The Christmas Bus

by Melody Carlson

  “Wasn’t that something?” said Charles as he locked the door.

  “They seemed nice,” said Edith. “I wish we had an available room. I’d let them have it for free.”

  He put his arm around her shoulder. “I know you would, dear. That’s just one of the many things I love about you.”

  And then they went up to bed.

  8

  “What on earth is that?” exclaimed Myrtle when she came into Edith’s kitchen.

  “What?” Edith looked up from her daily devotions, trying not to seem as aggravated as she felt. Myrtle was such an early riser that Edith would have to start getting up a lot earlier if she expected to have a decent quiet time these days. As it was, she was already tiptoeing downstairs long before daylight.

  “That hideous contraption that’s parked in front of your inn is what.”

  Edith went to the living room and looked out the big picture window in front. “Oh, my . . .” Her hand flew up to her mouth as she remembered their late-night visitors. “That’s, uh, very interesting.”

  “It’s atrocious!”

  “Well, it’s certainly colorful.” Edith smiled to herself as she studied the wild-colored stripes and flowers and geometric designs. “It looks like a hippie bus—straight out of the sixties.”

  “I’ll say,” said Myrtle with a look of disgust. “How in the world do you think it got here?”

  So Edith explained about the young couple’s unexpected arrival the night before. “We told them it was okay to park there for the night.” She chuckled. “But we hadn’t actually seen their bus since it was dark out.”

  “Well, you sure can’t miss it now.”

  Even with the thick white cap of snow on top, you couldn’t miss the brightly colored bus. In fact, the clean blanket of snow all around only made the bus stand out more. “Well, don’t worry,” said Edith. “They’ll probably be gone by noon.” Then she returned to the kitchen, dismayed to see that Myrtle was right on her heels. “They’re just a couple of young people, on their way to California, hopefully in time for the baby.”

  “Baby?” Myrtle frowned. “You mean people are traveling in that old dilapidated thing and they’re about to have a baby? That sounds plum crazy to me.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think they’re drug people?”

  Edith sighed. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I remember when the kids who lived in vehicles like that were all a bunch of druggies. A bunch of social outcasts who wanted to turn on or drop out or something to that effect. Horrible way to raise a baby, if you ask me.”

  Edith wanted to remind Myrtle that no one had asked her, but instead she asked her to stir the pancake batter.

  Breakfast came and went without an appearance of the mysterious young couple who inhabited the colorful bus on the street. At first Edith felt relieved, as it alleviated the need to explain exactly who these people were to her paying guests. But then, as she was clearing the table and cleaning up, she began to feel some strong twinges of guilt. What if something was wrong? What if they had frozen to death out there? Or what if they’d had a gas leak and were asphyxiated? Or what if Amy had gone into labor and needed medical help?

  Finally, Edith was so distraught that she couldn’t concentrate on rinsing the plates, so she pulled on her fleece-lined snow boots and her heavy coat and hurried outside to check on them. Oh, certainly, she felt a bit intrusive as she knocked on the door, but really, what if something was seriously wrong? How could she not check?

  After she knocked loudly several times and called out their names, a sleepy-looking Collin appeared at the window and opened the door. He was shirtless and blinking, almost as if he wasn’t sure where he was. “Yeah?” he said in a gruff voice. “Something wrong?”

  “No, I, uh,” Edith stammered, “I—uh—I was just worried that something might be wrong out here. Were you warm enough?”

  He nodded, realization coming to his face. “Yeah, no problem. It’s pretty cozy in here. You don’t need to worry.”

  “Well, come on into the inn if you want breakfast,” she told him. “I’ve put aside some things for you and Amy.”

  “Sure, thanks.” He smiled and closed the door.

  Edith felt a bit silly and neurotic as she hurried back into the inn. Of course, they were perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t they be? Probably just tired from their long journey yesterday. And she had forgotten that all young people seemed to enjoy sleeping in. Certainly her own children had been late risers. Still, that bit that Myrtle had tossed in about possible drug use did raise a smidgen of doubt in her mind. But, surely, a pregnant mother would have better sense than that. Wouldn’t she?

  It was nearly eleven when Collin and Amy came in for breakfast, but Edith tried to appear as if this were perfectly normal. She even poured herself a cup of tea and sat down with them, attempting to make light conversation.

  “Do you know what’s wrong with your engine?” she finally asked, hoping that it didn’t sound too rude, as if she were hinting that these two should be on their way.

  “Not exactly,” said Collin. “I’m not real mechanical, if you know what I mean.”

  “Charles knows a bit about engines,” she said absently.

  “Do you suppose he could take a look?” asked Amy hopefully.

  “Oh, I forgot this is Wednesday,” Edith said. “Not a very good day for Charles to help.”

  “What does he do on Wednesdays?” asked Collin.

  “He’s a pastor,” she told them. “The church across the street. He usually does the final revision of his midweek service on Wednesdays.”

  “Oh.” Amy sighed and rubbed her large belly.

  Seeing their disappointment, Edith quickly said, “But I can certainly ask him if he has some spare time.” Also, she realized, if someone didn’t get that engine running, the strange-looking bus wouldn’t be going anywhere.

  After the young couple finished their breakfast, Edith went and tapped on the door to Charles’s study. “Sorry to disturb you,” she began, then launched into the need for someone with mechanical expertise to help with the bus.

  He set down his pen and closed his Bible. “That’s quite a bus.”

  She made a half smile. “Anyway, I thought about calling Hal Berry,” she continued, “but I wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. I know his arthritis has been acting up lately.”

  Charles smiled. “I’ll take a look at it, Edith. I think my sermon is in good shape, and I’m happy to lend a hand—if I can, that is.”

  “And it might help to get them on their way. You know, before anyone from town starts to make a fuss. I have to admit that their bus really does look a bit out of place out there.”

  Just then the phone rang, and Charles answered it. “It’s Polly, Edith,” he told her. “Want to take it in here while I go see what can be done?”

  So Edith sank down into his big leather chair and said, “Hello, Polly.”

  “What is going on over at the inn?” asked Polly.

  Edith laughed. “You mean our hippie bus?”

  “Yes. Herb told me about it this morning. He’d seen it on his way into town when he got gas for our trip. But it sounded so outrageous that I actually thought he was making it up. As we were leaving town a bit ago, I made him drive by just so I could see it for myself. I’m calling you on my cell phone. Now I can’t stand to leave town without knowing what’s up over there.”

  So Edith explained about the young couple, even the part about the soon-to-be-born baby.

  “Good grief !” said Polly. “I wish I could stick around and see what happens next. First it’s that crazy Myrtle who seems determined to convert Christmas Valley to something—I don’t even know what. And then it’s a hippie bus straight out of the blue. Why, the next thing we know, you’ll probably be out there helping to deliver a baby on Christmas day.”

  “Goodness, I hope not. I’ve never been very good in that situation. I had to be practically knocked out to deliver my own children. If Am
y needed help, I suppose I could call up Helen—that’s assuming she can remember anything about nursing since she’s been retired for years.”

  “That’d be something else with Helen’s bad knees and fading eyesight. I can just see it. Well, keep me informed, Edith. If it gets any more interesting, that is.”

  “Travel safely,” said Edith. “The roads looked pretty slick this morning.”

  “Right. And have a merry Christmas, Edith. You and all your crazy guests and those hippie bus people too.” Then she laughed and hung up.

  Edith set the phone down. She supposed they must look a bit crazy to anyone from the outside looking in. But, really, Collin and Amy seemed like nice people, just a little down on their luck perhaps. Even Myrtle in her own way wasn’t so bad. Sure, perhaps a bit eccentric and even obnoxious at times, but underneath that Edith thought she had a good heart.

  “Leave me alone!” she heard a man’s voice yelling and then the loud banging of a door. It seemed to be coming from the second floor, so Edith jumped up and dashed up the stairs to see.

  “What’s wrong?” she breathlessly asked Myrtle when she saw her standing in front of the Good Shepherd Room, the room where old Albert Benson was staying. “What happened?”

  Myrtle shrugged with big innocent eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “But I heard yelling up here,” she continued. “Was it Mr. Benson? Is he okay? What’s wrong?”

  “He’s a very moody man,” said Myrtle as she turned and headed back toward her room on the other side of the hallway.

  Just then Mr. Benson opened the door and stuck his head out. “I’m not moody,” he said in a defensive voice. “I just don’t wish to be bothered.”

  “Then why did you come here?” demanded Myrtle. “Why come to a bed and breakfast?”

  Edith blinked. “Perhaps it was for some peace and quiet,” she said. And normally that would be exactly what her guests could expect to find.

  “During Christmas?” Myrtle looked skeptical.

  “It’s none of your business,” he retorted. Edith hoped that was meant for Myrtle.

  “That’s right,” Edith said in a soothing voice. “It’s not our business. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Mr. Benson.” .

  “I’ll be perfectly fine as long as that woman leaves me alone.”

  “Did you hear him, Myrtle?” asked Edith, suddenly feeling as if she had gone about twenty years back in time and was now talking to her own bickering children. “Mr. Benson would like you to leave him alone.”

  Myrtle shrugged again. “That’s what he says . . . but if he wanted to be left alone, he should’ve just stayed home.”

  And at that, Mr. Benson slammed his door shut again.

  Edith couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Please, Myrtle,” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm and even. “Leave the poor man alone. I’m begging you.”

  “Fine,” said Myrtle. “But you’ll be sorry.”

  “I’ll be sorry?”

  Myrtle nodded without saying anything, then scuffled off to her room.

  Edith sighed and walked away. More and more she was wondering whether she was running an inn or a nuthouse.

  Hopefully, they’d all make it through Christmas without killing each other. She had to chuckle as she went down the stairs. In some ways this was a lot more like having her family there than she’d ever imagined possible. Suddenly she remembered how Katie and Krista usually got into at least one little, or sometimes big, snit before the holidays were over. Or how Tommy and Jack could get so competitive that they would bore everyone to tears by trying to one-up each other in their accomplishments. Well, what families always got along perfectly, anyway? Just as long as no one got hurt.

  “I’m afraid that bus is in no condition to travel,” announced Charles as he came into the kitchen and washed his hands in the sink. “Not without some serious mechanical work, not to mention expense.”

  “Do they have any money to fix it?”

  “Not to speak of . . . and we, I mean the church, could probably help them. But I’d have to call an emergency board meeting first . . . and it’s not the best time of year for that . . . I’m not sure . . .” He shook his head. “Besides the engine, the tires are bald, and they don’t even have chains to get over the mountain pass. Kids these days.”

  “Well, you know what the Good Book says . . .” Edith smiled.

  “I do and I don’t. What do you mean?”

  “That God watches out for fools and children.”

  He nodded. “Well, I think they could fit into both categories.” He scratched his head. “Collin told me that Amy is only nineteen. Nineteen? Can you believe it? I mean, our baby Krista is seven years older than that, and I couldn’t imagine her in this position.”

  “Well, she would never put herself in this position, dear.”

  “And Collin is only twenty-one. They really aren’t much more than children, Edith.”

  “Yes. But don’t forget that I was even younger when we got married, Charles. And not even twenty-one when we had Tommy.”

  “But you were mature,” he argued. “You were old for your age.”

  She laughed. “Thanks. I guess.”

  He sighed. “I just don’t know what to do about them.”

  “Well, it’s not as if you have to figure it all out today,” she said. “Besides, if they spend another night, they might come to church tonight. And that might be a good thing for them, don’t you think?”

  He smiled now. “Perhaps you’re right, my dear. Perhaps it would.”

  And as it turned out, Edith was right. Not only were they willing, but the young couple was happy to come to church with her.

  “We’re only going because of you guys,” said Amy after Edith invited the two of them to come. “You and your husband have been so kind that it’s making us rethink some of our opinions about church and religion and stuff.”

  It was after seven when Edith walked across the freshly plowed street to the church. She knew she was running late, but there’d been so many distractions at the inn this afternoon. Mainly because of Myrtle. It seemed that woman had gotten some kind of a bee in her bonnet about poor Albert Benson. But Edith wasn’t sure what her real motives were—was she flirting with the old man or just trying to drive him batty? Edith finally had to plead with Charles to step in and intervene. Fortunately, Mr. Benson seemed to appreciate this, and he didn’t even mind heading over to the church thirty minutes early so that he could help Charles with a stubborn lock, since they’d just learned that Mr. Benson was a retired locksmith.

  Of course, this left Myrtle at loose ends again, and as a result she had started offering “marriage counseling” tips to the Fieldses. Not that they didn’t need some help in that regard, for it was plain to see that this couple had some real issues. But Myrtle hardly seemed the answer. Finally Edith persuaded Myrtle to head over to church herself, and after the meddling old woman was gone, Edith tried to smooth things over with the feuding Fieldses.

  “Myrtle’s one of those people who likes to have her finger in every pie,” offered Edith. “I hope you won’t take her words too seriously.”

  Carmen Fields, sitting on the sofa with arms crossed tightly across her front, still looked upset. “Well, she made a good point. Jim does seem to take me for granted.”

  “Who takes who for granted?” he shot back at her.

  “You do!” snapped Carmen. “We’ve been married almost thirty years, and I’ll bet I can count on one hand how many times you’ve told me that you appreciate me.”

  “That’s not true!”

  And on they went until the rest of the guests quietly slipped away, either to church or to the Christmas play that the town was putting on tonight. Finally, Edith excused herself too. And consequently, she was late to church.

  9

  When she got to church, Edith wasn’t terribly surprised to see that Myrtle was, once again, in her seat. And since she was late, Edith decided to sit in the back. S
ure it felt strange, but in light of everything else it seemed fitting. It was as if her world were getting turned upside down, or perhaps tilting sideways. Hopefully, things would improve by Christmas. The idea of having a houseful of bickering guests over the holidays made Edith want to run away from home.

  She scanned the backs of heads, recognizing old friends and neighbors as well as a few of their guests. She was just late enough to have missed introductions, and she desperately hoped that Myrtle hadn’t done anything to upset anyone’s applecart, specifically Mr. Benson’s. But all seemed calm and normal. And the church was fuller than usual, although that still meant that more than half the seats were vacant.

  She noticed Collin and Amy, only a couple of rows ahead of her, and she might have imagined it, but it seemed that when Charles came to the challenging part of his sermon, Collin leaned forward just a bit as if trying to soak the words in. That was encouraging. Perhaps the delay of their departure really was for a good reason. Maybe these two young people would take away something good—perhaps even something life changing—before they left Christmas Valley for good.

  Just three days until Christmas Eve, she told herself as the service wound down and they stood to sing the anthem. So much to be done. And, she wondered, was it really worth all the work and effort? Oh, it was one thing to stretch herself this thin for her own family and loved ones, but what had she been thinking to go to this much trouble for a bunch of strangers? Somewhat cantankerous strangers at that. Just then some of the words from Charles’s sermon last week drifted through her mind. Showing hospitality to strangers . . . perhaps entertaining angels unaware . . .

  She looked again at the young couple standing just ahead of her. Collin had his arm draped protectively over Amy’s shoulders as he gave her a little squeeze. So seemingly vulnerable and in such a desperate state of need, and to think these two were about to become parents! It must be overwhelming. Would these young people be able to make it? Goodness knows they barely had a roof over their heads.

  And that’s when something hit her—almost as if God himself had whacked her over the head with a hymnal. She actually jumped. Why hadn’t she considered this before? This struggling young couple wasn’t so different from sweet Mary and Joseph so long ago! And, not unlike Jesus’s parents, Collin and Amy had found no room at the inn as well! How interestingly ironic! In fact, here she’d been thinking about hospitality and angels and, well . . . but the song ended, and she was quickly brought back to the here and now by her husband’s voice. He was making an announcement.