A Christmas Promise

by Thomas Kinkade

  James didn’t answer at first. “Seems so,” he said finally.

  “Here you go.” Lucy set their dinners on the table. “Enjoy! And just holler if you need anything more,” she added before dashing away again.

  Leigh squirted some ketchup on her hamburger and cut it in half. “What’s happening at the mission now? Has there been any progress?”

  “I got a fax late this afternoon, before I left my office. It looks as if things will work out. Construction could start again as soon as tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s good news. You must be very relieved.”

  “To be honest, yes . . . and no. I was happy, of course, to hear the work would start again and the building wouldn’t be ruined by the delay. On the other hand, I have to admit, it’s hard to hear that you aren’t nearly as indispensable as you think.”

  He was laughing at himself, but Leigh could see that his admission hurt a bit.

  “From the little you’ve told me, James, it sounds as if you’re the cornerstone of that place. I think it’s to your credit that work can go on without you. When a person is a good leader there isn’t mass confusion if they walk out the door for a few minutes. People on your staff know what to do because you’ve taught them well and helped them develop their own judgment and abilities.”

  He gave her a questioning look, and she again wondered if she had said too much. But all he said was, “I’ve really encouraged the people I work with to be self-sufficient and use their own judgment. Right now, I guess I’m like a parent who sees that his children don’t need him anymore and feels . . . superfluous.”

  She considered his words for a moment. “That’s not what it sounds like to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well . . . I really don’t know anything about mission work, at least nothing more than what you’ve told me. But perhaps your role is done there and it’s time to start something new, to go where another community needs you more.”

  He stared out the window and shook his head. “I originally went to Helping Hands as a seminary student, for a few weeks during a summer vacation. But by the end of my first day I knew I would be back. Once I started working there, I never pictured myself anywhere else.”

  Leigh had never heard anyone sound so certain of anything. It was so different from her own life, which seemed like the fault line of an earthquake, always about to open into a chasm beneath her. She couldn’t seem to get a grip on anything solid or permanent. She had married a man she thought she loved only to find out he was someone else entirely. She didn’t even trust her judgment anymore.

  There was only one thing she felt completely sure about in her life: her love for her baby. That was her touchstone, the center of reality.

  “That must be a wonderful thing,” she said, “to feel so sure of what you’re doing and where you belong.”

  “Yes, it is.” He turned to look at her again. “It always has been—until I had to come back here. I guess I’m starting to see it differently now. Maybe it’s like you said. Maybe my work there is done. Maybe God wants me to pray outside the box?”

  Leigh had to smile at his choice of words. “I guess you’ll just have to see.”

  They sat and ate, not talking. James finished his burger, then sipped his coffee, looking thoughtful. At last he said, “What are your plans, Leigh? I mean, after you have the baby.”

  “Oh . . . I don’t know. I don’t have a real plan,” she said honestly. “I might go stay with my friend in Wellfleet for a while, if she has room for me by then.”

  The truth of the matter was that there was no friend in Wellfleet. There was no friend anywhere to run to. Ever since the plan to stay with her cousin Eileen in Canada had fallen through, Leigh had been trying to figure out the next step. She considered driving down to Florida or Texas or maybe even Mexico. But she was too low on money to get far. Now it seemed safer to hide out here for a while.

  James didn’t say anything. His quiet, appraising look was unsettling to her. She didn’t want him to ask any more personal questions. He was getting too close and she was afraid she might tell him the truth about herself. Would he be sympathetic and understanding? she wondered. Or would he be angry about the way she had deceived him, deceived everyone she met in this town? She felt so guilty, she could hardly bear to look at him.

  Lucy arrived and cleared away their plates. “How about some dessert? We have some good pies tonight—apple crumb, pecan, and pumpkin, which I highly recommend. I’ve already had two slices,” she admitted with a grin.

  “I’ll try the pumpkin, with a big glob of cream on top, please. How about you, Leigh? You can’t let me do this alone.”

  “The pumpkin sounds good. And more tea when you have a chance?”

  Lucy jotted down the order and soon returned with their servings of pie. Leigh took a small testing bite and then closed her eyes to savor the spicy flavor. “I do love pumpkin pie. I’ve never understood why you only find it at Thanksgiving.”

  “Me, neither,” James agreed heartily as he took a large bite. “Maybe we can start some sort of movement, the pumpkin-pie-all-year-long advocacy group.”

  “Good idea. We’ll need a catchier name, though, don’t you think?”

  “I’m just an idea man. I’m not very good with marketing.”

  He smiled at her, his blue eyes flashing. Leigh had to force herself to look away; he really looked so attractive to her at times.

  “I can’t believe it’s nearly Thanksgiving. Only two days away,” he said. “Do you have any plans for the holiday?”

  “Not really. Molly Willoughby asked if I wanted to go to her parents’ house. She’ll be there with her girls and Matt Harding, and his daughter Amanda. I thought it was very nice of her to invite me.”

  “Yes, very considerate. Is that what you plan to do, then?” he persisted.

  She looked up and met his eyes. She couldn’t lie to him about this, too. Besides, he would find out the truth easily enough. “Well, I’m not sure. I appreciate Molly asking me, but it sounds as if it will be a very big crowd there. She has such a large family. I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable with all those strangers.”

  “I know what you mean.” James nodded. “Would you like to come with me to Reverend Lewis’s house? There won’t be many people there, just Ben; his wife, Carolyn; their son, Mark; their daughter, Rachel; and her husband, Jack. Oh, and they have a little boy, William. He’ll be one in January.”

  Leigh was surprised by the invitation. Vera was going to her daughter’s house and Leigh had expected to be alone and make the best of her solitude. “That’s a lovely invitation, James, but I don’t want to impose.”

  “Don’t worry about Ben and Carolyn. I’ve already asked them. They’d love to have you, really.” She tried to avoid his gaze, but couldn’t quite. “It’s not good to be alone on a holiday, Leigh. Especially with all you’ve been through this past year,” he added quietly.

  She wondered for a second what he meant. Had he somehow guessed the truth about her? Then she realized he meant the story she’d told him—that her husband had died. She felt overwhelmed for a moment, wondering how she was able to fool him so well. It just wasn’t right.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said.

  “No . . . it’s not that. I’m not upset, honestly.” She took a breath and tried to get control of her emotions.

  “I hope not, and I hope you’ll think it over. You’d actually be doing me a favor, you know. I think the Lewises are wonderful people, but it’s hard to be the only nonfamily member at a gathering like that. If you come, at least I’ll have some company. I won’t be the only outsider, I mean.”

  He cast her a warm smile and she couldn’t help smiling back. Leave it to James to frame the question in a way that made it look as if she would be helping him. She could suddenly imagine him talking circles around bureaucrats.

  “All right, I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.” He sat back, looking calm and sat
isfied.

  Lucy stopped by. “Can I get you folks anything else?”

  “I think we’re fine. The pie was great, by the way.”

  “I thought you’d like it.” Lucy set the check on the table and James quickly picked it up.

  “You don’t have to treat me, James. I should be taking you out.” Leigh took out her wallet and pulled out some bills.

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind. Besides, I owe you for the therapy session.”

  “The therapy?”

  “For listening to my woes . . . and cheering me up.”

  Leigh felt her cheeks color from his compliment. She didn’t deserve his gratitude. “Don’t be silly. That was nothing.”

  “It was something to me.” He was smiling, as usual, but his tone was very serious.

  Leigh didn’t know what to say. “You’re very welcome. Thanks for dinner.”

  “My pleasure.” He rose and held out her coat to help her. She slipped into it, suddenly aware of his nearness.

  They walked outside and down Main Street, where their cars were both parked near Dr. Harding’s office. “You could leave your car if you like, and I’ll give you a lift to town tomorrow,” James offered.

  “No, thanks. I’ll drive myself home.”

  “All right. I’ll wait and follow you, though.”

  Leigh got into her car, smiling to herself. She had tried to tell James not to fuss over her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. It was just his way.

  She turned off Main Street and onto the Beach Road. The lights of James’s car reflected in her rearview mirror, following her, just as he’d promised.

  I have feelings for him, Leigh realized, good and serious feelings. Feelings that scare me if I let myself dwell on them too long.

  There was no sense in thinking about James, she reminded herself. Soon they would each leave Cape Light and go their separate ways.

  Nothing could ever come of it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THANKSGIVING DAY AT HER IN-LAWS’ HOUSE WAS JUST AS JESSICA expected: cheerful and crowded, with music playing in one room and the TV blasting a football game in another. Every room was filled with guests; a folding chair or snack table was squeezed into every corner space. Jessica had no idea how they would all manage to fit at the table, though it stretched from the Morgans’ small dining room out into the living room and even made an L-shaped turn, to avoid the piano.

  It was the same at every holiday she spent here. It seemed like utter chaos, with adults charging about with platters and steaming pots, and children chasing each other through the narrow hall. But it all fell into place eventually. Even magically, it seemed.

  She drifted into the kitchen, wondering if she could help. Molly and Sam’s mother, Marie, stood at the stove, debating the best way to roast a turkey. “I know what they say in cooking school, but I’ve been cooking our turkeys for over thirty years, honey. Don’t you think that by now I know how to do it?”

  “I know, Mom, and they always come out great. I’m just saying there’s more than one way to do it, that’s all.”

  Molly turned to Jessica and rolled her eyes. Jessica noticed that even the indomitable Molly didn’t bother to argue with Marie.

  Molly’s younger sister Lisa sat at the kitchen table, feeding one of her twins. The baby was about six months old, a beautiful little girl with a round face and a pink button nose.

  Just the way she’d imagined her own baby would look. The one she lost.

  “She’s getting so big,” Jessica said softly, trying to sound bright and positive, despite her own wrenching emotions.

  “Isn’t she?” Lisa answered without looking up. She kept offering the bottle, and the baby kept turning her head away. “She’s so fussy today. Must be all the excitement. The slightest change in routine throws them off.” Lisa sighed and glanced up at Jessica. “Just wait. You’ll see,” she promised.

  Jessica forced a smile. “I hope so.”

  She knew her sister-in-law meant well but the comment still stung. People didn’t realize how it could hurt to be around children when you were longing for your own. Why was it so easy for some women and so hard for her? It just didn’t seem fair. Lisa hadn’t even been trying to start a family when she ended up with twins.

  Jessica shook off the feeling. She didn’t want to mope the whole day. She went to stand near her mother-in-law and finally caught Marie’s attention. “Can I help with anything?”

  “Oh, well, let’s see . . . can you take this tray into the TV room? I fixed some special snacks for the kids.”

  Molly leaned over her shoulder and appraised the tray of tiny hot dogs and miniature pizza rounds. “Oh, Mom, you spoil them with all that junk food.”

  “Oh, hush. It’s their holiday, too, you know. What are grandmas for?”

  “Exactly,” Jessica replied. She took the tray and slipped out of the fray, then worked her way through the clusters of guests and finally reached the TV room without spilling anything.

  Another large group was gathered in front of the television, mostly male Morgans: Sam’s dad, his sons and sons-in-law, and a few boyfriends of the unmarried daughters. They were watching a football game while assorted children played board games on the rug. Through the glass sliders, she spotted a group in the backyard playing touch football. Darrell was one of the kids out there, she noticed. Then she saw that Sam was playing, too, and keeping the action from getting too out of hand.

  She watched for a moment, realizing that Darrell wasn’t acting any wilder or more mischievous than any of the other boys. She thought again of her mother’s house. It had been hard for him there, surrounded by adults and Lillian’s fragile knickknacks. The place was almost a museum.

  Sam spotted her and took a break from the game. He stepped inside and put an arm around her. “Did I see you carrying some food in here, or was that just a mirage?”

  “There was some on that tray about five seconds ago . . . but I think it’s mostly gone.” The crestfallen look on his face made her laugh. “Don’t worry. Your mom has enough to feed an army. I don’t think you’ll starve today.”

  “You don’t understand, it’s survival of the fittest in this family.” Sam reached across his brother and beat him to the last mini hot dog. His brother Paul, who had been best man at their wedding, glanced up at Sam with a startled look.

  “Sorry, I need my protein. Those kids are running me into the ground.”

  Paul laughed. “I’ll come out and help you. That kid Darrell looks pretty good. Is that the boy from New Horizons that you told me about?”

  Sam suddenly looked a little uneasy. “Yeah, it is. We’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately.”

  “That’s really nice of you guys. He seems like a good kid. Are you trying to adopt him or something?”

  Paul’s question was innocent enough, but it still made Jessica do a double take. She shot Sam a questioning look. Exactly what was he telling his family about Darrell?

  Sam kept his eyes on his brother. “We’re looking into it. Being his foster parents, I mean.”

  He finally looked at Jessica but she was so angry at him, she couldn’t speak.

  They had never agreed on anything. They’d barely discussed it. But now was neither the time nor the place.

  She shot him a scathing look and picked up the empty tray. “I’d better go back and help your mom. I think dinner’s almost ready.”

  “About time! I’m starved,” Paul said, oblivious to the tension.

  Sam just looked at her wordlessly. He had to know that she was upset. Maybe he, too, thought it best to save the conversation until they were alone.

  Sam rubbed his chin. “I guess I’ll go out and round up the kids and get them to wash their hands before they sit down.”

  “You do that.” Her tone was sharper than she intended but she couldn’t help it.

  She turned and headed for the kitchen, hoping she could drum up a better mood to get her through the rest of the day.


  LEIGH NOTICED THE NUMBER OF CARS IN THE DRIVEWAY AND GUESSED that she and James were the last to arrive. James had picked up a pie at Molly’s shop and she was holding a bouquet of flowers.

  They stood on the doorstep side by side. Leigh felt a little nervous as James rang the doorbell. She wondered again if coming here had been the right thing to do and wondered now why she hadn’t made some excuse to stay home alone.

  Anyone spotting them there would mistake them for a couple, she realized. Of course they weren’t. Just two loose ends, finding a place to spend the holiday. Together.

  Suddenly the door opened and Carolyn Lewis appeared. “Welcome, welcome. Come right in,” she said brightly.

  James stepped aside to let Leigh enter first. The house seemed cozy and warm compared to the crisp fall weather outside. Her senses were overwhelmed by wonderful cooking smells: turkey and sweet potatoes roasting and sweet scents of desserts. From some distant room, she heard the soft notes of classical music.

  “Come on in out of that cold weather. They’re saying we might get a little snow flurry tonight, though I hope not. I like my Christmas white, but Thanksgiving seems rushing it.”

  Carolyn’s smile was wide and warm. She spoke with a slight southern accent, Leigh realized. She could also hear an occasional slur in her words, the only remaining trace of her stroke. Leigh had heard that Carolyn had been in a life-threatening coma last January just as her daughter was rushed to the hospital to give birth to her grandson. But both women had pulled through valiantly, and Carolyn had made an amazing recovery.

  James kissed Carolyn on the cheek, wishing her a happy holiday, then helped Leigh off with her coat. Reverend Ben walked in from the living room, nearly shouting his greeting.

  “There you are! Happy Thanksgiving, James. So good to see you today.” Ben leaned forward and gave James a hug. He turned to Leigh, beaming a welcome as warm as his wife’s and folding the hand she offered in both of his.

  “Hello again, Leigh. We’re so happy you could join us.”

  “Thank you for having me,” Leigh said.