“Oh?”
“I don’t know where she is.”
“Well, she wasn’t at church. I checked there first. Do you think she’s left? Perhaps gotten scared that she stepped over the line and just taken off with her tail between her legs?”
Edith shrugged. “I have no idea.”
They finished their tea, and Olive, somewhat subdued, said she had things to get ready at the church.
“I’m bringing cookies over,” said Edith. “Do you want me to stay and help?”
Olive waved her hand. “No, barring any visits from Mad Myrtle, I should be just fine. But if you hear screaming from across the street . . .”
“Olive!” Edith gave her a warning look.
“Kidding.”
Charles and Edith had just finished dinner when Edith noticed a large truck parked across the street. Other than Collin and Amy’s bus, which was strange enough, or the occasional moving van, she was unaccustomed to seeing large trucks in this neighborhood. Edith went into the living room to look out the big picture window.
“It could be a farm truck,” she told Charles, seeing that he was coming too.
“Can you see anything else?” he asked as he joined her.
“Not really. The truck is pretty much blocking everything.”
“I’m going over,” he told her.
“Do you want me to come?”
“No, you finish up in the kitchen. If I need backup, I’ll call some of the men.”
Edith nodded and returned to the kitchen, thinking that it sounded as if Charles were going off to war. She certainly hoped not. But as she cleaned up, she did pray—very earnestly—that God would keep things under control tonight. Finally, she could stand the suspense no longer. She freshened up, pulled on her coat, scarf, and boots, and trudged on over to the church.
Expecting to see Charles ordering these people, whoever they were, off the church property, she was surprised to see that he was holding one end of a rope with a donkey attached to the other end.
“Come here,” he said to her. “Feel this guy’s nose.”
She walked over and, removing her glove, put her hand on the donkey’s warm muzzle. “Very soft.” She looked curiously at Charles. “So, what does this mean? Are you letting them stay?”
“I met the owner, George Brown. He owns that little farm just south of here.”
“Brown’s Eggs?”
“Yes, and other things too. Anyway, he’s a really nice guy, and it seems he knows Myrtle—God only knows how that happened. But he’s gone to so much trouble first loading and then bringing these animals, and in the snow. Also, Myrtle promised his little girl that she could be an angel tonight. And he’s brought bales of straw and pens for the animals . . . and, well, I just don’t have the heart to turn him away. This is Buster, by the way,” he said, nodding to the donkey. “He belongs to April, the little girl.” He pointed over to the large side yard next to the church where Myrtle and a little girl were trying to get a sheep into a pen.
“Need any help?” called a voice from behind. And they looked to see Michael and Lauren approaching.
“Welcome to the petting zoo,” said Edith.
“She really pulled it off,” said Michael as he looked around at the animals in various stages of unloading.
“Well, not actually,” said Edith, perhaps a bit too skeptically. “The night isn’t over yet. All manner of chaos could still occur.”
“Looks like George could use a hand,” said Michael, leaving them to go assist George as he urged another sheep out of the truck. Charles followed, leading the donkey as he went.
“Michael told me about visiting George’s farm,” Lauren said to Edith. “He really enjoyed it. He said George is a really nice guy.”
“He’s certainly gone to a lot of work,” said Edith, trying to get in the spirit of what was feeling more and more like a three ring circus.
“I think I’ll go help Myrtle with the sheep,” said Lauren, leaving Edith to stand by herself on the sidelines.
“Dear Lord,” she prayed quietly. “Please, help this to work out.”
“What’s going on?” said a woman’s voice. Edith turned to see Leslie and Megan approaching now. Illuminated by the truck’s brake lights, they trekked through the snow with curious expressions. Edith gave them a brief explanation, and Megan begged to go and pet the animals.
“I’m sure that it’s fine,” said Edith. “I just wish it weren’t so dark out here.” Then she remembered Myrtle’s lanterns. Of course, that’s what they were for. “I’ll be right back,” she told them.
Back at the inn, she discovered Mr. Benson pouring himself a cup of coffee. “How are you doing this evening?” she asked.
“I’m all right.”
“Did you see what’s going on across the street?” she asked, glancing nervously up at the mantel clock, worried that Olive could get here any minute, and then things could get messy.
He looked out the window and shook his head. “So, she wasn’t making it all up?”
“Making it up?”
“About the live nativity at the church. She had me drive her all over town to put up those flyers, but when I actually saw what they said, I got mad at her. I told her she was nuts.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you’re not the only one who thinks that. I just came over to get the kerosene lanterns. They could use some light over there.”
He set down his cup. “That was supposed to be my job.”
So, feeling relieved of her duties as well as a bit tired, Edith went up to her room and put her feet up. Oh, she was a little worried about all the details and how Olive was going to react, but as was her usual way, she brought those concerns to the Lord. And then she fell asleep.
When she awoke, it was a little after seven. Oh, dear, she hoped she hadn’t missed anything. She threw on her coat and boots and rushed out the door. To her surprise there were cars lined up for as far as she could see, up and down both sides of the street, which meant the small parking lot was probably full too. Feeling as excited as a child, she hurried up to the church to find that the doors were open and people were crowded into the foyer. The church was packed! And the pageant was just starting. Edith just stood there and watched with wonder. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. Benjamin Craig, a shepherd, forgot his lines, and little Maggie Turner’s angel wings fell off. But how they got those animals to behave during the performance was a mystery to her.
When it was all said and done, the audience clapped and cheered, and Charles stepped forward to announce that the living nativity and refreshments would continue outside. “At least for a while,” he told them. “As long as the children and animals can handle the cold. But while they’re setting things up, let’s all join together for some Christmas carols.”
Edith, being in the back of the church, was one of the first ones out when the singing ended. Relieved to be out of the stuffy foyer and in the fresh air, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. It was like a Christmas card. Someone, the men probably, had moved the stable structure outside, and it was flanked by straw bales and illuminated with the kerosene lanterns that Mr. Benson had brought over. Children and animals were in their places, and the effect was amazing. Edith spied Olive and Judy off to one side, quietly coaching the children, but Myrtle didn’t seem to be around. Hopefully, they hadn’t had fireworks . . . Edith was sure she’d hear all the details later. And, really, Olive should be happy—this was the best Christmas pageant ever, and the turnout was incredible. Not only that, Edith noticed that some people who hadn’t even been in the church were already outside, standing on the sidewalk and looking on. It was really something!
15
Edith had a lot to do today. But even as she went about her chores, she felt a general spirit of lightness—a joy that had been missing earlier in the week. She knew that it was because of the pageant last night. It was as if the pageant had put things into perspective.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t gone off without a hitch. L
ater that night Charles had told her that when Olive arrived, she and Myrtle did get into a terrible squabble. “Fortunately, the children were already inside putting on their costumes by then. Judy had gone in to help them, but Olive was absolutely livid that Myrtle had gone behind her back to bring in the livestock. And she didn’t care who heard her say so. Of course, our Myrtle didn’t do anything to help the situation either. I finally had to step in and tell them both to stop their fighting or leave.”
As it turned out, Charles’s warning had worked. Edith was just glad that she hadn’t had to give it. She wasn’t sure that she could’ve made that kind of an impression on two such strong willed women.
As usual, Edith had invited a few friends from church, those without family and such, to come to the inn for their annual Christmas Eve party, and she expected up to thirty to attend. Although she’d done a lot of the preparations in advance, there was still much to do, and she spent most of her day in the kitchen. Not that she minded, since her kitchen was her domain, and surprisingly enough, no one was pushing their way into her territory today.
Knowing that some restaurants in town weren’t open on Christmas Eve, she had made sure to put a small luncheon buffet out on the dining room table at noon for her guests. And judging by what was left, it appeared they had enjoyed it. All in all, it had been a quiet day at the inn. Peter had invited some of the guests to go sledding on One Tree Hill, and Charles had even gone up there to build a big bonfire. She expected they’d all come home by dusk, if not sooner. They’d be cold and tired and hungry. But she would be ready for them. The party, officially slated to begin at six, could start earlier for the guests at the inn.
Later in the afternoon, she went around the house, putting on Christmas music, turning on the tree lights, lighting candles. She paused where the missing angel once had been, then just sadly shook her head. Perhaps she’d never get to the bottom of it. Maybe little Megan had accidentally broken it, cleaned it up, and hidden the pieces. Her children had been known to do such things without meaning to. Although, if that was the case, for Megan’s sake, Edith wished she’d come clean. Guilt like that could stick with a child for years and years to come. Don’t worry about it, Edith told herself as she turned on the outside lights and looked out at the snow. It was a small thing, really.
Soon the house was bustling with people. It started with those who had been sledding, cold, tired, and hungry, just as she’d expected. But they were in good spirits, and her table full of scrumptious foods hit the spot. Even the Fieldses, who had indulged in sledding too, seemed to have set aside their arguing for a pleasant change. And Michael and Lauren, taken with little Megan, had officially “adopted” her as their new niece. But perhaps most surprising and exciting, at least to Edith, was that Peter and Leslie seemed to have established some sort of bond. She mentioned her suspicions to Charles, and he just winked at her.
Collin and Amy came in at a little before six. Edith hadn’t seen them since the night before at the pageant, and then only briefly. She hoped they were doing okay. But they also seemed in good spirits and had even taken some care with their appearance. Collin had on a shirt, slightly wrinkled, with a tie, and Amy had on a long green dress that was very pretty with her eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Edith asked Amy as she led them to the buffet table.
“Okay, I guess. My back hasn’t been hurting so much . . .” Then she looked around to see if anyone was listening. “But I’m wondering about these things . . .”
“Things?” Edith looked curiously at Amy.
“Can we go in there?” Amy nodded to the kitchen, and Edith led her through the swinging doors.
“What is it?” asked Edith, concerned.
“I don’t think I’m having contractions,” Amy explained, “because it doesn’t hurt, and aren’t contractions supposed to hurt?”
Edith nodded, then reconsidered. “Well, not always so much at first. First it just gets tight around your abdomen, like the muscles are clenching.”
“Yes, it feels kind of like that.”
“But, of course, there are Braxton Hicks too. They feel like that. Goodness, I had Braxton Hicks for weeks before Katie was born. It almost made me crazy.”
“Maybe that’s what this is,” said Amy hopefully. “I really don’t want to have this baby until we’re in California.”
Edith patted her on the shoulder. “And you probably won’t. I’ve heard that it’s unusual for first babies to come early. Mine was two weeks late.”
“Oh, good.”
So they went back out and joined the others. Mr. Benson had come down now, wearing a white shirt and red bow tie. “You look very festive,” Edith told him as she handed him a plate for the buffet table.
“And so does this!” he said as he began to fill it.
Soon other friends began to arrive, and it wasn’t long until the house was filled with people and laughter and visiting. Almost the same as when her children were home, Edith thought as she went to the kitchen to refill a cheese tray. But not quite. Still, it was certainly better than being alone, and she thought that her guests would probably agree with her. But as she considered this, it occurred to her that she hadn’t seen much of Myrtle. Of course, Myrtle, with her quirky ways, could be waiting for just the right moment before she came out and made some kind of entrance, perhaps even with a speech about the true meaning of Christmas. No need to hurry that up. Edith took the tray out and discovered that the cheese puffs needed replenishing.
Peter, a good piano player, had made himself comfortable playing Christmas carols in the living room with a jolly little circle gathered around him doing their best to sing, although only a few seemed to know all the words. Others had broken into various groups and were visiting comfortably, and as far as Edith could see, everyone was engaged and having a pretty good time. But for the second time tonight, she didn’t see Myrtle anywhere. Finally, she decided to ask if Charles had seen her. It was entirely possible that Myrtle had come down while Edith was busy in the kitchen and gotten into some kind of a fracas with someone, perhaps even Mr. Benson, although he seemed to be enjoying himself as he looked at Millie Mortenson’s pictures of grandchildren.
“I haven’t seen her,” Charles told Edith after she inquired.
“Not at all?”
“No. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her since last night.”
“Not even at breakfast?” asked Edith. “I was so busy in the kitchen that I didn’t really pay close attention to who came and went.”
“I was only there for about thirty minutes, but Myrtle didn’t come down during that time. That’s probably why I had such a pleasant breakfast.” He smiled a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, that wasn’t very gracious of me. But, if you think about it, things are going rather well this evening. Why push Myrtle into being social if she’d rather keep to herself ?”
She considered this. “Yes, she may be using this time to think about things. But I do hope that she’s not feeling badly about last night. Do you think that’s the problem?”
He patted her on the back. “My guess is that she’s simply worn out from all the activities yesterday. She probably grabbed a quick breakfast when neither of us were looking . . . and don’t forget that you left all those luncheon goodies out, which I’m sure she helped herself to . . . and perhaps after that she took a little afternoon nap. Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be down here before you know it.”
“You’re probably right.”
After that, Edith had her hands full just keeping the food coming as well as taking time to visit with her guests, so much so that she hardly noticed that nearly two hours had passed and Myrtle still hadn’t come down.
“Has anyone seen Myrtle today?” she finally asked a few guests. But no one seemed to have seen her.
“I haven’t seen her since yesterday.” Mr. Benson chuckled. “Not that I mind so much.”
“She’s probably tired out from yesterday,” Edith told him, echoing Charles’s ear
lier explanation, although she wasn’t so sure anymore.
Finally, it was getting late, the party was dwindling to an end, and Myrtle still hadn’t made an appearance. Charles still felt certain that the old woman was simply catching up on her rest. “She had a very busy few days,” he reminded Edith. “And she’s not exactly a young woman. Besides, tomorrow’s Christmas, and I’m sure she’ll be up bright and early to interrupt your quiet morning time. Just wait and see.”
Edith thought he was right, but she still felt a bit concerned when she went to bed. What if something was wrong? Perhaps she should’ve checked on the old woman earlier just to be sure, but now it was so late that she didn’t like the idea of disturbing her. Edith had done that with an elderly guest once before, waking the poor old fellow out of a perfectly good sleep, only to get scolded for her intrusion. And she certainly didn’t wish to be reproached by Myrtle of all people. Charles was probably right. She’d see Myrtle soon enough in the morning.
16
Christmas morning came, and Edith got all the way through her devotional reading without being interrupted. She fixed a festive Christmas breakfast, with Charles’s help, and still no Myrtle. Even the other guests noticed the old woman’s absence. And finally Edith couldn’t stand it any longer. Goodness, what if Myrtle had died in her sleep?
“I’m going to go check on her,” she announced, then glancing at Charles, she considered asking him to join her. But that might alarm the other guests. And this was, after all, Christmas. Edith was probably just blowing this thing all out of proportion.
“I’ll come with you,” said Charles, standing. Edith wanted to hug him and say thanks, but she simply nodded.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Charles said as they went up the stairs. “But I do understand your concern.”
“She’s normally such an early riser,” said Edith weakly, trying not to fear the worst.
Now they were standing in front of the door to the Green Meadow Room, the room where Myrtle was staying. Edith tapped on the door, first lightly, then louder. But there was no response. “Myrtle?” she called, waiting. Nothing but silence.
The Christmas Bus Page 13
