by Annie Jones
“Take the candy away from Willa.” She nudged Petie with one elbow to urge her to act then pointed toward her aunts. “Pass it on.”
Mrs. Shively sounded the solid notes that concluded all their hymns in a booming amen. Then the place fell silent except for some shuffling at the front of the sanctuary.
Petie turned slowly as if she needed to study the situation with Willa firsthand before allowing herself to get involved.
“Never mind, just let me—” Nic lurched across her sisters.
“Please rise for the singing of hymn 124,” Sam's rich voice carried over the hushed scene.
Nic stumbled forward as the row of Dorsey women stood. She managed to get her footing in time to get her fingers on the bag of mints seconds before Willa would have dumped them onto the floor. Remembering the slant in the floor, Nic sighed in relief to have avoided the spill.
She pulled at the thin material of the candy bag hoping to snatch it away. Under the cover of the singing of the hymn and the thundering organ music, she planned to explain to her daughter that she'd return the precious pink treats after the service.
The congregation prepped for the hymn by all drawing in their breath at once.
Willa scowled at Nic.
Nic scowled back.
The organ music surged, swelling to fill the place to the very ceiling.
Nic gave the bag a tug.
Voices rose in harmony in an old favorite Christmas song.
Willa set her jaw, blinked behind her thick glasses, and yanked the candy back with both hands.
At least the candy didn't go arching upward, which might have sent it raining down on Nan and Fran, winging the cottage family, and perhaps plopping down as far away as Aunt Lula's lap in the first pew. Instead, the bag ripped and the candy tumbled downward. One landed in the empty hymnal slot. Two or three landed flat on the floor around Willa's feet. The rest bounced and tumbled and hit just right to send them wheeling down the slanted floor like ball bearings down a sliding board.
The hymn ended just as the last two mints struck the edge of the platform directly in front of Sam.
Nic put her hand to her forehead. She had worn her best dress and been considerate in where she had her family sit in order to make this day run as smoothly as possible for Sam. Now this.
Down the row of women, Willa jounced up and down on the balls of her feet, her arms tucked in to her body but her hands flailing. Her lower lip stuck out and trembled. At any moment she would burst into a wailing cry.
Putting her pride aside and ignoring her chagrin over the incident, Nic scooted past her sisters, intent on taking Willa in her arms and sweeping her off to comfort her in private.
Head down, she could not see what commotion they had caused. She did hear the murmuring, the scuffing of feet from the front of the church, then something so startling that she had to stop before she got to Willa's side and look in the direction from which it came.
Sam was laughing.
Not a mean, sneering laugh that would ridicule Willa for what she had done, but a gentle, rolling chuckle that filled the room with a sweetness to rival the carol they had just finished.
Nic looked at him, then Collier and Petie, then back at him. Finally she looked at Willa, who had calmed down enough to only be shaking her hands and rocking slightly. Fat tears clung to her long, dark lashes but they did not stream down her cheeks. She sucked on her lower lip and sniffled, her gaze never leaving Sam at the front of the now silent church.
He came from behind the pulpit, stepped off the platform to the place littered with mints, and extended his hand toward Willa.
She looked to Nic, her brown eyes questioning.
Nic bent forward and brushed the tears away. “You can go up there to Sam if you want.”
“Can I have the candy?” she whispered.
“No, we'll get you more candy after church. But you can go up there and offer to help pick up the candy you spilled.”
“Okay.” Willa looked to Sam again.
“Come on down here, Willa, honey. There's something I want to say to you and to all our friends gathered here today.”
Willa gulped, made her way to the center aisle then took the short walk up to Sam with a somber reverence that did Nic proud.
When she reached him, Sam sat on the edge of the platform and held his arms out. “I wanted to tell you not to worry about dropping the candy and sending it rolling toward the pulpit, honey. Believe me, I know exactly how that feels.”
Everyone laughed lightly and the tension around them broke.
“You do?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Except I had a bag of marbles, not mints, and the floor was just as sloped then as it is now. But the response, that was, um, a wee bit different.”
The laughter came out a bit more stiff this time.
Sam didn't seem to notice, he just looked at Nic's daughter, his arms open.
Willa fit neatly into his embrace and laying her head on his shoulder said, just loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I'm sorry about the candy. I'll help you pick it up, and Mommy can get us more candy when you're done churchin' us.”
“It's a date,” he said against the side of her head. Then he lifted her to sit on his leg and looked out at the small gathering before him.
“I suspect most of you recall the great marble misadventure of my youth. I expect most of the town remembers it.”
The older folks nodded and murmured their agreement.
“I think of it every time I take the pulpit in this church where I was once told I was no longer welcome.” He seemed to make eye contact and look into the heart of every person there as he spoke. “I thought of it this morning with anxiety and discouragement weighing heavy on me as I prepared for the morning service. I was tired of the fight and ready to give up. I was considering coming here this morning to tell you all I would not stay on after the new year. “
“No.”
“You can't give up on us.”
“Please don't.”
Words of support came from the congregation.
“It's true. I was ready to walk away from the church in the lurch because I felt like it could never be anything more than that, a body of believers without solid grounding. Or if it could be more, then I simply was not the man to help guide it to that point.”
Nic swallowed and lifted her chin to keep from giving in to the threatening tears Sam's earnest confession inspired.
“That all changed when I saw those little pink candies come rolling down at me.” He gave Willa a squeeze and she grinned at him. “When I had the chance that so many of us wish we had in life but so few of us actually realize—the chance to actually do over something that went wrong and set it right again.”
“I see where you're going,” Big Hyde spoke out, as was his way in church.
Sam nodded and smiled. “I'm not going, Big Hyde. That's the point. I should never have been turned away from God's house. I certainly won't let the same people who did it to me before drive me to it again.”
“Good for you.” This time Aunt Bert raised her voice, as was not her custom, at least not in church during the service.
“All it took was a little pink mint to remind me that all are welcome here, no one should feel they have to leave to make other people feel more comfortable.”
Nic took her sister's hand and sighed. Much as his words comforted her, seeing Willa and Sam together before the church did churn up her protective urges. She had to wonder if this would become fodder for speculation over Sunday lunches all over town.
“Who'd have thought God could use a man with a sullied past such as mine? Or a little girl with big brown eyes who only wanted a piece of candy?”
“That's me.” Willa pointed to herself.
“Who'd have thought it? No one. No one but the people who could believe that a tiny baby born into a family who had nothing more to offer him than an animals' manger for a bed.”
“That's Jesus,” Willa said with qui
et authority.
“Yes, that's Jesus.” Sam stroked her hair back from her cheek.
She beamed.
Nic held her breath to keep from blubbering like some great gushing bowl of motherly goo.
“We all belong here. We are all welcome here, and it is our job as believers in that baby to make all people welcome here.”
A gentle murmur of approval worked over the gathering.
“We have one Sunday and the Christmas Eve candlelight service to go before Christmas. It's not a lot of time but it should be enough. Let's all of us reach out to others in our community in that time and see what kind of difference we can make.”
“How do we do that?” Big Hyde shouted out.
Sam Smiled. “Glad you asked, sir. Because I have a plan!”
Fourteen
Do you think lots of people will come?” Willa looked up from where she sat in front of the family Christmas tree.
“I hope so.” Sam shuffled through the selection of Christmas CDs Collier had brought with her. Traditional and religious samplings would suit the mood he wanted to create for the community festivity. His congregation had responded wholeheartedly to his idea, and all afternoon the phone had rung with people saying they thought they had convinced friends and neighbors to attend.
The sisters had not had as much luck canvassing their little corner of town. Though people living in the cottages were receptive when Sam stopped in with a personal invite no new families committed to come.
“Do you have enough decorations?” Willa stood with worry etched on her face as she peered into the small box of decorations marked for them to take to the trimming party tonight. “It doesn't look like a lot.”
“That's the point of us having a tree for the whole town.” Sam gave her head a pat thinking seconds after he’d done it that it might have scared the child. When she rewarded him with a shy grin, his heart lifted. “Everyone is supposed to bring a decoration of their own.”
She turned her anxious gaze to him again and pushed her small blue glasses up on her adorable nub of a nose. “It's a big tree.”
“Yes, it is,” he conceded. “But if all the people pick out an ornament they like from home and bring it to the church, we'll fill up the branches real fast.”
“They bring their own ornaments? Like from their own tree?” She shook her head.
“Uh-huh. That's what makes it so special. When everyone gives a little of themselves, we can build something bigger and better than it would be if we all kept our blessings to ourselves.” He searched her face. “Do you...do you understand that?”
“Is it like when Aunt Collier is cooking and Aunt Petie and my mommy come in and add things and change stuff so it tastes better than if Aunt Collier did it all by herself?”
“That's it.” Poor Collier, even the little one didn't let her questionable cooking skills slide. Still he'd noticed no one offered to take the job from her, only to try to improve her work with the little help they chose to offer. Suddenly, Sam felt a great empathy for the youngest Dorsey sister. “You know, though, maybe we had better take a few extra ornaments, just in case someone shows up without any. What do you think about that? About giving a little more than what's expected to help make this the best tree ever?”
“That's a good idea.” From the corner of his eyes he saw Nic come into the room.
“It applies to more than just decking the halls, you know. “ He set the CDs aside and looked at Nic. “When everyone brings their own unique gifts and gives more than they have to, that's when amazing things start to happen.”
She fixed her attention on her daughter. “That's nice in theory but it doesn't always work that way. And some things are just too precious to take any chances with.”
“Are you still talking about Christmas ornaments?” Willa's nose wrinkled.
Sam smiled.
Nic tugged at her sweater. “Willa, honey, why don't you run upstairs to see if Aunt Petie and Aunt Collier will be ready to go over to the church soon?”
“Okay, Mommy. Then can I pick out some extra ornaments to take with us for people who don't have any?”
“Sure, but for now get scooting and don't come back down before your aunts are ready to leave, okay?”
Willa hopped up and ran for the back stairway.
Sam watched the child disappear before he turned to Nic and asked, “Why'd you do that? Why send her off like that?”
“Because I've always taught her to be respectful of her elders.” Nic folded her arms.
Sam knew she thought that made her look in charge and immovable but honestly, seeing her like that made him want to do whatever he could to melt her icy exterior. He reigned in a grin. “Willa was a perfect little lady with me.”
“Not her. Me.” Her expression went serious. She tipped her head to the right. Waves of glossy brown hair to cascaded to one side. “Children learn by example and I don't want to set a bad one for my child.”
The flicker and flash of the Christmas tree lights that Willa insisted be plugged created twinkles of color on the faded walls and rug around them. The late afternoon light from the window shone in on Nic’s face. It showed both how much she had changed in these past nine years and how little. Her face was prettier, if that were possible, but her eyes more wary and searching. Her lips, however, were just as kissable as they ever were.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” he said with a chuckle, trying to focus on what Nic wanted to say to him more than what he wanted to do with her. “What’s bothering you now?”
“I know what you're trying to do, Sam. You and my sisters and my aunts, the lot of you.”
“Hey, don't lump me in with that group!” He laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Suppose you just tell me straight out what you're all geared up about?”
She glared at him. “Geared up? “
“At least I didn't say 'calm down.'“
“Sometimes it's what you don't say that says it all.”
Sam strained to make that compute.
“You think I don't feel the pressure around this house? Spoken and unspoken?”
“Pressure? About what?”
“About Willa.” Her whole face seemed dark, almost threatening but with a hint of some other emotion struggling beneath the surface to show itself.
He stepped back, physically and emotionally giving her some room as he said in all honesty, “Nic, I have no idea what you mean.”
Her gaze fixed on his for a moment then shifted away. She clenched her jaw, sighed and finally hung her head in what looked like resignation. “I’m sorry… I… I guess it's on my mind so much that I see it everywhere.”
“What, Nic? You can tell me. I'll listen. I want to listen.” He held his hand out to her. “No pressure, I promise.”
She chewed her lower lip, shut her eyes, then opened them again. She did not take his hand, but gave a wave as if to dismiss her reaction. “It's all tied in to selling the house and what I want to do for Willa.”
“I see.” He moved around and sat on the edge of the sofa, motioning for her to sit in the chair across the coffee table from him.
“I want to give her every opportunity possible.” She looked at the empty seat.
“Of course.”
“And I can't afford to lose valuable time again if she's in the wrong place and not getting every bit of help she deserves.”
“What do you mean, not lose valuable time again?”
The tension in Nic’s face was unmistakable. The set of her mouth, the crinkle between her brows. Despite the bright dots of color cast by the tree lights and the warmth of the sun, her face seemed gray with worry.
Sam sighed. “I have no right to ask you to trust me. No reason to think you should. But clearly there is a lot going on concerning Willa and what your family expects you to do. Don't you think talking about it with an impartial third party would do you good?”
She gripped the back of the chair until her knuckles lost all color.
Agai
n, he motioned for her to sit across from him.
Finally her shoulders fell forward slightly. She looked down, rubbed her nose then moved around practically to crumple into the seat. “I wish you had been around when Willa was born.”
He nodded, wishing he had some insightful remark to make to that.
“I mean, I wish I'd had an advisor. Like you said, an impartial ear to hear my side and weigh the information that was being metered out over the next few years by people who did not have my, or her, best interests at heart.”
He leaned forward, folding his hands together. He wanted to tell her he wished the same thing but feared it might stop the flow of her outpouring.
“When she was born I can't tell you how much I needed that.” She looked away and said nothing for a few seconds.
“What about your family?”
She still did not look at him. “Can you just picture how impartial they were? Under those circumstances?”
“No.” He took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped out in faith that she wouldn't close up or run away when he reminded her, “Because I don't even know what the circumstances were.”
“That's right,” she murmured. “You don't.”
He waited for her to say more. He had promised no pressure, after all.
Finally she sat back and sighed. “Let's just say I needed someone who could look at the big picture without making a big deal of everything. I needed someone to be on my side.”
No pressure. Still, he had one question he could not keep from asking. “What about Willa's father? Wasn't he on your side?”
“Nobody seemed to be on my side back then.” She still didn't look at him as she spoke. “Later I could see that my family really was, but so much had happened by then that it shook my faith in people, even people I should have never doubted.”
Again she had avoided the subject of Willa's father. It did not sit well with Sam. It raised questions and left in him a sense of vague frustration and dissatisfaction. He regretted the promise of no pressure more than ever. And more than ever he knew if he broke his word to her now, he might never get her to lower her defenses to him again. “Nic, I'm having a hard time following this. What does all this have to do with selling the house and what I said about everyone working together to build something better?”
