by Lois Richer
“Thank you, Sam.” The mayor gazed out at the crowd for a second.
Joy wondered what was happening.
“Tonight I am pleased to announce that the town of Sunshine has completely paid off our loan on the community center.”
Amid wild cheers and furious applause, it took a few moments to settle everyone down. Once there was quiet, the mayor continued.
“We are especially delighted to share this news as an invitation to you and anyone you wish to bring along, to join us in celebration at Sunshine’s annual potluck supper on Christmas Eve, at our community center. Everyone is welcome. The more the merrier.”
The park exploded with cheers all over again.
Joy couldn’t smother her own giddy relief. Sam had done it. Whatever money came in now could be used for other needed community projects, but better than that, Sam was off the hook for that big loan.
“I think this is going to be the best Christmas ever,” Miss Partridge said in her ear.
“I think so, too.” Joy hugged her then sobered. “It won’t be exactly the kind of family Christmas I wanted to give the kids, but—”
“It can be, Joy. Families are made up of people you love. So are family Christmases. Look around. Isn’t there anyone here you love?” Grace leaned closer to whisper, “Don’t you care for Sam?”
Yes. Yes, she did. Joy stood silent, letting the warm feelings flood her insides. She cared for him a great deal. She wanted to see him succeed beyond anyone’s wildest expectations. But did loving him mean she’d have to give up her determination to stand on her own two feet, to let go of her independence and her dreams?
Bemused by her thoughts, Joy watched the streetlights blink off as the Christmas tree lights came on, their many colors illuminating the area in a warm, loving glow. And then Sam was there, his arm curving around her waist.
At his touch, Joy felt her heart light up like the Christmas lights. In the very depths of her being, she cared deeply for this man. It seemed totally natural to rest her head on Sam’s shoulder and join in as the mayor led everyone in singing “Silent Night.” There were more carols, happy ones, thoughtful ones. People moved and shifted, smiling at each other as they shared the beauty of time spent together.
Amid the shuffling and singing, Joy and Sam ended up at the back of the crowd, beside the stand of massive evergreens that bounded this side of the park. Joy spotted her kids with Grace, staring at the massive Christmas tree as they munched on Ticklebellies between carols. Joy had no doubt Grace had bought out the last of Josh’s supply.
“Are you cold, Joy?”
“No.” She twisted to face Sam, loving the way he looked at her as if there was nothing he wanted to change about her, as if it didn’t matter that she’d messed up so many times in her life. “I’m just fine.”
“Yes, you are,” he agreed solemnly. “You’re also very beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” He bent his head and kissed her, tenderly, the lightest of touches, his lips barely grazing hers, as if she was the most delicate, precious thing in his world. As if she was a treasure he valued.
Joy got lost in that kiss, in the feelings that filled her—joy, happiness, wonder, delight. When Sam drew back after several blissful moments, she whimpered, not wanting this bliss to end. So she slid her arms around his neck and drew his lips against hers once more, trying to tell him wordlessly something she didn’t really understand, because she’d never felt like this before.
Her heart throbbed with delight at his embrace. Her soul sang with joy that this wonderful, caring man saw something he liked in her.
“Joy. What a fitting name you have. I love your curls,” he whispered, spreading his fingers through them. “They’re soft and sweet, just like you. Sturdy yet strong. You push ahead, beat down the obstacles and make things happen. I love that about you.”
Love? Joy blinked at him, confused by what he’d said. It was too soon. And yet, his brown eyes met hers openly, without shadows. How could she have any doubts?
“I care about you very much, Joy,” Sam said as his thumb traced her mouth. “I think I have since the first day I saw you wearing that ridiculous hat. You were so annoyed at Dad and me, and the tree most of all.”
“Sam, I—”
He shushed her, chuckling at her indignant face before pressing a kiss against her jaw. Then he leaned away from her as his eyes searched hers.
“You kiss me as if you understand how I feel. You kiss me the way I’ve wanted you to for so long.” His breath burst out in a white cloud. “But I still don’t dare believe it.”
“Believe what, Sam?” she whispered, afraid she knew what his question was and not prepared to give the answer she thought he wanted.
“That you might love me.” His voice rasped with insecurity. “Or if not love, then care just a little about me.”
“That hardly expresses how I feel,” she said with a smile. “You’re the very best friend I’ve ever had, Sam. I love the way you step in and fill a need no matter what it is. I love your heart for this community and the people in it. I love how you care for me and for my kids. And I love that you’re God-focused. That you’re trying to make Him an even bigger part of your life.”
“Really?” Sam stared. “You feel all that?”
“Of course.” Joy pressed a kiss against each cheek. “But I don’t know if I love you.”
“Oh.” He gulped.
“I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. I feel like everything between us has happened so fast that I need time to absorb it, to make sense of it.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?” she asked, nestling just a little closer.
“What were you hoping for? Four calling birds? Three French hens? Two turtle doves?” He was teasing her now.
She could tell by a tiny tic at the corner of his mouth that he was trying to break the solemnness of the moment. Because he was afraid, like she was?
“No, none of those. Maybe I was hoping for some clarity. Maybe more of this would, um, bring it.” She kissed him on the lips, smothering his groan while thrilling to his touch and wishing it would clear up the confusion in her brain.
“You’re not helping me gain clarity, Joy.” Sam sounded like he was gasping for air. “We have to stop this.”
She trailed her fingers over his broad shoulders. “Why?”
“Because your kids are coming.” Sam gently set her away from him, but not before he cupped her cheeks in his palms for a few wonderful moments. “I do care about you,” he whispered.
“I care about you, too,” she repeated, afraid to say more. She’d made an awful mistake saying that to Nick. What if this feeling she had was a mistake, too? A mirage that wasn’t what it seemed?
“Mom?” Josh called.
“Yes. We’re over here.” She smiled when the three children appeared. “Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” Josh asked.
“Looking at the Christmas tree lights and the nativity scene over there,” she said, though she’d only just noticed the display mere moments before. “How did the popcorn sell?”
“Great! I made almost a hundred dollars.” Her son went on to explain the sales pitch he’d employed, adding, “I want to try it again before Christmas.”
“Sure.” Joy realized Sam was drawing them from the little glade without appearing to steer anyone. She was glad. She needed to gain some perspective, at least until she figured out her own mind.
“I’m tired, Mommy.” Cris took her hand and yawned.
Joy checked the town clock and gasped.
“Later than you thought, huh?” Sam said with a secret smile meant just for her.
“Much later. Come along, children. Time to go home. Wasn’t it a wonderful night?”
They all agreed it had been great. Sam walked them to the bakery, whe
re Joy’s van sat out front. Once the kids were belted in, he held her door and just stared, as if he was memorizing her features.
“Are you coming, Mom?” Josh asked.
“Yes. I’m coming.” She smiled at Sam and whispered, “See you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early,” he said seriously, his smile dissipating. “I need to talk to you, Joy.”
“Good. Because I need to talk to you, too.” She squeezed his hand then got into her van. “Good night, Sam.”
“Good night, Joy. Good night, kids.”
Sam closed the door and stood on the sidewalk, watching as she drove away. Joy thought he looked troubled, but then her rear window was fogging up and she couldn’t see very clearly as the distance yawned.
Once the kids were tucked in bed, Joy sank into her favorite chair in front of the window and relived every wonderful second of those stolen moments under the snow-laden spruce bough.
“You created a wonderful thing when You created love, God,” she whispered, her spirit lighter than it had been for years. “But I can’t tell if love is what I feel for Sam. If it is, it would be the most wonderful Christmas gift, but I need You to help me lest I make another mistake.”
Still, despite her doubts, a teasing thought fluttered in the back of her brain.
Maybe a family Christmas wasn’t out of the question.
* * *
It was time to tell Joy the truth.
Sam had spent the night tossing and turning, trying to fight what he knew he had to do. But there was no getting around it. His dishonesty with her had preyed on his mind for too long. And why? Because he feared that if she knew what he’d done, both in the Middle East and in Sunshine, Joy wouldn’t speak to him anymore. She was so proud of her success, proud that she’d managed to achieve her dream on her own. Telling her the truth could crush her.
Sam had spent hours after his Bible study with his dad, trying to wriggle out of it. But it didn’t take a voice from Heaven to know God expected him to tell the truth. Ben would say the same. Hadn’t he urged Sam over and over to trust his heavenly Father to work out his issues? Sam had been skittering around trust for too long. It was time to grab hold of his faith and just do it.
God had worked things out so far. True, Sam still didn’t have a concrete resolution for his source overseas. But at least there’d been some movement. They’d texted Christmas. That meant something was happening. When it did, Sam wanted Joy to be prepared, to know the truth about him and what he’d done. He cared deeply about her. He didn’t want her blindsided or confused and uncertain, because of him.
After a night of thinking it over, Sam was positive he loved Joy. He hadn’t wanted to fall in love, hadn’t wanted to leave himself open to pain and heartache, to loss. He was afraid to commit. But there it was. He loved her. The certainty in his heart didn’t waver, even in light of the monumental task he faced.
When you loved someone, you owed them the truth. No matter what.
At 4:00 a.m., Sam rose and prepared for his day. He spent some time in prayer, not sure exactly what he should ask for but finally yielding it all to God to work out. He kept wanting to take it back, to try to figure out a new way, but he understood now that it would take time and repeated relinquishing of control to gain the trust he wanted to have. God was patient, his dad had said. God didn’t give up on His children just because they were slow learners.
In Sunshine, Sam saw no one on the streets. It was far too early for that. The lights in the bakery were on, though, and Joy’s van was parked in its usual spot at the side. In fact, he’d heard her van leaving the ranch earlier. He’d let her go, figuring it would be easier to talk to her here, at the bakery, before the day’s rush began.
He ached to hold her in his arms, to keep her captive if she wanted to leave after he’d opened his heart. But it would be her choice. Sam had never been so aware that with one confession he could lose everything he now realized he desperately wanted.
“Help me, God.”
The east door was open because Clara accessed the garbage bins that way. Sam stepped inside. He took moved silently around the walk-in freezer and stopped, dismay billowing inside him at what he saw. Max Coyne was here? He was delivering his own bread today?
“I don’t understand what changed, Dad,” Joy said, her back to Sam. “Why did you suddenly decide to supply me with bread?”
“We did it because of him.” Max pointed to Sam.
Joy swiveled. She smiled when she saw him. Then she faced her dad again. “Sam? What has Sam got to do with you bringing me your bread?”
“He insisted we had to let you sell our bread or your bakery would fail.”
“I never said that!” Sam glared at Joy’s father.
“Close enough.” Max turned to the door. “I have to go.”
“Thank you for the bread, Dad,” Joy said in an almost whisper. “I’ll send you a check.”
Max nodded and left via the loading dock.
“Joy, it isn’t how he said.” Sam stopped. Her face was whiter than he’d ever seen it. She wouldn’t look at him but instead walked across the floor toward a room marked Office.
“We’ll talk here, in private, so Clara can’t hear.” Her usually lilting voice sounded colder than any ice sculpture. “I want the truth, Sam. All of it. Now.”
Sam followed, closed the door quietly and faced her.
“No lies. No pretense. Just the truth.”
“Yes. That’s why I came here this morning. The day I took the kids...” he began. Her lips tightened. “We stopped at your parents’ bakery. I went in. The kids stayed in the car.”
“Why?” That one word sounded like the keening cry of an animal who’d been abandoned. Sam hated it.
“Because I want you to have your family Christmas. I want them to forgive and forget,” he said, meeting her glacial green gaze. “I wanted them to meet your kids, to love them and you. To be the kind of support you, Josh, Becca and Cris need. I thought maybe I could help make that happen.”
One look at her cold expression told Sam he’d just blown his chances with Joy. She’d needed only one thing from him and he’d broken it.
Trust.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s the truth, Sam.”
Joy watched his shoulders sag and knew her words had hurt him deeply. She regretted saying them, but she was hurting, too.
“It is the truth,” he insisted. “I wanted the best for you. Because I love you.”
“Love doesn’t go behind someone’s back. Love doesn’t lie.” Every part of her heart ached as the truth sank in. “I think you didn’t believe I could make a success of this place. I think you didn’t trust me to find my own bread supplier.”
“Not true,” he protested, but she ignored him.
“You didn’t have faith in my ability, Sam. You don’t think I can run this bakery on my own. You think I’ll fail without my parents’ help, and that’s why you interfered.” She stared into his melting brown eyes, daring him to deny it. “That’s the real truth. Isn’t it?”
“No.” He straightened and looked her in the eye. “I do believe in you, Joy. I think you’ve done amazing things with this place. That’s why I’ve celebrated every one of your accomplishments. I want you to succeed. I love you.”
“Then why...?” She stopped. He sounded so genuine. Was she wrong? No! Because Sam had betrayed her.
“I only went to your parents because neither of you were speaking to the other. I thought I could help heal the rift between you,” he said firmly. “Because I wanted you to have the kind of family Christmas you always talk about. Because I wanted the very best for you and your kids.” His persuasive tone beseeched her to understand. “Because I love you.”
His voice trembled on the last words, as if to emphasize his sincerity. But Joy couldn’t let S
am’s smooth talk soften her. She would not weaken or let him persuade her into forgiveness, not while the same old feelings of being a mistake, of messing up, threatened to overtake her.
“Love isn’t dishonest, Sam. Love doesn’t go behind the other person’s back. Love doesn’t humiliate and shame another.”
“I would never humiliate you, Joy. I love you.”
“It isn’t love if it doesn’t deal in truth. I think I’ve learned that lesson well.” She pursed her lips. “It starts with lies and prevarication and secrets. Down the road there would be something else to excuse. And then something else after that. I’d always be wondering what you hadn’t told me, what else you’d done.”
“No, Joy.”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “I put up with all of that during my life with Nick, when he’d disappear with no notice and offer no answers when he returned. But I cannot, I will not live like that again. I won’t settle for anything less than total honesty between us.”
Joy couldn’t look at Sam as her fairy-tale world came crashing around her ears. For a little while she’d been blissfully happy. Now she sank into her chair, unable to believe that in a few short hours everything she’d trusted about this man had been a mistake. Once more she’d rushed in too quickly, trusted too easily and had been fooled. Once again, the pain of her rash emotional decision wasn’t something she could repair. And once again, the hurt would hang around long after the mistake.
Her fingers gripped the seat of the office chair, which Sam had given her as an opening-day gift, to celebrate her success, he’d said. She glanced at the chair with fresh eyes. Suddenly doubts became questions.
How had he known, without even seeing inside this space, that it was too small to fit a regular office chair, that it could only accommodate one without armrests?
“How did this building just happen to come available just when I needed to move into it?” she whispered as all the inconsistencies she’d noted in the past began to align. “What do you have to do with Possibilities, Sam?”
“Possibilities is a company I formed several years ago so I could buy properties in and around Sunshine. I hoped to refurbish them and hopefully bring in new business or renters.” He didn’t avoid her stare, didn’t hesitate and didn’t try to make the truth more palatable.