She walked to the front of the sanctuary quickly, slipped on reading glasses, and stared down at the big Bible on the pulpit.
Jack vaguely recognized her. Grace Hegmen, who owned the Bramble Antique Store in town. He glanced around the sanctuary and looked for her father, Digger, wondering if the old man was still alive. Jack finally did spot him, sitting near Sam Morgan.
It was hard to guess Digger’s age, Jack reflected. Digger always looked the same, with a wool seaman’s cap on his head—even in church—a long white beard, and a navy peacoat.
From his vague expression and wandering gaze, Jack wondered if the old man was entirely with it these days. He was lucky his daughter Grace was so devoted to his care. But she didn’t seem to have much more in her life except her shop. Jack knew that she had once been married and had a little girl. The child had died in a car accident, and her husband had left her. Grace had isolated herself, more or less giving up on life.
Jack sure knew what that was like. Looking up at her now, as she read a passage from Luke, he felt a pang of sympathy. He could have ended up like Grace, he realized, if not for Julie. He still could, in fact, if he gave up again after she left.
“‘... And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night,’” Grace read. “ ‘And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them; and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. . . . ’”
Grace read on, concluding the passage that told the familiar story of the first Christmas Day. Once finished, she returned to her place and Reverend Ben took the pulpit.
Jack shifted in his seat. It had been a while since he had listened to a minister’s sermon. He couldn’t remember now if Reverend Ben was the long-winded kind or kept it short and to the point. He crossed his arms over his chest, preparing himself to be bored.
Reverend Ben looked out at the congregation and pushed his glasses a bit higher on his nose. “No matter how many times I read the Scripture passages that tell the story of Christ’s humble birth, there’s always something new to see. Something new to learn and think about,” he began.
“As if the story is a favorite decoration, hanging on a Christmas tree. An ornament with an amazing, unique design. Every year we turn it in our hands, or hold it up to the light and see it differently, from a new perspective. We see it in a way we never have before.” He paused, smiling slightly. “That’s fortunate for me, since I’m obliged to give a new sermon on the subject every year.”
A few laughed quietly, Jack among them. He had always liked this minister’s honesty. He remembered that now.
“What struck me most this year was the isolation, and even alienation, this young couple must have felt on their journey and during their stay in Bethlehem. Forced by a government decree to up and leave their home and all that is familiar and comfortable to them and travel a great distance. And all this just as Mary is about to give birth. It must have been hard enough in those days to give birth to a healthy child. Just think of it,” he encouraged his listeners. “At that time and in that culture, a young woman expecting her first child was most likely surrounded by her female relatives, counseled and coached by her mother, a midwife perhaps, and other women in her community. Even these days, so much excitement and preparation surround the birth of a new child. Relatives, especially grandparents, rallying around the new parents, eager to give advice and support.
“But Mary and Joseph were utterly alone, arriving in a foreign place where they had no relatives or even an acquaintance to turn to for their most basic needs—food and shelter for the night. Imagine their feelings, their exhaustion and discomfort. No sense of relief and safety when they arrive in the town. Instead, they go from inn to inn, trying to find a place to stay. They must have felt frightened and perhaps even a bit desperate as Mary’s time approached.
“Think of the shepherds in vast empty fields, staring up at the dark sky and stars as they fell asleep that night, perhaps feeling very distant from any kindred soul. And the three wise men, traveling down long dusty roads, through foreign lands and empty stretches to reach the town of Bethlehem.
“And as the Scripture says, an angel appears to the shepherds and wakes them. The angel tells them not to be afraid but to follow the brightest star in the sky and find the child born in the manger. They choose to believe their vision and set off on the quest. And the three wise men have also been advised by a vision, and they, too, are inspired to find the child.
“And finally, all the players in this ageless tale come together in the stable with the new family. What could Mary and Joseph have been thinking as these strange visitors arrived, asking to see their baby? They didn’t know anyone for miles. They didn’t think anyone had given them a thought, a poor couple bedding down with the animals, struggling to bring their son into the world. Yet the shepherds show up, probably bearing some type of humble gift, perhaps even a new lamb, and they ask to see the new baby.
“Can you imagine Mary and Joseph’s surprise? Quite possibly, their pleasure, too, at having someone—anyone—to share in their great joy and this huge milestone in their lives.
“Then the three wise men, aristocrats, possibly even kings, approach the manger. Men who are dressed in rich clothing, doubtless of a high social rank. The new mother and father must have been frightened at first by these visitors. But the kings are humbled by the sight of the baby and eagerly present their costly gifts. Just imagine how these presents must have awed Mary and Joseph—incense, frankincense, and myrrh. Those are the gifts of the wise men. Yet, they bring another gift that is not part of the list. The gift of unconditional, unquestioning love for the tiny child. A gift that surprises the young parents as much, if not more, than their tribute of treasures.”
Pastor Ben smiled gently and glanced down at the pulpit to turn a page of his notes. Jack realized he was enjoying this version of the familiar story, the minister’s retelling bringing it to life in a new way.
“So the night is filled with unexpected visitors and gifts. The young couple’s abject isolation, even fear, miraculously transformed to connection, goodwill, and joy. The dark, lonely scene in the stable turns into one of celebration, with lowly shepherds and kings brought together by the same mission and message. A kind of surprise party, if you will,” he added with another smile. “Certainly, a scene of reunion and even reconciliation. For these visitors have come from far and wide to honor the child who, the Scripture has foretold, would reconcile God and mankind.
“Connection. Reunion. Reconciliation. Unconditional love. Those are a few of the deep threads that run through this story’s rich tapestry. Those are lessons we can all take to heart.”
Reverend Ben paused. His gaze scanned the rows of church members, listening intently. For a moment, Jack felt as if the minister was looking straight at him. No, he told himself, that must just be a trick of the light.
“How many of us experience the sense of being set apart, isolated, even in the midst of a roomful of people?” Reverend Ben continued. “I suspect we have all experienced that feeling at one time or another, even in a room filled with those nearest to us. In this story, we learn that this day is a time for connection. A time to put aside fear and open up our hearts. To strangers, surely. And also to family and friends, which is sometimes even harder.
“It’s difficult to put aside differences and grievances. It’s hard to offer the gifts of forgiveness, trust, and love. But that example, that challenge, is one beautiful idea we can take away from this story and live out in our lives today and every day of the year ahead.
“Do I make it sound too easy? If I do, I apologize for that. Many times, it’s not easy at all. As the st
ory suggests, it can be a frightening journey through a dark, foreign place. But the reward is great for those who persevere, who hold fast to their faith and try to live in this isolating, alienating world. Those who try to express the best part of themselves. The inspired part that strives for connection and forgiveness and unity, refusing to be guided by a fearful, alienated instinct. But instead by our spiritual and loving selves—which is the divine image in each of us.”
He paused again and looked down briefly. Then raised his head and smiled. “‘Fear not; for . . . I bring you good tidings,’” he said, quoting the Scripture Grace had read. “Peace on Earth. Goodwill toward men . . . Merry Christmas, everyone.”
Jack watched the minister gather his notes and take his seat again in the first pew near the pulpit. The choir rose and began to sing “Silent Night.”
He turned to Julie and met her glance then reached over and took her hand. It just felt . . . right.
AFTER THE CHURCH SERVICE, JACK, JULIE, AND KATE RETURNED TO THE tree farm. They all changed into comfortable clothes, then Jack took Kate outside to try her new saucer snow dish while Julie finished fixing dinner. Fresh snow had fallen during the week, and the little girl couldn’t get enough of spinning down the hill that sloped from the house to the bottom of his property. The ride she had once taken on her waterproof bottom, he recalled.
By the time Jack and Kate came back into the house, everyone was ready for dinner. Jack almost felt dizzy, inhaling the tantalizing smells that wafted out of the kitchen.
The table looked like something from a magazine, and Julie’s dinner was amazing. Jack had never tasted roast goose before. He found it delicious, the rich flavor perfect for Christmas. And that was only the main dish. Julie had prepared a true feast with potatoes and chanterelles baked in cream, green beans and almonds, honeyed yams, and an assortment of desserts that he barely had room for.
After dinner, they sat by the fire and played games with Kate. It was one of those rare, perfect days, Jack knew; one of the best of his life. He didn’t want to be greedy, but he wished this sweet time would never end.
CHRISTMAS DAY AT HER MOTHER’S HOUSE WAS MORE OR LESS AS JESSICA had expected. Tyler and Jane were occupied with new Christmas toys, and Darrell had brought his iPod, which kept her mother’s complaints about their behavior to the minimum.
Sara and Luke had cooked the meal, serving a rib roast with all the trimmings, so the dinner was tastier than the usual bland fare her mother had brought in, or even Emily’s well-meaning, but questionable, cooking.
“A very rich cut of meat,” her mother remarked as she was served her entree. “Difficult to digest,” she warned.
“A little red meat builds the blood, Lillian,” Dr. Elliott countered. “What would Christmas be without a challenge to the digestive system? Personally, I think you’re up to it.”
Jessica struggled not to laugh out loud. Ezra glanced at her across the table and winked. He was still the only one who could get the last word on her mother.
Lillian waited until they were almost done with the main course before saying, “Jessica, I noticed you and your family weren’t at Molly’s party last night.”
Jessica and Sam exchanged a glance, then Jessica said, “We wanted to have a smaller celebration this year, just us and the boys.”
Emily, of course, didn’t press the point. Jessica could tell from her sister’s sympathetic expression that she knew it was hard for them to socialize right now.
“You didn’t miss much,” Lillian said, patting her mouth with the corner of her napkin. “It was sheer mayhem. All those children running around. All that food. And when they opened the gifts at midnight . . . well, I’ve seen better manners during feeding time at the zoo.”
Jessica stiffened at her mother’s critique of Molly’s party. She seemed to forget that Molly was Sam’s sister. On second thought, she probably had not forgotten at all and was intentionally trying to get under Sam’s skin.
Jessica usually loved Molly’s parties. She used to give the same type of party at her own home—a loud, lively gathering, with lots of good food and conversation and overstimulated children. There was always a crescendo of excitement when the gifts were handed around. It was impossible to avoid that, and who would want to?
Emily shook her head. “We all had a wonderful time. I think you did, too, Mother. You just don’t want to admit it. After all, you always show up when Molly invites you.”
Lillian sniffed and pushed her food around her plate with her fork, trying to select the next acceptable bite. “I only agree to attend because if I don’t, you all nag me to death about staying home alone. We come into this world alone and we leave it alone. I have no respect for a person who cannot entertain themselves and abide their own company, believe me.”
“Well, no one likes to be alone on Christmas,” Dan offered. “Even you, Lillian.”
Jessica noticed that her mother didn’t answer. She took a sip of water and peered at her son-in-law over the edge of her glass.
Jessica realized that she had thought she wanted to be alone last night. Not totally alone, but away from Cape Light and practically everything familiar to her. But that had been a mistake. She was thankful that Sam had cared enough to come after her. Now he sat beside her at the table, and she reached for his hand and squeezed it.
He glanced at her and smiled back, and she knew he wasn’t bothered by what her mother had said. Sam, too, was just glad that they were all together again. He turned to the others. “Sara, Luke, that was a great meal,” he said. “Everything was delicious.”
“I suppose you aren’t able to cook much in that little shack in the woods,” Lillian said to Jessica. “The facilities must be very . . . basic.”
“The kitchen is basic,” Jessica had to agree. “But we’re managing all right so far.”
“The boys love their bunk beds. It’s very cozy,” Sam said.
“Shabby would be a better word for it,” Lillian replied.
Leave it to her mother. Just as Jessica was starting to get past her negative feelings about the cabin, her mother insisted on reminding her of all the reasons to dislike living there.
“How much longer do you think you’ll remain in that situation? Not indefinitely, I hope.”
Jessica couldn’t see why that mattered to her mother. She hadn’t wanted them to live in her house. Why did she care how long they stayed in the cabin?
“Not indefinitely, by any means,” Sam cut in. “But we’re still trying to figure out what to do about the house. We’re not sure now we can rebuild it,” he admitted. “There’s a lot to think about.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Emily glanced at Jessica. “Are you positive?”
“Yes, I think so,” Jessica said. “We need to figure out an alternative.” She made herself smile. “Let’s not talk about this now. It’s Christmas. Why don’t we clean up and have some dessert. Then we can open the gifts.”
“Not so fast,” her mother said. She leaned back and reached into the pocket of her sweater, a pale blue cashmere cardigan.
She pulled out an envelope and gave a long, exasperated sigh. “I was going to give this to you later, Jessica. But the conversation is irritating me. I’m having enough trouble digesting that roast.”
Emily passed Jessica the envelope, Lillian’s trademark vellum stationery with her LMW monogram on back.
Jessica stared at the envelope for a minute, then glanced at Sam.
“Well, open it. It won’t explode,” her mother promised.
Ezra laughed. “Maybe not. But knowing you, she has a good reason to suspect it could.”
Lillian glared at him. “Oh . . . you. Be quiet now. Silly man.”
Jessica slipped her finger under the flap and pulled out a note card. She opened it up to find a check inside. She unfolded the check and saw it was made out to her and Sam. She gasped at the amount. Enough to rebuild their house in grand style.
Jessica opened the card and quickly read the note.
Dear Jessica and Sam,
Here is your Christmas gift. A little more extravagant this year than usual, but your family appears to need more than the usual.
Her mother’s gifts were usually along the lines of a useful book, like an atlas or dictionary, or a pair of quality leather gloves. Jessica kept reading.
Quite frankly, your family looks like a band of gypsies roaming about. People are starting to talk. I hope this gift helps you to return quickly to a respectable new home.
Your loving mother
“Lillian.” Sam’s voice was uncharacteristically hoarse. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”
“Nonsense. I had to do something,” Lillian said curtly.
Jessica could see her mother was uncomfortable being thanked. She was always uncomfortable with displays of emotion, even a kiss hello or good-bye. This moment was off the charts.
But Jessica rose from her chair, walked to where her mother sat at the head of the table, and put her arms around Lillian’s bony shoulders. “Thank you, Mother. Thank you so much. I’ll never forget this generosity.”
Lillian tolerated the hug for a moment, awkwardly patting Jessica’s arm. Then she returned to her usual tart mode. “What’s the difference to me? You’ll all get my money once I’m gone anyway.”
“You’re not going any time soon, Lillian,” Ezra promised. “It was a good idea to give some of it away now when it can be put to good use. I’m very proud of you,” he added, knowing the compliment would goad her.
She glared at him. “Thank you very much, Ezra. I’m tickled pink at your approval.”
The rest of the guests laughed out loud. Sam leaned over and whispered in Jessica’s ear, “I promise I’ll never say another bad word about your mother.”
“Yes, you will,” Jessica whispered back. “But that’s okay. She’s sort of a puzzle, isn’t she?”
A Christmas Star Page 24