The Red Gloves Collection

by Karen Kingsbury

  At least that was the idea.

  In the end, Sarah did stay, for a while, anyway. For the next four years she dated Sam on and off. He took college courses toward his administrative credentials and hinted about marriage. She continued to sing at church, and without fail Sam sat in the second row, watching.

  When Sam would call for a date, Sarah couldn’t help but say yes. She loved him, didn’t she? Besides, by then most of her friends were married and having babies. A night out with Sam was better than a night at home with her parents or an extra shift at The Mixer.

  Every few months, Sarah counted her money and every few months she convinced herself she needed more if she wanted to do well in Nashville. In hindsight, she was only doing what was safe. Staying in Greer, dating the only man she’d ever desired, dreaming about a far-off future, but never actually packing her bags and making it happen.

  Finally on Christmas Eve of 1940, Sam presented her with a ring. “Be my wife, Sarah.” He dropped to one knee and the small diamond solitaire shone in the glow of the Christmas lights.

  This was the part of the memory that matched most with the first ornament, the part that pained Sarah even now.

  As if it had only just happened, Sarah could see herself. The way she stared at the ring as her head began to spin. How had she let their relationship get so serious? Why had it taken so long to save up the money to leave Greer, and how come she hadn’t talked more often about her plans? There’d never been any question that she would leave as soon as she had the money.

  Hadn’t she made that clear?

  With Sam still kneeling, still waiting for her answer, her words began tumbling out. “Sam, I’m sorry… I never … ” She looked down, pinched the bridge of her nose, and gave a hard shake of her head. “I can’t.”

  Slowly, as if he’d aged ten years in as many seconds, Sam stood. “Four years, Sarah.” He hung his head so their foreheads touched. “You talked about moving away, but every month, every week you were still here. I thought … ” He drew back and met her eyes. “I thought you stayed because of me; because you loved me.”

  “I do.” She folded her arms tightly around her waist. “I care about you, Sam.” Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them away. She hated the pain in his expression, hated the fact that she’d let him think she was ready to get married. “It’s not about you. I have to get out of Greer. It’d kill me to stay here forever. I have to go, find a life outside of—”

  “Stop.” His voice was quiet, kind. “I understand.” With that, Sam’s expression changed once more. He no longer looked hurt and vulnerable, but resigned. He studied her for a long time, the desire from earlier that evening gone. In its place was the brotherly look he’d had for her back when she was a young girl. “It’s over; no more explanation.”

  Sarah bit her lip, unable to stop the tears from spilling onto her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

  “Shhh.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t say it.”

  Then, without another word, he closed the small velvet ring box, slipped on his coat, and headed for the door. Before he left, his eyes met hers one last time and he whispered, “Good-bye, Sarah.”

  She watched him leave and over the next hour she packed her bags. She would go even if she didn’t have enough money, go even if it meant never seeing Sam again. When the holidays were over, her parents drove her to the train station where she bid them good-bye, took hold of her two oversized suitcases—one of which held an envelope with every song she’d ever written—and boarded a passenger car that would make a handful of connections and eventually take her to Nashville.

  The future lay out before her as the train pulled away. She was going to Nashville, going after the dream. She wanted more than a sweet, simple life with Sam Lindeman. She wanted a big stage and a packed house, a record contract and all the glitz and glamour that went with it. She didn’t want a wedding and babies.

  She wanted everything tomorrow had to offer.

  And the entire train ride to Nashville she was absolutely convinced that’s what she would find.

  Sarah lowered the paper ornament to her lap.

  Her back and legs were sore from sitting on the edge of the bed for so long. She closed her eyes against a wave of tears. The ritual was not without pain, especially at the beginning. How could she have walked away?

  She sniffed hard and sat a bit straighter. Enough. She would take the pieces one at a time. Her eyes opened and despite her trembling fingers, she hung the ornament on one of the lower tree branches. Then she pulled her legs back onto the bed and rested against a mound of pillows. Her eyes moved across the tree—only a few feet high, sparse and dime-store green—to the ornament.

  Tomorrow indeed.

  A long breath made its way through her clenched teeth and she looked toward the window. The song came next. Not the words, not until it was time. But the melody at least, the tune that had turned it all around. Notes forever etched in her mind.

  The song couldn’t come until she reached the window. Too tired to move just yet, she waited ten minutes, fifteen, twenty, until she was finally ready. Then, with a determination bigger than yesterday, she forced her legs over the edge, found her walker, and worked herself across the floor to the window. Ahh, yes. It was there still, and now that the twelve days had begun, she could almost see them, the two of them sitting there.

  She and Sam.

  The tune came, quietly at first and then louder until her humming filled the space around her. She leaned against the window and lowered her chin, searching the heavens, as the song rang out, trapped in her closed mouth. He was up there somewhere, her precious Sam. Could he see her now? Hear her?

  The door opened behind her. “Sarah?”

  She didn’t turn. The song stopped for no one, because it couldn’t. Sarah had to hum it all the way through before the first day would be complete. She hummed through the verse and the chorus. When it was over, she looked at the bench one last time and then turned around. “Yes?”

  Beth had taken a seat at the end of Sarah’s bed. “That was beautiful; someone told me you used to sing.”

  “Yes.” Sarah smiled. The minutes spent in the past were never long enough. She pushed her walker back to the bed and allowed Beth to help her get under the covers.

  “Did you sing professionally?” She tucked the sheet beneath Sarah’s arms. Her tone was tinged with intrigue. “I mean, you know, did you record anything?”

  Sarah considered the young caregiver and felt the corners of her lips lift. “I did.” She leaned into the pillows. “It’s a long story.”

  Beth looked around until her eyes fell on the small artificial tree. “Just one ornament?”

  Sarah followed her gaze. “For now.”

  “Tomorrow.” Beth narrowed her eyes and looked at Sarah. “Does it mean something?”

  “Yes.” Sarah folded her hands. “Much.” She nodded to the envelopes spread across the nightstand at the foot of the tree. “One ornament for each of the twelve days of Christmas.”

  “I see.” Beth smoothed out the wrinkles in the bedspread. “Does each ornament have a word?”

  “A word … and a story.” Something warm ignited inside Sarah’s soul. “Stay longer tomorrow. I’ll tell you the story behind the second ornament. And after the twelfth day, I’ll tell you the secret.”

  “The secret?” Beth raised an eyebrow, her expression doubtful.

  “The secret to love.” Sarah managed a tired smile. “It’s worth finding, Beth.”

  “Yes, well… ” Beth gave a quiet nod, her eyes never leaving Sarah. “I might have to come back for something that special. The secret of love, and all.”

  Sarah bit her tongue. Beth thought she was a doddering old fool, eccentric and troubled by the ravages of old age. Nothing could be farther from the truth, but Sarah wouldn’t say so. Beth would have to find out on her own.

  The conversation ran out and Beth patted Sarah’s hand. “Lunch’ll be ready in a few minutes; just though
t I’d warn you.” She stood and headed for the door before stopping. “Sarah?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you write the song, the one you were humming?”

  “Yes.” Sarah dropped her eyes and then looked at Beth again. “It’s part of the story.”

  Beth nodded. “I thought so.”

  For a moment Sarah thought the young woman would ask more questions. But instead she reached for the door. “I’ll get lunch.”

  The knowing came as soon as Beth left the room.

  So she was the one after all. The one Sarah had prayed for. And God would bring her back. She would come tomorrow and hear the story, learn about the second ornament, find hope in the telling, even learn the words to the song.

  And maybe, by the twelfth day, Beth would know it well enough to sing along.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE SONG stayed with her.

  Beth heard it in her head the entire drive home to Spartanburg. Sad, really, the old lady sitting in her room, singing some old song, reminding herself of a story that had been forgotten for decades.

  The radio in Beth’s Honda didn’t work, so her mind wandered to the scene ahead. This was the night. Her planning and plotting and figuring out had finally come to this. She took one hand from the wheel and snagged a piece of gum from the side pocket of her purse. Without looking, she pushed the paper wrapping off, dropped it back into her purse, and popped the gum into her mouth.

  Yes, tonight was the night.

  She’d been talking with her mother about the separation for weeks, making promises that her time away from her husband would only be temporary. But she’d never told Bobby, never let on that the routine that passed for their marriage was making her crazy with boredom.

  Bobby’s face came to mind—simple, faithful, content. Uninteresting. How would he take the news? And what about their five-year-old daughter, Brianna? Beth pictured them, Bobby and Brianna. She would be watching TV with him now, same as every afternoon. Bobby worked maintenance at the local hospital, six to two. Brianna’s preschool was on his way home.

  What would happen to their routine after tonight? She squinted at the sun, bright and low in the sky. The good weather wouldn’t last; not in December.

  The song came to mind again.

  Whatever the old lady’s story, Beth was sure it involved a man. Sarah Lindeman might be pushing ninety, but she was a woman after all. And a woman in love couldn’t hide the fact, nineteen or ninety-nine. It was that part that made Beth doubt she’d show up to hear the story. Not when she herself had spent a lifetime longing for that look, that kind of love.

  Ahead of her, the two-lane road curved first right then left, and she saw her turn-off. The low-income neighborhood where they lived spread out for eight blocks, the houses small and old and boxy. But for the paint and a few differences in the trim, it was hard to tell one from another.

  She wasn’t a praying woman, but if she were, this would’ve been a good time to ask for help. She’d dropped out of college to marry Bobby Baldwin, and in seven years, the man had learned nothing about her. What she was about to do that night was sure to catch him off guard. She parked, grabbed her purse, and headed inside.

  “Hello?” The screen door slammed behind her and she dropped her bag on the kitchen table. She turned and faced the sofa where Bobby and Brianna were watching television. Beth dropped to her knees and sat back on her heels. “Where’s my Brianna bug?”

  “Mommy!” Their little daughter bounced off Bobby’s lap and ran across the room, honey-blonde ponytail flying behind her. “Guess what?”

  “What?” Beth tried to sound excited. She nuzzled her face against Brianna’s and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “I made you a Cwis’mas present at school! And it was the bestest one in the whole class.”

  Beth smiled. “Do I get it now?”

  “No,” Brianna gave a hard shake of her head, her eyes serious. “Only on Cwis’mas morning.”

  “Okay.” She looked over her daughter’s shoulders at Bobby. “Tell you what, sweetie. You and Daddy can finish watching TV later.”

  Bobby cast her a curious look, but Beth ignored it. She stood and led Brianna down the hallway toward her bedroom. “How ‘bout you go color a picture for Daddy, alright?”

  Brianna gave a small gasp. Her eyes lit up, glowing with enthusiasm and innocence. “Okay, Mommy! Then I’ll have a present for Daddy, too!”

  “Yes, honey.” Beth scooped her daughter up, held her for a minute, and walked her down the hall. “That would be very nice.”

  When Brianna was in her room, Beth headed back to Bobby. She could feel his eyes on her the moment she came into view, but she didn’t look at him until she was seated at the other end of the sofa.

  “Something wrong?” Only his eyes were directed at her; his body, his face were still locked on the TV. He still had the television remote in his hand.

  Beth studied him, the tufts of brown hair sticking out of his old Braves baseball cap, the blue flannel shirt he’d worn every winter for the past five years. “Turn off the TV, Bobby.” She crossed her arms. “We need to talk.”

  He clicked the remote and the television went dark. Then he shifted his body in her direction. “Okay.” His crooked smile was still cute. It reminded her of the reasons she’d fallen for him in the first place. “What’s up?”

  Amazement washed over her. Look at him, she thought. He doesn’t have a clue what’s coming. She drew a deep breath and let the words come. “I’m leaving you, Bobby. Brianna and I are moving in with my mother.”

  Bobby waited a few seconds, then chuckled. “What’s this? Some sort of Christmas joke?”

  “No.” Beth didn’t blink. “I’m already packed.”

  The laughter in Bobby’s eyes faded and his lower jaw fell open. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  A frustrated anger filled his face. “Don’t be crazy, Beth. We haven’t fought in a month and now you’re walking out on me? At Christmastime?” He let his head fall back and forced out a mouthful of air. “Whatever’s eating you, don’t blame it on me, okay?” His eyes met hers. “Maybe you had a bad day. So … take a nap or a walk around the block. But don’t threaten to leave, Beth. That isn’t going to make things better.”

  Calm, Beth told herself. Stay calm. She had expected his reaction. Her voice was gentle, quieter than his. “Nothing’s eating me, and I didn’t have a bad day.” She ran her tongue along her lower lip, searching for the words. “Look, Bobby, I’ve made up my mind. This—” She looked across the room and waved her hand at their cramped kitchen and then at him. “The way we live … you and me, none of it’s the way it was supposed to turn out.”

  “Oh, I get it.” Fire flashed in Bobby’s eyes. He was a gentle man; Beth had only seen him angry a few times. Once, when she’d talked about wanting more from life, he’d thrown his guitar through the bedroom wall. She hoped this wouldn’t be one of those nights. “There’s someone else, right?”

  She sighed and it came from the basement of her heart. “No. This isn’t about anyone but me. I … ” she lifted her shoulders. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  He gave her a sarcastic nod. “Nice, Beth.” He huffed. “What happened to the whole faith thing, living for God and doing things His way?” Bobby stood up and glared at her. “I thought marriages made in heaven didn’t die. Weren’t those your words?”

  “Yes.” She was ready for this, too. “I was young. We were both raised in the church, but so what? When’s the last time you took us to a Sunday service? For that matter, when’s the last time you took me anywhere?”

  “I don’t need this, Beth.” He gestured toward the hallway. “Brianna will hear you.”

  Beth didn’t care. She stood up and kicked the sofa, her eyes boring into his. “Every night it’s the same thing. You sit here watching that stupid television, and then you fall asleep before your head hits the pillow. We don’t laugh or talk or dance or date.” She was louder than s
he meant to be. “I had dreams when I met you.” A sound that was more cry than laugh came from her. “Now look at me. I can’t take one more day of it, Bobby. Not one.”

  His mouth opened and for a moment it looked like he might shout at her. But then he gritted his teeth and looked away.

  “You promised me more than this.” She hesitated, and her voice lost some of its edge. “See. You can’t deny it. What we have is meaningless—an existence, nothing more.”

  This time when he looked at her, the fight was gone. “Is that really how you see us?”

  She sucked at the inside of her lip. “Yes.” Her sniff punctuated the word. “I’m not in love with you, Bobby. I can’t … I can’t make myself feel something that isn’t there. I need time. Me and Brianna will be at my mother’s until I decide what to do next.”

  A slow disgusted shock colored his features. “Twelve days before Christmas, Beth? Couldn’t you wait a few weeks? Give me a chance to make things right?”

  “No!” She barely let him finish his sentence. Anxiety grabbed hold of her and shook hard. “I don’t want to try again. It’s not in you, Bobby. We’ve had this talk a dozen times. Things seem better for a week or two, but then they’re right back the way they were.” She spread her hands out. “This … this life we live is enough for you. Pretending for my sake won’t turn things around. It never has before.”

  “Fine.” Something hard as steel filled his eyes and he took a step back. “If you don’t love me, I won’t ask you to change your mind. But consider our daughter. Leaving now, a few weeks before Christmas? How do you think she’ll feel about that?” He paused. “Wait two weeks for Brianna and then go.” His lips were pinched as he spat out the last part. “I won’t try to stop you.”