Christmas Wishes

by Patricia Kiyono

Published by esKape Press

www.eskapepress.com

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2013 PATRICIA KIYONO

ISBN-10: 1940695066

ISBN-13: 978-1-940695-06-8

Edited by Kim Bowman

Cover Art Design by For the Muse Designs

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

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Dedication

For Lauren, Morgan, Gabriel, Scott, Karlie, Abby, Evelyn, Bridget, and Tristan. You
’ve made the last twenty-two Christmases extra special. It has been among my greatest joys to watch all of you grow.

Be good to your parents, as they have all been good to Grandpa and me.

And may Christ’s birthday always hold a place of honor in your hearts.

I pray for each of you every day.

Love to you all, Grandma

Also by Patricia Kiyono

From Astraea Press:

The Legacy

The Christmas Phoenix

Aegean Intrigue

The Partridge and the Peartree

The Samurai’s Garden

The Calico Heart (with Stephanie Michels)

Love’s Refrain

M
itch Carson studied
the nutrition labels on the boxes of cereal in front of him, wanting to choose wisely, but six-year-old Angie kept pulling on his arm.

“
Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom.”

“
There’s no bathroom here, sweetness. You’ve got to wait.”

“
I can’t wait, Daddy. I need to go now.”

Mitch threw a box of cereal into
the cart, hoping it wouldn’t taste too much like cardboard. He took Angie’s hand and headed toward the checkout lanes. “I’m sorry, honey, but I can’t go in the bathroom with you, and you’re not going in there alone. Besides, we’ll be home in just ten minutes.”

“
Daddy, I can’t wait ten minutes.” She hopped up and down, her face strained with discomfort.

Mitch grimaced. Why did this always happen when they were out of the house? He
was searching for the words to reassure her again when a gentle feminine voice spoke.

“
The bathroom is right over here, behind the meat counter.”

Mitch
looked up into a pair of wide green eyes. Exotic and enticing, yet capable and compassionate. The eyes were set in a small heart-shaped face and surrounded by a cloud of honey blonde hair. He closed his mouth before he embarrassed himself by drooling. And he tried very hard to keep his voice from squeaking as he answered.

“
Thanks, but I can take her home.”

“
Daddy, I need to go!” Angie continued her hopping, clearly uncomfortable.

“
It’s a nice bathroom, and they keep it very clean,” the blonde told him. She disappeared into the doorway she’d indicated and then came right back. “No one’s using it now, so you can go in and help her if you want.”

“
Daddy? Please?” Angie’s face was starting to turn red. “I can do it myself.”

Mitch swallowed. If the restroom was empty and he stood outside the door, nothing bad could happen to her, right?
“Okay, sweetness. I’ll be right here.”

Angie dashed into the restroom, and the blonde started to take off.

“Uh, thanks for your help,” he called after her.

The blonde curls tossed as she turned back to him with a grin.
“No problem at all. I’m Sophie Gardner, by the way. Are you just passing through Zutphen, or are you new here?”

“
New, I guess. We moved here in August. Mitch Carson.” He held out his hand.

She placed a tiny hand in his.
“You’ve been here over two months and I haven’t met you until now? The small-town grapevine must be rusty. Welcome to Zutphen. You have an adorable daughter.”

“
Thanks. I can’t argue with that.” He’d been welcomed by other residents, but for some reason, the words from this particular woman made him feel almost giddy with pleasure. He turned when the bathroom door opened, and Angie came out, much happier than when she’d gone in. Her gap-tooth grin made his heart swell with pride.

Strange, but his usual apprehension when his daughter was out of his sight hadn
’t seemed so intense with this lady by his side. It would be so nice to share the parenting responsibilities with someone.
No,
he reminded himself,
I’ve got to do this myself. At least, I’ve got to try.

The blonde — Sophie, she
’d said her name was — went on her way, and he fought off the urge to call her back. In a town as small as Zutphen, he’d run into her again.

Mitch took Angie
’s hand and grimaced at her wet palm. “Um, did you wash your hands, sweetie?”

Angie nodded.
“Yes, but I didn’t dry them, ‘cuz I couldn’t reach the paper towels.”

Mitch groaned. He went into the restroom and pulled a few sheets of paper towel out of the dispenser, used one for his own hands, and passed another to Angie. With Angie
’s needs taken care of, he paid for his groceries and got them home. He still had to figure out how to make this stuff into dinner.

Back in his previous life, they
’d had a cook and a housekeeper. He hadn’t had to worry about meals — they just appeared on the table in front of him at a specific time. Or, if he was off on assignment, they’d be in the refrigerator when he got home. But in Zutphen, cooks and housekeepers weren’t knocking down the walls looking for a position. People did their own cooking and cleaning. Besides, his income wasn’t nearly as large as when Sarah had been alive. While he’d enjoyed a measure of success as a news photographer, Sarah had been the one who’d brought home the bacon, so to speak. Her on-camera persona had paid for the high-rise penthouse, the vacation home, the live-in maid, a nanny for Angie, and all the other goodies. Now they had to live on his income alone.

After Sarah
’s death, he’d decided he’d had enough of the big city life and had come to the tiny town of Zutphen, Michigan. His uncle had sold him the property, and he’d decided to settle there. The people were friendly, the air was clean, and the house was in decent shape. There was enough room for a portrait studio, and with the settlement from Sarah’s insurance policy, he’d done the renovations. He’d figured that would allow him to spend more time with Angie. But he’d underestimated all the skills it would take to raise a six-year-old girl. Pigtails had been the special challenge of the morning. Coordinating outfits had been the previous day’s struggle. And now, he had to deal with dinner. They couldn’t go out to eat every single night of the week.

Maybe he wasn
’t cut out to be a single father. His mother-in-law had made no bones about her belief that he was incapable of raising a daughter alone.
“Who will teach her how to behave? How to dress appropriately? Who is going to show her how to be a part of society?”
Mitch had been eager to prove he was equal to the task. Every barb had convinced him more that he didn’t want his daughter to be a clone of Melinda Lester Billingsworth.

Back at the house, he stared at the food on the counter. He had a pound of ground beef. The easiest thing to do would be to make hamburgers. He split the meat into four equal parts and threw them into the frying pan on the stove. He turned the heat up
to high, figuring that would make the meat cook faster.

“
Daddy?”

“
What, sweetheart?”

“
Can I be in the Christmas pageant at church? Mrs. Feenstra said practices are gonna start next Wednesday.”

“
Okay. I suppose that would be all right. When is the program?”

“
It’s on the Sunday before Christmas. They’re going to have practices every Sunday after Sunday School, and on Wednesday nights, too. My friend Jennie told me during Sunday School.”

“
Oh. Okay.” Jennie’s family, the VandenBergs, were friendly people and he’d come to trust them enough to let Angie go to church with them. It had been a challenge, establishing himself in the tight-knit community. He’d learned that the area had been settled by Dutch immigrants in the last century, which accounted for the predominance of family names starting with the last five letters of the alphabet.

“
I think I might need a costume or something.”

“
A costume?” How would he manage that?

“
Yeah. Last year Jennie was an angel and her mom made her a costume. Will you make me a costume?”

“
Um, probably not, but maybe we can pay someone to make one for you.”

“
Okay. Jennie’s mom sews really cool stuff. She made Jennie’s Halloween costume. She was a princess and she had a really pretty dress.”

“
That’s nice.”

“
Did my mommy know how to sew?”

“
I don’t think so, sweetie.”

“
Why not?”

She didn
’t have to. That’s what servants were paid to do.
“Uh, she just usually bought the stuff she needed.”

“
Oh, yeah. Grandma Billingston does that, too.”

“
Billingsworth. Grandma Billingsworth. Nana.”

“
Right. Nana. She doesn’t like me to call her Grandma. Daddy, what’s that smell?”

Smell? Oh
shoot, the hamburgers!
He grabbed a spatula and pried the patties off the smoking frying pan. He’d have to scrape off a thick layer of black crust from that side. Better pay attention on the second side, or they wouldn’t have dinner.

I
really need help with this cooking thing.

S
ophie Gardner crossed
another item off her list and put her notebook back in her sweater pocket. She’d gotten into the habit of making a to-do list every morning as soon as she woke and crossing things off as soon as she got them done. Things that weren’t finished were transferred to the next day’s list. Since she’d begun the habit, she felt more prepared and on top of things. She was never without her notebook and a pen. And crossing things off gave her such a good feeling. If her ex-boyfriend Nate could see her now, he’d be proud of her instead of berating her for forgetting details.

The next item on her list was to meet with her sister Joanie about the Christmas Pageant. Despite her misgivings, she’d agreed to direct the junior department’s segment of the program. Somehow, Joanie always got her way
. And since no Hollywood producer had called with an offer to make any of Sophie’s scripts into a blockbuster movie, she might as well start small. Rehearsals were scheduled to begin the next week, but she hadn’t seen or heard about any details. She stepped into the den where her older sister sat with her newest knitting project in her lap.

“Joanie, where is the script for this pageant?”

Joanie set her needles down. “Umm, I’m not sure.” She picked through the pile of knitting patterns stacked on the floor next to her. “Helen DeGroot sent it to me. It’s in an envelope around here somewhere…” She gave up on the first pile, scooted to the other end of the couch, and dug through another pile. Joanie had lost three babies in the last four years, and the doctor had warned her to take no chances this time. So she spent most of her day on the couch, going through endless skeins of yarn, fabric, and scrapbooking supplies. Unfortunately, the piles around the couch grew each time she started a new project.

“Have you read the script? Do you remember what it’s about?”

“No, I haven’t done that yet.”

“Are you serious?”

Joanie had the grace to look embarrassed. “Well, I had planned to have it all done by now, but the time just got away from me—”

“Rehearsals start next week! What am I supposed to have the kids do, an improv sketch?”

“Of course not! The Senior Department does the drama, remember? Helen DeGroot handles that, and she’s already had rehearsals going. You just have to take care of the younger kids — the first, second, and third graders. They’ll sing songs and do whatever else you want to have them do.”

“I suppose that’s manageable. Do you have the songs picked out?”

“No, not yet.”

“Are they supposed to coordinate with the drama, or are they doing a completely separate show?”

“That’s up to you.” Sometimes they do it together and sometimes they don’t.

“So the first thing I need to do is contact Helen and ask for another copy of her script.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I don’t know why I can’t find it. I’m sure it has something to do with the Christmas Story.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “
Of course
it has something to do with the Christmas Story. That’s what the whole program is about, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

“What angle are they taking? Are they just presenting a drama of the story, or are they doing a contemporary play about modern day applications?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just the basic story from the Bible. Hand me my phone, would you? I’ll call Helen right now.”

Helen DeGroot didn’t answer her home phone, but a second call to her cell phone produced the needed information. Yes, the senior department would perform the basic traditional Christmas story with narration. No, there wasn’t any music planned as part of the play, so if the children were to sing songs to illustrate various parts of the play, that would be lovely. Or they could simply do their own program before the play.

“Okay, so we know what the older kids are doing. Now we have to figure out what the younger ones will do. What do you have in mind?” Sophie asked.

“I was hoping you’d have some ideas. You remember the pageants we were in growing up, don’t you?” Joanie hedged.

“Of course I do. I remember standing there in that shepherd costume, getting mad because you got to be an angel. Or Mary. Or something glamorous. I always had to be a boy because of my short hair. Mrs. DeHoop even wanted me to be Joseph one year because I was tall and Anthony VanDoorn got sick at the last minute. Good thing Mr. VanderZyl agreed to do it instead.”

“Oh, Sophie, it wasn’t that bad. You always did a good job.”

“Right. The only line I ever had was ‘Hark’ as I pointed up to the sky.” She struck a pose as she spoke.

“Oh, you had more than that. What would you recommend?”

“Well, I haven’t been here the last few years. What have they done lately?”

“Last year it was a more of a choir concert. Lena Medendorp was in charge and she’s the choral director. So she just had the kids stand there to one side and sing songs and hold up signs.”

“Okay. That sounds simple enough. Not too interesting, but simple. What else?”

“The year before they did more of a song-and-dance thingie. Sort of the same idea, except instead of acting out the songs, Minnie Jonker had the kids do a dance or some other deal with each song.”

“Hmm. So were you thinking to out-do these ladies?”

“Not really. Oh, the year before that, Laurie Schutter did an Around the World theme. She had each grade dress up in costumes and then sing Christmas songs from that country.”

“All right. So you need a theme that’s different from what’s been done before, right? Or at least something that hasn’t been done in the last few years.”

“Right. That’s why I thought it would be easiest to just have the kids be part of the Christmas play with the older kids.”

“You said you had your cast all selected?”

“Yeah, I have an idea of who could do the parts.”

“An idea? You haven’t talked to these kids to find out if they will do them?”

“Well, no. Not yet. But I’m sure they will. Their parents will agree to it. And we already have costumes. I saw the box of costumes in the basement closet, next to the choir robes.”

“What kind of costumes? Have you looked at them? Were they made for kids or adults?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get around to opening the box. I just saw that it was labeled ‘Costumes’.” She frowned. “That was on my list of things to do before the doctor put me on bed rest.”

“Wonderful. You’ve got a cast who doesn’t know that they’ve been selected, a script that hasn’t been written, and a box labeled ‘Costumes’ that may or may not actually contain ones you need. What else?”

“That should be it. Oh, and you might need to reserve the sanctuary for practices. And the pageant itself.”

“I have to reserve the church for the pageant, which is always on the Sunday before Christmas? What else would they do on that day besides have the pageant?”

“I don’t know. But it’s on the list of things I’m supposed to do.” Joanie sighed and covered her face with her hands. “I don’t understand why I’m so unorganized and unmotivated. I just — want this to be over with.” She started to sob, and Sophie put her arms around her. Joanie was right to be frustrated. Though her house hadn’t been spotless, she’d never been this inefficient. Whenever the school or church needed anything, Joanie Bennett was usually the person to get it done. But a month of inactivity had seemed to take a toll on her.

“Where is the list?” Sophie asked. “I’ll see what I can get done today and work on possible songs and activities for the kids.”

“I’m not sure. I wrote it on a napkin...” She looked around her at the piles of discarded tissues and napkins. “I hope I didn’t use it.”

Ugh. Sophie wasn’t about to unfold the pile to look for a list. “Ummm, who gave you the list? Maybe I can call that person and ask for another copy.”

“It was Selma, the worship director, at the church office.”

Well, there was one task she could handle without any problem. “I’ll call Selma and ask her.”

“Selma’s not there. She and her husband left for Florida last week.”

Sophie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Now even the simple tasks were getting difficult.

She stood. “Why don’t I get supper going? Maybe I’ll get some inspiration while I’m cooking.”

She stalked to the kitchen and pulled the refrigerator door open. Spying some leftover chicken, she pulled that out, followed by an assortment of vegetables. Tonight they would eat chicken stir-fry.

As she chopped, she formed her general plan. Cooking always seemed to calm her nerves. For a little while, Sophie had thought she wanted to become a chef. She’d even spent a few years in culinary school, but had quit when she realized her heart wasn’t in it. She’d returned to Zutphen and poured her heart into a manuscript about Nora, a young single girl. Soon she found herself living through her character, making Nora live through and triumph over everything she’d ever experienced.

And now she needed to find a job. Just something temporary so she could save up enough money to move to California. Once she was there, she’d start hitting the pavement, looking to start a career as a screenwriter. But she needed to save up a nest egg to pay for the trip, as well as set up a place to live until she hit it big. She’d compiled a long list of agents and studios to contact before she left, and hopefully there would be some appointments.

There was someone else she wanted to look up when she got there. Someone who’d planned to travel with her and go down that road to stardom together. But that someone had left without her. An opportunity had come up that was too good to miss, he’d said, and then he was gone.

They’d corresponded for a while. The letters had been sporadic, but he’d written about his auditions, his successes, his temporary jobs to pay the bills until the next acting job came up. Then, a few years ago, the letters had stopped. His phone number had been disconnected, and emails had bounced back. His parents, who lived nearby, told her they hadn’t heard from him either.

She hoped she’d be able to find him and get some closure so that she could move on. But first she needed to make some money.

Hopefully, something would turn up by the time Joanie had the baby.

“Hey, what’s that smell in here? Is it Mystery Meat Stir-Fry or Road Kill Stew tonight?” Dave Bennett, Joanie’s college professor husband, set his briefcase on the table and came up behind her to investigate. Sophie smacked his hand when he reached for a piece of chicken.

“Leave that alone.”

“You’d deny a starving man a single bite of protein?”

“A starving man, no. A crazy brother-in-law, yes.”

Dave threw his head back and laughed. “I’m sure I know several people who would agree with that description.”

Sophie loved her laid-back, fun-loving brother-in-law. He was definitely a great match for her sister, who up until this pregnancy had been one of the most capable, efficient people she knew. They had the perfect balance. Just what Sophie had hoped for in Nate Vosman. A tall, handsome dreamer, Nate had been the one with the vision. Sophie had wanted to help him make those dreams come true, and writing scripts for him was her way to do it. She’d had such plans. But that was a lifetime ago…

“You goofball. Go and see if your wife or your son needs anything. Like maybe some attention. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted and marched out of the kitchen, leaving Sophie to shake her head
in amusement.