The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection (2 page)

“
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.

Z
utphen Chapel was
the site of many of
Sophie’s earliest memories. She’d grown up as part of the
congregation, sitting with her parents and siblings, her
grandparents, and several aunts and uncles. The old wooden pews had
been replaced long ago with comfortable upholstered benches, and
the congregation had grown so much that several building projects
had resulted in the church more than doubling in size. In fact the
only thing remaining from the Zutphen church of her youth was the
name. That, and the gleaming white steeple rising from the
center.