I have a cookie?” Lily climbed up beside her on the sofa.

  “I suppose. It is Christmas Eve. But save some for Santa.”

  “I will.”

  Angie stood as a low rumble drifted in from outside. A car had pulled into the driveway. She walked to the wide front window and peered out. Her heart skipped a beat. Callen. Was he here to deliver bad news? If so, at least he’d be with her. She forced her feet to move to the door. When she pulled it open, he stood there with a smile, a bag of gifts in his hand and snow melting on his hair. He set the bag down, and she threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Me, too. I’ve missed you, A
ngie. More than I ever thought possible.”

  She gave herself over to his kiss, but Lily’s shout interrupted the moment.

  “Daddy! I missed you.”

  Angie bit her lip when she saw moisture forming in Callen’s eyes.

  He picked her up and hugged her close. “Hey, my Lily Belle. Merry Christmas.”

  “Are those presents for me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Lily patted his face and kissed him. “I have some cookies for you.” She wiggled out of his embrace and ran to the kitchen.

  Angie looked into his eyes, searching for some sign that he’d made everything all right. “Callen?”

  Shrugging off his coat, he took her hand and led her to the sofa. “You’re safe. I convinced my boss that the singer wasn’t Silky. I told him I’d known the woman for years and that we went to school together.”

  “He believed you?”

  “Of course. Especially when I showed him this.” Callen pulled out their yearbook and opened it to her picture. Angie looked at her high school self with glasses and curly hair.

  “Oh, my. Did I really look like that?”

  Callen laughed. “No one would mistake Angeline Silkowsky for Silky Blaine.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been questioning myself for days about whether I should have sung that night.”

  “I found something else when I dug out the yearbook.” He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it.

  Angie gasped, her eyes tearing at the lovely engagement ring. A sudden realization brought her gaze up to meet Callen’s. “Is this the one you had in your pocket?”

  “It is. And if it’s not too late, I’d like you to wear this until we can complete the set on our wedding day.”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”

  He held her close. “I have another gift for you. Dave Marshall has offered me a job with the Maine tourism office. I told him I’d take it.”

  Angie wrapped her arms around him. “See, I told you God would work it all out.”