For A Father's Love

by JoAnn A. Grote

  “It’s not a real baby, Beth, and you know it. You insisted you needed that expensive scarf this year. You just put it back around your neck where it belongs.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Do it.”

  Beth obeyed, her face stormy.

  Bonnie watched, wide-eyed and silent.

  Tom moved close to the manger and picked up a large handful of hay from the floor. “I never noticed it before, but it does look like this little tyke might be cold, Beth. We’ll stuff a little more hay in his bed. That will warm him up a bit.”

  Beth helped Tom tuck the hay around the small statue. When they finished, Beth stared at the manger, her lips in a sullen pout. “That helps some, but I think He’s still cold.”

  Maybe it’s Beth who feels cold, Mandy thought with a sad pang as the group climbed back into Tom’s pickup. Cold at heart because her father didn’t care enough to keep his promise and spend Thanksgiving with her and Bonnie. Didn’t care enough even to call.

  ❧

  Gram had turkey sandwiches ready when the group arrived back at the farmhouse, and after the fresh air everyone was ready to eat again.

  Ellen leaned back in her chair with a sigh when she’d finished the last bite of her pie. “Well, girls, you’d better pick up your toys. We’ll head home as soon as the dishes are done.”

  “Can’t we stay longer?” Beth pleaded. “We don’t have school tomorrow.”

  “We adults aren’t as fortunate,” Ellen reminded her. “The Christmas store will be jumping, and Thanksgiving weekend is a busy time for the Christmas tree business too.”

  Jason grinned at the girls’ forlorn expressions. He well remembered how he’d hated to see holidays end when he was their ages. Still did. “What are you girls planning to do with your day off?”

  “Maybe we’ll put them to work.” Mandy nudged Beth. “What do you think?”

  Beth shrugged. “Okay.”

  Bonnie’s eyes widened. “That would be fun. But what can we do?”

  Mandy rested her forearms against the table. “I thought we’d set out Christmas cookies and apple cider for the customers. It would be a big help to your mom and me if you two kept the plate filled and served people.”

  Bonnie gasped in delight and sat up straighter. “Can we dress up?”

  Jason pretended to be aghast. “You mean, wear Gram’s hats and shoes?”

  Bonnie and Beth burst into giggles.

  “No,” Bonnie finally managed. “Our own pretty clothes.”

  “Then I’ll need to stop by and see you.”

  Their instant smiles warmed his heart, and he knew immediately he’d be stopping at the store tomorrow no matter how busy his day. He refused to pull a stunt like Zach, getting their hopes up and then not showing, even for a simple promise.

  The house felt quiet and still after the girls, Ellen, and Mandy had left. Jason and Gramps finally played their chess game. Gramps won hands down and in record time.

  “You’re hardly any competition at all tonight,” Gramps complained while Jason put the pieces back in the chess box. “Brain fuzzy?”

  “Guess I’m a little tired, at that.” Actually, he’d found the quiet without their visitors distracting. “Not used to a whole day away from the trees anymore.”

  Gramps nodded. “Get in a man’s blood, those trees.”

  Jason’s heart tightened at the truth of Gramps’s statement. He hated to think how he’d miss those trees when he returned to New York. He stood up and stretched. “I’m going to check our E-mail and make certain none of our men have any last-minute problems that can’t wait until morning to solve.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Gramps was on his feet in a flash.

  “Didn’t Doc say you were supposed to stay away from work? Isn’t that why I’m here?”

  “It’s not work if you love what you’re doing. You’re taking the stress of the work on your shoulders. That’s the part that has the power to hurt a man.”

  As they walked across the living room, a corner of paper sticking out from beneath the couch caught Jason’s eye. He stooped to pull the paper out.

  He looked down at a turkey in crayon colors—Bonnie’s Thanksgiving card for Zach. Had she forgotten it, he wondered, or had she pushed it beneath the couch intentionally, wanting to forget the pain her father inflicted?

  Jason set the card down on the table beside the sofa and followed Gramps toward the office. Frustration at his own inability to help the girls roiled in his chest. How long does it take little girls to heal from a father’s neglect?

  Sixteen

  The day after Thanksgiving proved as busy as anticipated. People started arriving at the Christmas tree farm’s cut-your-own grove soon after eight o’clock. The number of customers grew steadily throughout the morning.

  Jason didn’t mind. The experience was a fun one for the families who came and fun for him and the others at the farm who provided the service.

  He whistled “O Tannenbaum” as he headed for the house at one-fifteen. He’d take only enough time to grab a quick turkey sandwich for his late lunch. Gram would have one waiting for him, he knew.

  His whistle cut off in surprise when he looked up and saw Beth sitting on the top step leading to the back porch. He smiled. “Hi there. Thought you’d be busy serving customers cookies and apple cider.” He pointed to the long purple skirt below her jacket. “Looks like you’re dressed for it.”

  Beth rested her forearms on her knees and looked at her fingers. “I wanted to be alone for awhile.”

  He started up the stairs. “I need to be alone sometimes too. You can stay here as long as you like.” He moved past her. It disturbed him to see her so melancholy, but he’d respect her wish for solitary time. Besides, nothing could happen to her on the porch. When she grew cold enough, she’d go back to the store.

  “I don’t mind being alone with you, J. P.”

  He turned around and sat down beside her. “That’s nice, because I enjoy your company.”

  She looked out over the yard, but he doubted she saw it. “You smell like a Christmas tree.”

  He chuckled. “Have a bit of pine tar on me.”

  “I like that smell.”

  “Me too.” He hesitated. “Thinking about anything special?”

  “Maybe.”

  He didn’t push her. Almost five minutes passed before she spoke again.

  “You know the stable Tom made?”

  “The one we helped him set up last night?”

  She nodded. “I’m thinking about that. I wonder why God let His Son be born in a stable. Why didn’t He let Him be born in a hospital like other babies?”

  Jason rubbed a gloved hand over his mouth and tried not to laugh. “Jesus was born a long time ago. I don’t think any babies were born in hospitals back then. I don’t know if there even were hospitals.”

  “God could make a hospital. God can do anything. The pastor at church said so.”

  “That’s true, but it seems God usually leaves it to people to build hospitals.”

  “But it’s not nice to leave a baby in a stable. In the stable Jesus would be cold. If God is Jesus’ Daddy, He shouldn’t let Jesus get cold.”

  Jason glanced at the thick, plum-colored scarf wrapped around Beth’s neck. So that’s what this is about. “God chose the best people He could find to look after His Son. He chose Mary and Joseph, remember?”

  She nodded.

  “Mary didn’t let Jesus get cold.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Did she have a blanket for him?”

  “I’m sure she did if she thought He’d need one. The Bible tells us that when Jesus was born, Mary wrapped Him in swaddling clothes.”

  “Are swaddling clothes like a blanket?”

  “Not exactly. Swaddling clothes are strips of material that were wrapped around babies when they were little. The cloths covered most of the baby’s body, so Jesus’ skin wouldn’t have been expose
d to the cold.”

  He watched her face while she considered his comments.

  “If I was born in a stable, my mom would have a blanket for me. She wouldn’t let me be cold.”

  “I know.”

  “My daddy wouldn’t care if I was cold, though.”

  Jason sighed. He felt completely at a loss. What can I say, Lord? How can I help her? “Sometimes our dads just don’t know how to love us well.”

  “Did your daddy love you well?”

  Jason hesitated. His father hadn’t been perfect, but he hadn’t left like Zach, and he’d never have promised to show up for a holiday and not kept his word. “He loved me the best he knew how.”

  “Mandy says God loves us and wants what’s best for us.”

  “I believe that too.”

  “The pastor says God is our Father, like He is Jesus’ Father.”

  “Yes.”

  “Would God ever divorce us, like my daddy did?”

  “No, Beth. God’s love is perfect. He’d never leave you.”

  “I think He might.”

  Shock rippled through Jason at her matter-of-fact tone. “People’s love isn’t perfect, Beth. Not even moms’ love and dads’ love. But God’s love is perfect. I promise He will never leave you.”

  She considered his words in silence for a minute. “If God can do anything,” she said slowly, “and He loves me, and He wants what’s best for me, why doesn’t He bring my daddy home?”

  The walls she’d built around her heart crumbled instantly, totally. She burst into tears and hid her face against Jason’s chest.

  He wrapped his arms around her, rested his cheek against her head, and rocked slightly in the age-old comforting rhythm. His heart felt as though it would burst through his ribs in empathy for the dear girl. But he had no answer for her.

  ❧

  Jason carried a heaviness in his chest through the rest of Friday and all of Saturday. Even while talking and smiling with customers picking out their Christmas trees, he carried the burden of Beth’s pain.

  Saturday one of the tree-truck drivers came down ill, and Jason filled in to make runs to Winston-Salem and Charlotte to restock Christmas tree lots. On the way back to the mountains after the final run, he stopped at a truck stop to refuel and grab a cup of hot coffee. A stand displaying mittens and gloves for sale caught his attention, and he bought a pair of children’s gloves.

  The clock on the truck’s dashboard showed twelve o’clock midnight when he turned into the drive to Always Christmas Farm. Lights still glowed through the Christmas shop’s windows, though he knew the store had closed hours earlier. He parked the heavy-duty truck near a tree grove with the other trucks, then walked down the hill in the moonlight to the barn, carrying the newly purchased gloves.

  He knocked lightly, not wanting to wake anyone who might be asleep in the loft. In spite of the lights, it surprised him when the door opened only moments after his knock.

  “Hi, Jason. What brings you here at such a late hour?” Mandy’s green eyes held surprise. Fear swept it away almost immediately. She clutched his arm. “Is something wrong with Grandpa Seth? Is it another heart attack?”

  “Gramps is fine. Honest.”

  The fright in her face subsided but it didn’t completely disappear.

  “I brought a donation for your mitten tree.”

  Her expression relaxed into a friendly, fearless smile. “At midnight?”

  He explained his tree-delivery trips and impulse purchase. “I saw the lights on when I drove in and took a chance you’d still be up.” He handed her the gloves. The thumbs and each finger were a different color. “I know it’s supposed to be a mitten tree, but I figured you’d accept gloves too. These made me smile. I thought they might make a kid feel the same.”

  Mandy grinned. “They make me smile too. They remind me of Joseph’s coat of many colors.” She stepped back, opening the door wider. “Would you like to come in for a minute? We’ll hang these on the tree.”

  The mitten tree, a Fraser fir he’d selected for her, stood near the counter, only a couple yards into the store. Already the branches bent beneath almost two dozen mittens, he noted in surprise. “Wow. Looks like a lot of other people donated already. You’ll need another tree by Christmas. Maybe by next week.”

  “I hope the donations continue that strong. We won’t put up another tree, though. Just remove some mittens as new donations come in.” She hung the gloves over a shoulder-high branch. “This is the only pair of its kind. Adds a bright spot of color.”

  No lights or garlands trimmed the tree—only mittens. He liked the look.

  He hadn’t needed to bring the gloves down tonight, but he’d been glad the lighted windows gave him the excuse to do so. He’d just wanted to see Mandy, he admitted to himself. Just a few minutes in her serene presence would end the day on a peaceful note.

  Pale blue smudges beneath her eyes showed her fatigue, and her hair was slightly but pleasantly mussed—none of which distracted from her beauty in his eyes.

  “The local newspaper ran a small story the Wednesday before Thanksgiving on our tree idea,” Mandy told him. “That helped a lot.” She pointed at a pair of bright red mittens attached to each other by a long red string of yarn. “An elderly woman brought these in. She lives in an assisted living complex. She liked the mitten tree so much that she’s organized a group of women in the complex to knit mittens to donate.”

  “That’s great.” Just like Mandy, he thought. Come up with a simple idea and end up with the entire community involved—and make it look almost like an accident.

  “It’s not an accident. It’s the way it’s meant to be, the way God is able to work through a person who is true to His calling on their life.”

  The thought came to him full blown. He pushed it away to examine later.

  “After Christmas I plan to invite all the women in the knitting group out to the store for a thank-you brunch.”

  “They should like that.” He glanced up at the clock above the counter. “Why are you working so late?”

  She brushed her bangs back from her forehead in a weary gesture. “I’m restocking displays. Too busy to do it during the day.”

  “Something feels different in here tonight.” Jason glanced around the shop. The sights were the same as always. The familiar scents of Christmas spices filled the air. “There’s no Christmas music playing.”

  “We try to remember to turn it off after the store closes. Sometimes we forget and wake up in the middle of the night to Christmas songs. If it’s a hymn, it can be comforting. If it’s a rollicking rendition of ‘Rock Around the Christmas Tree,’ it’s jolting.”

  “I can imagine.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Can you spare a couple more minutes for me?”

  She darted him a curious glance. “Sure.”

  “It’s about Beth.” He leaned against the counter. “We talked yesterday. Remember saying you thought she might be angry at God?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think she’s angry at Him. I think Zach’s abandonment of the family has broken her image of God as a father.”

  Mandy frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Most of her life she believed a father was someone who would always be in her life, always take care of her and protect her. Someone she could rely on for anything and everything she needed and love her unconditionally.”

  Mandy nodded. “Someone who’d never break his promises to her.”

  “Exactly. Now she sees a father as a person who is no more trustworthy than a stranger. Someone who puts his own interests above her needs. A father is someone she can’t trust. So when the pastor or anyone else tells her God is her loving heavenly Father, it’s not an image she finds reassuring—because her image of a father is damaged.”

  “Wow.” It was a quiet statement more than an exclamation. Mandy leaned against the counter beside him. “My heart is telling me you’re right.”

  “Ever since
talking with Beth, a Bible verse has been running through my mind. ‘Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone?’ It goes on to say that if human fathers know how to give good gifts to their children, our heavenly Father will give good gifts to His children too. Jesus tries to make us understand God’s love by comparing it to an earthly father’s love. Trouble is, too many human fathers give their kids stones when they ask for bread—figuratively speaking, of course.”

  “Millions of children must feel like Beth about God.”

  “Sad, isn’t it? And terrifying.”

  “I don’t mean to imply that every child of divorced parents has this issue,” she clarified quickly, “or that only absent fathers neglect their responsibilities. But think how common the deadbeat dad is who doesn’t pay for child support. And how many children and their fathers who’ve left the family grow apart until they never speak.”

  “The single-parent family has become commonplace—the single parent usually being the mother. A lot of kids are growing up without any father figure around. How do they understand that when the Bible refers to God as a loving Father, it’s comparing Him to one of the most loving relationships a child can experience?”

  “My mind is trying to grasp the implications of this,” Mandy said. “I don’t even know how to help Beth with it, let alone come up with a solution for millions of other children.”

  He told her about Beth’s concern that God allowed Jesus to be born in a cold stable without anything to keep Him warm.

  Mandy smiled at Beth’s misconception, but sadness mingled with the smile. “That’s why she walked about the shop looking at all the nativities today. I just realized that most show the Christ child without clothing and with only a narrow strip of blanket across His body.”

  “Not in swaddling clothes.”

  “Definitely not in swaddling clothes.”

  It seemed like old times, talking like this. When they had been dating, they discussed anything and everything, eager to learn each other’s thoughts and ideas. Such discussions weren’t what normally came to people’s minds at the term “romance,” but to him such times were as much a part of his romance with Mandy as every other part of their relationship.