by Lois Richer
“We could run several events, all happening on Friday. Most prominent would be a puppet theater to help draw in families. Kids could participate by making their own puppet after the show. You all know Sarabell Edwards is a master crafter at puppet making.” Sam grinned at the nods circulating around the room.
“Nobody can top Sarabell,” an attendee agreed loudly.
“That will be followed by other events, all geared to family participation. Popcorn-ball making, snowball fights, gingerbread-house decorating.” The former reporter smiled as he glanced around the room. “As we see which events are most successful, we’ll repeat them throughout following weeks so nobody misses a chance to enjoy any activity.”
Joy noticed Sam didn’t need to consult the list before him.
“What’s next?” Miss Partridge asked.
“Saturday will feature displays of the vendor stalls where they’ll show off their crafts and techniques. There will also be hourly retail happenings, opportunities for each business to plan something special for their customers. Saturday nights we’ll have consecutive stage performances, which I hope will culminate in a major talent show on the last Saturday before Christmas.” Out of breath, Sam leaned back and waited for the group’s response.
A rush of pleasure tickled Joy when his glance rested on her. She was so proud of him. This man was proving everything she believed about him. He was honorable. It was odd how readily she’d come to believe in Sam, despite a niggling impression that there was something important he hadn’t told her.
That first night, when he’d appeared out of the blizzard to rescue her and her kids, and found a safe place for them to stay—that was when her faith in Sam had grown its initial roots. He’d taken responsibility for the tree and made it right—actually, far more than right—by taking them to live in the log house. Nothing he’d said or done since had changed her certainty that this man was honest, true to his word, straightforward and dependable.
It was the same with Experience Christmas. Sam’s ideas were amazing. Joy had every confidence he’d see them through each stage of the festival with panache and sure-handed guidance.
Sam was nothing like Nick, who’d often promised great things but faltered whenever the going got tough. It had taken Joy a long time to accept that she couldn’t depend on Nick’s promises. Since the day she’d understood that, after her parents had rejected her for the second time, Joy had never let herself depend on anyone.
But then Sam appeared in her world and glimmers of believing in someone again had teased her. Since that first stormy night, he’d proven himself over and over.
Though Joy hadn’t wanted to leave her kids with Kira this evening, she was glad she’d come. She was more than impressed by Sam and his leadership of the volunteer group’s preparation for the festival. But some people weren’t.
“Who is going to pay for all this food you’re giving away?” Evan wanted to know. “And what are the prizes? Why would anyone come to Sunshine for such ordinary events?”
“The food is budgeted into our figures. And people will come because folks love sharing Christmas. Experience Christmas is designed to bring people together to share the joy of Christmas, not least through our fantastic outdoor activities and presentations. We’re going to show the world how to celebrate a real family Christmas.”
Joy had loved that idea of a family Christmas since she was a lonely only child. She’d yearned for but never enjoyed the jubilant kind of Christmases filled with affectionate relatives that she’d read about in stories, seen on television and watched her friends enjoy. While other kids dreamed of gifts, Joy had been alone, imagining a big gregarious family to celebrate with while her parents relaxed and enjoyed the day off from their busy bakery. But at least she’d had her parents to share the day with—until they’d disowned her.
Nick had been a nonparticipant at Christmas, often disappearing to some place he never talked about. That had made it very difficult to provide the kind of Christmas Joy wanted to give her children. She ached for them to have fun and cheery Christmas memories with an abundance of love and laughter surrounding them. Instead, for the past two Christmases Joy had needed to work at catering parties, desperate to earn the overtime bonuses that would pay her bills. This year she desperately wanted to make the Yuletide something her kids would never forget. Maybe Sam and his family would be a tiny part of the kids’ celebrations this year, too?
Joy shook off that wayward thought and the thrill that went with it to pay attention to Sam. He was actually smiling at his detractor. Could he really do all he was claiming?
“As to prizes. Here’s the pièce de résistance, Evan.” Sam paused. A hush fell in the room. “Every person who purchases an event ticket at our festival will have an opportunity to win our major Christmas prize.”
“Major prize? Like what? A soda pop?” Evan’s surly tone doused the joy in the room. “Wow.”
“A free dinner?” asked one attendee hopefully.
“Maybe a winter vacation in Glacier National Park?” guessed another.
Though Sam kept his expression blank as others began calling out possible prize suggestions, Joy could see the gleam in his eyes. She knew he had something special up his sleeve. Finally Miss Partridge asked for silence.
“Well, Sam?” the mayor demanded. “What is this prize?”
“A seven-day vacation package,” Sam said clearly. “As well as an appearance on national television with Adelia Forsyth when she covers the Rose Bowl Parade in Pasadena, California, on New Year’s Day.”
Amid gasps of surprise, Joy saw how proud Sam was of his achievement. His shoulders pushed back and his chin lifted, as if he was daring Evan Smith to denounce that. Meaning he was still friends with some of his colleagues, that they hadn’t all turned against him?
“It’s an all-expenses-paid excursion, including side trips to several famous parks,” Sam added.
No one spoke. Mouths hung open as folks gaped.
“So Adelia’s still talking to you after all your lies?” Evan’s cunning smile matched the nasty glint in his contemptuous gaze. “I thought your old cohorts had all abandoned you. So why is she doing this? How are you paying her?”
Audible gasps at his temerity filled the room. Appalled, Joy studied Sam, who avoided her gaze. The color drained from his face. His shoulders drooped as he stared at his knotted fingers.
And then—Joy’s same nagging worry returned. Something was definitely wrong.
What hadn’t Sam told her? What had he omitted?
Why had she trusted him?
* * *
Sam fought not to show his frustration.
Guilty. Condemned. He’d been tried and convicted, again, without anyone knowing the truth. And now he was handcuffed because he couldn’t explain the reasons why he’d given that false story, not yet, not when lives were still at stake.
He’d fought so hard not to cave against the bitterness as the outpouring of anger and frustration swelled against him. In the days since his return to this country, he’d continued the struggle to move past the vitriol, the snide remarks, the whispers of condemnation. To let it slide off his back. To forgive.
Yet every time he turned around, it smacked him in the face again.
This time the denigration hurt more than usual because these were his people. This time Sam longed to prove to his hometown that he wasn’t the liar he’d been labeled. He loved this place. Sunshine was home, the refuge he’d consoled himself with in the horror-filled days when only God knew where he was.
But truthfully, Sam hadn’t striven to come up with fresh, unique ideas for Experience Christmas because he felt guilty about filing that false story. He’d gone to all this work because he truly wanted to share the Christmas joy he’d found in this town, in the foothills of Glacier National Park, when he was an orphaned kid joining a newly formed family. A joy that had res
urfaced every Christmas since.
He winced at the knowledge that his bargain to get the Rose Bowl Parade prize would cost him dearly. He’d promised Adelia, his only friend since his other coworkers and friends had abandoned him, that he’d give her a private interview when the time was right. Would baring his soul be for nothing now?
Sam scrambled for a defense to offer Evan but could think of nothing. Apparently neither could Miss Partridge, for she remained silent, glaring at their biggest wet blanket. Joy smiled encouragingly at Sam, though she, too, said nothing. He knew from her expression that she was trying to come up with something, anything that would erase Evan’s nasty remark. And she was failing. Because nothing could.
And then, in the tenseness of the silence, a single voice called, “Bravo to Sam.”
Thunderous applause followed.
He almost sagged with relief, letting the rest of his team take over the meeting, laying out their plans for each day and asking for support from others where they felt they’d need it. The town’s nearly unanimous endorsement of Sam’s team’s ideas and plans felt awesome. It seemed to him that everyone wanted to be part of Experience Christmas.
Well, everyone except Evan and his cronies who left stomping out of the room.
“All right, people! Now, let me also express the town’s gratitude to Miss Grace Partridge. Those commercials she made for our event have gone viral. The town office is getting hundreds of calls every day. Seems everyone wants to meet Sunshine’s Christmas lady.” The mayor inclined his head at the smiling woman. “You make all of us want to get in the spirit, Miss Partridge.”
An appreciative round of applause for the former librarian filled the room.
“Anything else, Sam?”
“I think we’ve gone over enough for tonight,” he said as he rose, satisfied with what they’d accomplished. “If we can get the items on our to-do lists finished, we’ll be in good shape by the time we meet again.”
Everyone nodded their agreement. Sam, feeling rejuvenated by the support, grinned back.
“Oh, one more thing,” he added, and then chuckled at the groans. “If any of you know craftsmen or women in this area who have been hiding their skills or their products, please, please encourage them to participate in our festival. We’ll have plenty of booths. There’s always room for more artisans because we want to showcase the wonderful skills Sunshine is so proud to have in our town. That’s it. Thank you all and good night.”
Caught up in a flurry of questions and then making notes for himself on his phone, it took Sam a moment to notice that the room had emptied and he was alone. He switched off the lights and left, figuring that Joy had gone on home, too. Instead he found her standing outside, talking to Miss Partridge.
“Don’t be nervous about the hall being finished by next week,” Joy murmured in encouragement to the older woman, one hand clasping her shoulder. “They’re pushing ahead, working long hours. They’ve promised it will be ready. We’re working on trust, remember?”
“Yes! How good of you to remind me, dear. I have some praying to do.” Miss Partridge hugged Joy, fluttered a hand at Sam and called, “Good night, dears,” as she hurried toward her bright purple SUV.
“I’d better get home, too. Kira has a test tomorrow.” Joy winked. “Good meeting, Sam,” she said with a grin. “What a great prize. That must have taken some doing. I’m glad you could pull it off.”
This was what Sam really liked about Joy. No questions. Just encouragement and support.
“Thank you. Can I catch a ride back to the Double H with you? Drew borrowed my car to run an errand. I guess I could ask him to pick me up,” he added, to give her an out.
“Why bother? I’m going your way.” Joy flashed her amazing smile then waved a hand. “The Christmas lights your team have hung all over town are really lovely. Grace just told me an anonymous donor paid to have the town’s ancient angel streetlights rewired. They’re so pretty.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a sidelong look as they walked to her van. He pretended not see.
“Grace also said the costumes for the Sunday night play mysteriously arrived after the rental company claimed they wouldn’t deliver because they were already booked.”
“Yeah, I heard that, too. Nice. Mom calls it Christmas blessings.” Sam struggled to hold his nonchalant expression as he tugged open the passenger door of her van.
“Huh. Odd that nobody in this small town knows what changed or who that donor is.” She paused to study him. He calmly returned her stare until she finally shrugged. “You have a really great group of volunteers.”
When Joy climbed inside the van, the interior lights lent a pinkish tinge to her short, bouncy curls. Once she’d started the motor, she giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“You seem destined to loan your new car to everyone, Sam, leaving you without wheels.”
“That’s true.” He grinned. “Good thing you have this van.”
“Very good thing,” she agreed, touching the dash fondly. “A sweet gift from God. Thanks to Him, Mr. Porter and you and your brothers.”
They rode in silence for a while. But Sam was beginning to know Joy’s silences. This one felt to him as if she was grappling with some internal issue. He opened his mouth to ask about it, then snapped it closed. Best to wait until she told him.
They were moving past her former home when Joy finally spoke.
“Can I ask you something, Sam?”
“Sure.” He mentally braced himself.
“Back there, at the meeting. When you announced the grand prize of the festival.” She paused, licked her lips.
“Yeah?” They turned in under the creaking sign. Joy pulled up in front of his parents’ house, her expression serious. Sam grew more nervous.
“It’s just, well, you seemed so—upset,” she finally murmured. “Was it because of what Evan said?” She added after a moment of hesitation, “It was pretty awful.”
He made up his mind in that instant.
“I need to tell you something, Joy.” Sam exhaled, desperate to share his horrible burden, to finally have someone on his side. “To explain.”
“No.” Joy said it quite loudly as she shook her head. “You do not need to explain anything to me, Sam.”
“But—” His jaw dropped when she repeated “No!” in an explosive fashion.
“Miss Partridge has been trying to teach me to put my trust into action. Okay, then. I will. I trust you, Sam. I trust what you’ve done for me and my family, and I trust what you’re doing for Sunshine and all the families here,” Joy said firmly. “I don’t need any explanations.”
“But I—”
“I trust you, Sam,” she repeated very quietly, looking directly into his eyes.
“Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say, though inside, his heart was thudding at her kindheartedness.
“You’re welcome. Now, I’m sorry, but I need to go. Kira’s waiting for me.” She smiled as she eased the van into gear but kept her foot on the brake, obviously pausing for him to get out. “Good night.”
“I...” Sam let his explanation trail away, realizing that she probably didn’t want to hear the whole ugly story anyway. He sure couldn’t blame her for that. “Good night, Joy. Thanks for the ride. Sleep well.”
Sam got out, closed the door and forced his steps toward his boyhood home without looking back. It had never been clearer than it was tonight: this was a painful, lonely road he had to keep traveling on his own.
But oh, how he’d have loved to have let Joy in on the horrible secret he’d carried ever since he’d illegally crossed that border and begun the most terrifying days of his life, days that lived on still in cold sweats and terrifying dreams. Joy couldn’t help him with that.
But You could, God, Sam prayed silently as he entered the house. You could heal
me, release me from all the horror, from reliving it again and again. He stopped. Then he spoke the question that he usually refused to ask. “Why don’t You?”
There was no response.
Trust, he repeated Joy’s word. Trust.
Chapter Eight
Joy loved this dear old bakery.
Every time she stepped into it, she gave thanks that she had such an awesome place to work.
This morning was no different, but with the festival officially now under way, this first Saturday in their celebration calendar meant she had a ton to do. Beginning with cleaning the snow-covered sidewalk.
Outside it was still dark. Cris, Josh and Becca would be getting up now. Though Joy hated missing their mornings, she’d soon realized that if she made an early start at work, she could spend more time with them later in the day. Thank God for Kira. And Clara.
Yet, Joy was still short a part-time helper in the bakery. She prayed about it as she briskly swept the walk, enjoying the crisp air and the festive lights twinkling around her. How she loved this season of giving. Still, she’d come no closer to figuring out how to give her kids the kind of family Christmas she’d always dreamed of. It didn’t have anything to do with things. It had more to do with—
A cold, wet snowball smacked against Joy’s cheek. She gave a startled yelp at the chill and brushed away the wetness as she turned to see the thrower.
“Nice to find the old pitching arm still works.” Sam stood behind her, flexing one arm, his eyes twinkling with fun.
“Nice for whom?” Joy demanded. Without even thinking about it, she scooped up a handful of snow and tossed it, hitting him squarely on the nose.
“You want a snowball fight at this time of the morning?” he asked, advancing menacingly toward her as he formed another missile.
“No!” Joy shook her head in vehement denial. “Stop it! I have to clean this walk off, not cover it again. Then I need to get to work.”
“You win. For now. But I’m only quitting because today is fudge day.” Sam dropped the snowball and pointed at the painted words in her display window. “That’s going to go over very well with everyone. Especially me.”