by Annie Jones
“And parenthood isn't?”
“The parenthood thing is already there. Already a done deal. Sort of.” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “But marriage? I cannot get Sam involved in that final all-encompassing step with so much still...unresolved.”
“His church.” Petie nodded.
Since she had said it and not asked it, Nic declined to give any reply. Yes, Sam's position with the church was a factor, but not the only factor in her reluctance to make a decision. Her stomach tightened, and she pushed away the bowl in front of her. “If you don't have anything else to add, I think I'll go watch TV with Willa.”
Neither Collier nor Petie spoke.
Nic got up. “Call me when you're done and I'll wash the dishes.”
Silence answered her again. She tossed her napkin down on the table and walked to the doorway.
“Don't let them ruin your life again, Nic.”
She paused and raised her head. “I'm not, Petie.”
“They want you to be so stuck in your pas that you can't move on.” Petie's voice rang with compassion and clarity.
“I remember what it was like before, Nic.” Collier hardly spoke above a whisper. “That's the only thing that will satisfy people like that. The only way they seem to think anyone who has as public a fall as you did can show remorse is by dwelling on that fall for the rest of her life. We won’t let you do that.”
Nic looked over her shoulder. Tears stung her eyes and tightness clawed at her throat. “Thank you. I love you two so much.”
Kitchen chairs screeched back over the dingy floor, and in a flash the three of them fell into an embrace from which Nic could draw boundless hope and strength. With her sisters helping her, she would get through this. Comforting as she found that, she could not stop thinking beyond this small circle to Willa, to Sam, even to the church members and the town and their expectations. She knew she would need all the strength she could gather these next few days.
Why don't the snowbirds come to eat the crumbs at our house?” Willa leaned on both elbows and gazed out the front window of the Dorsey house.
Sam had come by first thing this Christmas Eve morning to sneak in the presents Parker had bought for his wife and children. Feeling so proud of his choices and the way they had kept Petie from finding where they'd been, Parker had not wanted to spoil it by walking in with the packages they had wrapped at the mall. So Sam volunteered to smuggle Parker's gifts in with the presents Sam had brought for the family. He had slipped all of them under the tree, all but one special token for Nic he wanted to keep on him, when Willa ran into the room making a beeline for the window.
“Why don't they come? Why?” She turned to him as he crouched beside her, concern in her sincere eyes. “You said you saw them.”
“Yes, I did.” At least he thought he did. He had not seen the tiny flock again since that day. He had seen other birds around the community tree and all around town, where his eye seemed drawn to anything that fluttered or flew lately. Once again he wondered, though, if his timely sighting of those snowbirds had been nothing more than wishful thinking. Perhaps he had simply seen sparrows and wanted so badly for them to be snowbirds that he—
He searched the low branches of the Christmas tree until he found the ornament carved by Big Hyde twirled on its golden cord. Plucking it gently off the limb, he held it up to Willa. “They looked just like this. Dark-eyed juncos. I looked it up in a book.”
“You did?”
“After you told me about them. I got curious.” He held the bird up between them. “I wondered how often they came to Alabama and what kinds of food they ate.”
“Could you show me that book?”
“It doesn't have a lot of pictures.”
“I can read some words,” she said solemnly.
At eight, he knew she should be able to read many of the words in the field guide he had found in the church library. But Nic had explained to him that often work on the outward mannerisms and behaviors, Willa's grasp of cause and effect, and her frustration at not being able to do what seemed simple to others got in the way of academics. She had hoped that in this new environment with so many people to support her that would change soon. “Would you like me to help you learn to read, honey?”
“Could you teach me from the book about snowbirds?”
“It's not about snowbirds, it's...” Sam curled his fingers around the delicate ornament in his hand. “I'd love to teach you from the book with the snowbirds in it.”
She smiled. Such a small smile, and yet it held all the world and half the heavens by Sam's estimation. How could he have not known this kind of love existed? How could he have thought he understood something about the way God loved his children when he had so vastly underestimated the depths of emotion a father feels for his child? Without even trying, Willa had opened his eyes to so many things.
Suddenly wanting both hands free, he tucked the snowbird inside his jacket pocket for safekeeping then took Willa in his arms in a tentative hug. “We'll start the reading lessons right after Christmas. We won't even wait to make it one of our New Year's resolutions, okay?”
“Okay!” She gave him a peck on the cheek.
His heart soared and he pulled her in to give her another gentle squeeze before letting go.
She stepped away from him and immediately began to look around the room with short, jerky movements of her head.
“You want to look and see what packages have your name on them?” He knew he'd promised to start the reading lesson after Christmas, but how could he pass up this opportunity to help her distinguish her name from others?
“Not right now,” she said as if it were the silliest proposition on earth.
“No? But I saw you looking around—”
“I want to know where Jesus is.” Her eyebrows slanted down over her near scolding gaze. She put her hands on her hips.
“Where Jesus is?” Dozens of ideas and explanations clicked through his head in answer to that broad and curious question, but which one applied? “You mean where is Jesus, like where are the snowbirds? Are you expecting him to come to the house?”
“No, you big silly.”
“Ah.”
“He's already in the house.”
Sam couldn't argue with that, but still he tried to clarify, “Of course he's in the house. He's in you and in me and in your mother and her—”
“Kitchen drawer.”
“What?”
“Maybe He's in the kitchen drawer.”
“Jesus? Is in your mother's kitchen drawer?”
“I gave the baby Jesus to Mommy. Do you think she put Him in the drawer?”
“Oh, the baby Jesus!” He took her hand and walked with her over to the nativity set atop the coffee table. Scanning the figurines assembled to worship the baby born in the manger, he saw that it now included two fat, happy ceramic pigs, a plastic dinosaur, a small stuffed smiling tomato, a snowman made from marshmallows and toothpicks with a gumdrop hat, and assorted animal cookies propped up here and there. But no baby Jesus lay in the tiny manger where Mary knelt and Joseph kept watch.
He bent at the knees to put himself at eye level with Willa. “Looks like a fine turnout for the big birthday tomorrow.”
“But no birthday boy,” she said, solemn as a judge.
“No birthday boy.” He shook his head. “Now tell me again what the tradition is? Your mother hides the baby Jesus on Christmas Eve and everyone—”
“Everybody has to look for the baby Jesus, and we can't open any presents until we find him.”
He brushed his thumb down her cheek light enough to tickle her into a smile. When voices from the kitchen caught his attention, he leaned toward Willa as though striking up a conspiracy. “That's your mother now. Bet if we ask her she'll remember exactly where she put the baby Jesus, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Nic? Could you come in here a minute?”
She appeared at the door smiling and drying her han
ds on a dish towel. For a split second it was like something out of an old TV show, the perfect family at the holidays. Mom in the kitchen preparing a heavenly smelling delight. Father and daughter whispering in excited anticipation by the tree. Of course, in this case, Mom was actually giving Aunt Bert a permanent, which stank so badly no one else would go near. Father was not married to mother—yet—and the daughter... the daughter was the only perfect thing about the scene, he decided, looking at Willa.
“Nic, we just wondered, do you know where baby Jesus is?”
“Baby Jesus?” She cocked her head not thrown for an instant by the question. “Let's see. Willa brought Him to me the first day we got here.”
“In the kitchen.”
“That's right. In the kitchen.” Nic tapped her cheek with the aqua curler in her hand. “But I didn't leave him in there because I recall distinctly not wanting to risk getting food dripped on him.”
“Don't get distracted and leave this stuff on my hair too long and burn it to a frizz, young lady,” Aunt Bert called out unseen from the next room.
“I won't.” Nic put the tip of the curler to her lower lip and squinted in what Sam could only surmise was concentration. “So much has gone on since then, but it occurs to me that I probably put Jesus in a box and set it aside until we’d need him. Then everything got so hectic and haywire that I forgot all about him.”
“We're all guilty of that very thing from time to time.”
“Why do I think this will turn up in a sermon some day?” Nic put her hand to her hip.
“Sermon!” Sam stood straight up. “Talk about getting distracted. I have to go over my notes and rehearse my sermon for tonight.”
“Want to practice it on us? We're a pretty receptive audience.”
“Unlike the one I'll be facing in my church this evening?” Sam's chuckle came out harder than he intended and did nothing to lighten the reality of his supposition. “Thanks, Nic, but—”
Bing, bong. The doorbell cut him off.
“Don't you go running off, Nicolette, and leave me here to try to take these curlers out by myself.”
“Would you get that?” Nic stole a quick peek over her shoulder in Aunt Bert's direction.
“You know these old arms can lift up only so high,” the older woman went on. “Why, left to my own, the sides of my hair would be waves while the top part would be a fried mess of fuzz like some fancy clipped poodle dog.”
Bing, bong. Bing, bong.
“I've got my hands full.” Nic raised both her empty hands and shook her head before pivoting on her heel and heading back into the kitchen. “I'm not going anywhere. Probably someone dropping by with Christmas cookies anyway. Sam can get it.”
“If they got food, bring 'em straight in here, Sam, honey,” Bert bellowed out.
“Will do.” His laughter had not died when he pulled open the door.
“Hadn't counted on you being here, Reverend Moss.” Big Hyde swept his black hat from his head. Holding it by the crown in one gnarled hand, he jabbed the air with it as he went on, “Thought you'd taken up residence with Miss Roberta for the time being.”
“I have. I just stopped over to drop off some gifts. I was just on my way back to the church, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh, I see. I see.”
“Won't you come on in?”
“That someone with baked goods, Sam?”
“Aunt Bert, sit still. I'll yank out half your hair in the process if you don't settle down.”
“A little home beauty parlor treatment.” Sam motioned for the older man to come inside the house then took his hat and coat, draping them over one arm.
“Hi, Mr. Freeman.” Willa all but danced up to the wiry old fellow, her hands held up. “My daddy's gonna teach me to read about snowbirds!”
“Is that so?” He took the child's pale hands in his weathered black ones and stuck out his wing tips.
Willa stepped on them light as an angel landing on a cloud, then tipped her head back. “Uh-huh. He found a book about them because he saw some by the big Christmas tree, and now he's gonna teach me to read about them, too.”
“So you saw the snowbirds?” Big Hyde did not skip a beat as he led the small girl in an impeccable box step.
What a picture in contrasts they made, old and young, black and white. Big Hyde in his customary dark pants and white shirt, today set off by a maroon-and-blue bow tie, dancing with Willa in her red overalls and green striped turtleneck. Though his glasses were black with silver trim and hers a little girl's pastel, both their eyes shone with a joy of the moment that made all the differences fade to insignificance.
“Thank you very much for this dance, my lady.” Big Hyde deftly lifted the child off his feet, then released her hands and gave a grand bow.
“Thank you.” Willa bowed in kind. Then she raised her hands over her head, leaped in the air, and spun around. “I'll go tell my mommy you're here.”
“She's really special, isn't she?” Sam watched the child fly.
“That she is...Daddy.” He flavored the title with that same disapproving tone he'd used on Sam's first day back in Persuasion.
Looking back now knowing that Big Hyde had helped bring him to town, he heard challenge in the old man's voice, not condemnation. “I want to take care of that child and love her for the rest of my life.”
“I'll add that to my prayer list then.”
“Thank you.”
“If I were the nosey sort, I'd find a sly way of asking what you intend to do about the child's mother.” Big Hyde gave him that slow, merciless once-over. “Of course, I'm not that sort.”
“Of course not.” Sam folded his arms and hardened his expression. This man had helped bring him here and stood up for him in the church, but there came a point where even a preacher did not owe every detail of his private life to his supporters.
“Mr. Freeman, it's so good to see you.” Nic stuck her head through the arched doorway. “Come on back and have a cup of coffee, won't you?”
“Didn't come to pay a social call, Ms. Dorsey.”
“Oh?” She stepped fully into the room. “Is there something wrong?”
He gave Sam a low, sidelong look, heaved out a sigh, and then clasped his hands together. “Went by Miss Roberta's house first and saw the note tacked to her door saying to try for her here.”
Nic shook her head. “Why didn't you just add a PS.—robbers come on in and take whatever you please, Aunt Bert?”
“We ain't got robbers in Persuasion. And even if we did, what have I got that they'd want to take? If you came two blocks out of your way looking for me, Big Hyde, then come a few steps farther into this kitchen. I can't get myself in there without dripping on the carpet.”
“Well, now, Miss Roberta, I can't stay and I hadn't counted on the Reverend being here.”
“You want me to leave?” Without even thinking, Sam started to put on Big Hyde's hat, ready to hightail it out of there.
“No, no, son. This concerns you.” Big Hyde took his hat back and ran his thumb along one crease in the crown. “It's church business. I just thought the news might have come easier out of the mouth of a family member. That's why I came looking for Miss Roberta.”
He thought about reminding the old man that Bert was not really related to him but decided against it. He understood the motive and knew it did not bode well for the message Big Hyde had come to deliver. Forcing his biggest smile, Sam put his hand on his guest's back. “You sure you won't sit down and have some coffee while you tell me what's going on?”
“No, no. I can't stay.” He took his coat from Sam's arm. “I just wanted to stop in and let Miss Roberta—well, now to let you know—they've gone and put a petition up at Dewi's.”
“A petition?” Nic placed her hands on her hips. “What for?”
“That's what I say.” Bert hollered out. “That place is cut up enough with the way he's got all them racks and shelves in there. Why on earth would he need a partition, too?”
“Not partition, Aunt Bert. Petition.” Nic's eyes narrowed in her aunt's direction then she checked her watch.
“I reckon I can guess what it's about.” Sam thrust his hands in his pockets and studied the faded pattern on the carpet.
“They want church members to bypass the board and call for him to step down as minister of All Souls, right?” Nic folded her arms.
“What was that?” Bert's chair legs scraped on the floor, and Sam could picture her scooting it along trying to hear the conversation.
“Not just step down from All Soul's.” Big Hyde's face was grim. “They want him banned from the ministry altogether.”
The news hit Sam like a punch to the gut.
“They can't do that, can they?” Nic looked from Sam to Big Hyde and back again.
Sam shook his head.
“No.” Big Hyde waved the notion off. “I doubt they can even muster up enough bona fide church members to go along with this fool petition to make it worth the trouble of writing it up.”
“That doesn't mean it won't get ugly.” Sam rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “And it could destroy everything I'd hoped to build here. Divide the church for a long time to come.”
“You know that's exactly the opposite reason of why we brought you here in the first place.”
“I know.” Sam nodded, thinking of that first day back in town. Big Hyde had told him about the people who delighted in picking clean the bones of what had once been a thriving small town. Sam now saw that he was the one the old man saw at risk of being ravaged by vultures.
“Willa, honey.” Nic faced the arched doorway and spoke in a soft tone to her unseen child. “Be a darling and run upstairs and get Aunt Petie or Aunt Collier so they can rinse out Aunt Bert's hair.”
“Girl, I'm not so feeble I can't rinse my own hair if it's that time already. Don't send the child off on—”
“No, Aunt Bert. I think you really need someone to help you, and Willa really needs to go get her.” Nic's jaw hardly moved as she tried to drive the point home. “Run along, Willa, and take your time.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Willa's footsteps thundered up the back stairs.
Nic hurried into the front room. Not wasting a precious moment to preface her thoughts, she grabbed Sam by the arm. “You have to tell them.”
