The Christmas Sisters (22 page)

“Did you get a crown, Mommy?” Willa began to dance around with her and above her head as though holding an unseen crown there. “Can I see it?”

“No, I did not get a crown. And it’s a good thing, too, because if I had one, I might be tempted to use it to crown a certain someone who thinks—heaven help him—he's way
more clever
than he really is.”

“Once a snooty-britches, always a snooty-britches,” he teased.

She ignored him with a flick of her hair and an upward tilt of her nose, which even she had to
concede
only played into his jest. “They were making a funny name up for our cousin, Willa, who is acting all high and mighty, that's all.”

“Oh. Okay. I'll go get the ornaments now. Aunt
Petie
said they'd be waiting outside warming the car up.”

The back door slammed shut as if to verify the plan.

“Fine.
Get the ornaments and give me a second to get a jacket so I can go with y’all.”

“Aunt
Petie
says to tell you there's just room for her and Aunt Collier and Aunt Bert and the ornaments and me.” Willa spun around and took off for the back bedroom to fulfill her mission.

“Oh, we'll see about that.” She started toward the kitchen, but Sam's hand on her arm stopped her in her tracks.

“I was only kidding, you know. I never saw you as stuck-up or snobbish when we were growing up.
Never.”

The low light made his hair shine golden and bathed his handsome features in a comforting glow.

She pressed her lips together. “I know. It was just a joke. No hard feelings.”

“Good. Then why don't you go over to the church with me instead of your sisters?”

“Sam, don't you see? It's just a harebrained matchmaking scheme that I don't want to give in to.”

“Come with me because you want to, not because they tried to trick you into it.”

“Because I want...to?”
Her thoughts swirled, giving her a lightheadedness that made it impossible to maintain her disgust with her sisters' plans.

“Because I want you to.”
He moved closer to her. “Nic, this is a big deal for me. I'd like to go into it knowing I had a friend beside me. You of all people know how important that can be.”

She did. Not too many minutes ago she had actually wished Sam would have been there for her in her hour of dire need. Though this was not so desperate a time for him, it was, nonetheless, the kind of time when having someone on your side could make all the difference in the world.

Willa whizzed by with a box that Nic recognized held some cheap plastic ornaments they'd gotten on sale and never used. “If you are going to come with us, Mommy, you better hurry and get your coat.”

“That's okay, Willa. You go on and tell your aunts I'll be going with Sam.” She met his gaze and sighed. “Tell them I
want
to go with Sam.”

Fifteen

Christmas was in the air. Excitement fluttered in Nic's stomach just to think of it. Not the wintry gold and glitter and the crush of holiday shoppers kind of Christmas she'd have had in Chicago. The slow-paced, serve iced-tea alongside the traditional hot chocolate while country singers crooned carols from a portable speaker perched on the hood of a pickup truck kind of Christmas.
The
real
Christmas.

At least for her.
Simple, Southern, and focused on the right things—faith, home, family, and community.

Nic stuck her hands in her pockets and tipped her head back to look at the top of the extravagant tree Willa and Sam had chosen. They'd set it up outdoors in the untended triangle of a flowerbed where the sidewalks merged to lead to the front steps of the church. Only fitting, it would be there as a symbol of hope and welcome, a gift from the church to all of Persuasion.

It was a good tree, she decided now that she could really get a look at it. Full and fragrant, it had lots of room for hanging rope and tinsel and handmade ornaments. Room still, even after they had gathered around to sing a few hymns and carols and every one in attendance had placed their contribution of ornaments on the waiting branches.

Nic glanced over the people still mulling about the refreshment table. If she were in a count-your-blessings frame of mind, she'd have made note that the event had drawn more than twice the number in the morning service, including more than a couple of the regulars from the Sunday fellowship of
Dewi's
Market. If she were in a miserly mood, however, she could allow that the
Dewi's
regulars might have come more to scope out the situation than to participate. She might also concede that more than a few among them had simply seen the lights and music and wandered over for the free cookies and drinks. Optimist or pessimist, she had to conclude that this had not been the booming success she had yearned to see for Sam—for the church, she quickly corrected herself. This was, after all, about mending the rift between church and community, not about scoring points for Sam.

“You
gonna
help me dig out some of these old decorations to see if we can find some more for the tree or not, girl?” Aunt Bert stood at the side door of the church and beckoned her.

Nic made a hasty review of the surroundings and found Willa trailing behind Sam as he walked about the crowd greeting everyone individually. Her daughter's face rivaled the holiday lights as she beamed with
pride,
carrying a plateful of Christmas cookies to offer to everyone she met. And everyone who took one had a kind word for the child.
Even those who gave Sam a somewhat chilly reception.

Willa responded to each person with a smile. Sometimes she even spoke to answer the friendliest of the questions people asked. Nic did not know when she had seen her child so relaxed, happy, and radiant.

“Do you want to be a party to all this or not, Nicolette?” Aunt Bert bellowed in her this-is-the-last-time-I'm-calling-you tone.

“I think I do, Aunt Bert,” she murmured, walking backward a few steps, reluctant to let go of the sight of Willa in this shining moment. “I'm not sure yet, but I think I do.”

“We didn't give people enough notice.” Collier went up on her tiptoes to hang a bent construction paper bell on a bare limb two-thirds of the way up the community tree.

“You can't expect much of a turnout on a few hours' notice.” Nic held up a golden Styrofoam ball with glittered toothpicks sticking out of it and frowned.

“Not this close to the holidays.”
Petie
flicked at a darkened bulb with her painted nails.

“Don't talk like this was a total disaster, girls.” Aunt Bert collected the stray bits and pieces of the makeshift ornaments she and Nic had rounded up in the church basement. “We saw plenty of folks we haven't seen at the services since—”

She did not finish but then she didn't have to. Sam fingered a delicate brass harp with a red velvet bow placed on the tree by the family from the cottages. “For those that did participate I am truly grateful. And yet—”

The December air went still with just hint of a nip in it. The sky had begun to cloud up, giving late afternoon the feel of impending dusk.

“Just because they didn't come when you thought they should doesn't mean they
won't never
come.” Willa had to tilt her head way back to look up at him from where she knelt on the sidewalk in front of the sparsely decorated tree.

“The faith of a child, huh?”
He tried not to inject any discouragement in his voice or in his forced smile but he knew he failed. “I wish I could believe that someday people in this town will come around. But I don't think it's wise to cling to that hope and to keep trying half-baked schemes like this one to try to make it happen. Sometimes it's the right thing to do to cut bait and move on, to put our efforts to more productive uses and stop wasting everyone's time.”

“The things we ask God to give us don't always come when we think they should.” Willa scrambled to her feet and took his hand. “Not in our time, in
God's time
.”

He looked down at her. “That's a pretty big nugget of wisdom from such a little girl.”

“Mr. Freeman told it to me.”

“
Ahh
.”

“For the snowbirds.”

“The snowbirds?”
He frowned, not sure what that meant.

“Last year when the only snowbird died and there weren't no more, I
throwed
birdseed out. I watched every day under all the bushes and looked up in the sky for a storm to come and bring in more snowbirds for me.”

“I see.” He closed his hand around hers.

The sisters and Aunt Bert moved in close.

“I waited and waited but I never saw one. I prayed and prayed to God for them to find me, for them to come so I could take care of them. But they didn't.”

“I know that feeling,” he whispered.

“I felt so bad that Mr. Freeman carved the snowbird for me. He said the snowbirds didn't come because of...Mommy?”

Nic moved in and put her hand on Willa's back as she said to Sam, “Because of the droughts and the weather patterns of the last few years.”

Willa nodded her head. “The snowbirds have to go where they can get fed.”

“More wisdom I'd do well to take to heart.” Sam touched her hair.

“But that doesn't mean the snowbirds won't ever come back, just like the people will come to church again.”

“In God's time,” Sam said so quietly he wasn’t sure he hadn’t just imagined saying it.

She grinned.

On the heels of her aunts and great-aunt murmuring their approval of the child, Aunt Bert yawned and not too quietly suggested, “God's time notwithstanding,
it's
nap time
for this old lady.
Petie
, Collier, you
gonna
drive me on home?”

They moved off, leaving Sam with Willa and Nic. The crowd had thinned to a precious few. Among the hanger-on-
ers
, the
Dewi's
delegation clustered together, except Claire
LaRue
. She strolled up wearing earrings shaped like wreathes that matched the sparkling image on her blue sweatshirt. “Well, hi, y'all.”

“Hello, Claire.” Sam extended his hand to her even as he sensed Nic bristling in the woman's general direction.

He understood Nic's reservation. When he learned his old pal from his wayward youth Reggie
LaRue
had married a girl Collier's age, Sam had figured
ol
'
Reg
had had to search out someone too young to know better. After his first few weeks in town he'd changed his opinion, and not for the better. Reggie had simply found someone who held the same worldview, Sam decided, based on town talk and the fact that Claire and Reggie's car was often among the first to arrive at
Dewi's
on Sundays.

It had surprised him to see Claire here with her children and to see how much she tried to really throw herself into the festivities. As a man who had suffered from unfair judgment, it dogged him now to see he might have indulged in the same thing himself. Still, aware that Claire had just come from chatting with people who made no bones about disliking his presence in their town and in this pulpit, he remained cautious.
“So good to see you and your family out to support the church tonight.”

“Well, if you can't count on the support of an old friend, who can you count on? Right, Nicolette?” She smiled a bit too brightly.

“Hmm.”
Nic smiled back, sort of.

“Are you a friend of my mommy and Reverend Sam's?” Willa craned her neck, her head sort of weaving and swaying as she watched Claire.

Sam followed the movement and realized the child was following the movements of the woman's enormous earrings.

“Truth to tell, they are more like old friends of my husband's, sweetheart. The three of them go way back.”

Nic put her hand on Willa's shoulder. Her eyes shot daggers but she kept her lips sealed.

“In fact, their friendship goes back to way before Reggie and I
were
married. Longer than even...” She tipped her head, her short red hair falling against her neck as she tapped her cheek. “What is that expression, Nic?”

Nic turned as if suddenly fascinated by the tree beside them. “I'm sure I don't know what you—”

“Oh, I remember!” Claire snapped her fingers. She fixed her gaze directly on Sam, like a cat honed in on a helpless mouse. “Since before you
were a gleam
in your daddy's eye.”

Nic pulled Willa close.

Sam shook his head, not quite sure where the woman was going.

“I don't have a daddy.” Willa blinked up at Claire.

That catlike grin went softer then. The faint lines around her eyes framed them in warmth and kindness as she put her hand beneath Willa's chin. “Maybe that's not the saying after all, sugar. We'll just leave it that they've been friends of my husband's for a long, long time.”