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Christmas Treasures (9781101558720)

Page 17

by Kinkade, Thomas; Spencer, Katherine


  Regina had never seen Molly like this. She always seemed so confident and in control, a master at juggling so many responsibilities at once.

  “Can I help you somehow? The office closes tomorrow at one. Maybe I can come and serve at a party for you?”

  Molly looked over at her. “Regina, that’s so sweet of you to offer, but I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “No, really. I don’t have plans. Richard is working so hard on the house. I offer to help paint or clean out the basement with him, but I feel like I’m just in the way. He gets so . . . serious.”

  “Please, send him over to my house, would you? Matt is all thumbs. We have to hire a guy to hang a picture on the wall.”

  Her exaggeration made Regina smile. “He couldn’t be that bad.”

  Molly answered with one of her classic expressions. “No comment.”

  “Really, I’d like to try the work,” Regina said. “I’ve had waitressing jobs. It can’t be much different. I was going to look for something extra around town,” she added. “To make a little more money before Christmas.”

  Molly tilted her head to one side. “If you really want to, Regina, I’d love to have you try it. We have a party tomorrow from two until six. If you come to the shop around half past one, I’ll give you a uniform and all that. There are a lot more events coming up in the next few weeks. I can go over the schedule with you tomorrow, too.” Then she told Regina the wage. “And the host or hostess usually gives the servers a good tip. Does that sound all right with you?”

  “It sounds great. I’ll be at your shop right after we close here.”

  “Great.” Molly leaned over and squeezed her arm. “You’re a lifesaver, Regina. Honestly.”

  Regina just smiled. It was nice of Molly to say that, but Molly had really been the one to swoop in and change her life by giving her this job, on the spot, no questions asked.

  The last patient came out with Dr. Harding. Regina took their fee and gave them a receipt. Meanwhile, the doctor and Molly walked back to his office to talk. Regina could already hear Molly launch into an animated story about how she was just at her wit’s end and Regina had totally saved the day.

  She knew how Dr. Harding would react. He would patiently listen to his wife’s dramatic tales and then approve of her conclusions and solutions, offering advice only when asked. He was definitely Molly’s biggest fan.

  Regina wondered what Richard would say. Would he mind if she was out of the house a lot more? She would be earning more money; he couldn’t object to that. He wasn’t the type of guy who loved cooking, but he managed all right if she wasn’t home. He never minded taking care of the kids, either, and enjoyed having them to himself from time to time.

  She did wonder if he would miss her, especially if she had to work evenings. But they hardly talked at all anymore, even after the kids went to sleep. Mostly, they just sat together in front of the TV, with Regina reading a book.

  Regina straightened out her desk and shut down her computer. Then she found her coat and bag and headed home. As she passed the Bramble antique store, she noticed the red truck parked on the street. Richard was still working with Sam. Just as well, she thought. It gives me some time to get dinner ready and straighten up the house a little before he gets home.

  As she drove through the village and down the winding, tree-lined roads to their new home, she felt very lonely. As empty and cold inside as the big swath of dark blue sky that floated above the frozen fields.

  When she was busy, working at the medical office, taking care of the children, working on the house, doing all the things she had to do, she rarely felt this way. But it was always there inside her lately, lurking just below the surface. When she was alone in the car like this, at night especially, a certain sadness snuck up and pounced—a hollow feeling that made her heart ache. She yearned to be close to someone, and even now, after all they had been through, that someone was Richard.

  She used to feel so close and connected to Richard, even when they hadn’t seen each other for days. But she didn’t feel that way anymore. She doubted he did, either.

  She turned down Old Field Road and pulled up in front of the house. The lights were on in the kitchen and living room, and the place looked warm and cozy. This was their house. They owned it. Nobody could take it away. She had to remind herself of that from time to time. She almost had to pinch herself.

  She wished that Richard felt happier about the house. But she knew he was struggling with so many things right now. She had a feeling that by working on the place, he was starting to like it more, though he didn’t quite admit it.

  Regina knew she couldn’t blame him for what had happened to their relationship. She had played a part, too. She had to try harder to reach out to him, especially now that things were getting a little bit better, day by day. That had to help smooth things over between them. She hoped it wasn’t too late.

  THE SURETY AND EXCITEMENT BEN HAD FELT ABOUT HIS DECISION ON Thursday morning had waned a bit by the time Friday evening rolled around. He didn’t intend to make a formal speech to the church leaders, most of whom were his close friends. But he did take a few minutes in his study to jot down his thoughts and rehearse what he wanted to say in his mind.

  It was a big announcement and he wanted to get it right. Although he didn’t expect it, as the time drew closer, he found himself feeling nervous, though he was almost never uneasy or anxious about speaking at this sort of meeting.

  He heard the doorbell and then heard Carolyn greeting Tucker Tulley and Sam and Jessica Morgan. By the time he came out to the living room, others had arrived—Emily Warwick, her mother, Lillian, and Ezra Elliot. Grace Hegman and Sophie Potter followed, along with Warren Oakes and Charlie Bates.

  Everyone walked in, milled about, and helped themselves to the coffee and cake Carolyn had set out in the dining room. There was some social conversation about the weather and Christmas getting closer, along with many questions about how Ben felt and how he was progressing, of course. For a few minutes, Ben felt as if they were meeting for a book discussion or to plan some annual church event, like the rummage sale or Christmas Fair.

  Was he really going to tell these good people that he wanted to stop being their minister?

  As he took a seat in his wingback armchair and the others settled on the couch and other comfortable spots around the room, Ben struggled to rekindle the surety and resolve he had felt about his decision only hours ago. He took a deep breath and exhaled, silently reviewing his talking points in his head.

  “Thank you all for coming out on such a cold night,” he began. “I’m sure you must be wondering why I’ve called this meeting. I’ve only told you that it has to do with church business, and I’m sure you assumed I meant running the church in my absence.

  “It does have to do with that. During the past two weeks, I’ve been forced to slow down and cease all productive activity. Which, as you all know, is probably a first for me,” he added, drawing a laugh. “I’ve had time to think. To see the big picture,” he clarified. He paused again and took a steadying breath. “I believe that it’s time for me to retire.”

  He didn’t mean for his voice to sound anything less than resolute, but he knew that there had been a slight tremor in his words. He looked around, gauging the reactions.

  Shock and surprise registered on practically all the faces. A few people looked as if they had guessed what he would say but were not happy to have their intuition confirmed.

  Lillian Warwick looked as if she had just bitten into a lemon. Then again, she often looked like that.

  She was the first to speak. “I expected as much. After your heart attack, I’m only surprised it didn’t come sooner.”

  Before Ben could react, Lillian’s daughter Emily leaned forward in her chair. “I suppose we all wondered if you were considering retirement now,” Emily said, her tone far more conciliatory than her mother’s. “I, for one, did hope that even if you considered it, you would decide not to
retire, Reverend Ben. Or at least put off any final decision until you recovered.”

  As usual, Emily was putting forth her suggestion in a diplomatic way. She was, after all, the town’s mayor and well-versed in political negotiations. But Ben knew his position was nonnegotiable.

  “I did consider waiting, Emily. But I feel very certain this is the right thing to do. I don’t believe that a few weeks will make any difference at all. I could have held back from announcing it, but I felt you all had a right to know, to go forward and make your plans.”

  “Find a new minister, that’s what you mean,” Grace Hegman piped up in her abrupt way. “We’ll never find a minister like you, Reverend Ben. How can we ever replace you?”

  She looked about to cry. Ben was shocked. Grace was so stalwart and stoic and reserved. The only time he had ever seen her shed a tear was when her daughter died, almost twenty years ago now, and when her aged father had wandered off and was lost for almost two days. Now here she was, sitting in his living room, sniffing and dabbing her eyes with an embroidered, lace-edged handkerchief—a rare sight these days, but abundantly available in her antique store.

  “How will I tell my father? He won’t believe it,” Grace murmured.

  Oh, Digger might be surprised at first, but Ben knew that he would quickly accept the situation. Having always lived close to nature, the old seaman knew change was a natural part of living and didn’t fear it.

  “I’ll tell him if you’d like, Grace. I’ll have a word with him personally,” Ben offered.

  “Oh, would you? That would be so kind. It would mean a lot to him, too, to hear it from you firsthand, Reverend,” Grace said.

  “I’ll do that then. I want to make this as easy as I can for everyone. A smooth and orderly transition,” he added, remembering some well-worded phrases from his notes. Funny how, so far, most of those fine, thoughtful words had escaped him.

  “I did wonder if you might think about retiring now, after all you’ve been through, Reverend,” Tucker admitted in his slow, thoughtful manner. “But I must admit, I am surprised to hear you say it. It’s hard to get my head around it.”

  “Are you sure it’s not just some reaction from your illness?” Sam asked. “You’ve been through a lot, Reverend, a life-threatening crisis. You’re bound to have some emotional reactions.”

  “That’s true, Sam. I’ve had emotional upheaval of all kinds and I expect more. But this . . . this is coming from a different place. Please believe me. I’m not just reacting to my heart attack. I’ve been thinking about this for some time.”

  “How will we ever survive without you?” Jessica asked. “I knew the day had to come sooner or later. But now that it’s here, I can’t quite believe it.”

  “Oh . . . you will. I’m not that important. I’m not the church. The church is never just one person, or even one committee or board. The church is all of us, together. We’ll go forward together and find a new minister. Someone different from me, I expect. Doubtlessly younger, for one thing,” he noted, bringing back a few smiles. “Someone with fresh energy and fresh spirit. Different ideas and plans . . .” He paused and searched their faces. It was suddenly too hard to go on with this pep talk, no matter how well he had thought it out. It was too soon perhaps for them to hear it. Too soon for him to say it, too.

  “Oh . . . you all know what I mean. Most ministers stay at a church about five to ten years. Rarely as long as I have stayed here.”

  “I have been in this church all my life, so I remember them all. But I’m probably the only person in this room who does,” Sophie said.

  “My point exactly. Ministers have their day, just like everyone else. There comes a time when the old must step aside and make way for the young, the new blood and new energy,” Ben added.

  Tucker nodded but did not look totally convinced. He exchanged a serious look with Sam, and Ben felt a twinge in his heart. They were good men, committed to the church. The church could and would go on without him, but not without men like Sam and Tucker. Or women like Emily, Sophie, Grace, and Jessica . . . even Lillian.

  “All right, enough violins. I think you can put them away now,” Lillian suggested in her tart tone. “What are the practical matters we need to address at this point, Reverend? What are the steps of transition in this situation?”

  “Excellent questions, Lillian,” Ben said. “There is a process we must follow. The first thing I need to do is speak to my superior, Reverend Boland. You all are the first to know. I haven’t consulted with him yet.”

  “What if he says he doesn’t want you to retire? What then?” Sam asked.

  He and Tucker were still holding out some hope, Ben realized.

  “I doubt he would say that, especially under the circumstances. He might encourage me to wait, to think about and pray on it a bit more.” Ben paused. “I don’t believe I’m making this decision impulsively. Though it may well look that way,” he acknowledged.

  No one answered for a long moment. Emily rose and brought her empty coffee cup to the dining table. “I believe that you have searched your soul, Reverend, and you feel sure that this is not only the best decision for you and Carolyn, but for our church, too. As for the process and next steps . . . well, we have time to discuss those details. You probably better let Reverend Boland know your plans before we do anything more.”

  “Yes, I guess that’s the next order of business. I’ll call him tonight,” Ben said. “Oh, and I will call Reverend Isabel—if not tonight, then first thing tomorrow. She should know, too.”

  “Before she hears it through the ubiquitous grapevine,” Lillian agreed. “In that case, you had better call her before we leave the premises.”

  Ben heard some muffled laughter. As usual, Lillian had made a good point with her sharp tongue. This news would spread like wildfire. He wondered if anyone in the church would be unaware of his plans by tomorrow morning.

  “This has been big news. I don’t know that I can really focus on very much more tonight.” Sophie looked around at the others. “I think we ought to let Reverend Ben rest now. This couldn’t have been easy for you,” she added, turning back to gaze at him with sympathy and affection.

  Ben felt another twinge in his heart. Oh, he would miss these good people. It would never be quite the same once he gave up his post as their minister.

  “I do feel a little tired, Sophie,” he admitted. “This was a very difficult conversation for me. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for your understanding and support.”

  “We’ll miss you, Reverend, but we’ll do all we can to make this a smooth transition,” Sam answered. “If this is what you really want.”

  Ben let out a long breath. Was he about to cry? Oh, he hoped not. He met Sam’s gaze and nodded.

  “Thank you, Sam. This is what I want. I’m certain of it.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “ THEY MUST HAVE BEEN WORKING IN HERE FOR A FEW HOURS. IT looks a lot better.” Tucker gazed around the sanctuary on Saturday morning, surveying the work Carl and Max had completed so far.

  “They’re making good progress. Your brother is very good with Max. I think Carl gets through to him somehow. I know I didn’t get very far,” Isabel admitted.

  Tucker was carrying a box holding a Christmas tree stand and now knelt down to put it together. The deacons were going to put up the Christmas decorations and Isabel wanted to help. She also wanted to be there to talk to church members about the vandalism and about Max.

  “Just goes to show, you never know.” Tucker shrugged, but Isabel guessed he was pleased to hear her compliment his brother.

  Though opposites in many ways, the two were still family. Isabel had heard from others that Tucker had helped Carl a great deal when he was released from prison. Tucker must have taken some criticism then for standing by Carl. No matter how friendly this town was, Isabel couldn’t imagine that they had welcomed Carl back from prison with open arms.

  “Carl was very good with Max, but he didn’t make th
at good an impression on Max’s father.” Isabel sighed. “The man is uneasy about Carl’s background.”

  “You mean because he’s done time in prison?” Tucker asked. “You don’t have to mince words, Reverend. It’s the first thing that comes into everyone’s mind. Do you want me to talk to Mr. Ferguson?”

  “Would you? I told him that the church trusted Carl completely, but I suspect he has some questions that you could answer better than I.”

  “No problem. I’d be happy to,” Tucker said easily. “Have you had any more calls from the congregation?”

  “A few,” she confided. “Some of the church members still think we should have been much tougher on Max, even though they know the trustees discussed the matter.”

  “People have said the same to me. I guess they don’t think I’m a very tough policeman,” he added, making her laugh. “But I tell them just what you said in the meeting. We preach forgiveness and forbearance at our church. It can’t just be all talk, no action. We need to set that example for this boy—and for the rest of the world, for that matter.

  “The boy is lucky that Reverend Ben decided to announce his retirement this week,” Tucker added. “I figure most of the church has been so distracted by that news, they haven’t had time to think too much about Max Ferguson.”

  “That’s probably true.” Isabel had considered that, too. Reverend Ben’s announcement had been a surprise to her as well. “You know, I never expected there would be so much action at a church like this,” she confided with a smile. “I thought it would be much . . . quieter.”

  Tucker laughed. He had assembled the tree stand and now stood up and brushed off his hands. “This town is like a little anthill, Reverend. It doesn’t seem like much is going on at all, but if you just sit still and keep watching for a while, you’ll see it’s a very busy place. There’s a lot going on, above and below the surface.”

 

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