Driving Miss Darcy

by Gigi Blume

  Georgia and I exchanged a look. We were so off.

  Pastor Kevin finished his intro and the congregation applauded as the stage lights turned to a blueish hue and music rose through the speakers. It was a lesser known carol called Gabriel’s Message beautifully performed by the children’s choir. As they sang, a young lady dressed in a blue veil came on stage accompanied by a boy dressed as an angel.

  “Is that Suzy McCormick?” asked Georgia in a whisper.

  “Heavens, no,” said Lois. “That’s the pastor’s daughter, Joy. She’s only fifteen. You’ll see Suzy later.”

  Oh yippie.

  When the song ended, a scripture was read and we were instructed to follow the drummer boy outside. We all filed out. Since we were towards the back, we ended up getting clumped in the straggler’s section but that didn’t dilute our experience.

  It was a walking tour of the nativity story. Costumed characters stood in perfectly still vignettes like statues in a scene. Large scrolls served to indicate what scene we were passing. There was the angel appearing to Joseph in a dream. The teen boy playing Joseph did a good job at acting frightened.

  There was Mary (played by yet another girl) visiting her cousin Elizabeth. We walked further down to see the Herod scene played out by a ten year old boy lying on a mountain of gold. That was a little disturbing.

  Then another two actors playing Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem on a Donkey. They had a real donkey.

  I was about to be extremely impressed by that until I spotted the camels. Where the heck did they get three camels? These guys weren’t fooling around with their nativity show.

  “Watch out,” said Lois, nudging us with her arm. “Those creatures like to spit.”

  Georgia chuckled. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  I clung tight onto Reeses just in case. His furry little ears perked to attention at the sight of all the other animals.

  “Do you want to play with the camels, Reeses?” He responded to my question by licking my face.

  Finally we reached a choir of angels singing Gloria In Excelsis Deo to a group of shepherds. Of course there were real sheep. Why not?

  That’s when Lois whipped out her camera, clicking away at a particular shepherd who exposed his toothless grin at his Grandma every time the flash went off. Georgia and I stayed behind with her as those in line behind us passed to the next station.

  “That must be the incredible A.J. we’ve heard so much about,” said Georgia as she waved at the boy. He waved back with unbridled enthusiasm. All the other shepherds were frozen in their poses. Not A.J..

  “Hi Grandma! Hi.” More energetic waves. “Hiiiiiiii.”

  He was quite a bouncy little kid.

  Lois got out of line to give him hugs and passed him some candy canes.

  We continued on. I was surprised the heat lamps worked so well. I didn’t feel the cold. And then we came upon the main tableu.

  They spared no detail with the crèche scene. It was as picturesque as a Michelangelo painting. A wooden structure to resemble a stable stood prominently on a raised stage which was covered in hay to resemble a tiny hill. Shepherds and barn animals surrounded the Holy Family. Everyone posed perfectly still.

  That didn’t seem to sit right with Reeses who wiggled out of my arms and bolted to warn the other animals that their humans were comatose or maybe taxidermic. He leaped onto the scene, barking, issuing his battle call.

  Beware fellow four-footed friends. It’s PEOPLE!

  He spooked the sheep and the horses. Grown men dressed as shepherds tried to calm the animals by double-downing on their tethers.

  “Reeses, get back here.” I chased him into the nativity scene, stepping over the empty manger to catch him. I don’t know what got into him. He was usually better behaved than me.

  He yelped at me as if to say Run! Save yourself while you can. They’re stuffing humans.

  So I dove for it. The sheep bleated. The horse neighed. The humans gasped.

  But I got him, squirmy little bugger.

  “What’s got into you, peanut butter cup?”

  That’s when I noticed my foot was tangled in Mary’s robes. My shoe had somehow gotten caught on the hem, dragging the fabric with me as I flew through to catch my dog. There was miles of fabric and I was stepping on a piece of it. The rest of the skirt rode up to her waist, exposing her long johns and almost covering the baby in her arms. He was fast asleep, not bothered by any of it thank goodness.

  “Sorry ma’am.” I righted her skirt, fluffing it up into a giant, pillowy meringue.

  Joseph scowled at me.

  I scooped up Reeses and returned to Georgia. She covered her face, likely embarrassed to be seen with me, but Lois laughed like it was the best thing she’d seen all year.

  “That is Suzy McCormick,” she said, doubling over. “And now you’ve been aquatinted.”

  “Lucky me.” I sent Reeses back into his bag. “You’re in trouble, mister.”

  Lois was watching Suzy, shaking her head. “She insisted on making her own costume.”

  “Well, that’s pretty crafty of her,” said Georgia. “I can’t sew to save my life.”

  Suzy was the only one who didn’t quite look like she stepped out of a painting. Her platinum blond hair was styled in crinkly waves, feathering out of a loosely placed blue satin veil. It was the shiniest type of satin, reflecting the white twinkle lights with a bright shine. She wore enough mascara to ward off ninjas and her lips were painted a fire engine red.

  Lois went on. “And her husband! Poor fella. Just look at how tired he is.”

  “Which one is he?” I asked. “Let me guess. Joseph?” The scowly one.

  “Yup.“ She lowered her voice for dramatic effect. “Nine kids. Baby Jesus makes ten.”

  “Yikes.” Georgia winced.

  I laughed. “And I thought I came from a big family.”

  “How about you two?” asked Lois, wagging her brows at us. “Any children?”

  “Us?” Georgia exclaimed, half laughing. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Hmmm, maybe because we’d known each other for less than forty-eight hours? Strangely enough, it didn’t feel like that. It was almost as though Georgia had always been in my life, tucked away in that dormant part of my heart. And now here she was, smiling and laughing. Being radiant.

  Georgia turned her gaze to me. There was a softness in her eyes communicating a deep thought. My chest filled with warmth as we stood there, eyes fixed on each other. Georgia’s lovely lips parted. She wanted to say something. Maybe answer Lois’ question. But Lois had moved along down the line without us noticing.

  How long were we staring at each other like that?

  “Shall we?” I asked, offering Georgia my hand.

  “We shall.” She laced her fingers through mine, lazily strolling with me. Even through our gloves my skin burned from her touch. Electricity shot up my arm, jolting my heart to a gallop. Perhaps she felt my reaction because she squeezed my hand tighter, inclining her body closer as we walked.

  We followed the crowd around the corner of the great barn where everyone gathered to listen to the combined adult and children’s choirs. They had just started the most beautiful rendition of O Holy Night. Harmonies soared to our ears accompanied by pre-recorded orchestrations. The sound was full and powerful—how I imagined a true choir of angles would sound. I couldn’t imagine the moment could be more perfect but then it began to snow and the heavenly experience was complete. Soft, white flakes descended upon us, dancing with a feathery glow as they reflected the Christmas lights. Georgia’s features gleamed. She smiled, watching the choir perform while snowflakes landed on her hair to form a halo. I’d never seen anything so angelic in my life. And all I wanted to do in that moment was to absorb her in my arms and brush my lips against hers.

  A brisk gust of wind swept over us and she shuddered.

  “Do you want to go inside?” I asked.

  She nodded, letting go of my
hand to pull her coat tighter around her neck. I guided her through the door with a hand at the small of her back. She shuddered again. I hoped that time it wasn’t from the cold.

  Inside, several people gathered around the refreshment table. Children walked away carrying plates piled high with cookies and cakes. It was like a competition amongst themselves.

  The child among us with the largest dessert mountain wins a tummy ache. Hazzah!

  We stood back, waiting for the sugar mob to disperse. Most everyone had come inside now. I noticed Teresa laughing with a couple of the beige skirt ladies. They were chatting and smiling, full of Christmas cheer. This town had a way of bringing that out in a person.

  “Should we get in line for some sweets?”

  Georgia shook her head in response. “I want to, but I fear for my life.”

  “Are you sure? It might be our last meal for a long time. We could stuff our pockets with Lois’ fudge and make a run for it.”

  “Don’t forget the banana bread.” She giggled, turning a few heads. She was magnetic like that.

  Teresa noticed us from across the room and waved. We waved back. That’s how it goes when you know exactly two people in town. Three, if we’re counting the gravy lady.

  She hugged her friends in parting and came over to talk to us. There was a lot of hugging going on in this town.

  “What did you think of the nativity?” Teresa asked.

  “Absolutely gorgeous,” said Georgia. “It was the coolest thing ever.”

  Teresa beamed. “Ever? Wow, that’s quite the endorsement.”

  She thanked us again for helping in the kitchen, inviting us to an after-hours party of sorts.

  “It’s just some friends getting together at the Light Hope Cafe. Hot apple cider is on the house.”

  She explained how the old cafe was going under when Hope Church took over and saved the business, changing the name. They served sandwiches and coffee but drew in a good crowd of folks after dark for the open mic night every Wednesday.

  “It’s a good way to witness to those in town who want to go somewhere at night besides the bar,” she explained. “But tonight it’s a private event for all our volunteers.”

  I exchanged a look with Georgia. I was silently saying Christmas miracles all around. She was probably thinking Why not? We have no other options.

  Both were true. But I had faith it would all work out.

  “We’d love to go,” said Georgia.

  “Perfect. I just need to help my husband clean up and I’ll see you there.”

  “You need some help?” I asked.

  “Oh, how nice. I could ask him.” She scanned the room, looking for her husband I supposed. “There he is, talking with the Sisters. I’ll give him a minute.”

  She pointed to the sweet ladies she was talking to earlier. They were in an animated conversation with Pastor Kevin.

  Georgia raised her brows. “I didn’t know you’re the pastor’s wife. He’s a really good speaker.”

  I wondered how Georgia could know what kind of speaker the pastor was with Lois chatting in her ear the whole time. But I had to agree the man had a strong stage presence. Tall and confident. Plus, he seemed like a straight up guy.

  “Who are those women?” I couldn’t resist asking. “Did you say they’re his sisters?

  They didn’t look like they could be his sisters. One was olive-skinned with dark hair and the other was much older while Kevin was a forty-something guys who looked like he stepped right off the Scottish Highlands.

  “Not his sisters,” Teresa explained. “They’re the Sisters from the Sacred Heart Convent. They run a charity house about ten miles from here.”

  Nuns. Boy was I way off.

  Georgia giggled. “Wyatt thought they were candy shop employees.”

  “It was a good guess,” I cried defensively. “Nuns make chocolate, don’t they?”

  “You’re thinking about wine,” Georgia said.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “So that’s Sister Edna with the salt and pepper hair.” Teresa nodded in their direction. “And the younger one is Sister Patty. The other Sisters are scattered about. They’re the ones who donated all that turkey. They make a trip once a week to bring food for the poor.”

  Georgia‘s eyes glistened. “That’s so wonderful. I think it’s awesome how you all work together for the community. I’m not used to seeing that kind of generosity in the world.”

  The few last words got caught in her throat. She was deeply touched. Whether it was the people, the soup kitchen, the living nativity, or just exhaustion, I couldn’t tell. But something lit up Georgia’s expression and she had that squishy, doughy look about her—like she was ready to turn into a puddle.

  Teresa wrapped her hands around Georgia’s shoulders and looked into her eyes with a soft smile. “You could if you look hard enough, sweetheart. There’s kindness everywhere.”

  Oh no. I sensed a cry fest coming on.

  Watch out gentlemen, the feels have been set free.

  Aaaand then of course...they hugged.

  “You two go on,” said Teresa dabbing her eye. “We’ve got the teenagers to help clean up. They need service hours to graduate high school.”

  We set out for the long walk back into town but before we left we raided the dessert table and wrapped plenty of fudge and banana bread in napkins.

  We hadn’t made it far down the road before Georgia burst into peels of laughter.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “You. And Reeses in that manger.”

  “That was kinda funny, wasn’t it?”

  She took my arm, pressing into me as we walked along. “There’s never a dull moment with you, Charlie Brown.”

  Good grief.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - WYATT

  The return trip into town wasn’t exactly a romantic stroll. The road seemed to stretch on like in those nightmares where your destination gets farther and farther away the more you walk.

  The crisp evening chill had turned to a harsh, biting cold. I just about lost feeling in my feet and Reeses’ bag was getting heavier by the second. I knew Georgia was frozen. Her winter coat and boots were more fashionable than practical. Which would have been fine in New York. And pointless in Los Angeles. I wondered how warm it was there. A frigid 72 degrees? I could have been poolside drinking an iced tea at this very moment if our plane hadn’t been detoured. I wouldn’t have been robbed of all my stuff. My clothes, my money, my laptop.

  But I’d be alone.

  With Georgia, none of those things mattered. What would I have, really? A few measly possessions and a cheap Hollywood news story I felt sleazy about. There was no way I could do it now. As soon as I could charge my phone I’d call my friend and tell him the deal was off.

  And what about Georgia? She was right. I was a walking disaster. Charlie Brown to the power of ten. There was no way she’d ever consider a guy like me. She belonged in her beautiful life sipping champagne and getting massages—or however the rich and famous spend their time. Not freezing on a rural road with the likes of me.

  Somehow I’d get her home. I didn’t know how, but I vowed to do whatever it took. A silent prayer left my heart.

  Please, help me get her home safely.

  Not three seconds later an old Winnebago rambled up the road from seemingly out of nowhere. It wasn’t going fast, but passed us before coming to a stop a few hundred feet ahead. It stood there for a couple of seconds and then lurched into reverse, the tires slugging through the thick snow.

  At first I thought it might hit us, the way the driver swerved and fishtailed and Georgia and I ran off the road. But then the RV straightened its trajectory and skid to a stop right before reaching us.

  The rear door opened and a warm light shone from the inside. There was some chatter and then a young woman leaned out waving us over.

  “Come on before you freeze.”

  As we approached, and her silhouette gave way to reveal her face, we saw that
she was that nun who Teresa was talking to earlier.

  Georgia and I didn’t know what to say so we climbed into the RV.

  “I’m Sister Patty.” She hugged us, which we were used to by now. As she closed the door behind us, an acoustic guitar rang a chord and all dozen nuns inside the RV sang a short welcome song to the tune of Kumbaya.

  Welcome in, my friends, welcome in.

  Oh, friends, welcome in.

  Then Sister Patty went around introducing the other Sisters. I couldn’t remember all their names, so no doubt Georgia was secretly assigning classical composer monikers to them all. The one with the guitar was easy to remember. Her name was Paula.

  “I’m Wyatt and this is Georgia.” I made a little bow not sure of the correct protocol for greeting a Winnebago full of nuns. “And this here’s Reeses.”

  We found an empty spot to sit and the RV heaved with a jerk. A few skids of the tires screeched beneath us, then a pitch forward, jolting us in our seats and we were on our way. I let Reeses roam about and he became the center of attention. Rock star status.

  “Are you going to the cafe?” Sister Patty asked Georgia.

  “Yes.”

  She smiled. “We’re going there, too.”

  Then Sister Edna, the older one Teresa was talking to, asked, “What made you two decide to walk back to town in this weather? Did something happen to your car?”

  “You could say that,” I said with an ironic tone.

  Something in her face, and in all those faces actually, told me they really wanted to know. So Georgia and I gave them the truncated version of our story from the beginning, taking turns telling them of our adventures. It was eerie how we finished each other’s sentences.

  Sister Edna listened intently and smiled sweetly when we got to the part where we helped serve the turkey dinner.

  “And so you found your way to Bethlehem. Like Mary and Joseph.”

  “Yeah. And there’s no room at the inn,” I joked.

  Georgia elbowed me reproachfully.

  “Well, these things have a way of working out,” said Sister Edna. “There’s no such thing as a coincidence.”

  “Only a God-incidence,” added Sister Patty.