A Christmas Star

by Thomas Kinkade

  “We didn’t have the greatest coverage,” Sam admitted. “We were trying to save a few dollars and who ever thinks something really horrible is going to happen to them, right? And you know insurance companies. They have a million ways of figuring out how to pay less than they really should.”

  “That’s for sure.” Ben sighed.

  A waitress appeared. “What can I get for you?” she asked.

  Neither Sam nor Ben needed to look at the menu. They both knew it by heart. Sam ordered a burger and Ben ordered a bowl of Rhode Island chowder.

  “Is there any recourse for you?” Ben asked after the waitress had left them. “Any appeal you can make?”

  “I asked about that. They’re sending me some paperwork.” Sam rolled his eyes. “If I have to fill out one more form, I’m going to scream. But that’s one of their tricks, too. They try to wear you down, meeting all these endless requirements, burying you under mountains of red tape.” He sighed. “I guess deep down I expected it would go this way, but I was really hoping for better.”

  “Of course you were. And you deserve better. Much better,” Ben agreed.

  “The payout won’t be nearly enough to restore the house, not even if I do all the work by myself. Which, of course, I can’t. Tyler would be in college by the time it was finished.”

  The waitress came by and dropped off their food and filled both cups with coffee. Sam stared at his burger but didn’t touch it. Ben tasted his soup and added a sprinkle of pepper.

  “If you don’t restore the house, what are the other alternatives?”

  Now Sam really lost his appetite. He felt his stomach twist in a knot. “We would have to knock it down and build something much more modest. Or just put the property up for sale.”

  Just thinking about either of those choices pained Sam deeply. It was traumatic enough to watch his beloved house go up in flames, the house he had brought back to life with his own two hands, with his own sweat and blood and imagination. The fire was an accident. An act of nature . . . or even of God. But to purposely, intentionally put a wrecking ball to that house . . . He couldn’t do it.

  “Sam, you’ve had some very difficult news and you have a lot to think about now. You don’t have to figure it all out this morning. New choices you didn’t even know about might open up for you,” Ben reminded him.

  “Maybe. But I have to tell you, Reverend, I’m not feeling that hopeful right now. And you know me,” he added. “That’s saying a lot.”

  Ben forced a small smile. “Yes, it is.”

  “You would think that after all we’ve been through, we could at least get a fair settlement from the insurance company. We could at least get that,” Sam said. “I feel so cheated and robbed. Twice in a row. What is this all about, Reverend? When does it end?”

  “You feel like you’re being tested? Is that what you mean?”

  Sam nodded. “Sure. If you want to put it that way, yes. That is how I feel. Like Job, in the Bible. I never could quite believe that story. How he just . . . sucks it up, you know?”

  Ben didn’t even try to explain it. “It is hard to identify with that one. It is pretty . . . extreme,” he agreed. “I’ve sometimes wondered if that story is more about not holding God accountable for such catastrophic acts, but keeping hold of your faith and having the faith to turn to God in times of need.”

  Sam nodded. “Since the night of the fire, I don’t think I’ve stopped praying,” he admitted. “First just for feeling blessed we all got out alive. Then, asking for help as we wandered around town, not knowing where we would live. I did pray that we would get a fair settlement on the claim. . . . I guess God either didn’t hear that one or that even He doesn’t have much sway with the insurance companies.

  “You know what the hardest part of all this is to me?” Sam went on. “I don’t know how to tell Jessica. That’s what I’m most worried about right now. Not even the thought of knocking down the house seems as bad.”

  “You have to tell her, Sam, as soon as possible. She might take it better than you think,” Ben added quietly.

  “I don’t think so.” Sam shook his head. “I’ve kept promising her and the boys that we’ll rebuild the house just the way it was. I guess that was unrealistic of me, but I didn’t know what else to say. I really believed we could. But now . . . they’ll think I was lying to them. Or that I was some naïve fool. Jessica will. She already says I’m too optimistic.”

  “Maybe you are optimistic. But by and large, that’s a good thing,” Ben assured him. “They know you’re trying your best. It’s hardly your fault the claim came in low. Don’t take this all on your shoulders, Sam. The fire wasn’t your fault. You can’t make it all better for everyone overnight, either.”

  Sam glanced at Ben. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses, the reverend’s sharp blue eyes were bright with emotion. Ben was, above all things, a real friend.

  Sam rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Yes, I know. It’s hard not to try though.”

  Ben smiled gently. “Everyone has to do their part, Sam, to pull together as a family now. Even if that means changing their expectations.”

  Sam knew that was true, especially for himself. “Tell me about it. I had a crash course in the subject this morning. But it will still be hard to tell Jessica.”

  “Of course it will. But couples have to talk about difficult subjects. You’re in it together and you have to share this with her. It’s only fair. To both of you,” he added.

  Ben paused and caught Sam’s gaze. “Don’t make that house the measure of everything,” he warned. “It was a beautiful house, but only because you and your wife created it with love and caring. Only because of the family inside. ‘For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’ The Book of Luke,” he reminded Sam.

  Sam nodded, considering the familiar bit of Scripture that he now heard differently than ever before.

  His family was his treasure, Jessica and his boys. Not the house, the wood, the plaster, and the pipes. All that had been destroyed. The love that they shared, that bound them; the path on which they had come so far together; their future, still a story to be told—all that was what mattered.

  He had to remember that. And remind Jessica, too.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AFTER HIS LUNCH WITH REVEREND BEN, IT WAS DIFFICULT for Sam to concentrate on the work in his shop. An outside job would have been better, he thought, one where he could have just hammered away mindlessly. But he was in the middle of repairing a very delicate set of antique chairs for a very fussy client.

  The work required concentration with the jigsaw and other cutting tools. After a while, he put it all aside, afraid he might have an accident.

  The forms to contest the insurance claim began to print out from the fax machine in his tiny office. The pages seemed to be coming and coming. He picked up the pile and dropped them on his desk. More paperwork to fill out. He couldn’t deal with it right now.

  Reverend Ben had been right. He couldn’t blame himself, and he couldn’t make it right in one night all on his own. He had to tell Jessica. Tonight. She would be upset, he was sure. But once she got past that, they could put their heads together and try to figure out the next step.

  It was barely four o’clock when Sam closed up his shop and headed back to the cabin. He thought he would shoot some basketball with the boys while it was still light outside. That would cheer him up.

  When he pulled up, he didn’t see Jessica’s car. The cabin was dark. So the boys were not home either. He went inside and looked around. Even the dog crate was empty. The silent, vacant space gave him a bad feeling.

  Was she so unhappy that she had just taken the boys and left him?

  He was panicking. Just his state of mind today. An unusual mood for him, that was for sure.

  He had to laugh at his paranoia when he realized that if Jessica had left, she never would have taken the dog. She must have just gone out somewhere—to the grocery store?

  Then he saw a note
on the countertop, propped against the salt shaker. Jessica’s handwriting, he could tell before he even picked it up. It said she had taken the boys to their old house to go ice skating at the pond.

  He put the note down as a wave of sadness washed over him. Of all places for her to go today. He sighed and stared around. He didn’t feel like waiting for them to come back. He went out, locked the front door, and climbed back into his SUV. Then he headed down Beach Road to their old house.

  It was a short ride. Too short, Sam thought.

  He pulled in the drive and parked next to Jessica’s car. The sun was beginning to set, streaking the sky with rose and purple clouds on the horizon. He glanced up at the burned ruins of his house, the sunset colors reminding him of the fire. A blue tarp flapped over the gaping roof and back wall. A bird flew out one of the windows.

  The structure looked even more pathetic and hopeless now than it had that first day when they returned with Chief Rhinehardt. Maybe it’s me, Sam thought. Maybe it’s what I know now that I didn’t know then.

  He sighed and dug his hands in his pockets. He heard Tyler and Darrell at the pond, shouting and laughing. He saw Jessica standing at the edge of the pond, holding Sunny’s leash.

  Her back was turned and she didn’t see him as he walked toward them. Tyler did and he waved. “Daddy’s here. Hey, Daddy! Want to skate with us?” he shouted, scrambling across the ice.

  Normally, Sam loved to do anything with the boys. Jessica always said that was the real reason he had wanted kids—so that he had a legitimate excuse to run out and play all day. The way Sam looked at it, that’s what dads were for.

  He came to the edge of the pond and waved back. “Let me see you skate, Ty,” he said.

  “I’m good now. I didn’t fall at all,” Tyler bragged, lurching backward but catching his balance. “Why don’t you skate with us, Dad?”

  “I don’t have my skates with me, Ty. And it’s getting dark. Next time,” he promised.

  His skates had been destroyed in the fire. That was the real reason. He guessed Jessica had borrowed a few pairs from Luke for the boys. At least the kids were not lacking for equipment, living at New Horizons.

  Jessica walked over to him, the puppy leaping around on her leash then trying to bite it. “They wanted to come out here, so I said okay.”

  It was her last afternoon with them before she started working.

  “What did they say when they saw the house?” Sam asked quietly.

  The boys had asked a few times to come and see their old house, but Sam and Jessica kept putting it off. Partly because they didn’t want to see it again themselves, Sam knew.

  “I tried to prepare them for what it looked like. Darrell just got very quiet. Tyler said it looks ugly. But otherwise he seems fine. . . . I didn’t know what to do,” she confessed. “They had to see it sooner or later, didn’t they?”

  Sam nodded. Another missed opportunity for her to have talked something over with him, he thought.

  But maybe that wasn’t fair. Situations like this happened so spontaneously. They couldn’t be consulting with each other every moment. He had been in the same position over other decisions concerning the boys.

  She glanced at him. “Do you think I shouldn’t have brought them over here? Was it too soon?”

  Sam shook his head. “No, you did the right thing. They had to see it.”

  He felt the puppy climb up his leg and he absentmindedly patted her head. He stared out at the pond. Darkness was falling quickly now, but he could not mistake the outlines of his two children. Darrell, making large circles and figure eights with smooth, athletic grace. Sam remembered the first time he got Darrell up on skates when he was just working with him as a mentor at New Horizons.

  Tyler was far from steady on the ice, but as the younger brother, pushed himself to keep up. And did a good job, Sam thought.

  “Watch this, Daddy. I can turn really fast, see?” Tyler picked up speed then made a fast circle.

  “Whoa, very good. That was great.” Sam clapped his hands.

  Darrell swooped by. Using a branch as a hockey stick, he smacked a chunk of ice across the pond. “Can we play hockey out here sometime?” he asked Sam.

  “Absolutely. I’ll get Luke to loan us some gear. Maybe he’ll even come,” Sam added. His buddy Luke was always up for a game of any kind.

  Tyler swung an imaginary hockey stick. “Goal!” he shouted, and pumped one small fist.

  “Okay, boys. It’s getting dark. Come on in, we have to go . . .” Home, Sam nearly said.

  They were home. But they were not. It was a sad, confusing feeling.

  “Yeah, come on guys, you must be cold,” Jessica called out. “Besides, I still have to fix dinner.”

  For once, the boys skated in without needing to be nagged. The puppy started barking as soon as Darrell stepped onto the bank. Once he changed back into his boots, he took the leash from Jessica, kneeling to hug the excited dog.

  Sam gathered up the skates and abandoned helmets. With Darrell and Sunny leading the way, they headed back to the cars.

  They were all very quiet as they passed by the house. It was now almost dark, and the burnt-out shell of their once-beautiful home loomed up in the shadows, seeming almost ominous.

  Sam looked over at Jessica, trying to catch her eye, to share his feelings, even with a glance. But she was staring down at the snow as she walked along, her shoulders bowed as if under a heavy weight.

  Just the way he felt.

  Tyler walked beside him. “Our house looks so ugly now. It’s scary. It looks like a haunted house or something.”

  “Yes, I know,” Sam said quietly.

  “You’re going to fix it for us again, right, Daddy?”

  Sam glanced down at his son, his bright eyes and trusting expression. He felt so choked up, he could hardly answer.

  He knew now he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t make it the way it had been. He couldn’t turn back the clock to the day before the fire.

  He nodded quickly. “Sure, Ty. I’m going to fix it,” he promised. “We’ll have a great house again, don’t worry.”

  Jessica was looking at him now. It was hard to read her expression in the shadowy light. He thought she tried to smile a little, but he wasn’t sure.

  Sam’s step slowed. Everyone else had reached the cars and was waiting for him. He had walked past the house but felt it looming over his shoulder, like a big black bird that had swooped down and stolen his happiness, his very sense of well-being.

  Stolen his trust in himself.

  His family was homeless. That was the truth of the matter. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

  He felt the weight of what had happened crash down, as if the entire burnt hulk of the building had suddenly collapsed on top of him.

  He knew he had to tell Jessica the truth about the insurance claim. Tell her tonight, as he had planned.

  But for all his good intentions, he knew he would not follow through. Not tonight. Somewhere out here he had lost his nerve. And now he didn’t have the strength or the energy to do what he had to do.

  JACK WOKE UP ABRUPTLY FROM A SOUND SLEEP. HE SAT UP AND LISTENED. He heard Katie crying and Julie’s quick footsteps in the hallway above, running to the bathroom and back again.

  What was going on? Maybe Katie had had a nightmare. She didn’t seem herself tonight, quiet and out of sorts. Julie had put her to bed early. The little girl didn’t even want to hear a Lester story, so Jack guessed she didn’t feel well.

  He got up, pulled on his jeans and a sweatshirt, and walked to the bottom of the stairway. A light was on upstairs. He heard Julie rummaging through the hall closet.

  “Is everything okay?” he called softly.

  She came to the top of the stairs and looked down at him. “Jack? I’m sorry we woke you.”

  “That’s all right. Did Katie have a nightmare?”

  Julie shook her head. Her long curly hair was hanging loose around her shoulders. He had never seen
it like that before.

  “I think she has a fever. But the thermometer I had with me isn’t working, and I can’t seem to find one up here.”

  Jack started up the stairs. He saw her step back and quickly tighten the belt on her bathrobe.

  It was hard not to look at her. But he tried his best.

  When he reached the top of the stairs, he went into the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and poked around inside, moving bottles and tubes about. Finally he found a thermometer and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

  “The old-fashioned kind, sorry.”

  Julie took it quickly. “Those digital ones break right away. These are more reliable.”

  She walked back to the bedroom. Jack hesitated then followed. He stood in the doorway and watched as she cleaned the thermometer, shook it, then placed it in Katie’s little mouth.

  Katie looked so pale and sleepy, barely lifting her head from the pillow. Julie looked tense, sitting on the edge of the bed as she watched the clock on the nightstand.

  After a few minutes, she took the thermometer out, held it up to the lamp, and read it.

  “Oh dear, this can’t be right.” She glanced up at Jack, looking alarmed.

  “What does it say?” He walked in without asking.

  She handed it up to him and he read it. It was almost a hundred and three.

  “Try again. Maybe the mercury didn’t go down far enough when you started.”

  “Yes, that might be it.” She shook the thermometer again, checked it under the lamp, then offered it to Katie. “I’m sorry, baby. I have to do this over.”

  Kate murmured something and tossed her head but finally took the thermometer and kept very still, Julie’s hand on her flushed cheek.

  Jack watched the clock this time. “Three minutes, right?”

  Julie nodded. He felt worried now himself. Katie shouldn’t have a fever that high. It was dangerous.

  Finally, the minutes ticked past. “Okay, it’s time.”

  Julie took the thermometer out and carefully read it.

  “The same.” She handed it up. Jack looked at it again, too. The silver line had hit just about the same exact mark. These old-fashioned things were accurate. You couldn’t fool them.