A Sweethaven Christmas

by Courtney Walsh

  All because her own life had gone so sideways. Lila wouldn’t give in. If she had to cut Mama out of her life altogether, she would.

  She looked at Tom as they got in the car and drove toward the first house on their list.

  No, Mama wouldn’t convince her that her husband had been anything but faithful to her. They’d seen their fair share of troubles, but they were past that now.

  So why had this nagging feeling lodged itself in her heart?

  And how could she make it go away?

  Jane

  The annoyance of the alarm finally woke Jane from a dead sleep. Exercising the past few days had worn her out, and it hadn’t gotten any easier to drag herself out of bed before the sun rose.

  Jane had never been athletic. Any weight loss she’d achieved in the past had been due to extreme dieting, and had always been short-lived. So, asking her to suddenly learn to love moving her body was like asking a prisoner to suddenly enjoy his cell. Nothing about exercise appealed to her, but she’d done it two days in a row.

  Before she got out of bed, Lori’s condescending smile appeared in her mind. How was it possible she’d allowed Dr. Barry to set her up with a nutritionist whose name she hadn’t bothered to get? “Just come to my office and give them your name,” he’d told her.

  Jane went blindly, and now she regretted it.

  Still, as much as she hated to admit it, Lori was right about one thing. Jane did want to have some benchmark of her progress along the way.

  She hauled herself out of bed and locked the bedroom door, her fear of being seen next to naked paralyzing her. The same fear that had caused her to insist on a dark room every time she and Graham were alone together. It didn’t matter that he’d insisted he loved her body, that he loved her skin and her curves. He could love it better in the dark. Even a man as kind and patient as Graham couldn’t really love someone so padded.

  The camera sat on the dresser mocking her, daring her to strip down and create evidence of her gluttony.

  Jane inhaled and took off her pajama bottoms. Her white tank top clung to her midsection, showing every extra roll. Not exactly the kind of curves she wanted to show off. Slowly she undressed, turning her eyes away from the mirror as she did. The cellulite on her legs grabbed her attention and she grimaced. One look at it in the mirror and her heart sank. How could she photograph herself in this condition? She didn’t care if she needed it as a benchmark, she didn’t want proof she’d let herself go.

  Her mind whirled back to the days spent in bed after Alex’s death. Days when the ladies in their church brought them rich desserts to complement their best dinners, and Jane had indulged in every one. She’d never said no to herself because her pain told her she deserved it. She’d lost her son. Didn’t she deserve to enjoy a German chocolate cake without remorse? Never mind that over the course of two days she’d eaten the entire thing.

  Now, she swore she could see that cake hugging her hip bones—or at least the place where her hip bones must be.

  With as few clothes on as she could stand, Jane snapped a photo of herself from the front, then the side, then quickly got dressed, wishing she’d never followed this piece of doctor’s advice. She didn’t need to see where she’d started—how could she ever forget this? She lived with it every day.

  And it had left her feeling defeated and sad.

  Jane remembered the girls had gone out the night before with the youth group. They’d brought home half of a cheesecake—for the pastor and his wife—and Graham had quickly swooped in and stashed it in the back of the fridge. But she knew right where it was. The refrigerator seemed to beckon her to it, like a magnet, and without thinking, she opened the door and located the Styrofoam takeout container.

  Cheesecake wasn’t even her favorite dessert, but it had been days since she’d had any sugar. And she’d exercised. Would it hurt her to have one little bite? Hadn’t she earned that much with her near-death exercise experience? Surely the doctor didn’t expect her to give up sugar for good.

  Jane reached in and took the cheesecake container from the fridge and set it on the counter. She fished through the silverware drawer, her heart rate kicking up, until she found a fork.

  One deep breath and she popped open the container. Two large pieces of thick-crusted cheesecake stared at her. She leaned in and inhaled its scent, her mouth watering for it. Without letting her brain get involved, she cut off a bite and shoved it in her mouth. She ate it so quickly she didn’t even taste it, so she hurried another bite but barely chewed that one either. The next time she looked down, one entire piece had disappeared.

  And she didn’t remember eating it.

  Jane threw the fork onto the counter and pushed the container away. Her heart dropped and she knew if gluttony needed a poster child, she’d be in the running.

  A knock on the door startled her away from the counter, the evidence of her weakness mocking her. She threw the fork in the sink and shoved the cheesecake back into hiding in the fridge, wiping away any stray crumbs from her face.

  Meghan’s face beamed as Jane pulled open the door, but Jane’s forced smile changed her friend’s expression. Meghan—always beautiful without ever trying—could never understand this struggle of Jane’s, and the thought of it almost angered her.

  If any of them knew what she’d just done, how weak she really was, they’d be just as disgusted with her as she was with herself.

  “What’s wrong with you, Janie? You look upset.”

  Jane forced herself to pretend. “No, of course not. Come in.”

  “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you about this,” Meghan said as the screen door smacked closed behind her. “I’m making a comeback.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “I’m talking about my career.” Meghan followed Jane into the kitchen, where she hoped she’d gotten rid of all incriminating evidence of her sin.

  “We’re doing a big Christmas special at our cottage,” Meghan continued, unfazed by the food-filled surroundings.

  “Here?”

  Meghan nodded. “It’s called A Down-Home Country Christmas, and they want my family there. The way I see it, you and Lila are as much my family as Mama and Luke, so will you do it?”

  Jane’s mind spun, trying to calculate the number of calories she’d just eaten. How could she remedy it? By not eating dinner? By skipping the next few meals or just having a plain grilled chicken breast and a light salad with no dressing? Could she stomach salad without dressing?

  “Jane?”

  “What?” Jane’s eyes darted to Meghan, who clearly waited for an answer to a question Jane had already forgotten.

  “What’s gotten into you? Are you okay?”

  Jane sighed. Clearly not.

  Meghan reached across the table. “Let me help. All the times you’ve helped me—can I return the favor?”

  “I don’t think so, Meg. I don’t think anyone can help.” Jane’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back, begging herself to keep it together.

  Meghan’s face fell. “Jane, what is it?”

  “Remember how you said I wasn’t always heavy?”

  Meghan nodded.

  “I checked. You were right. So, I started thinking if I wasn’t meant to be heavy, maybe I could change. I went to the doctor and found out I’m prediabetic.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jane.”

  Jane shared the rest of the details about Lori and the cheesecake and how it shouldn’t be this hard to control her eating—especially when her health was on the line.

  “But, Jane, we all have our issues, otherwise, we wouldn’t need God.”

  As the words hung in the air between them, the tears streamed down Jane’s face. Meghan was right. All this time, though, she’d been trying to conquer her problem on her own. It seemed petty to beg God for weight loss when there were so many things wrong in the world.

  But she’d always said God was in the details.

  Meghan reached down and pulled out
a familiar journal from her purse. The prayer journal Jane had given her only a few months before. “The words in this album have been my lifeline, Jane. Let them do the same for you.”

  Jane shook her head. “I know what these verses say, Meg. I’ve got them all memorized. ‘I’m fearfully and wonderfully made.’ ‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you.’ I get it. God loves me.”

  Meghan’s hands covered Jane’s just as tears stung her eyes. “You say it like it’s old news, Janie. You need to remember how powerful these words really are.”

  Jane wiped her cheeks dry and then finally looked away. Was Meghan giving her spiritual advice? Meghan who’d been at rock bottom more times than anyone else Jane knew?

  “Sometimes you learn things when you’re in the gutter. Those words are so much more than words, Jane. They’re life.”

  “I had no idea you felt that way.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  Jane looked away. She’d been so good at telling everyone else what God said and how it applied to their lives, but she’d failed to see it for herself.

  Jane opened the little album and flipped through its familiar pages, but near the back she discovered prayers that weren’t hers.

  “What are these?”

  Meghan stared at the book in Jane’s hands. “Those are my prayers.”

  Jane held her gaze. “You added to it?”

  Meghan nodded. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s better than okay.” Jane stared at the pages Meghan had added to the journal. Prayers of gratitude and struggle alike came to life.

  Meghan pointed to the open page. “That one is going to be a song. Those are the lyrics.”

  Jane shook her head. “It’s amazing.”

  Meghan sat for a few minutes while Jane scanned the rest of the pages. “Listen, I wrote down the information about the TV special. Keep the journal for a while.” Meghan stood. “I like to think that it might help you as much as it’s helped me.”

  Since getting her family back together, Meghan seemed like a changed person. Happier, calmer, more content. What if the words God had given Jane for her friend really had helped transform her life?

  Jane saw Meghan to the door, then sat down in the front room with the journal. She flipped through the pages one by one. The words on the pages jumped out at her as if she was seeing them for the first time.

  Her eyes scanned the page, her handwriting messy as if hurried, which happened often when she prayed. The thoughts came to her so quickly, she couldn’t write fast enough to get everything down.

  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. —Psalm 139:14

  She’d meant the words when she wrote them, hadn’t she? Framed in the context of Meghan’s life, they made sense. God loved Meghan so much, and Jane wanted her friend to see that, to feel it deep down. Why, then, was it such a struggle to feel it for herself?

  “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” —Matthew 11:28

  Jane took a deep breath and reread the verse she’d written at the center of one of the pages. She’d never felt more weary, more shameful, more in need of rest.

  But how did she do what God said? How did she come to Him? How did she let herself rely on Him when she’d gotten so used to relying on herself?

  She wasn’t a new Christian. She should know this by now.

  But she didn’t, and it was time to learn.

  “God, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jane prayed as she ran her fingers over the words. “I don’t know how to run to You. I only know how to run to cheesecake.”

  Tears streamed down Jane’s face and she let them heat her cheeks.

  Just when she thought she’d figured out everything else she realized she didn’t know anything at all.

  Meghan

  The morning of the meeting with the television producers, Meghan awoke with a ball of nervous energy lodged in her stomach. Her hands wouldn’t warm and she felt jittery and anxious.

  By the time the producers arrived at the house, Meghan’s emotions had come out in full force, fear of all the things that could go wrong threatening to swallow her whole. They could pull the plug on the whole thing. They could find a way to embarrass her like Shandy Shore had done. Or she could embarrass herself, without any help from anyone.

  But so far, everyone she’d told had expressed nothing but giddy excitement at the prospect of being on the show, and for that reason alone, she forced herself to pull open the front door and welcome the LA team into her home.

  A woman and two men stood on the porch. Meghan noted how young they seemed. The woman wore oversize sunglasses, had long blonde hair and was as skinny as a rail. “Meghan.” She removed her sunglasses and flashed a smile. “I’m Liz Dayton. This is Tyler and this is Josh.” She motioned toward the two men on either side of her.

  “Please, come in.” Meghan ushered them in and both of the men turned their attention to the house. Meghan watched as they seemed to survey every inch of her home.

  “The Christmas tree will need to be moved,” Tyler said.

  “And we’ll probably need more decorations. We can bring in Sheila,” Josh said.

  “Who’s Sheila?” Meghan asked.

  “Our set decorator,” Liz said. “She’s a whiz. She’ll have this place looking like a winter wonderland in no time.”

  “I thought we wanted to stay true to our real life. Our actual traditions.”

  Liz smiled. “Nothing on TV is real, especially on reality TV. Can we sit?”

  Meghan followed her into her own living room but kept an eye on the two men, who seemed intent on breaking down her home by camera angles.

  “Now, Martin filled us in on the basics. Do you have a schedule of events we’ll be covering?” Liz asked.

  Meghan opened the file folder she’d put together and pulled out the Sweethaven Christmas brochure. “I went through and circled the events we’ll be attending.”

  Liz took it and looked it over. “Looks good. We’ll have a crew ready to go for at least a few of these events. The way this will work is we’ll film portions live and then cut away to these prerecorded segments, you at the Christmas concert, you judging the ice-carving contest, that sort of thing. And we’ll hire the cast members to come along.”

  Meghan frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, I nearly forgot.” She reached into her slick black handbag and pulled out a stack of eight-by-ten black–and-white head shots. After flipping through them, Liz set two out in front of Meghan on the table. “Which one most resembles your mother?”

  “Neither of them. My mom isn’t this thin.” She glanced at the photos. “How old are these women?”

  “They’re in our ‘older’ category.”

  “Older category of what?”

  “Actresses.”

  “Actresses? Why can’t we use my real mother?”

  The woman glanced at the two men behind Meghan. One man cleared his throat as the other cast his eyes downward.

  “In our experience, it’s best to use professionals. Especially for the live segments. We’ll cast seasoned pros as your friends and family. It just eliminates so much headache.”

  Meghan’s mind spun. How could this woman even suggest such a thing? Casting her family with people who were clearly not her family?

  “What about our kids? They’ll be in it, won’t they? I mean, they’ve been in the tabloids. People will know if we use phony kids.”

  Liz shuffled through her bag, for what Meghan was sure was nothing more than an opportunity to avoid her glare.

  Just then, the front door opened and Nick entered with the twins. His plan was right in the middle of backfiring and it was hard not to project her anger onto him.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “We had to stop for the bathroom on the way home.” He glanced at Nadia. “She couldn’t wait five minutes.”

  “Liz, this is my hu
sband Nick.”

  Liz stood. “So you’re the brains behind our Christmas gala.”

  Nick glanced at Meghan, who shot him a look he could hopefully interpret. He leaned in toward the twins. “Can you guys say hi to the nice lady?”

  Finn’s eyes widened and he moved behind Meghan’s leg.

  Nadia buried her head in Nick’s shoulder.

  “Come on, guys, just say a quick hello.”

  Neither of them would budge.

  Liz tossed Meghan a smile. “This is why we hire professionals,” she said. “Especially with children, you just never know what you’re going to get.” The public understands this. We assumed you would too.

  “I’m sure they just need a few minutes to warm up to you,” Meghan said.

  “Mrs. Rhodes, you of all people should know how unpredictable live television can be.”

  Meghan felt heat creep up her neck. Did she really have to bring up how Meghan had been ambushed on national television with unfortunate photos from her past?

  “It’s simply best to remove every variable that could become precarious.”

  “But these aren’t variables. These are my kids,” Meghan said. “I’m not sure I want to do this without them.”

  Liz shuffled through a file folder and produced a familiar sheet of paper. “According to the contract you signed, it’s up to us to determine the cast.” The contract? They’d sent it to an entertainment lawyer who’d said everything looked standard. In her excitement for her second chance, Meghan hadn’t thought to read it after the lawyer, so she’d signed on the dotted line and sent it back.

  It was becoming apparent that not having a seasoned manager had its drawbacks.

  “We’ll be back for the first event on the schedule. I’ve got all your contact information if we need anything further.” Liz stood and hitched her bag up over her shoulder. “Thanks so much for your time.”