She walked into the bedroom and found Dan sleeping in a rocking chair, dressed in his bathrobe. It looked as if he’d been up with the baby . . . or perhaps waiting for her.
She tried to be quiet as she got undressed, but he slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. “You’re back, thank goodness. What time is it?”
“Almost five. It’s going to be light out soon. I just want to grab an hour or two of sleep. I have to get in to the office and start working on this fire situation. Oh, Dan, you wouldn’t have believed it. It was terrible.”
He walked over to Emily and put his arms around her. “Were many people hurt?”
She nodded. “Lots in the hospital, smoke inhalation mainly. A few firefighters were injured, though nothing was serious. No deaths so far. That part’s a miracle.”
She gazed up at him. “The most amazing thing happened. All these people in town heard what happened and came out to help. They just up and left whatever they were doing—their Christmas dinners, family whatever—and came down to the church with clothes and food. It was incredible.”
She crawled into bed and he followed her. “Sounds so,” he said. He put his arm around her and she rested her head on his chest.
“The old hotel building burned to the ground,” she explained. “And the others had to be evacuated. Some people will be able to go back eventually, but the buildings that are still standing will have lots of damage from the smoke and water. All the tenants in the burned building are homeless. All of their possessions are lost.” She turned her head to look at him. “They’re not the type of people who carry insurance, you know? I don’t think the building owner will come up with much help either. This is a real tragedy.”
“Yes, it is. Get some sleep now. You’re exhausted.” He put his hand on her head and she rested it again on his shoulder.
“How is Jane?”
“She’s fine. She hardly made a peep.”
“I have to get in to the office early and start cutting through all the red tape to get these people some public assistance. There’s so much to do. Mrs. Hatcher is off for the week, though, Dan. I had planned on staying home.” Emily paused for a moment. “Can you take care of Jane while I’m at work?” she asked carefully.
The question of adopting the baby had been tabled for now, but Emily still didn’t know how Dan would react to this request.
“Of course I’ll take care of her. You don’t have to worry. It sounds as if you have a big job on your hands this week, Emily. I’ll help you any way I can.”
Emily smiled at him and kissed his cheek. She put her head down again and closed her eyes, her mind racing with the sights and sounds of the fire scene, as well as with lists of all she had to do—all the bureaucrats and agencies she had to call.
Still, within a few seconds, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BEN CAUGHT A FEW HOURS OF SLEEP AT HOME AND RETURNED turned to church just before seven the next day. As he walked across the village green from his car, he wondered if last night had been a dream.
But no, it hadn’t been a dream at all. He entered the church to find that the miracle continued.
There were dozens of people working in the kitchen, preparing breakfast—pancakes, eggs, bacon, piles of buttered rolls, and donuts. Coffee and tea, hot cocoa, and cereal for the kids were all being served on long tables in the Fellowship Hall. Other tables held piles of clean socks and underwear, toothpaste, toothbrushes, little bars of soap, and various hygiene items. The room was filled with the fire victims and helpers. Most were still asleep of course, but a few were awake and even smiling. Maybe, he thought, they were just happy to be alive after their terrifying ordeal.
Curious as to what else was going on in the church, Ben left the hall. Later, when everyone was up, he would return, welcome everyone, and say a blessing.
Tucker Tulley met him in the hallway. “I’ve called a meeting of the deaconate, Reverend. Everyone is here. We’re in one of the classrooms downstairs,” he said, leading the way.
Reverend Ben followed Tucker downstairs to a church school classroom, where he found just about all the deacons assembled.
“Reverend, would you lead us in the invocation?” Tucker asked after calling the meeting to order.
Reverend Ben bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, please guide us, continue to give us the energy, resources, and wisdom to help the victims of this devastating fire. We thank You for the grace that has touched this church and all the people in it. We thank You for the amazing miracle we witnessed last night, the outpouring of love, kindness, and generosity. Please guide us with Your light, keep our hearts open, and let this miracle of love and faith continue.”
“Amen.” Tucker lifted his head and surveyed the group seated before him. “We need to help these people upstairs,” he began simply. “They’re burned out of their homes and don’t have clothes to put on their backs or shoes for their feet. They need clothing, money, and a place to stay until the town or whoever figures out what to do with them, which from my experience could take awhile.”
He looked around, but no one interrupted him. “We did a good job last night. We can be proud of that effort. But we have to keep it up. This is going to take time. We can’t get bored with it or lose momentum.” He picked up a pad from one of the front-row desks. “Does anyone know how much money was collected?”
Harry Reilly raised his hand. “A little over three thousand dollars.”
“That’s a start,” Tucker said, jotting down the figure. He went through some other categories of need, clothing and food donations. Someone else produced a list of church families who were inviting the displaced fire victims into their homes.
Ben was cheered by that response. It didn’t seem to matter that this group was the poorest in the community, with many who did not even speak English. His congregation was willing to take them in just because they were neighbors in need. They were willing to do it just because it was the right thing to do.
The meeting soon concluded, with everyone assigned their tasks to keep the miracle rolling. Ben went upstairs again, where he found the outpouring of love and generosity continuing in countless ways.
They had done all this without him at the pulpit spouting Scripture and reminding them of their Christian duty. Maybe he was right. He wasn’t needed here, but not because his congregation didn’t have spirit. He felt so ashamed for having misjudged them, thinking they had no spiritual vigor. Yes, they were a social community, but different from the Elks Club or the Rotary or the group at the country club.
They were very different. How had he been so blind and not seen that? He felt ashamed for finding them lacking and asked for God’s forgiveness.
Lord, forgive me for misjudging these good people. Forgive me for losing faith in them . . . and myself. Thank You for all You’ve done here—and continue to do—through us.
WHEN HE FINALLY GOT HOME LATER THAT EVENING, CAROLYN WAS waiting for him. She had also come to the church to help during the day, working mainly in the kitchen, but they had barely seen each other.
“You must be exhausted, Ben, up all night and working all day.”
“I’m not tired at all.” He smiled at her, following her into their own kitchen. “I feel like I’ve been charged up like an old battery by all this wonderful energy at church. It’s still hard to take it all in, Carolyn, their acts of compassion and generosity.”
“You’re proud of them,” she noted. She lifted a cover on a pot and stirred. “You should be.”
“I am. But I hardly deserve any credit. I was wrong to sell them short. I was projecting my own malaise. The lack of spirit was in me, not them.”
“Maybe this event woke everyone up.”
Ben nodded. “I think it gave them a way to put their spiritual side into action. There’s more to be done, though, than just providing food and shelter for a few days.”
“Yes, you have to think of the long-term problems, too.”
“Most of those
people are at risk of ending up homeless,” Ben said. “Emily Warwick is doing what she can, working with the county. But you know how that goes. The best the county might do is stick them all in some dumpy motel somewhere, where they’ll be out of sight and soon forgotten. The community can’t let that happen,” he insisted. “The church can’t let that happen.”
“Agreed.” Carolyn touched his wrist lightly, her expression thoughtful. “But what exactly can the church do?”
“I’m not sure, but that’s a failure of imagination and knowledge on my part right now. Yesterday morning I never could have dreamed of what they’ve already accomplished.”
“Well . . . at least you’re honest.”
“I’m not sure how to figure this all out. There are so many factors to consider. All I know is that the church must play a big role now in keeping these people on track. That much I’m very sure of.” He sighed and leaned toward her. “Did you know that several of the men have already lost their jobs for missing one day’s work? One day, because of a fire.”
Carolyn’s look of loving support turned to one of outrage. “How could their employers do that?”
“That’s the situation we’re dealing with. It’s not enough that these poor people have lost their homes and everything they own.” He stood up, feeling suddenly restless again. “Maybe the church can help build new housing, some affordable apartments. Maybe we can get the county to cooperate. . . .”
“That sounds like a big job, a real mission project. Too bad the church will have to do it without you.”
Ben turned and looked at her, wondering at her comment. Then he remembered. The sabbatical . . .
“Didn’t you want to leave at the end of January?”
“I’ve been reconsidering that plan, Carolyn. It might have been a bit impulsive. You know, I never actually filed the papers. Maybe I was depressed, self-indulgent, too.” He shook his head regretfully.
“I think the feelings were very real to you, Ben. Don’t be so hard on yourself. The thing is, suddenly, there’s a lot of work for you here. A real opportunity, don’t you think?”
She was so kind to him, always giving him the benefit of the doubt. Even in his folly.
“Absolutely. I can’t leave now. The congregation needs me. The fire victims need me.”
“The sabbatical idea will have to be postponed, then,” she said, a smile hovering on her lips.
“Yes . . . indefinitely,” he added.
“Whatever you say, dear.” Carolyn’s tone was only slightly sarcastic. He knew he deserved far worse for what he had put her through.
“I think that’s a wise choice,” she continued, turning to the stove again to serve dinner. “There’s a lot of work ahead if you plan to have the church help these people.”
“Yes, there is. A mountain of work, and an abundance of energy to draw upon. The congregation has inspired me. They’ve renewed me, just as I was trying to say in my sermon. This is my Christmas miracle,” he said quietly.
IT WASN’T UNTIL WEDNESDAY NIGHT, THREE DAYS AFTER THE FIRE, that Emily and Dan were able to sit down to a meal together. Emily had been up and out early every morning, not returning until late at night. The county and local Red Cross had taken some action to help the fire victims, but the church congregation had done the lion’s share so far, offering the kind of support and caring that government agencies could never provide. She was encouraged by the progress so far, but downright exhausted.
She sat at the table and took a sip of the soup Dan had prepared for them. There were toasted sandwiches on thick crusty bread and a big green salad.
“This looks like the best meal I’ve seen all week.” She took a big bite of her sandwich as Dan looked on.
“The roast is from Christmas night. It didn’t go to waste.”
The mention of that debacle of a dinner reminded her of their awful argument. They hadn’t talked about it all week. But the truth was, they hadn’t had the chance. Dan had been very considerate of her these past few days, caring for Jane and doing nearly everything around the house.
But although they hadn’t talked, she had had a chance to think things over. She could see now that she had been trying to impose her own feelings on him. It just wasn’t fair, or right.
They talked about the fire victims awhile. Dan, too, had been at the church helping out when he was able to leave Jane with Jessica for a few hours each day.
“So they don’t think it was arson?”
Emily shook her head. “Reasonable to suspect, all things considered. But the fire department investigators all agree it was started by bad wiring. By the time anyone smelled the smoke inside the wall, it was too late.”
“I suppose that proves the other buildings need to be renovated and upgraded.” A familiar look of affection came into his eyes. “Maybe the mayor can do something about it. I hear she’s good with things like that.”
“I’m already on it,” she assured him with a weary smile. “I had the county inspectors out there today.”
Finally, Emily decided it was time to bring up the question that still hovered over them. “I had a call from Nadine today,” she began carefully. “She wanted to know what we were thinking now about Jane. I told her that it’s doubtful we’ll apply to adopt.” She stopped there and looked at Dan. His expression was blank, unreadable.
“I didn’t blame it on you,” she added in a conciliatory tone. “I didn’t say much at all. I’ve been thinking it over the past few days, what you said when we argued. And maybe it is unrealistic to think we’re young enough to keep up with the demands of a child. Maybe it would be better for Jane to have younger parents,” she said, though she felt her heart breaking as she said the words aloud. “If I can force myself to look at this objectively, like you asked me to, I know Nadine will find a loving couple who will be happy to give Jane a good home.”
She paused, trying hard not to get overly emotional about this. There would be enough time for that later.
“We’re not the only people in the world who could be good parents to her,” Emily continued. “And I’ve thought about you—your needs and hopes. I know it’s probably seemed as if those things don’t matter to me at all, but they do,” she assured him. “We agreed when we got married that we wouldn’t start a family. It isn’t fair to you for me to go back on my word. I don’t want to force you into adopting this baby and then find out you regret it. That wouldn’t be good for you or me or Jane.”
She stared at him, waiting for some response. He had been listening to her with his head bowed, staring down at his plate.
Now he looked up again. “Wow . . . that was some speech. No notes, either. I’m impressed.”
She managed a small smile. “I told you, I’ve been thinking a lot about this.”
Despite his small joke, she couldn’t tell how he felt about what she’d said.
“Poor Nadine Preston,” he said finally. “She must be extremely confused.”
Emily frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I spoke to her today, too, and said we wanted to start the process to adopt Jane.”
Emily felt her jaw drop. She just couldn’t believe it. But she knew very well he would never joke about this.
“You don’t have to do this, Dan,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to force you into it. I can see that now. It’s not the kind of thing you can talk someone into. I was wrong to try—”
“Hush up now. You had the floor, my dear. Just let me finish,” he said, giving her a mock stern look. “I’ve been thinking, too. I’ve had a lot of time here the past few days, alone with Jane. I’ve even talked it over with her from time to time,” he confided. Emily had to smile, pleased to hear he talked aloud to the baby, too.
“You know me, I don’t much believe in fate, but even I have to admit it was a conveniently strange turn of events that had me stuck here, all alone, caring for her lately.”
Emily had been thinking the same, but hadn’t dared to say it.
&nb
sp; “And I’ve had to conclude, I love her madly. I’ve tried to imagine giving her up. I even tried talking myself into believing it’s the best thing for her. But my heart can’t buy it, Emily. And I know for sure it’s not the best thing for you.”
He gazed at her fondly and paused for a moment. “I’ve come to really understand what this means to you. At least, I think I do. You’re a wonderful mother to this child and to Sara. I can’t deny you the chance to try to adopt this baby. We might not be chosen, you know,” he added quickly, “That’s still not certain.”
“Yes, I know.” Her heart was beating so hard it felt like a drum inside her chest. She felt so happy, she wanted to jump out of her skin.
“You were right when you told me I was grieving the past,” he admitted. “I had a lot of shame about not being a good father. But it would be different now. I wouldn’t be distracted by work, and you’re nothing like Claire. I think I could be a good father now, Emily. I want to give it another go.”
Emily blinked back tears of joy. “Dan, I’m so happy, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to start . . .”
He got up, walked over to her, and pulled her up from her chair. “You can start by telling me you love me.”
“You know I do.” She jumped into his arms and held him close. “You just can’t imagine how much.”
“Thank you for seeing my side of it,” he whispered in her ear. “Even though I was mostly wrong. I get that tunnel vision thing going sometimes. I nearly lost you once because of it. You would think I had learned my lesson.”
Emily laughed softly. “Thank you for this . . . this amazing gift, Dan. I can never thank you enough.”
He didn’t answer, just gazed down into her eyes. He pulled her close and kissed her deeply, his strong embrace enfolding her completely.
Emily kissed him back. She loved him so much. Not just because he was willing to adopt Jane. But because of all that he was, right and wrong.
That’s what marriage was all about. That’s what love was all about.
The Christmas Angel Page 24