Mabel’s grin said it all. “That’s almost another house built. Well done everyone.”
John wasn’t counting on anything until after the event. There was a lot that could go wrong, especially when a steam train, a large number of elves, and lots of children were involved. He only hoped the storm that was supposed to arrive on Saturday didn’t eventuate. Otherwise, they would have a lot of disappointed families in Sapphire Bay.
After the fundraising meeting, Shelley helped John fill the dishwasher and wipe down the kitchen counters. “Thanks for letting us come here tonight. It was better than sitting in your office at The Welcome Center.”
“Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.”
Shelley smiled. “Maybe a little too much. We didn’t start talking about the train ride until seven o’clock.”
“It doesn’t matter. I discovered that my paint choices weren’t so bad after all. And Mabel particularly liked the pop of orange in the cushions on my sofa.”
Shelley’s smile turned into a full-throttle grin. “If you ever want to change careers, you could be an interior designer. I’m sure a lot of the folks around Sapphire Bay would enjoy discussing paint options and curtain samples with you.”
“What you don’t know is that the paint was on sale and the cushions were a present from one of my sisters. Tracey hadn’t seen the room when she bought the cushions.”
“It must have been fate.” Shelley rinsed the last cup and placed it inside the dishwasher. “I’ll check the living room for any dishes.”
Sure enough, there were two small plates sitting on the coffee table. After John’s delicious lasagna dinner, Mabel shared a yummy batch of raspberry muffins with everyone. Over multiple cups of coffee, they’d enjoyed the muffins and organized the last details for The Santa Express.
On her way out of the room, Shelley glanced at some photos on the wall. One of the smallest images caught her attention. She peered at the three smiling faces looking toward the camera. There was a definite likeness between the man and John. The woman with her hands on John’s shoulders was beautiful. Her blond hair brushed her shoulders and her smile was full of warmth.
“That’s my birth parents and me,” John said from the living room doorway.
“How old were you?”
“About six. The photo was before things got really bad.” Shelley glanced at John, not sure whether he wanted to talk about his family.
“It’s okay. Regardless of what happened, they’ll always be my parents. Ask me anything you want.”
“Are you sure?”
John nodded.
Shelley thought about all the things she wanted to ask him. But it was late, and it wasn’t the best time to talk about a painful part of his childhood. “Where are your parents now?”
“Dad died from liver disease four years ago. Mom’s living in Utah. She’s been sober for five years.”
“That’s great that she isn’t drinking anymore. Do you keep in contact with each other?”
“A little. I call her every three or four months. She feels guilty about what happened, but she doesn’t remember most of it. I once asked her if she could have changed anything, what would she have done. Do you know what she said?”
“She wouldn’t have started drinking?”
John leaned against the door frame. “She told me she wouldn’t have had me.”
Shelley’s mouth dropped open. “That’s horrible.” She couldn’t believe any mother would say something like that to her child.
“That’s my mom for you. The only thing she loved as much as dad was her next drink. She only stopped drinking when dad got sick. He needed someone to look after him and take him to his hospital appointments.”
“At least you talk to her. That’s more than a lot of children would do.”
“I guess.”
Shelley pointed to another photo. It was a group of men in army fatigues gathered around a tent. Some were standing, others kneeling on the ground. “Are these your friends from the army?”
John straightened. “They are.” He pointed to the man on the right-hand side of the photo. “That’s Daryll, Daniella’s brother. He was badly hurt in Afghanistan.”
Tears filled Shelley’s eyes. She’d talked to the veterans who lived at The Welcome Center. Some of their stories were so tragic it broke her heart.
“It doesn’t matter how well-trained you are, or how careful everyone is, soldiers get hurt. Last time I spoke to Daryll, he was waiting for his fifth surgery.”
Shelley couldn’t imagine what it must be like serving overseas. It was no wonder PTSD damaged so many lives. Being away from your family and friends, not knowing whether you would make it home, must create a lot of fear and anxiety.
She studied the faces of the other soldiers. Considering what they’d faced, they all seemed happy. Except one. The man standing in the center of the photo wasn’t smiling. “Is that you?”
“It is.”
She didn’t want to tell John that he looked sad, as if he was drowning under the weight of what they were doing in Afghanistan. “You look different without a beard.” She studied his face now and tried to imagine him without the closely cropped beard. “I don’t think I’d recognize you if you had a clean-shaven face.”
John ran his hand around his jaw. “I’ve had this beard since I was discharged from the army. One day I might surprise you and shave it off.”
“Everyone will think your office has been taken over by a male supermodel.”
John flexed his biceps. “You forgot to add toned, intelligent, and articulate to your description.”
Shelley laughed at the grin on his face. It was better than the emptiness that was in his eyes a few minutes ago. “You should write a list of all the words that describe who you are. I’ll tape it to your office door. Then everyone will know they’re stepping into the presence of greatness.”
“The Big Guy might have something to say about that.”
“He created you, so he must realize how unique you are.”
John sighed. “Why do I suddenly feel as though my ego has been squashed to a pulp?”
“Was it the word ‘unique’?”
“Possibly.”
“What about ‘special’. Is that better?”
“Marginally. I know some other words I like better. What about lovable, kind, sensitive, thoughtful, or maybe, gentle?”
“Are you fishing for a compliment?”
John’s smile disappeared. “I like you, Shelley. More than like you. But I haven’t dated anyone in years, and I’m not sure where to start. And there’s something else that worries me.”
Shelley’s face was burning up a storm. If John thought he was out of practice, he should be in her shoes. Just the thought of dating him made her have a mild panic attack. But then she realized he’d said he was worried. Had she said something to make him think she was an ax murderer or an outrageous flirt who was after his worldly possessions?
“I’m worried about our age difference.”
Well, that was a relief. It was better than telling her he was worried about his money. “Twelve years isn’t that much. Look at Hugh Hefner.”
John started to say something, then stopped. Was he laughing at her? He was.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “At least you think it’s funny.”
“I’m not sure comparing the former CEO of Playboy with a pastor is a good comparison. But I get the idea.”
“I thought it would make you feel better. You know, about the age thing.”
John leaned against the door frame. “Before I met you, you assumed I was old and didn’t like change.”
Her sisters had told Shelley that her spontaneous mouth would get her into trouble one day. And here it was. Because of her, the man she was falling in love with thought she was too young for him.
She needed to pull on her big girl panties and tell John how she felt. And she had to be honest with herself. “We’re really good friends and I like yo
u a lot. More than like you. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t start a relationship with doubts. If you think twelve years is too much, then there’s no point in dating. We should stay friends.”
John would never know how much it hurt her to say those words. She wanted more than anything to be a special part of his life, but she couldn’t change her age and she wouldn’t want to.
When John didn’t say anything, she moved away from the wall. “I should go home.”
“Shelley, I—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She picked up her jacket and the folders she’d brought with her. “Thank you for holding the meeting at your house. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
“Shelley, wait.”
Taking a deep breath, she turned around.
“I’m worried that I’m too old for you, not that you’re too young for me.”
Shelley frowned. “There’s no difference.”
“There’s a big difference. I don’t care about being twelve years older than you. But I thought you might wake up one day and think you’re dating a dinosaur.”
“A dinosaur?”
“When you’re fifty, I’ll be sixty-two.”
Shelley’s frown deepened. “If we’re still dating in twenty years’ time, you’ll have more than our age difference to worry about.”
“I’m serious.”
With a sigh, Shelley placed her folder on the sofa. “So am I. You’re a special person. I don’t care that you’re twelve years older than me.” She placed her hands on either side of John’s worried face. “You are kind and caring, and make the world a better place. I want to spend more time with you.”
John’s blue eyes filled with tears. “I’d like to spend more time with you, too.”
“Does this mean we’re officially dating?” Shelley whispered.
John leaned forward. “I hope so.”
And with the softest, sweetest kiss she’d ever imagined, John swept her off her feet and left her wondering why she hadn’t moved to Sapphire Bay sooner.
John turned off his computer and looked through his office window. The Welcome Center’s parking lot was busy with parents dropping off children for the after-school story time. In the next fifteen minutes, the living room would be full of noise and activity. He wasn’t sure who was taking today’s program but, by the looks of things, there would be more children than usual.
With Sunday’s sermon finished, he could concentrate on the never-ending list of things to do around the church and The Welcome Center. But before he did that, he needed to call Patrick about the tiny home village. A volunteer group from Chicago wanted to visit the old steamboat museum where they made the houses, then look at how the village was operating. With Christmas not far away and production in full swing, John didn’t want to put extra pressure on the construction team.
“Pastor John?”
He looked up and smiled at Andy, Andrea Smith’s ten-year-old son. His smile disappeared when he saw the tears in Andy’s eyes. He hurried around the desk and knelt beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“Charlie’s crying. I can’t get him to stop.”
John placed his hand on Andy’s arm. “Where is he?”
“On the floor outside our old room. He wants Mom.”
“Let’s see if we can help him.” John hurried into the corridor and across the foyer with Andy. The room that Andrea and the boys had been sleeping in was in the west corridor.
Since their mom had gone to Polson, Andy and Charlie had been incredibly quiet. Bailey had spoken to them in individual and group therapy sessions, hoping they’d talk about how they were feeling. But they were so overwhelmed that even Bailey couldn’t do more than reassure them that their mom was okay and they would be, too.
“How was Charlie at school today?” John asked.
Andy’s thin shoulders shrugged. “He was okay. He didn’t start crying until all the moms and dads arrived with their kids for story time. Mr. Jessop’s nice, but Charlie misses Mom something bad.”
John guessed that Andy did, too.
When he saw Charlie, his heart nearly broke in two. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, quietly sobbing into his knees. The poor little guy looked so alone and scared that John wanted to wrap him in his arms and tell him everything would be okay. But Andrea, Charlie, and Andy’s life were a long way from being okay.
“Hey, little guy. How are you feeling?” John sat on the floor beside Charlie, hoping he could do something to help him. Taking a bunch of tissues out of his pocket, he wiggled them in front of his knees. “Here you go.”
Charlie’s small hand reached for them. He blew his nose hard, then handed the soggy mess back to John.
“Do you want to talk about what’s making you feel sad?”
Charlie kept his eyes locked on his knees and shook his head.
At least he’d stopped sobbing. Andy sat beside his brother. The two boys had been through so much and, being the elder, Andy felt a deep sense of responsibility for what was happening in their lives. Somehow, John, Bailey, and Mr. Jessop needed to help the boys understand that what their mom was going through wasn’t their fault.
Andrea divorced her husband because she didn’t want to be a victim of domestic violence. And she didn’t want her sons to think that what they were seeing was normal behavior.
With nothing but a few suitcases, she’d traveled halfway across the country to leave their old lives behind. But they needed more than a new address. The trauma of what they’d been through had changed them in ways that needed specialist help.
Even though John had counseled many people with PTSD and provided pastoral care to the community, he felt as lost as Andy and Charlie. The way children reacted to stressful situations was different from adults. He had to be careful, but doing nothing could be just as damaging as saying the wrong thing.
John leaned toward Charlie. “Your mom is doing really well.”
“She said she can’t come home for a while. How long is a while?”
“It’s as long as she needs. Mr. Jessop enjoys looking after you. He said you helped him in the greenhouse yesterday.”
Andy leaned against his brother’s arm. “We planted carrots and onions. Mr. Jessop said they wouldn’t grow outside in the snow, but his greenhouse keeps them warm.”
Charlie let out a trembling sigh. “He has a cat like Mr. Whiskers, but his cat is called Tabby.”
“Does she like sitting on your lap like Mr. Whiskers?”
Charlie nodded.
“She uses her nose to push under our blankets when we go to bed,” Andy said. “Tabby likes sleeping by my feet.”
John smiled. “You must have nice warm feet at night.”
Andy looked up at John. “Mr. Jessop said that if she’s annoying us to let him know. Tabby has a bed in the laundry.”
Charlie wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “But Tabby likes us so we don’t mind her tickly whiskers.”
“That’s good. Why did you sit here, Charlie?”
“’cos it’s beside our old room.”
“And it reminds him of Mom,” Andy said quietly.
Suddenly, John thought of something that might help the boys feel less alone. “Did you take everything from your room to Mr. Jessop’s?”
Andy shook his head. “Mrs. Allen said to take our clothes and toys and stuff, but she would look after everything else until Mom comes home.”
“I’ve got an idea. Do you want to come with me?” He looked at Andy and then Charlie. An anxious glance passed between them.
It took a few seconds, but both boys eventually nodded. Before they changed their mind, John stood and held out his hands. “Do you want to see a special room where we keep people’s things safe?”
“Like a magic cave?” Charlie asked.
“Sort of. But this room is for the people who have left things at The Welcome Center while they visit other places.”
“Like us?”
> “Exactly like you. Let’s see what Mrs. Allen has put in there for you.”
Charlie held John’s hand as they walked toward the foyer. But instead of going straight ahead and walking into the living room, they turned left.
John pulled out the bunch of keys he carried around with him. When they reached a room at the end of the corridor, he smiled at the boys. “This is it. I’ll open the door and we can have a look at what’s inside.”
He switched on the light and smiled at the boys’ reaction.
Charlie’s eyes were as round as saucers. “There are bicycles and surfboards.”
“There are all kinds of things in here. Sometimes, people only leave Sapphire Bay for a few weeks. But it can be for longer. This is where we keep the things they don’t need all the time. When they come home, they know their special things will still be here.”
Apart from the big items, like the surfboard, the other boxes were kept in alphabetical order according to the person’s last name. John moved along the shelves until he found their boxes. Carefully folded inside one box were the clothes Andrea hadn’t taken to Polson
Taking the box off the shelf, John gently placed it on the floor. “Would you both feel better if you had something of your mom’s to cuddle?”
Charlie glanced at his elder brother again.
Andy nodded. “Like what?”
John hunted through the box. “Well, here’s a striped scarf. Did your mom wear this?”
Charlie nodded.
“And what about this woolly hat?” John held the bright blue hat with a black pompom in the air.
It was Andy’s turn to nod.
“When you’re missing your mom or feeling sad, you could wear the scarf or the hat to make you feel better.” John’s heart sank when Andy frowned.
“Other kids will think we’re silly.”
“No, they won’t,” John assured them. “It’s winter. Everyone wears a scarf and hat.”
“But that’s for outside,” Charlie said logically. “What if we want to wear them inside?”
“You can still do that. Or we could find something that’s a little smaller that you could put in your pocket?”
The Santa Express Page 10
