High Plains Hearts (17 page)

This was the first year Tess was involved with planning the Christmas Eve service at Nativity. As she explained to Jake, her part was simple. She told people, “Stand here and don’t move. Now move.” And that was it.

She had been placed in charge of the silhouette stable. A large sheet—she wondered where they had managed to get such a huge piece of seamless cloth—was hung across the front of the church. Behind it were the figures from the manger scene: Mary, Joseph, the baby in the manger, plus three shepherds and an assortment of farm animals.

The animals were shapes cut out of plywood, but Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds were portrayed by high school students. The entire scene was subtly lit so that the figures cast large shadows on the cloth.

The students had discussed trying to borrow a real baby to use, but they’d quickly discovered the disadvantages far outweighed the advantages. The youngest one they could find was eleven-month-old Andrew Tyler, a charming child with the lungs of an air horn.

As they explained to his slightly miffed parents, Andrew was a bit too large to be a newborn. In addition to his astonishing lungs, he was already the size of the average two-year-old.

So instead they borrowed Andrew’s sister’s Baby Snoozie, which didn’t look at all real, but which they hoped would cast a realistic shadow. At least she wouldn’t cry.

Andrew’s sister, Katie, had given Tess very detailed instructions on how to make the baby snore, but Tess furtively removed the doll’s battery pack. She’d replace it after the program before anyone realized it was missing. All they needed was for Jesus to start snoring during “Away in a Manger.”

That was the only time anyone moved. The song was Mary’s cue to put the baby in the manger. Tess hoped she would remember but was thankful it didn’t matter if she forgot.

Two days before Christmas Jake stopped by the store for some last-minute employee gifts. Tess realized he’d never said what his plans were for Christmas Eve.

“If it’s okay, I’ll tag along with you and go to the service at Nativity,” he said.

“You know you’re more than welcome to come with me to church. Always. I’ll have to leave during the shadows tableau scene, but other than that we can sit together the entire time.”

“What are your plans after that?” he asked. “Are you going somewhere special?”

“Sure. I’m coming back home, and Cora and I will watch
It’s a Wonderful Life
and open our presents to each other.” She looked at him carefully. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something. “Would you like to join us?”

“I adore
It’s a Wonderful Life
. It has to be the Christmas classic of all times. Is it on television?”

“Ha. Cora and I take no chances with our traditions. We own a copy.”

After he left, Tess pondered what had just happened. Bringing someone into a tradition was risky, but leaving him out was not even a consideration.

He had quickly become part of her life.

The day before Christmas was wild at Angel’s Roost. Customers swarmed through her store, buying last-minute gifts by the basketful. She ran out of bags by noon and had to dart back into her kitchen and grab some old grocery sacks.

She had promised herself she’d close the store at noon, but it was almost half past two by the time the last customer was gone and she was able to flip the door sign over to C
LOSED
. The store looked positively picked over, with gaping spots where entire displays had been purchased by the day’s spree-shoppers.

She paused by the sunlit spot that Faith, the crazy angel, had once occupied, and she felt a twinge in the region of her heart. She missed the zany angel with the tilted halo.

More than anything she wanted to collapse on the couch with Cora and put her feet up, but she had something else to do first.

It was embarrassing, but she didn’t have anything to give Jake for Christmas yet. She hadn’t been able to decide what would be an appropriate present.

A sweater seemed too impersonal. A robe, on the other hand, was too personal. Aftershave implied he could smell better than he did.

She strolled through Angel’s Roost, rearranging the remaining inventory to fill the gaps left by the day’s sales. What could she get him?

Her mind ran through an endless list of no-goes. A gift certificate. A catcher’s mitt. A cassette deck. A fountain pen. A calendar. All her ideas were blah, blah, blah.

Her fingers absently straightened the remaining items left on a far shelf. As she touched one, it made a slight sound.

It was a sterling-silver bell, similar to the one Reverend Barnes had bought, but much less ornate. The only decoration was the set of angel wings etched into the body of the bell.

An idea occurred to her. It might work. It had to work.

She gift-wrapped the bell in the remnants of the store’s angel-themed paper and scrawled a few words on a card. She proofread it once, paused, and then taped the card to the package and put it under the tree.

She barely had time to get herself ready for the evening.

Jake was prompt. Her breath caught as she saw him outlined by moonlight in the snow. His face had begun to relax and the tension fade. He looked ten years younger and, if it was possible, even more good-looking than he had before.

About two inches of fresh light snow had fallen that afternoon, and the air had turned wonderfully mild, so they decided to walk to church. The town was silent. What few cars had ventured out were muted by the new snow not yet packed on the streets.

The sky had cleared, and overhead the stars were bright and plentiful.

“Did you know some scientists have come up with an explanation of the Christmas star?” Jake asked. “Apparently there was a—”

She laid her mittened hand over his lips. “Stop. I believe in the star. I believe in the birth. Nothing you can tell me will make it any less of a miracle.”

“But this article proves it existed,” Jake argued. “Wouldn’t you like to know for sure the Christmas story is real?”

“I do know it.”

“I mean as a fact.”

She stopped walking. She’d been through this argument before with other people, and it was a debate she didn’t enjoy. The only way to win it was for the other person to allow change into their lives and to quit resisting the pull of faith.

“Proof. It all comes back to proof for you, doesn’t it?” she asked. “There are all kinds of proof; yet you recognize only a few. Jake, I cannot make you believe. I cannot give you faith. All I can give you is my witness that it exists and it works. Beyond that you’re on your own.”

“I don’t mean to bicker with you, especially on Christmas Eve,” he said.

“Then let’s not discuss it anymore. First we’ll have a moving hour of deep religious significance for me. You can take it however you want in your heart, but let me enjoy this. It rekindles me for the next year.”

She tried to quell the anger that was burning in her. This was Christmas Eve, the time when Jesus’ life saga began anew. It always filled her soul, and she carried that with her into the next year.

He tried to interrupt, but she held up her hand. “Then we’ll go back to my house and have a great time, opening our presents and watching Cora explode with happiness over all the things you bought her. Then I’ll indulge myself with my annual dive into sentimentality with the movie. That’s the way I do Christmas. You are welcome to come with me, but you may not change a thing about it. I need this.”

There. She had said it. And now the evening wasn’t going at all the way she’d envisioned it. Instead she felt crabby and out of sorts, and he was now probably going to be distant and not at all receptive to the renewing hour ahead of him.

They trudged along in silence, lost in their own thoughts, until they reached the walk leading to Nativity’s inviting front door.

Jake took her hand in his and walked with her to the door. “If the animals can speak at midnight on this blessed night,” he said softly, “I can try to keep silent.”

“You don’t have to keep quiet.” She couldn’t hold back the shakiness from her voice. “I just don’t want to get into one of those ‘discussions’ that force me to say what I believe again and again. You know I give my testimony freely, but once in a while I like to have some time to reflect upon it.”

“Isn’t there a line in—help me here, my Bible knowledge is a little rusty—Ecclesiastes, maybe, about ‘a time to keep silence, and a time to speak’?”

She nodded. “It’s a beautiful passage. It begins, ‘To everything there is a season.’ ”

“Maybe it’s my time to be still, to let events unfold as they are meant to.” His eyes rested upon her with incredible gentleness.

“You know,” she said softly, “it’s in the deepest silence that truth is heard most clearly. Maybe instead of analyzing truth and belief and proof and faith, you need to sit back and let it come to you. Let it tell you what you need to know. Maybe faith has proof. Why don’t you let it prove itself to you?”

He was about to answer when the door swung open. The merry sounds of laughter rolled out into the night like a golden wave.

“There you are!” One voice detached itself from the others. It belonged to Lena, the young woman who played Mary in the silhouette stable.

Lena flitted down the steps, brushing off Tess’s scoldings about not wearing a coat or hat or mittens. “Oh, shoo. I’ll only be out here for a sec. Just long enough to tell you that Katie Tyler is screaming mad because she went to show her friends Baby Snoozie, and the stupid doll wouldn’t snore.”

“Uh-oh,” Tess muttered. “Guess I got caught red-handed.”

Lena looked confused for a moment but didn’t stop. “So she’s going around telling everyone you broke Baby Snoozie, and to top it off she’s pulling the dumb doll from the play.”

“I’d better go in and see what I can do,” Tess said. She didn’t look forward to it. Katie Tyler was a beautiful but spoiled child and as stubborn as a cat.

“I told her I didn’t need her raggedy old doll. I’d just wad up a bunch of towels and use those instead,” Lena continued.

“Oh no!” Tess groaned.

“And then she said, ‘Where are you going to get towels, Miss Smarty Pants?’ Can you believe it? She actually called me Miss Smarty Pants! So I told her I’d use her coat when she changed into her costume for the kids’ play, and now she won’t take off her coat, and her costume won’t fit, but she won’t take off her coat, and she’s the star so she has to be in the show, and the choir director’s about ready to kill both her and you!” Lena’s exciting narrative came to a triumphant and breathless finish.

“And a merry Christmas to you, too,” Tess said under her breath as she mentally girded her loins to go into the church and do battle with one Katie Tyler over Baby Snoozie’s missing snore box.

Katie took one look at Tess’s face and, without a word, stuck her arms behind her parka-covered back, protecting Baby Snoozie from the marauding clutches of Tess.

Tess motioned for Katie to follow her, and Katie did, mesmerized by Tess’s silence. Neither one of them spoke as they went into the Sunday school room and sat in the minuscule chairs.

It was Katie who broke the wordless standoff. “You killed Baby Snoozie.”

Tess pondered how to rectify the situation and do it quickly. She sent up a quick prayer for help and began.

“Katie, I’m sorry I took the battery pack out without telling you. I did it simply because I didn’t want the doll to start snoring during the show. Just like you’re pretending to be a star tonight, Baby Snoozie is pretending to be Baby Jesus. Think of it, Katie. Your doll is an actor, just like you!”

Tess was sure she saw the girl soften.

“I’ll replace the battery pack as soon as the show is over. I promise.” Tess leaned forward earnestly. “I promise.”

The girl narrowed her eyes and studied Tess. “Okay,” she said, shoving the doll into Tess’s arms.

“Now please scurry into your star costume.”

“Okay.”

“Wow, that was fast,” Jake said when Tess emerged with Baby Snoozie in tow. “How did you do that?”

“I tried something unheard of today. I told her the truth.” Tess grinned at him. “Now I have to return this doll to Lena before she rips Katie’s coat off her. Go ahead and find a seat and save one for me. I’ll only be a minute.”

Lena had calmed down considerably, enough to manage one last sarcastic comment about the doll’s face: “If I have to look at the grotesque doll all evening long, I’m going to turn it upside down so I’ll be looking at its feet instead.”

The tableau was scheduled to be the last presentation of the show. Tess made a mental note to slip out a few minutes before its start.

She had just eased into the seat Jake had saved for her, ignoring the fond glances the rest of the congregation gave them, when Mrs. Smalley switched from the meditative introductory music. The organ notes swelled into the magnificent opening chords of “O Come, All Ye Faithful.”

Everyone stood and joined in, most singing the words from memory. It was one of her favorite Christmas carols, so exuberant that it brought the wild joy of Jesus’ birth even closer.

Reverend Barnes began straight-out with the reading from Luke: “ ‘And it came to pass in those days….’ ” As many times as she heard it and read it, Tess could never tire of the words. So simple, so meaningful.

As he read through the story, he paused while the children presented a skit or sang a song. Katie Tyler, Tess saw with satisfaction, portrayed the Christmas star with a brilliance.

She couldn’t help stealing a glance at Jake during Katie’s play—was he, too, thinking back to their discussion on the way to church?

The stars moved offstage to allow the next heavenly host: the angels. The youngest children looked beatific in their short white robes that belled around them. Someone had gone to great lengths with their costumes. The wings were snowy puffs of feathers that made them look as if they could truly take off and return to heaven at any moment.

Tess almost missed her cue so enraptured was she with the little ones. But she slipped off just in time to corral the teenagers and hustle them behind the curtain, with Baby Snoozie in an upright position.