by Nancy Moser
He huffed at her. “No reaction? I come up with a great way to make some real money, and all you can do is stand there?”
“I suppose it sounds doable. But should we really spend—?”
Cal tossed the paper on the desk. “I'm only trying to look after you, Annie. And there's Avi and Dad to consider, too. With my regular job, plus Bailey's project, plus this opportunity…” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I'm trying real hard to provide well for us.”
How could she argue with him? Actually, she was trying hard not to argue about anything. Their marriage was delicate at the moment. They were still rebuilding since the truth about his father had come out. Through that incident, Annie had finally realized how important it was for Cal to feel like a success.
No matter how many “I'm proud of you's” she said, he wouldn't accept his own worth unless he felt he was financially successful. If only he'd be willing to find his true worth, in Christ Jesus. Unfortunately, little progress had been made in that direction.
“If you don't want to be in on it, I suppose I could go alone.”
Annie shoved her hands in her pockets. How could she refuse? “I guess I'm in.”
“Good choice.”
They were going to an auction.
She went back to her needlework. It was good Cal wanted to include her in his new project. But what about her being able to include him in her interests? She'd gone to choir the past month and had even taken Avi with her. The church was getting ready for a big Christmas pageant this Sunday. She was glad Cal hadn't made too much of a stink. She'd even started taking Avi to church. Yet week after week Cal stayed home. They were back to living separate lives. She hated that. She wanted to be able to interconnect with him. Especially about God.
She pricked her finger.
Ouch.
Annie took her running shoes onto the front stoop and sat to put them on. The concrete was cold against her seat. It had snowed last week, but most of it had melted. She hated the thought of days when she wouldn't be able to run because of the weather. Her extra pounds were coming off quite nicely.
“Looky, Mama” Avi stood beneath the living room window, a string of lights looped around her shoulders. “Daddy has lights on two bushes already.”
“Looking good, family,” she said.
Cal set the ladder to string the lights on the eaves. “Where you going?”
“Running.”
“We were planning to get the tree after we're done here.”
“I'll be back.” She blew them each a kiss and headed out. Actually, this was not a random run. She had a mission.
She headed toward Merry's and found her and Ken stringing Christmas lights on Merry's porch.
“Hey, hey, Annie. Two more hands,” Ken said. “Come help.”
“Actually, I've come seeking some help of my own.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds ominous.”
Merry pointed to the porch swing. “Care to sit?”
“Absolutely.”
She and Merry took a seat on the swing. Ken hung back on the top step. “Is this girl talk? Would you prefer I go?”
“No need. I'd like you to stay and give me a man's perspective. This involves Cal.”
Annie let Merry create the rhythm of their movement. It reminded her of life in general: forward, back, forward, back. “You know that Cal and I have fallen into a kind of rhythm regarding God or no-God in our lives.”
“How's that going?”
“Okay, I guess. Once we got the Fergis secret out in the open, things have been pretty good. Kind of. We're back to the status quo anyway But I'm thinking it's the chicken way out. Sure, we don't argue about faith much anymore, but that isn't necessarily a good thing.” She angled her body toward her friends. “Its not as though we're divided about paper or plastic, country or classical. This is important stufifhere.”
“Eternal stuff.”
“Exactly!” She knew Merry would understand. “I want to see Cal up in heaven, for my own sake as well as his. I know Jesus is the way—the only way. 1 am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.' But what if something happens to Cal before he makes the right decision? Time is not endless. People do run out of time.”
“Indeed they do,” Ken said.
Merry looked at her lap, and Annie knew she was thinking about her lost family. Lost to this life but alive in heaven with the Lord.
Annie touched her knee. “How do I make Cal choose Jesus before it's too late?”
“That's the question.” Ken leaned against the railing. “You can't make him do anything, Annie. You know that, whether it's making Cal take out the garbage or making him cut his ties with Bailey's newest brainchild.”
“You know about Bailey's business idea?”
“Doesn't everyone?” He continued. “You certainly can't make Cal know God and choose Jesus as his Savior. You are not your husband's Holy Spirit.”
Annie looked down. “That's not what I want to hear.”
Ken nodded. “I know.”
She looked across the yard. A pile of leaves was doing a whirlpool dance in the street in between the remnants of snow. “If only Cal could understand that I can't limit God to a portion of my life. It would be like asking oxygen to leave some of my cells alone. If that were possible, the cells would die. I'd die.”
Annie tilted her head back and took a deep breath. The swing adjusted to the change in the distribution of her weight. “I just want him to have what I have, to know what I know, to feel what I feel.” She looked at Merry. “It's for his own good.”
“Which is probably one reason he resists.”
Annie shrugged. “So now what?”
Ken moved directly in front of the swing. “We step up the prayers. God wants Cal more than you do, Annie, more than any of us do. But the deal that has to be struck is between Cal and God. It's got to be Cal's decision.”
“Sometimes I hate free will.”
Merry laughed. “Its both costly and priceless, isn't it?”
“Would you like me to talk to him?” Ken asked.
She jumped on the idea. “That would be great.” Then reality set in. “But what would you say? Not to doubt your abilities, but I'm not sure getting talked to by anyone is what Cal needs.”
“Then what does he need?” Merry asked.
Only God knows. Annie shook her head. She stood, making the swing gyrate at its loss. “I better go. Thanks for listening. Again.”
“Anytime.”
“And keep praying for my stubborn, arrogant husband who—”
“Who is a child of God,” Merry said.
Annie expelled a breath. It was good to be reminded of the bottom line.
Cal sat on the bed and hung up the phone. He'd just called the auction's number to get a detailed listing of the coins to be sold. It was all set. Tomorrow he and Annie would go to the auction, buy up some coins to sell on-line, and more important, see if he could find three particular coins.
The idea had come to him as soon as he'd seen the ad. The timing was perfect. His “other idea,” of which he hadn't told Annie, came about because he'd run into his old college poker buddy Scott Wheeler when he was in Eldora one day. They'd spent a good ten minutes reminiscing. The subject had turned to coins when they'd started talking about their old hobbies. Did Cal still do a lot of fishing and did Scott still collect coins? No and yes.
Scott mentioned he was down to missing only three half-dollars to make his collection of Barber halves complete—which would make its value shoot up to nearly five thousand dollars. From his wallet, he'd pulled a list of the three coins and had asked Cal to be on the lookout for them. Said he'd pay top dollar. Cal had written them down.
If those three coins were being sold at the auction, Cal could temporarily use some of Annies inheritance money to buy them, then sell them to Scott for a nifty profit and be a little closer to having some real money in the bank.
But what if Scot
t's at the auctiony too?
No problem. Cal would get other coins to sell on the Internet. Cals Coins…
He heard Annies and Avis voices singing from downstairs: “Joy to the worldy the Lord is come… “They were finishing up the tree and the other Christmas decorations and were really getting into it— especially this year. He'd never heard so many Jesus songs. Whatever.
Not that he was a Scrooge. He loved Christmas. But he had to admit he loved it better before Jesus had become a part of it. Santa, presents, tons of food—that was the focus of the Christmases they'd had the last ten years. He'd had enough of the Jesus-Christmas growing up. Jesus crammed down his throat.
Cal thought of Thanksgiving and the sight of Annie and his father talking about some Bible verses. His stomach grabbed. During his dad's few moments in the here and now, he talked to Annie about God-stuff. How rude was that? Didn't they recognize God was the problem? That God was the one who'd made the secret a necessity? Maybe his dad was too stubborn to see, but certainly Annie could understand that God caused the rift in the first—
But she doesnt know the whole story.
He shook his head against the thought of telling her more. She'd recently been privy to one hidden portion of his past. She couldn't see the rest. She'd never understand that even if his motives weren't initially pure, everything had worked out.
Avi started a new song, “Deck the halls with boughs of holly…”
He wished Avi and Annie hadn't decided to take part in the Christmas pageant. All those rehearsals. And the big to-do was Sunday. They were begging him to go and had even wanted him to bring Dad.
No way. They could fa-la-la-Christ-is-born all they wanted; he wouldn't be a part of it. And he certainly wouldn't subject himself to his father's judgment about the singing, the costumes, whatever would not be acceptable in Fergis McFay's eyes.
He heard Avi's voice. “Come down, Daddy. We're going to put the baby Jesus in the manger.”
He sighed. No sir, certain boundaries had to be maintained for the good of the family. His family. “Go ahead. I'm busy right now.”
Pooh.
Avi sat on the bottom step and cupped her face in her hands. She looked at her mother, who was arranging a red candle on the TV. “He's not coming to the Christmas thingy Sunday either, is he, Mama?”
“Did you expect him to?”
No. But that didn't mean Avi couldn't hope. And pray. She'd never prayed before she started going to church and to Bible study with her mama over at Sim's house. But she prayed now. Quite a bit.
And it worked. Most of the time anyway.
She prayed she'd get a good grade in spelling, and she'd gotten a sparkle-star. She'd prayed that Andy Simon would quit bugging her at recess, and soon after, he started bugging Sally Mason instead.
Once those prayers had been answered, Avi started praying for bigger things. When she'd really wanted to go to Cassie's birthday party, she prayed her stomachache would go away, and it had.
She'd even prayed “God bless” for her new grandpa. He was a funny old guy, and sometimes it was hard to keep track of what he was talking about, but it was neat to have a grandpa like her friends did. They'd even had him over for Thanksgiving. He let her push him in his wheelchair. He had a pocket in the side for magazines that was full of cracker crumbs.
But most of all, she prayed for her dad, that he'd stop being so mean about God. And especially Jesus. It's like the/-word was a slap to him. Every time they said Jesus' name, his eyes got small and his jaw tensed up like it did when he was ready to yell at Avi for being naughty.
Talking about Jesus wasn't being naughty. It was good. He was good. Why couldn't Daddy see that? Why couldn't he come to church with them, or at least come to the Christmas pageant? Avi was going to be an angel with a real halo.
But her dad wouldn't see her.
And that made her sad.
Vasylko greeted Jered when he came into work. “Hey, boy Is tomorrow big night?”
It took Jered a moment. Amateur Night. Jered hung his coat on a hook. “Nan.”
“You not try since first time.” He made a chicken noise. “Eh?”
“I'm not chicken. I've been practicing hard but—”
“Then why not sing?”
Because Jinko says the time isn't right. “I will. Soon.”
“You better. Dreams die if not fed.”
Jered tied his apron and got to work. He believed what Vasylko said, 100 percent. He was working on it. During the last few weeks, he'd finally had time to feed his dream. By most accounts his life had gotten easier. By moving into Jinko's house, he now had a real room, a living room, and even Jinko's piano to mess around on.
And Jinko kept feeding him with hope, with talk that one of these days when Jered got good enough—what was good enough?— he'd invite some big record producer to hear him. He even talked about having a private audition, away from the craziness of Amateur Night.
The time was never right. Yet how could Jinko judge his progress anyway? He never had time to listen. He was always hurrying in and out, rarely at home, and he never asked Jered to play for him. Jered was beginning to think the whole thing was a ploy to get him to help with the stealing.
It reminded Jered of a movie he saw once when he was little: Oliver. A guy in the movie named Fager or Fagin or something taught kids how to pick pockets. Jinko had taught him how to steal and had even let Jered do a few “appointments” on his own. He got a higher cut for those—as he should, since he was taking the risk— and truth was, the whole thing did give Jered a rush. He felt guilty about that.
Jinko still handled the fencing of the goods up in KC. Fine with Jered. He didn't have connections. But there was a good possibility Jinko was ripping him off, selling things for more than he let on and keeping the difference. Whatever. Wouldn't Jered do the same?
All in all, it was a good life. A good living. Not conventional or boring like his life in Steadfast. If Darryl and Moog knew what he was doing, they'd freak.
One Saturday when Jered was feeling brave (and dumb), he'd decided to drop in on his old buddies and flash a little cash. He'd driven to Steadfast and spotted the two of them parked as usual in the lot behind the hardware store, drinking beer. But when he saw that a new guy had been added—someone he didn't recognize—he didn't stop. Obviously his friends had moved on without him. Replaced him.
He was dispensable. Again.
The only place he didn't seem dispensable was in Jinko's house. Jinko needed him and he needed Jinko. And just to make sure Jinko didn't come home one day and order him out, Jered was extra careful to keep things clean and tidy. Once, Jered had moved a statue on the coffee table to the mantel because he wanted to put his music on the table to practice. When Jinko had seen it, he shoved the music aside and replaced the statue. He even turned it a hair to the left, as if it had one spot, and one specific spot in the house, and Jinko's world wouldn't spin right until it was in place.
But now the auction. The whole thing made Jered nervous. So what if it might be a bigger haul? They were doing fine. Why risk it?
Big gains always include big risk.
Maybe that was true but—
Vasylko called to him over the din of the dishwasher. “Hey Jered. I forget ask. You have good Thanksgiving last week? Turkey? Gobble-gobble?”
Actually, he and Jinko had hit a house over on Spring Street that day. The owners were out of town. With family. Sharing a special meal.
Vasy was waiting for an answer. Jered turned the question around. “Did you have a nice day?”
“Of course. I make girlfriend big turkey. We go ail-American. We have yums and everything.”
“Yums?”
“Orange potatoes?”
“Yams. Sweet potatoes.”
“Yams, yums. They were yum.” Vasy took up an order of enchiladas and handed it to a waiter. “Vasylko has much to be thankful.” He wiped the side of his head with his upper arm. “Jered too, eh?”
A snicke
r escaped.
“No?” Vasy asked.
Jered shrugged and finished filling a tray of plates.
Vasy stirred the vat of beans. “Holiday. You should be home. With family.” He looked around the kitchen. Oddly, they were alone. Vasy stepped away from the stove and came to Jered's side. “Jinko is no family. You go home, Jered. Go where people love you.”
Jered grabbed another tray to fill with dishes.
Vasy's hand squeezed his shoulder. “I pray for you.”
Annie lay on the couch, in the dark except for the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. If she squinted her eyes, each light widened and spread into a prism. Beautiful.
She loved Christmas. Especially this year when it seemed fuller and more complete. She mourned how many years she'd been content with half a Christmas—a Christmas without Christ. Its as if she'd previously held a succulent orange in her hand, content with the feel of it, the smell of it, never realizing the real treasure was inside and could only be found by peeling away the pretty layers. And oh, the taste of Christ Jesus! Nothing could compare.
She turned on her side, snuggled into a pillow, and looked at the Nativity scene on the coffee table before her. She'd decided on this position rather than the mantel because she wanted this symbol of the true meaning of Christmas to be in the center of the room. Unavoidable. Practically in Cal's face.
Surely he'd at least glance at it while he was watching TV, and maybe it would stir some long-forgotten corner of his heart. And that place would soften, and he would capture the wonder of the season and understand how deeply her own life had changed since this Babe, this Son of God, this Savior had come into her life.
Or not.
She closed her eyes against tears. Oh Lord, please help him seel
She heard a sound in the entry and opened her eyes to find Avi standing there. “Hey, sweet-apple.”
Avi looked at the tree and took a deep breath. “It's pretty.”
“Its perfect.” Annie scooted her back against the cushions and opened her arm, inviting her daughter to join her on the couch. Avi tucked herself in, like one spoon fitting into another. Annie covered her with an arm, loving the smell of her hair.
