“Never.”
“You fell in love with him.” Lila took a step closer. “You thought you could change him, but when you realized you couldn’t, it turned you mean and bitter.”
Mama crossed her arms. “Of course I thought I loved him. I was young and foolish and he was rich and charming.” She looked away. “And married.”
For the first time she could remember, Lila felt sorry for Mama. She’d been a prisoner in her failed marriage, whether anyone was talking about it or not. Mama had tried to give herself to Daddy and Daddy hadn’t wanted her.
“Don’t look at me like that, Lila.” Mama leveled her gaze.
Lila blinked away the tears. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“Just go.” Mama walked to the door and opened it, staring off in the distance.
Lila pulled a photo from her coat pocket and handed it to her mother.
“Who’s this?”
“That’s Maddie,” Lila said. “Charlotte’s daughter. You’re so caught up in your own life that you don’t even have the heart to let Daddy get tested to see if he can help save this girl’s life.”
Mama tried to hand the photo back to Lila.
“No, Mama. You keep that. You look at it and remember that this is your chance to do something good.”
Without another word, Lila walked outside. The door slammed shut behind her.
Jane
Jane sat at the kitchen table with the little prayer journal open in front of her. Somehow, it had become a lifeline for her again.
For this page, she’d decided to journal her feelings on a sheet of paper and tuck it inside an envelope she’d affixed to the page.
She stared at the blank page in front of her.
Lord,
While I still have some of my old insecurities, something inside me has changed. I don’t even know if I’ve lost a single pound, but I’ve never tried so hard for so long. Every time I finish a workout or turn down dessert, I feel so strong—like somehow the chains that have kept me bound up are starting to loosen.
I feel like, for the first time, I might actually be successful. I think I can do anything.
Jane smiled as she reread the words. What a difference it made to take care of herself.
After she folded the paper and slid it inside the envelope, Jane walked outside. She had a date with an elliptical.
But before she got in the car, she looked up and saw the long stretch of road in front of her. What if she didn’t go to the gym today?
What if she exercised outside? A walk wouldn’t be too bad, even though the sun hid behind the clouds and the temperature chilled her to the bone.
Jane stood on the road, bundled in a fleece sweatshirt, scarf, gloves and stocking cap. To any passersby, she most likely looked ridiculous, and it would be even more ridiculous for her to try to run.
But in her mind, she pictured herself jogging down to the corner.
But it’s so cold.
Excuses. She had plenty of them. Running was something she’d always told herself she could never do.
Was God challenging her perception of her strength?
She started trudging down the hill of their neighborhood and out onto Peony Place. She’d walk out toward the edge of town to avoid the watchful eyes of anyone who might be out and about. What she didn’t need were comments on the fact that the fat lady who broke the chair in the church was huffing and puffing up the hill.
She could practically hear what they’d say. It’s about time she did something about her weight. Or I hope she doesn’t keel over and die right here on Main Street. Or, worse, Oh, I can’t watch her bouncing up the hill like that. I’m so embarrassed for her.
She shoved the imaginary insults out of her mind and listened to the sound of her feet hitting the pavement.
Before long, the chill went away and Jane started to sweat. She inhaled the crisp winter air and it coated her lungs with a coolness that made her cough. Behind her, the blocks she’d already traveled seemed like nothing. She was so out of shape she wouldn’t even make it a mile. As she walked, she thought about all she’d been through in the last six years. Every tragedy—big or small—had driven her to the kitchen. She ran straight for the comfort of the food. She ate at night when everyone was sleeping, hiding the chocolate and the cookies to uncover later when she was alone.
Run.
The word came at her like a fly buzzing around her head. She slowed her pace to catch her breath. She knew God’s voice. She’d learned to listen to it, but He never talked to her about food or exercise. Or had He? Had she simply chosen not to listen?
“I can’t run.”
Run.
She laughed. It had to be God because she’d never tell herself to do something so ludicrous. But why would He want her to run? Why did it matter? She looked up ahead. About three blocks of highway away was a Speed Limit sign. She could run to that, couldn’t she?
“This is insane.”
She could barely walk a distance, and here she was, thinking about running.
Jane stopped and stared in front of her. “Run. Okay, God. Here goes nothing.”
She started with a brisk walk and then, without thinking, she picked up the pace until finally she jogged toward the Speed Limit sign. Her feet pounded on the pavement and she could feel her body protesting. The fat parts of her legs and stomach were displaced and then put back together in such a way that she imagined tomorrow she’d be bruised. The pain of it struck her with extreme force, but she kept going.
“I hate this,” she said out loud.
Run.
She wouldn’t quit. She couldn’t. But she’d never become a marathon runner or someone who enjoyed exercise so what was the point? As she neared her intended finish line, Jane started to slow down.
You’re not done yet.
“No, I am. I’m done.”
Don’t quit.
Jane couldn’t be certain it was God speaking to her anymore. At this point, she imagined it could be her own delusions from the lack of oxygen to her brain. But she listened and she forced herself to keep going. One more foot in front of the other. As she ran, she thought about how hard it would be to make the decision every single day to eat healthy foods. To move her body. She didn’t drink or smoke or do the things other people did. So she liked food. Was that so bad?
But look what she’d done to herself. Her breaths grew shorter and shorter as she struggled, but she kept putting one foot in front of the other.
“What . . . am I . . . running for?” She struggled to speak, though she wanted to yell at God with everything she had left. Why did she have to run?
Jane forced her feet to move. They felt like cement blocks by now and her breath stung her throat, cold and weak. Her body ached and she didn’t want to go one more step.
But she kept moving forward, sacrificing comfort, giving this struggle as an offering.
The run was a physical expression of what she felt inside. She’d never pushed herself like this before. And all these years, she’d been running to the refrigerator when she should’ve been running to God.
Like pictures on a movie screen, Jane saw those moments of crisis playing in front of her as she pressed forward. The months following Alex’s death, she spent on the couch with ice cream. The months after Sam’s birth, she spent hidden away with cookies from the bakery down the street. As recently as a few weeks ago, when she broke the chair on the stage in front of Lori and the rest of the congregation, she’d comforted herself with a bag of potato chips and French onion dip.
And she’d eaten the entire thing.
Hot tears stung her cold cheeks and clouded her eyes as she pushed herself to take just a few more steps. And then a few more. And a few more.
She’d done this to herself because every time something bad happened, or something good—she ran to the food.
Run to Me.
The words echoed in her mind.
She’d chosen the food over God every time. Every single time sh
e needed comfort. And look what it had done to her.
Food was not a faithful friend.
The tears came quicker now and Jane’s light cry turned into a deep sob, straight from the gut. She finally slowed her pace and bent over, struggling for air. And in that moment, she knew what she had to do—and she finally had the courage to go for it.
She’d proven to herself that her body wasn’t the problem—the battle was in her mind.
If she failed tomorrow, she’d try again the next day.
She’d been running toward the wrong things, and that had to stop.
Finally, she understood. Her life depended on it.
Meghan
Meghan knew better than to believe in fate. When she awoke the morning of the Christmas special and saw what it looked like outside, she could only smile.
“I think maybe God wanted them to use our family too,” Nick said, standing at the bedroom window. “No way anyone can fly in from LA today.”
The Hollywood family was supposed to arrive in an hour, but judging by the blizzard outside, no one was getting in or out of Sweethaven—maybe for several days.
Nick’s phone buzzed on the side table. “It’s Martin.”
“Put him on speaker.”
Nick answered.
“It’s a mess out there. I don’t even know if I can get out of the driveway,” Martin said. “I just heard from Liz and she and the others didn’t make it out of California. I’m not sure what to do about the show tonight, but I’m making some calls.”
“Martin, if you can handle the crew, we can handle the cast,” Nick said.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ll go pick up everyone myself if I have to. By tonight, we’ll have a full house ready to film.”
“All right. And I’ll stand in Liz’s place.”
Meghan bit her tongue but thanked God silently.
When Nick hung up, he turned to her and smiled. “See, all that worrying for nothing.”
Meghan grinned, picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Mama, have you looked outside?”
“’Course I have, darlin’. It’s a good thing I stocked up at the store yesterday. I’m gonna stay home and bake all day long.”
“Actually, I have a better idea. Why don’t you let Nick pick you up? I need some really good singers—and someone to play my mom—in my Christmas special.”
“Is that right?”
“I know you’re still a little sore about the faux family, but this is just how I wanted it all along. Please?”
The line went silent.
“Mama?”
“I’m here.”
“So, what do you say?”
“Which one of my Christmas sweaters do you want me to wear?”
* * * * *
Campbell
Campbell stood in front of the mirror in Meghan’s foyer, fresh makeup on her face. Meghan had invited them all back over for a second chance at filming the Christmas special. Only this time, the cameras would actually be rolling.
“I think the blizzard is God’s way of smiling down on us today,” Meghan said. “Oh, and I told them you could all sing. Can you sing?”
Campbell shook her head. “But I can lip-synch.”
Megan’s jaw went slack, and then she smiled. “It’ll do.”
A few of the crew members had stayed in Sweethaven, but Liz and most of the actors were planning to fly in that morning. Now they had what seemed to be a more intimate feel, and Campbell had to think the show would be better for it.
Jane and Lila sat in chairs having their makeup done, a flurry of activity filling the house. Campbell spotted Luke in deep conversation with Nick in the corner of the living room.
Would Luke go to Nick for advice? He took something out of his pocket and shielded it from the rest of the room. Nick smiled, patted Luke on the back and then walked away. Luke put whatever it was back in his pocket.
Before he could catch her, Campbell disappeared into the makeup room.
“What’s wrong with you? You’re white as a sheet,” Lila said.
Jane met her eyes. “How was dinner the other night?”
Campbell shook her head.
“Hon, I’m so sorry.”
“Let’s talk about something else.” Campbell tried to catch her breath. What if this new filming was all a sham—a way to catch her by surprise? Men always seemed to think proposals had to be big, grand gestures. How could she begrudge him that?
“Sorry for what? What’s going on?” Lila swatted at the hand trying to apply powder to her T-zone.
“Nothing. Drop it.”
Lila looked surprised.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to talk about it right now,” Campbell said.
“Talk about what?” Luke appeared in the doorway and Campbell forced a smile.
“Nothing.”
“Okay.” Luke surveyed the three of them, then turned his attention back to Campbell. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”
Campbell nodded. He turned toward the porch, and she glanced back at Jane, whose smile and eyes both widened. She took a deep breath and followed him into the kitchen. Snow had begun piling up on the deck, and Campbell wondered if any of them would make it out of the driveway.
“It’s crazy in there,” Luke said.
She nodded.
“You okay? You seem nervous.”
“I’m not a big fan of cameras.”
“You’re a photographer.” He laughed.
“Cameras pointed on me.” She smiled.
“Well, you’re going to be great in there. I’m the one who has to sing.” When he met her eyes, his smile faded. “You sure you’re okay?”
She nodded. “Fine.”
A woman with a headset and clipboard appeared in the doorway. “Luke, we need you in here.”
“Be right there.” He brushed Campbell’s hair away from her face. “I’ll see you inside, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
She watched as he walked into the living room, where he met the new producer.
“I love you, Luke,” Campbell whispered.
Once they were all gathered in the living room, Campbell did her best to follow the lead of the people who actually knew what they were doing. As long as she didn’t say anything, she should be fine.
But the nagging idea that Luke might end up on one knee in front of her wouldn’t go away.
As they went to their first commercial break, the director clapped his hands. “Just need everyone to look a little more relaxed.” He met Campbell’s eyes. “Okay?”
Her eyes widened and she nodded. Relaxed. She could do that. She scanned the room until she found Jane’s eyes on her. Jane frowned and mouthed the words “Are you okay?”
Campbell nodded. She’d worked herself up into a panic over what she was sure would be nothing. Just like the concert. And dinner. Luke would’ve proposed by now if he was going to.
“We’re back in ten-nine-eight.” The director began holding up fingers. When he reached three, Meghan smiled, telling a story about one of her earliest Christmas memories. Luke wound his hand around Campbell’s shoulder and leaned closer.
“This is about to get really good.”
Campbell shot him a look. When she looked back, Meghan had paused, the end of a segment, but before the music began, Nick leaned forward and looked into the camera.
“I can still remember the first time I heard Meghan sing,” he said.
Meghan looked at the director, who seemed unfazed by Nick’s going off-book.
“We were in high school and she used to walk home with her guitar slung over her shoulder. She looked like an angel.”
Their little crowd began to murmur.
“Anyway, we’ve had our ups and our downs and just a few months ago, we decided to get married again. Like a dummy, I gave my beautiful wife the same old ring I bought her when we were just kids.”
Nick reached inside his jacket pocket
and pulled out a little black box. “I thought it was about time you had a real wedding ring.”
Campbell’s heart dropped as Meghan opened the box, revealing the same ring she’d found in Luke’s apartment. The same ring that had caused her to panic like a frightened school girl every time she was with him.
Campbell watched as Meghan slipped the ring on her finger and threw her arms around Nick. “I love it. Thank you.”
The music started and the director pointed at Luke. A second camera focused on the two of them, and Luke began singing “Grown-Up Christmas List.” Campbell’s mind spun and humiliation settled on her shoulders.
How could she have been so stupid?
The director started motioning for her to smile, but Campbell couldn’t muster the strength.
The ring had never been for her. There was no ring. No proposal.
And that left Campbell with an ache in her stomach the size of the Grand Canyon.
Adele
The filming at Meghan’s house went well, and Adele left feeling like she’d shown those producers not to stick her behind the scenes. She’d even led them all in her rendition of “Away in a Manger.” But on her way to meet Henry, all she could think of was Campbell.
She saw the girl’s face when Nick gave Meghan that beautiful ring. She saw the disappointment behind her eyes and, frankly, Campbell wasn’t a very good actress. She hadn’t hidden her pain very well, much to the director’s dismay. For a moment, she felt Campbell’s pain as if it were her own.
And that pain had brought with it a startling clarity.
Adele pulled in the driveway and found Henry’s car parked out front. From the looks of it, he’d let himself in.
She hurried in the back door and was met with the smell of food cooking in her kitchen.
Henry stood at the stove with his back to her, but as she closed the back door, he turned around.
She laughed at the sight of him in her frilly pink apron. “I’m not sure that’s your best look.”
He grinned. “I couldn’t risk getting spaghetti sauce on my shirt. I have to be presentable for my lady.” He took a step toward her and kissed her on the cheek. “You look beautiful.”
A Sweethaven Christmas Page 20
