Saints Among Us (5 page)

“That would be wonderful. I got some information from the Internet, too, but one never knows how accurate that is. Could you also send me a list of veterinary and pet supplies that would be useful? My friend June and I are planning to solicit donations this week.”

“I’ll be happy to e-mail you a list. Would you be willing to bring some things down from the zoo if I have them sent to you?”

“Of course.” Then she thought she had better qualify that. “Exactly how much are we talking about here?”

“Could you handle two large boxes?”

“Oh. Of course.” She had feared he meant significantly more than that.

“You’re amazing,” Mark said, and the note in his voice brought warmth to Alice’s cheeks. She was thankful he could not see her.

“All right, then,” she said briskly. “I’ll see you next week. We’re planning to leave right after church on Sunday and drive straight through so we expect to arrive sometime mid to late Monday.”

“Terrific. I’ll see you then. Have a safe trip.”

“You, too, Mark. I’ll be praying for you.”

“And I you. Good-bye, Alice. God bless you.”

As she hung up the telephone, Alice could not help thinking of Mark’s final words. Since his heart attack, Mark’s spirit had been opened. He was striving to learn all he could about walking a Christian path.

“Thank You, Lord,” she whispered.

Tuesday morning, Louise helped Jane and Alice fix breakfast for their four guests. Afterward, she was preparing for the three piano students she would be teaching that afternoon when the telephone rang. Jane just had returned from soliciting items for the upcoming crafts fair, and Alice had run to the store to purchase a few odds and ends they needed, so Louise reached for the telephone on the reception desk.

“Grace Chapel Inn, Louise speaking. May I help you?”

“Louise, this is Kenneth Thompson. Do you have a few moments to brainstorm with me?”

“Of course.”

“Have you met Kettil and Karin Lindars?”

“The new people who just joined the church? They came from Minneapolis, didn’t they?”

“Yes. They have five children, although the two elder daughters are in college now, I believe.” Kenneth cleared his throat. “Karin approached me last week with an idea I thought sounded quite interesting. Have you ever heard of a Santa Lucia festival?”

“Oh yes.” Louise chuckled. “Well, in a very superficial manner. One of my students has a doll that she takes everywhere with her. One of its outfits is a dress’a nightgown, really—for a Santa Lucia festival. It even has a wreath of greens with candles sticking up from it and a tray of some kind of goodies that apparently are part of the celebration.”

“That’s right!” Kenneth sounded as if Louise were a student who’d just won the spelling bee. “It’s a Swedish tradition. Apparently, in the Lindars’ old community in Minnesota, there was a large population of Swedish ancestry, and they held a Santa Lucia festival every year.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Louise as the light dawned. “I’m already helping Aunt Ethel with the crafts fair.”

“No, you’re not, you fibber.” He laughed. “Jane is. I heard all about how Alice and you wriggled out of it.”

“Well, I
am
helping on the day of the fair.”

“This is a musical endeavor. You are such a valuable resource that you’re the first person I thought of. Really, Louise, this wouldn’t take much of your time. Please consider it.”

“What, exactly, are you asking me to do?”

“Plan a Santa Lucia celebration with Karin Lindars. Guide her. Lead rehearsals. Her children have done it every year, so she can tell you what should be included. Her two oldest daughters have each represented Lucia, and her youngest daughter has been very upset since they moved that she would not get to play the role. I thought it might help her daughter to feel happier about the move if she had something familiar to bridge the chasm between her life in Minnesota and her life here. If it goes well this year, we might consider making it a Grace Chapel tradition.”

“And when would it be held?”

“It normally occurs on the Sunday closest to December 13, which would be Sunday the fifteenth, but the craft show is Saturday the fourteenth, so I thought we could have it during the Sunday school hour on Sunday the eighth.”

Louise took a moment to process all those “Sundays” in one sentence. “And you’re asking me to plan it?”

“And conduct rehearsals. Karin said she would be happy to help. She has suggestions for music and additional activities, but she’s a quiet person and isn’t comfortable doing this all on her own.”

It sounded interesting. And working with Karin would be a nice opportunity to get to know a new church member. “All right. Do you have the Lindars’ phone number?”

Rev. Thompson gave her the telephone number and they said their farewells. Then Louise walked briskly to the kitchen, where she knew she probably could find Jane. Just as she had thought, Jane sat at the table surrounded by a sea of notes scribbled on all sizes and shapes of paper.

“Jane, what on earth are you doing?”

Jane looked up. “Organizing my notes for the crafts fair.” She grimaced. “Each time I spoke to someone, I scribbled down the information and stuck it in a folder. Now I have to put it all into some kind of order.” She sat up straighter. “You’re a wonderful organizer, Louise. Could you help me?”

“I’d be glad to, in exchange for a favor from you. Could you help me look up something on the computer?”

“Of course. What are you trying to find?” Jane rose from the table and headed for the reception desk in the front hall.

“I need information on the Santa Lucia festival.”

“The what?”

“Santa Lucia festival,” Louise repeated as her sister began to type. “Kenneth has asked me to help put together a little program to honor Santa Lucia, also known as St. Lucy, who was a Christian martyr of the fifth century. A celebration is held in Scandinavian countries every year.”

“I’m going to start charging research fees,” Jane said jokingly. “First Alice and now you. The next thing I know, it’ll be Aunt Ethel in here asking me to look up something for her. There.” She pointed at the screen. “On the left is a list of Web sites that have information about the Santa Lucia thingy. You click on one and the Web site will open in the window on the right. If you see useful information, just click on the little printer up at the top and print out the pages.”

“Sounds simple enough. But don’t go far, just in case.”

Twenty minutes later, Louise had a small stack of paper and more information on St. Lucy and the celebration than she would ever need to know.

“
Lucia
means ‘light,’” she announced as she entered the kitchen, where Jane had put away her notes and was expertly rolling out piecrusts. Louise’s attention was diverted. “What kind of pie are you making?”

“Cherry. Remember those sour cherries I canned? When I went into the pantry to get some of the tomatoes we put up last summer, I saw them and immediately had a hankering for cherry pie.”

“I adore cherry pie, especially yours. I volunteer to be your taste-tester again.”

Jane chuckled. “And here I thought I’d have to do it myself. How generous of you, Louie! So tell me how you made out on your quest for information.”

“Wonderfully, thanks to you.” Louise waved the sheaf of papers. “Santa Lucia’s Day is celebrated across Scandinavia on December 13, marking the beginning of the holiday season. In one version, Lucia is said to have been a Christian virgin martyred for her beliefs. According to the story, she angered the man to whom she was betrothed when she gave away most of her wealth to the poor. In another, she is said to have carried food to Christians hiding in dark underground catacombs in the days of early Christian persecution in Rome. To light the way as she carried the food, she wore a wreath of candles on her head. Without doing a lot more research, I don’t know exactly what the truth may be, but I do know the Santa Lucia festival is a recent celebration.”

“How recent?”

“Early twentieth century.”

“Wow! Even more recent than Thanksgiving or the Fourth of July.”

“Much more so.” Louise read from one of the papers she held. “There are many legends about her, and in each one Lucia stands as a symbol of light and hope to all humankind. Santa Lucia’s Day begins the feasting, merriment, singing and the spirit of friendliness and goodwill that lasts all through the holidays.’”

“I guess the ‘feasting, merriment and singing’ is where you come in. Did Kenneth give you any specific details?”

“No, but I found a number of things in the research. And don’t forget I’ll have Mrs. Lindars’ suggestions as well.”

Alice came into the kitchen midway through Louise’s explanation and so Louise repeated the request from Rev. Thompson.

“That’s wonderful. I’ll be back in plenty of time. I’d hate to miss our first Santa Lucia celebration.”

Jane’s hands paused for a moment and she looked up. “So you’ve definitely decided to go?”

“Yes. I spoke to Mark Graves, and he’s also going down to Florida. We’ll be there at the same time.” Alice went on, telling her sisters the details of her plans.

“Well, I’m relieved that Mark will be there too,” Louise said. “And Alice, I feel I owe you another apology. I never should have said anything to Aunt Ethel yesterday.”

“Thank you. But it’s all right, Louise. My trip isn’t a secret. Aunt Ethel had to know sometime.”

“So you’re leaving on Sunday and returning the following weekend?”

Alice confirmed her plans with a nod.

“Well, don’t worry about anything here. I’ll help Jane with the inn as much as possible.”

“Fortunately, we aren’t terribly busy,” Jane said. “You will be back for Thanksgiving, Alice, won’t you?”

“Of course. Can you imagine me willingly missing out on your pumpkin pie?”

Jane laughed. “I’ll be sure to make plenty.”

Chapter Five

W
 ednesday, Alice awoke with butterfly wings beating madly inside her. Time was flying by as she made preparations for her trip to Camp Compassion.

Late Monday afternoon, she had called Carlene Moss, owner of the local newspaper, the
Acorn Nutshell
, and Carlene interviewed June and Alice at the newspaper office Tuesday. Carlene intended to run an article in the paper, which came out once a week on Wednesday, and Alice hoped it might generate a few donations to add to the small store of items and financing she and June had received so far.

As she was making up the bed in the Sunrise Room for a Michigan couple scheduled to arrive that afternoon, she heard the telephone ring.

“Grace Chapel Inn, Alice speaking. May I help you?” She enjoyed taking telephone calls from people making reservations. She always experienced a sense of anticipation about what the new guests might be like. She enjoyed asking where they had heard about the inn and if there were any special dietary requests or anything else necessary to make their stay comfortable. It felt so…so professional.

Alice recognized that she had a valuable and satisfying career in nursing. And she once had a valuable and satisfying life with her father, to which her fond memories and the ache that still haunted her heart occasionally could testify. But this was different. She really could not explain it.

“Is this Alice Howard from the newspaper?” The voice was older, female and haughty.

“I’I suppose it is.” She had not seen the weekly paper yet, but she was looking forward to learning what the reporter said about the trip she and June were planning. Apparently, this lady already had read it.

“Miss Howard, my name is Emmaline Daughtry. I would like a little more information about exactly what you intend to do if you travel down to this Camp Compassion place.”

Alice’s eyebrows rose. “Ms. Daughtry’”

“Mrs.” She said it as if she were royalty, and Alice had to smile.

“I beg your pardon. Mrs. Daughtry, my friend June and I have spoken with a woman who recently returned, as well as with a veterinarian who is traveling down to work there now. Both of them assure us that there is ample work to be done. I cannot speak to the exact type of work, although I assume most of it will be unskilled labor. I love animals, but I am not trained to work with them. If you have seen the same things on the news programs that I have, you have seen how desperate the need is. I’ll do whatever they need me to do. Feed, walk, rescue. Whatever they need.”

“I wish to make a donation, Miss Howard. How do you intend to get to this place?”

“We’ll be driving, ma’am.”

“Well then, you’re going to need gas. If you’re prepared to offer your hard work, the least those of us at home can do is help you financially.” Mrs. Daughtry then named a sum that caused Alice’s mouth to open in utter disbelief. “Use what you need for transportation, and if there’s any left over, I would like you to donate it to the camp to use for food and shelter.”

“Mrs. Daughtry, I don’t know what to say. I can assure you there will be plenty left over’”

“Good. Now, I’m concerned that if I put this in the mail it may not arrive before you leave. Is there any way that someone could pick it up in the next few days? I live in Potterston, which I realize is out of your way’”

“Oh no, ma’am, that’s not a problem. I’ll be happy to stop by this week on my way to work. I’ll call first.” Alice hardly could believe her ears. Even if the article in the paper yielded no other results, this one donation would be a wonderful gift to offer the camp.

Jane again had her notes for the crafts fair spread out on the kitchen table when Alice came through the door after work. She immediately jumped up and grabbed the newspaper from the counter. “Your article is in the paper!”

“Yes, I heard. I already received one call about a donation.” Alice pressed a hand to her heart. “The paper wasn’t delivered by the time I left for work. I’m afraid to look. Do June and I sound rash for rushing off on an ill-advised journey?”

Jane had to laugh. “Not at all,” she assured Alice. “It’s a lovely article. I predict lots of donations,” she said as she passed the newspaper to her sister.

“We’ve already had an amazing start.” Alice explained Mrs. Daughtry’s telephone call to Jane.

Jane whistled, impressed. “That’s awesome. You just never know what the good Lord is going to provide, do you? You look tired. How was your shift?”

Alice shook her head with a wry smile. “Interesting. One of my dementia patients got out of her gown and went wandering down to the first floor before anyone realized she was gone.”

“Oh my! I bet that startled more than a few people. The poor woman. She would be mortified if she knew. Will she remember it?”

Alice shook her head. “Thankfully, no.”

“I thought people with dementia usually go to nursing homes.”

“Yes, but they get ill like anyone else. Actually, probably more often. Flu and pneumonia can tear through a nursing home like that hurricane ripped through Florida.”

Jane shivered. “That’s awful. Is it wrong of me to pray that I never get to the point that I have to go to a home?”

“I believe God understands. We all have a fear of that.” Alice indicated the papers on which Jane was working. “New recipes?”

“Crafts fair. I have a nice assortment of things lined up for the church to sell. And you won’t believe it, but Florence is organizing about half of it.”

“How did you manage that? At the board meeting, she was positive it could never succeed.”

Jane shrugged. “Honestly, I think she was simply suffering from hurt feelings. I tried to make her feel as if I valued her opinion—which I do—and she became very helpful. In fact, there are only two more things yet to confirm.”

“What are those?”

“I need to ask the Sunday school teachers if their classes would be willing to make up packages of ‘Christmas Cocoa.’ I found a really cute idea in a magazine. You make a blend of powdered cocoa, cinnamon and a few other spices and place enough for a one-serving drink in a sandwich bag. You add a little cellophane twist of marshmallows and a candy cane and then punch a hole at the top of the bag for ribbon. Before tying the ribbon, you attach a holly leaf tag with instructions on it.”

“Very cute and very inexpensive,” Alice murmured. “Especially if a group volunteers to work on it. It’s a perfect project for the children.”

“Speaking of perfect projects for children’” Jane began.

“I know, I know. You want the ANGELs to make macramé bracelets.”

“How did you know that?” Jane was surprised.

“News travels fast in this town. I’ll be happy to organize it, Jane, but I will have to get someone else to actually oversee the project, since I’ll be away.”

“Maybe one of the mothers would help.”

“I’ll check and let you know.” Alice paused before heading upstairs to change out of her work clothes. “Were there any packages for me today?”

“Oh!” Jane sprang out of her chair. “Thank you for reminding me. The UPS man brought two boxes. I put them in the front hall because I didn’t know what else to do with them.” She led the way to the front of the house. “I think they’re from Mark. What on earth do you think he sent you?”

“Relax, matchmaker.” Alice laughed. “It’s only supplies for me to take to him in Florida.” Then she caught sight of the boxes. “Good heavenly days! Mark must think we have a U-Haul trailer.” The boxes were at least three feet square, wrapped in brown paper and heavily taped.

“I feel so much better knowing that Mark is going to be in Florida.” Jane waggled her eyebrows knowingly at her older sister. “And you’re going to meet him there.”

“Oh, Jane, it’s not like that and you know it!” Alice was exasperated but she had to laugh. “True, I do still find Mark attractive, but it’s not as if we’re planning to elope. We’re going south to make a difference in the suffering of so many poor animals. I doubt there will be a lot of time for socializing, and I can’t imagine the atmosphere will be remotely romantic.”

“One can always hope,” Jane retorted, turning to go back to the kitchen.

Louise did not sleep well. Thoughts of the Christmas crafts fair had marched incessantly through her head. She tossed and turned.

She awoke late on Thursday, feeling as tired as if she had just completed an exhausting piano concert on which she’d worked for months.

What if the fair was a disaster? How could Ethel possibly plan a successful event in little more than a month? Why had she ever opened her mouth to suggest that it be a Christmas event?

Louise made her bed, showered, then dressed in a classic navy skirt with a white sweater set. As she fastened her pearls around her neck, she reminded herself that her intentions had been good. She had been thinking long-term. How in the world could she have known that Ethel would consider attempting it this year?

When she went down into the kitchen, Alice and Jane had already finished with breakfast. Jane was tracing a holly leaf pattern onto dark green construction paper, and Alice was carefully cutting out the leaf outlines.

“I can’t believe she’s seriously trying to pull this off,” Louise announced to her sisters.

Jane’s hands stilled halfway around the leaf. Today she wore a hunter-green tunic over ivory wool slacks. The silhouette of an old woodstove was appliquéd to the tunic.

Alice, more casually dressed in jeans and a tan sweater, stopped just as she was about to begin cutting another leaf. Carefully, she set down her scissors. “Who might ‘she’ be, and what might we be discussing?”

“Oh, sorry.” Louise served herself some of the cream-cheese coffee cake Jane had made yesterday and pulled out a chair at the table. Jane had placed a cheery arrangement of yellow and white mums in a cut-glass container on the table, but its beauty was lost on Louise. “I didn’t sleep well. How could Aunt Ethel think that trying to pull together a crafts fair in a few short weeks is a good idea? She clearly doesn’t have any idea—”

“This is Aunt Ethel you’re talking about,” Jane reminded her, going back to her tracing. “The woman has more energy than the three of us put together.”

“And,” said Alice, “she has a certain way of making things happen.”

“Yes, but’”

“Why don’t you give her a call after you have some breakfast?” Jane suggested. “Share your worries with her. Maybe she’s having second thoughts about attempting it, and she just needs to hear someone else voice concern.”

“You’re just hoping you don’t have to gather a whole lot of crafts.”

“I’ll have you know I already did gather quite a selection.” Jane gestured to the holly leaves. “Alice and I are getting some things done for a project the Sunday school classes have agreed to take on.”

Ordinarily, Louise believed in eating slowly. She believed it to be better for the digestion. But today she raced through her breakfast, then called Ethel. Luckily, her aunt was home and was more than happy to talk about the crafts fair with Louise.

Shortly before nine, Louise left the inn and walked briskly along the flagstone path to the carriage house, where her aunt had lived for the past decade.