“Well.” The puff went out of Mrs. Hargrove, and she glanced sideways at Glory. “It would help. Don’t suppose God would mind if it was for the children. Maybe we could just ask for a donation. We could get some of the things they wished for. Awful hard to see children go without at Christmas.”
Glory stopped her sketching. She’d spent some time last night sorting the pictures she’d received from the children of Dry Creek. “I’m going to place the order. I’ve already called my friend Sylvia. She’s going to help me. I’m just waiting to find out if there are other children who want to bring me a Christmas wish. Josh and Joey said they’d spread the word.”
Matthew looked up from the ornament he was making, but kept silent. Josh had told him Glory had asked them to invite all of the children of Dry Creek to bring her a drawing. He knew Glory couldn’t possibly be buying presents for all of the children in Dry Creek. Why, there must be forty children under twelve in the area. And there’d be another fifteen or so who hoped they were young enough for an angel present. And if all the children were like his two, that’d mean the presents were at least twenty dollars apiece. It’d add up to a thousand dollars minimum.
Matthew knew he should speak out. But he couldn’t. If it was anyone but Glory making such ridiculous claims, he’d have no trouble. But this was Glory. He wanted to believe in her as much as the children of Dry Creek did.
“Well, we need to have faith this Christmas,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “We might not have all of the money in the world. Fact is, we may not have much of it. But money isn’t everything with God. The Lord fed the five thousand with a few loaves and fishes.” Mrs. Hargrove had a determined look on her face that said if He could do it, they could do it. “We should be able to get the children something. Christmas isn’t about big gifts, anyway.”
Glory gave up. It was clear the adults in Dry Creek did not believe her. But she knew the children did, and that’s what counted. “If you want, you could give out sacks of peanuts and candy.”
“Jacob and I could make popcorn balls,” Elmer said, his eyes lighting up in anticipation.
“And the angel could give out sacks of candy,” Jacob suggested.
“The children would love that.” Mrs. Hargrove spoke authoritatively as though that settled the matter. “And it would make a good picture for the Gazette if they send a photographer.”
Glory looked around the hardware store. The shelves had been recently dusted, but it was obvious the merchandise took a long time to sell. There were some hammers. An assortment of screwdrivers. A row of small household goods like toasters and irons. Even a row of doorknobs and plumbing fixtures. The people inside the store were so convinced she was penniless that she didn’t know how to convince them otherwise. All they knew of her was what they’d seen in this store and Matthew’s house. She had money in neither of those places. Therefore, in the eyes of the adults of Dry Creek, her resources were limited. They liked reading in the newspaper that she might be an angel, but they didn’t believe she had the power to buy even a few gifts.
Matthew watched the thoughts chase themselves through Glory’s mind. He wondered if she knew how expressive her face was. When she was happy, she glowed. When she was mad, she steamed. When she was embarrassed, she blushed. Right now she was feeling frustrated. Her face was a clear road map. He liked that.
“If we’re going to do candy for the children, I can also get the Ladies’ Fellowship to make cookies and coffee for the adults,” Mrs. Hargrove offered. “Doris June can make her lemon bars.”
“You might even set up a table and sell some of that jam I hear about,” Glory suggested. She wondered what was making Matthew frown like that. She’d been watching him out of the corner of her eye all morning.
“The ladies would love that.” Mrs. Hargrove beamed. “We could raise money for the church. Maybe we’ll raise enough to get a substitute pastor for a few services next year. I do so miss having a preacher on Sunday mornings.”
Matthew kept his eyes on his ornament. He was stepping close to quicksand. First Susie and now this. “Sounds like you do pretty good, though. I hear hymn singing every Sunday morning.”
“We take turns reading from the Bible, too,” Mrs. Hargrove agreed, and then sighed. “But it’s not the same. And I’ve been thinking for the pageant it’d be nice to have a real preacher to at least give a small devotional. Especially with all the people coming. They’ll expect—”
The bell above the door rang, announcing the entrance of Tavis, the son of the Big Sheep Mountain Ranch owner.
Matthew breathed more easily. He was saved by the bell. He didn’t like the direction Mrs. Hargrove’s thoughts were taking. He would rather wear angel wings than preach.
The cowboy was a distraction. In his early twenties, Tavis was lean and wiry. Since it was December, he wore his winter Stetson, the one with wool flaps that could be pulled down over his ears if needed.
“Hi.” Tavis nodded to Matthew and then to the group around the stove. His gaze slid over to Glory, and he tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”
Glory looked up from her sketch. She supposed the man in the hat was another autograph seeker. He certainly was walking toward her as if he had a mission in mind. He didn’t get more than two strides toward her before Matthew spoke up.
“Can I help you?” It didn’t take Matthew more than a minute to remember that Tavis was single and the reputed ladies’ man of the Big Sheep Mountain Ranch. Matthew had not dated anyone in Dry Creek, so he assumed the few other single men in the area didn’t even count him as competition when someone like Glory landed in town. He supposed word of the angel had gotten to the bunkhouse at the Big Sheep just as soon as this morning’s Gazette was delivered, and Tavis had come to investigate.
“Ah, just picking up some nails.” Tavis turned to Matthew with a wink.
Matthew grunted. It was the angel, all right. The Big Sheep Mountain Ranch bought their nails by the double case a couple of times a year. Henry had the boxes shipped directly to the ranch from his supplier in Chicago. They’d just processed an order last month. “Ran out, did you?”
“Ah, no—just wanted a handful of those little ones.” Tavis twisted his hat. He stood in the middle of the floor, not moving closer to Glory, but obviously not retreating, either. “Thought I’d, you know, hang a few pictures in the bunkhouse.”
“Oh.” Elmer busied himself with his coffee cup. “Since when do you hang pictures in the bunkhouse?”
“Aunt Francis has been trying to get us cultured, and now that the Gazette said there’s an artist in town—well, we thought we should get a picture for the wall.”
Glory measured the cowboy with her eyes. He’d gained a few points with her by calling her an artist instead of an angel, but she hadn’t worked with the guys in the police department for nothing. She knew a man on the prowl when she saw one. And this one was not just on the prowl. He was out to prove a point. She’d wager Tavis was duded up for her benefit. His Stetson was midnight black with no smudges or unplanned dents. His jeans were so new they still had the package crease down the leg. His face was freshly shaven and his hair neatly trimmed. She wondered if he’d be nearly as interested in her artwork if she hadn’t been written up in the newspaper or recommended by his aunt.
“I could paint you a scene around the Big Sheep Mountains,” Glory offered. The snowcapped mountains took her breath away each morning. The sky was pale blue today and the sun shone off the snow as if it was freshly polished silver. “But I won’t have time until the pageant is all taken care of.”
“The Christmas pageant? I haven’t been to that for years.”
“It’s going to be special this year,” Mrs. Hargrove said, determination giving an edge to the words. “Tell everyone at the Big Sheep—this year will be special.”
“If you need any help, let us know. The boys and I are always glad to help.” Tavis managed to face Mrs. Hargrove and smile at Glory at the same time. “Lifting things—that kind of thing.”
/> Tavis held up his arm and flexed his muscle. “Comes from lifting hay bales.”
“We might need to have you hoist some of the visitors up on your shoulder,” Matthew suggested from the counter. He supposed Tavis was harmless. Glory didn’t seem to be taking the bait. The cowboy kept flashing his smiles in Glory’s direction, but she didn’t beam back at him. She was polite, but that was it. “Trying to figure out how to get everyone inside the church to see it. Now that it’s been mentioned in the Gazette, more people will be coming.”
“Well, who says you need to have it in the church?”
Matthew almost chuckled at the look of horror that spread across Mrs. Hargrove’s face as she spoke. “Not have it in the church? Where else would we have it? We can’t have it here. The café’s closed, the school’s too small and we can’t have it in the street!”
Tavis twirled his black hat around in his hands. He’d gone full circle. “You could use our storage barn.”
“Your barn!”
Matthew was the first to see the possibilities. “Why not? The Big Sheep barn is huge. We could build some bleachers. There’s lots of space for parking. It’s right on the edge of town. Everyone knows where it is.”
“But a barn?” Mrs. Hargrove wailed.
“Jesus was born in a stable,” Glory reminded them all. She liked the idea. “That’s about as close to a barn as you can get.”
“But a barn? I think you still have cows there. What’ll you do with them?”
“We can move them out,” Tavis said.
“Or not,” Matthew said. “A few cows around might add atmosphere.”
“Cows in the pageant!” Mrs. Hargrove was horrified. “What will people think of us?”
“They’ll think we’re high society,” Elmer said as he leaned over and put another piece of wood in the stove.
“And the carol does say ‘The cattle are lowing,”’ Glory offered.
“That’s true.” Mrs. Hargrove perked up. “It just might work. Think your dad will go for it? He hasn’t been in church for years.”
Tavis grimaced. “I know. But he’ll do it for the town. Work is slow this time of year and the boys and I could do most of the setup.”
“It just might work,” Mrs. Hargrove repeated as she ripped off her old page in the notebook and started a fresh page. “We’ll need ten, no, fifteen bleachers and…”
Glory half listened throughout the afternoon to the plans for the pageant. Her attention was primarily on the front window of the hardware store, however, or rather, what was happening outside the window. The children did not care about the article in the Gazette. They had other thoughts on their minds. Every few minutes she would see a timid wave from a child, and Glory would go to the door. First a pink mitten. Then a blue mitten. Then a gray mitten. All of the children wore warm coats, but she noticed that some of the coat sleeves were too short, as though the coats were several years old and too small. Still, each mittened hand held the same thing: a painstakingly drawn picture of a toy.
Glory made sure each child told her what the toy was called and his or her full name. She was careful to write both on the slip of paper before she went back into the store. She wanted to be sure that each child had their individual present. She knew that any present would be appreciated, but she also knew that the feeling of having a present given especially to you was one that helped children develop self-esteem and the ability to trust.
Matthew knew what Glory was doing. She was making too many quick trips outside for him not to notice. Especially because each time she came back in her cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold. He couldn’t decide which he liked better—Glory with the cream-colored skin and freckles or Glory with the roses. She would make a beautiful angel. He was glad she’d been coaxed into staying. He and the twins hadn’t had a really happy Christmas since Susie died. He’d barely had the energy to put a tree up this year, and it still wasn’t fully decorated. But now this Christmas promised to be one they would never forget. He’d have to get the rest of the Christmas bulbs down from the upstairs closet so the tree could sparkle the way it should.
“You’re welcome to listen,” Glory said after she’d asked Matthew for the use of his phone again that evening. Her phone card guaranteed she could call from his phone with no charge to him, but she wanted him to know she was making arrangements for the presents. She accepted the fact that Mrs. Hargrove and the two older men didn’t believe she could bring the children the presents they wanted, but she had hoped Matthew would believe her. He’d become important to her, and she wanted to know he trusted her.
“I have to set the things out for the twins’ lunch tomorrow,” Matthew said as he pulled himself up from the sofa. He had no reason to keep sitting there, anyway. Glory had read the twins another Bible story, and they had had their good-night prayers. This time he’d listened from the doorway with a dish towel on his shoulder. He’d been tempted to give up all pretense of not listening and just go in and sit down with his sons. But he hadn’t. Glory’s voice reading from the Bible lulled him into thinking everything was all right with his soul, and he knew it wasn’t. He didn’t want a Band-Aid slapped on his relationship with God. He wanted to feel the pain of it until it healed from the inside out.
“Joey said he wants peanut butter,” Glory reminded him as she reached for the phone sitting on the coffee table.
“Joey always wants peanut butter,” Matthew said as he slipped the crutches under his arms and began to hobble toward the kitchen. “He likes the way it sticks to his mouth.”
Matthew limped into the kitchen and then turned and closed the door between the kitchen and the living room. He wanted to give Glory privacy in his home. He particularly did not want to make her feel as if she had to lie to make him think she was really ordering presents. A gift, after all, came from the heart, and Glory’s heart had opened wide to his sons. That was a more important gift than a laser light gun and a Lego machine set.
Glory dialed the number and said hello.
“Glory?” Sylvia’s voice came through sounding breathless. “I’m so glad you called.”
“Why?” Prickles were running down Glory’s spine again. Her friend’s voice didn’t sound relaxed.
“I’ve heard some disturbing news.” Sylvia paused. “I don’t know if it’s true—you know how kids are. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything yet. I told the police, but I don’t know for sure.”
“What is it, Sylvia?”
“Two of my kids—they’re good kids, but they hang with a bad crowd.”
Glory started to breathe more easily. There were always kids in trouble at the youth center where Sylvia worked in Tacoma. Most of the teens were part of tough criminal gangs. “You’ll help them go straight—remember the judge will work with you.”
“Oh, they didn’t do anything—at least, it didn’t turn out the way they planned.” Sylvia took a deep breath. “They told me there’s a hit out on you. Two of the older boys in the gang had been contracted to do it. But then, last night, something happened. My two boys got scared and ended up at the mission. Even went forward for an altar call. I had mentioned your name with the presents you were buying and this morning they came back and told me. Said the hit hadn’t gone through, that the guy doing the shooting had missed you and hadn’t found you again. No one seems to know who the contact was or if the hit’s still on. My boys feel so bad about it they want to go find you and stand in front of you so no bullets can get through.”
A sliver of fear raced down Glory’s back.
“Thank God you’re in Montana,” Sylvia continued in a rush.
“Yes, I should be safe here,” Glory repeated in a daze. She slowly twisted the phone card around her finger. “These boys don’t know where I am, do they?”
“No. Thank God I didn’t mention where you were when I talked about the presents.”
“Good.”
Sylvia paused. “They did seem genuinely worried. I think they’d protect you if they could
.”
“Yeah, well, if I stay out of sight I won’t need any protection.”
Glory kept calm. She went over the list of presents with Sylvia. Glory was used to stress. She knew about shootings and crime. She would be fine. She kept repeating that phrase to herself. But when she hung up the phone she started to shake.
Matthew waited for the lull of voices to stop before he came back into the living room. He knew something was wrong. Glory’s face was ashen. Even in the firelight, all warmth had left her face. No smile remained. Her hair still picked up the fire flecks and reflected them back, but all else about her was still.
“It’s all right.” Matthew hobbled over and sat down on the edge of the sofa. He wanted to reach over and put his arm around her, but she looked too fragile. As though even that movement would snap her control. “No one really expects them.”
Glory looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“The presents,” Matthew continued patiently. “No one really expected you to be able to deliver on the presents. It’s enough that you wanted to.”
Glory started to laugh, even though she knew nothing was funny. Hysteria started this way. She knew that. But she couldn’t stop. Matthew thought she couldn’t deliver the presents. But the presents were all settled. Her problem was worse than that. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to walk the streets of Seattle again. Someone had been shooting at her. It wasn’t a stray bullet. It was meant to hit her. She was the target. Dear Lord, she was the target!
Matthew watched Glory’s teeth start to chatter, and her laughter calm down to hiccups. Suddenly he didn’t care if she pulled away from him. He moved closer and put his arm around her shoulder. She whimpered. He wrapped his arm more fully around her and gathered her to his shoulder. He stroked her head and hummed a lullaby in her ear. He hoped to calm her. But it didn’t work. She started to cry in earnest.
“What’s wrong?” Matthew had to know. He felt a vise squeezing his heart. Something was wrong.
An Angel for Dry Creek Page 10
