by Lois Richer
“I thought you two became friends when you started woodworking.”
“That’s his dad. Ben. Sam isn’t very good at woodworking.” Josh glared ahead for a moment then blurted, “The kids at school call Sam a liar.”
“Which shows how little they know him,” Joy said calmly while inside her stomach did a nosedive. “I hope you spoke up and told them how wrong they were?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“We don’t know the details behind Sam’s story,” Joy warned. “He might have a very good reason for giving it. So the least we owe our friend is loyalty and understanding.”
“He’s not my friend.” Josh didn’t sound the least bit receptive to what she’d meant as a reprimand.
“Yes, he is your friend, kiddo. You just don’t realize it. Who said these things about Sam anyway?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
“A kid at school.” His chin thrust out defiantly. “But everybody in town is saying it.”
“Then everybody is wrong.” It took only a moment for the pieces to come together. “I’m guessing you’ve been listening to Riley Smith. I imagine he’s heard his father ranting about Sam. But they don’t know the truth, son. Neither do we.”
Why did it feel like she had to defend Sam?
“But—”
“Listen to me, honey. Mr. Smith has been spouting a lot of vile accusations about Sam. Mostly, I think, because he’s jealous of how great Sam’s ideas for the festival are turning out.” She held up a hand. “No, I don’t want to hear any more.”
“But you don’t know the truth either, Mom,” Josh shot back, his tone scathing. “You just take his side because he’s letting us live at the ranch.”
“I trust Sam,” she insisted.
“Everyone says you’re in love with him. That’s why you think he’s so wonderful. But you don’t know anything more about him than anybody else around town.” Josh’s face had turned a bright, angry red. “Sam did lie to the world. On television. That’s the truth.”
Everyone says you’re in love with him? Oh, boy. Joy refocused.
“I know Sam hasn’t lied to me or anyone in Sunshine since he returned, Josh. I know he’s been very good to us. He’s helped us so many times when he didn’t have to.”
“Lots of people have helped us,” Josh snarled.
“Yes, they have. And you’ve never accused any of them of lying,” she quietly rebuked him. “It’s not Sam who bothers me right now though. At this moment I’m really ashamed that my own child can’t cut our friend, a man who’s been nothing but kind to him, some slack.”
“Mom!” he wailed but Joy had never been so irritated with him.
“I don’t care what Riley or Mr. Smith think, Josh. You’re going to keep your opinions to yourself. You will be polite and respectful to Sam.”
“But—” She didn’t let him continue.
“Hear me well, Josh. When he’s ready, Sam will explain why he gave that story,” Joy said firmly. “Or maybe he won’t. Either way, this family is going to trust him, because he deserves it. Do you understand me?”
Several minutes passed before Josh finally nodded. “Yes,” he grumbled.
“Good. Now let’s go and enjoy our lunch, with our friend.” As Joy turned into the parking lot, she was shocked by how many cars filled it.
“I hope we can find a seat,” Sam said, joining them. “Looks pretty busy.”
“They come to Sunshine even on Sunday, when our stores are closed?” Joy marveled. “It’s quite amazing, this Experience Christmas festival you’ve created.”
“We,” Sam corrected. “What this community has created. And yes, it is.”
“I don’t care if it’s full inside. It’s nice out. I want to eat out here,” Josh said without looking at her. “So do Becca and Cris. We’ll wait at this picnic table.”
“Okay.” Joy wasn’t about to argue. She figured a little time-out was a good thing for both of them. “Let’s go order, Sam.”
It took more than half an hour to get their food. When at last they carried it outside, they found all three kids staring at the open field that lay just outside of town. Joy followed their gaze and blinked.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Wind skiing. Or some might call it kite skiing.” Sam explained, “The skier uses a kite to harness the wind. That gives them power over bumps or to jump. The kite makes it possible for the person to travel on their skis, up or downhill, with any wind direction.”
“Was it expensive to bring that display in?” she murmured, pondering that loan for the community hall. Sam would be on the hook if it wasn’t repaid by Christmas.
“Cost to us? Zero.” Sam grinned at her surprise. “A company in Missoula heard how many people were attending our festival. They offered to bring some boards and kites for demonstration with the agreement that kids and adults could try them out. Since they assume all liability and it’s outside of Sunshine’s town limits, the committee approved.”
“They sure have a great turnout.” Joy tried and failed to count the total number of skiers gliding across the snow.
“Have you ever kite skied, Sam?” Josh’s longing gaze was riveted on the big colorful sails.
“A couple of times in Switzerland on snow and once on sand in the Sahara. It’s really easy. Maybe you can try it later?” Sam glanced at Joy, his expression questioning.
“But I want to make Cwismas gifts,” Becca protested.
“I want to do both,” Cris countered.
“Let’s eat our lunch first,” Joy said with a chuckle. “Then I’ll take Becca and Cris to the Christmas gift-making class. Josh, perhaps if you ask nicely, Sam will go with you to try the kites. Or skis. Or whatever.”
“You don’t want to try?” Sam waved a hand at the kites, one eyebrow arched in inquiry.
“I’ll pass this time, thanks. Though it does look fun.” Joy chewed her burger while watching the skiers zoom across the pristine snow. “It seems effortless. Perfect weather for it, too, with this light breeze.”
When they’d finished lunch, Sam walked with them to the community hall.
“You really don’t want to go skiing?” His dark eyes held hers, as if he somehow understood her unspoken but overwhelming yearning to get away, relinquish her cares for a little while, and let the massive sail grab an air current and carry her up and away. “I’d be there to help you.”
“It’s very nice of you to offer,” she murmured, tearing her gaze from his. “I want to spend some time with these two, but I would appreciate it if you’d watch out for Josh.”
“Mom!” her eldest protested.
“You can’t try it if there’s no adult supervision. That’s one of the stipulations.” Sam studied Josh. “How about this? You can practice while the others do crafts. Then I’ll text your mom so she, Becca and Cris can come watch you.”
“Great idea!” Joy said, sloughing off her anxiety about her child’s safety. “Be careful. And listen to Sam!” she called to Josh, who was already walking away.
“He’ll be fine.” Sam’s hand covered hers, squeezed it and then dropped away. “Have fun making gifts. By the way, I need a new tie.”
“You don’t wear ties, Sam,” Cris protested.
“True.” He laughed before hurrying after Josh. “Wait up, buddy.”
“Can we go inside now?” Becca begged.
“Sure.” Joy helped them off with their coats and on with big aprons that covered their church clothes.
“Hi there, Joy. Hey, kids. Come on, I’ll show you what we’re offering today.” Bonnie led them around the big hall, pointing out areas for decorating plaster of paris Christmas plaques, making macramé hangings and even indicated a stall for making snow globes.
There were lots more crafts on offer, but Becca preferred the plaques while Cris wanted to make snow globes
. They paused once to go watch Josh kite ski, and then returned, eager to complete a second and then a third craft.
“What are you going to do with so many gifts?” Joy wondered.
“I dunno.” Becca shrugged. “But on TV they said you can’t have too many gifts.”
“Honey, that’s not—”
“Let them do more, Joy,” Bonnie urged. “Their work really helps us figure out areas where we need to rethink the projects.”
“But you can’t watch me now, Mommy,” Becca insisted.
“Not me, neither,” Cris agreed.
“Why not?” Joy asked.
“’Cause we might be makin’ your gift,” Cris explained. Becca nodded. Their eyes sparkled with excitement as they grinned at each other.
Joy felt a rush of happiness well inside. Her kids truly were “experiencing Christmas.”
“There are coffee and snacks over in the corner,” Sam’s mom advised with a wink. “Why don’t you relax while these munchkins work. We have plenty of helpers.”
“Okay, I will. Thank you.” Joy found a quiet corner and studied her phone, checking her plans for the upcoming week.
Her orders were in. Her staff was scheduled. The only thing she hadn’t been able to accomplish was finding a new bread supplier. Complaints about their current one were mounting due to stale bread and improperly baked loaves. Joy hated the negativity her bakery was receiving because of someone else’s poor quality control.
As usual, thoughts filled her head of her parents’ bakery and the hours of playtime she’d spent as a child at a little table in the back, making stars and trees and then decorating them for Christmas. How important she’d felt.
Then, as she grew up, she’d been given more tasks in the bakery itself until finally she’d worked alongside her dad, proudly producing their signature bread and other delicacies, some of them her own recipes. Her parents had even taken a short holiday one summer and left her in charge. By the next summer, though, it was all over. They’d kicked her out. A wash of loneliness swamped Joy.
If only she could talk to her parents—Why not phone them? They would probably refuse to talk to her, but if there was even a chance to heal the breach between them, she had to take it. For her kids’ sake. To give them the family Christmas she yearned for. Joy dialed the number from memory.
“Hi, Mom.” She inhaled and silently prayed for courage. “How are you?”
“Joy, your father says I’m not to talk to you.” The whisper stabbed Joy’s heart worse than a knife.
“But we’re just talking. We’re not doing anything. Are you all right, Mom? You sound funny.”
“I’ve got a cold.” That explained the raspy sound. Maybe. Or was her mom ill? How Joy hated this distance between them.
“I won’t talk long, Mom. It’s just—I was wondering. Do you think the kids and I could see you?” she asked tentatively. “I hate that they don’t know their grandparents. I think you’d like them,” she added in a broken whisper.
“Who is that?” a voice demanded.
“Joy. She wants to meet.” Her mother’s voice seemed to shrink into nothingness as she handed over the phone.
“Why do you keep hounding us?” her father’s voice boomed in her ear. “You made your choice. You married that good-for-nothing loser despite my objections. So he left you penniless and alone with three kids. That’s not our fault. You’re getting exactly what you chose.”
“I know. But please, Dad. I’d like to put the past behind us. I want us to be a family again,” she said desperately. “Your grandchildren—”
“Stop bothering us. We’re going on with our life. You do the same.”
The line went dead before she could utter another word. Joy couldn’t help it. Tears flowed down her cheeks.
“Joy?” Sam asked, his arm sliding across her shoulders. “What on earth is wrong?”
* * *
Sam was glad Josh was in deep discussion with a skier outside. Becca and Cris were also busily engaged in snacking at the moment, which left Sam free to comfort Joy.
“Talk to me,” he murmured.
“I called my parents.” She slid her phone into her handbag with a sniff. “I asked Mom if we could get together so they could meet their grandchildren. Then Dad took the phone.” She laughed, but her voice wobbled as she said, “Let’s just say that didn’t go well.”
Her feeble attempt at mirth told Sam exactly how badly it had gone.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, squeezing her shoulder and then brushing the tears from her cheeks.
“How can my father be so bitter after all this time?” she whispered. “It’s not the kids’ faults that I made a mistake.”
“You were just a kid, too,” he reminded her.
“I was, but I should have listened to them. I should have done as they asked. I’ve made so many mistakes,” she said sadly.
“Joy, we all make mistakes. It’s how we learn.” He risked saying what he thought she needed to hear. “Your parents are making a mistake, too, in missing out on your kids’ lives. I suppose they think they’re punishing you, but in reality it’s them who are punishing themselves. Unforgiveness is a rock that causes a lot of damage. Trust me, I know.”
“What do you mean?” Joy frowned.
“It took me a really long time to let go of my anger and, all right, hatred of the men who kidnapped Celia, the men who locked her in a damp cell but wouldn’t get her inhaler. Those men caused her death.”
“Oh, Sam.”
He shrugged at her dismayed expression, his hand spreading over hers like a shield.
“I hated them so badly I couldn’t do my job. I had to take time off to come home to the ranch and let God heal my soul. My parents helped, too.”
“You must have loved her very much,” Joy whispered.
“I did, but it wasn’t just losing Celia that caused me problems. It was the anger and hate festering inside. It should have been directed at myself. I was to blame. Instead I targeted God with my unhappiness and anger.” He grimaced but admitted the truth. “I’ve had to deal with those feelings all over again since my latest trip to the Middle East.”
“Because?” That was Joy, always probing deeper for the truth.
“Because I felt abandoned, as if God didn’t care about me or what was happening to me.” Sam sighed. “It sounds awful to admit this, but I think I almost hated God for what I went through, what I’m still going through.”
“The PTSD,” she murmured.
“And the nightmares. And the cold sweats, and the worry and the fear that I’m not the man I was,” he admitted ruefully. “I’ve lost my confidence, my swagger as some friends used to call it. I’ve also lost my friends. Doing what I thought was right cost me all of it.”
“I’m so sorry, Sam.” She brushed his cheek with her free hand. “I know about lost confidence. I’ve always felt I was a mistake waiting to happen. I’ve certainly made enough of them in my life.”
“I don’t think anything you do is a mistake, Joy,” Sam said, and meant it.
“That’s nice of you, but it is not what I have believed for so many years. I thought everything I saw or touched or did was wrong, that God had created a mistake in me.” She forced a smile and a laugh.
“But you don’t feel that way now?”
“Sometimes I do,” she admitted. “But since I’ve been doing a Bible study with Grace, I’ve begun to understand that God doesn’t make mistakes. Each problem or trial I go through is like a steppingstone to a place He’s taking me.” She scrunched up her face. “It sounds easy when I say it like that, but it isn’t easy at all.”
“So how do you do it?” Sam loved that she hadn’t moved away from him, that she was sharing her most personal issues with him. With Joy, he wasn’t a liar. With Joy he could just be Sam. He treasured that. “What’s your
secret?”
“No secret. I just keep on walking, even though I often stumble. When I do, Grace is teaching me to trust that God will help me reach the next stone.” She sighed. “But I’ve had to learn that even if I misstep, He is still there with me, and He will hold me and keep me from anything He doesn’t want me to have. Trust is becoming my favorite word.” When Joy lifted her head, her silky curls brushed his chin.
“It is? Why?” he asked as she shifted from under his arm, putting a distance between them.
“Hmm. I’m not sure I can explain this properly,” she said earnestly. “What I’m trying to say is that finding self-confidence isn’t some big mystery I have to solve. It’s a daily choice to trust God to make me who He wants me to be. It’s faith,” she said simply.
“I think you’re amazing.” Sam admired this woman more than he’d ever admired anyone.
He wanted so badly to kiss her. But there were too many people around, not the least of whom were his mother and Josh. Not only that, but he had nothing to offer Joy. No job, not even his reputation. The truth wasn’t yet out there, and when it was, he had no idea how she’d react to it.
The other reason he couldn’t kiss her was that to Joy, a kiss would have meaning. Promise. Joy didn’t flirt. She was sweet and, despite being the mother of three kids, innocent. If she gave love, she’d give it willingly. Sam couldn’t toy with her emotions, especially not when he wasn’t yet sure of his own feelings. Or his faith.
“Actually, Sam,” she said, her smile reappearing like a rainbow after a storm, “I’m certain you haven’t lost anything. Certainly not your swagger and not your friends. At least not this friend.”
“Thank you, Joy,” he said simply.
“Welcome.” She was looking at him in a way that made his stomach do flip-flops.
“What else did your parents have to say when you called?” Sam intentionally broke the quiet intimacy that had grown between them. He had to. It had become too intense, adding to his longing to embrace her.
“It was strange.” Joy frowned. “Dad asked me to stop hounding them. But I haven’t even spoken to them since Josh was a little guy.” She shrugged then pointed. “Look. There’s Miss Partridge. I think that boy she brought in is in Becca’s class. He looks really upset!”