She hovered just before the stone steps, trying to decide whether or not she should plunge through the dark doorway.
Perhaps I should go home.
“Grace?” Paulie’s voice sounded as welcome in her ear as the rattle of the feed bucket did for old Bessie. “Grace!”
She turned around, eager to see Paulie’s familiar face. But hesitancy rose when she saw that a tall older man accompanied him. Must be his papa. Acutely aware of the pilling fabric of her jacket as well as the ugliness of her hat, Grace avoided the man’s eyes. She hoped that Paulie would quickly move by her and go inside the church with his father.
But apparently, Paulie would have none of that. “Grace,” he said, eagerness dancing across his face, “I’m so glad that you came!” His smile attested to the sincerity of his statement. “Oh, let me introduce you to my dad. Dad, this is Grace.”
Well, Paulie’s smile certainly came from his papa. The older man – Grace guessed that he was no more than forty-five – gave her a kind nod. “My son has told me about you, Grace. I hear that you’re very talented in mathematics.”
Unable to make her tongue work, Grace just shook her head. Oh, how foolish she must appear to Paulie’s papa! Her fingers played with the edge of her coat buttons, and she wished hard that Paulie and his father would go inside the church.
The bells pealed just then, signifying that the service would begin soon. Grace found her voice and croaked, “I have to find the Kinners.”
Without waiting for a response, she bounded up the steps as quickly as her dignity would permit and escaped into the church.
The Mass – er, worship service – was nice. Grace had to admit that. She enjoyed the music very much, but she’d expected to. Seeing the choir singing those beautiful Christmas hymns made her envious. Grace could picture herself standing up there on that platform, performing the soprano solo to the awe of the listeners. Though she didn’t know all of the hymns, she tried her best to sing along with the congregation.
Mrs. Kinner had saved a seat for her, and Grace proudly sat beside her friend on the curved wooden pew. Bible open on his knees, Mr. Kinner sat on Mrs. Kinner’s other side, focused on the men who led the service. A smile crept onto Grace’s face. It’s almost as if they’re my family… The thought lightened her heart.
During the sermon and prayers, Grace let her attention wander. She knew that Father Frederick would not be pleased if she participated in the rituals of the Protestants. So Grace spent the hour or so watching the congregants, guessing at their personalities and names. Paulie and his father must have found a place in the back of the church because Grace’s roving eyes didn’t spot them.
Suddenly, during the hymn sung after the sermon, a notion popped into Grace’s mind. Is attending this church a very serious sin? Will I have to confess it and do penance?
She felt the blood drain from her face at the idea of confessing this to Father Frederick. Hastily, Grace reviewed the Ten Commandments in her mind. No, she didn’t think merely attending this service could be considered a sin.
She came! Paulie could hardly keep still in his seat. Grace came!
He’d been praying – praying hard – all weekend that Grace would come to First Baptist today. He’d even asked Dad if they could delay travelling to New York until Sunday afternoon. And this, this was God’s answer to his prayer!
I wonder if the sermon meant anything to her. Or did she just come to see the Kinners? Paulie’s mind whirred even as his voice joined in the singing of those around him. Did… Did she come to see me, too?
Paulie glanced up at Dad, standing there beside him as they sang the final hymn. His father’s mouth curved into a smile. Dad had prayed, too.
And now Dad had met Grace. What does he think of her? She acts so shy, but that doesn’t usually put Dad off.
Well, his father and he would have a lot to discuss on the way up to New York this afternoon. That much was certain!
“You know,” Emmeline tried to keep the excitement from her voice while at the same time remaining friendly, “we would love to have you come over for Christmas dinner.” The service had finished, and she, Geoff, and Grace lingered in the foyer.
Was she urging too much? Should she just let Grace make her own decision without any prodding? Emmeline bit the inside of her cheek as she waited for a response.
The petite girl hesitated, thin arms hugging her jacket closed. “I’m not sure what my family has planned.”
Emmeline forbade disappointment to show on her face. “Well,” she encouraged, “if you find you have time, feel free to come over. Bring your family, if you wish. We always have plenty of food.”
Beside her, Geoff patted his stomach, winking at Grace. “Yes, indeed. I usually gain several pounds on Christmas Day alone.”
“Speaking of which,” Emmeline added, “I have a roast in the oven that I have to take out. But if you do decide to come,” she said to Grace, hoping she wasn’t trying too hard, “we’ll have dinner around three or so. And we’d love to have you.”
Grace nodded in a noncommittal way and wouldn’t meet Emmeline’s eyes. Emmeline’s heart sank. She’s not coming. Why, Lord? Why, when I so long to reach out to her?
Geoff spoke up, turning his friendly smile to Grace. “Do you have a ride home, Grace? We could bring you if-”
“No,” Grace interrupted him, then explained, “I walked here. It’s only a short way to my house. But thanks. I should get going.”
Emmeline noticed that Grace’s serious eyes turned here and there, as if looking for someone. Paulie, Emmeline knew.
And who should come trotting down the church steps, nudging the crowds aside, but the young man himself? Emmeline held back a grin as Paulie bounded up to them. “Grace!” he exclaimed. “Am I glad that I caught you!”
Grace looked quizzically at him.
“I have a Christmas gift for you,” Paulie stated. “Hang on a second. It’s in Dad’s car. I’ll be right back.” He jogged away a few steps, then turned. “Stay right there, huh?”
Grace nodded, and Emmeline watched the red creep up her neck and the anticipation build in her eyes.
Less than a minute passed before Paulie ran up again, his scarf flying in the light wind. He clutched a small square package, only a couple of inches high and wide. A jewelry box; Emmeline was almost certain of that. Good.
“Merry Christmas, Grace,” Paulie declared, his breath puffing out like steam rising off hot cocoa. “This is for you.” He offered her the present wrapped in silver paper; a neat red bow crowned the top.
Grace seemed unsure about whether to take it or not. Several seconds passed before she opened her hands to receive the package, and even then, she didn’t unwrap it. “Thanks,” she said at last. “I… I didn’t get you anything,” she added.
Paulie laughed outright. “I don’t care about that, Grace. I hope you have a really nice Christmas.”
In one of his flashes of impetuosity, Paulie pulled Grace into a quick hug. Emmeline thought that she heard him say softly in Grace’s ear, “You look swell in that green dress, too, Grace.”
She was certain that she’d heard it when she saw the girl’s embarrassed, happy face after Paulie dashed away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I’ll wait until Christmas morning to open it. Grace bit her lip in anticipation. She gave one more stroke of her finger to the silver wrapping paper and whisked out of her bedroom.
A hymn she’d heard at First Baptist’s service hummed in her throat as Grace tripped gaily down the stairs. I haven’t felt so happy in years. It wasn’t just receiving the Christmas present from Paulie – though, of course, that was grand – but also the feeling of acceptance the Kinners offered her… as if they really believed that she was worth something, as if they really wanted her company. As if they really care.
She’d decided to make sugar cookies, like Mrs. Kinner did. Surely, on Christmas Eve, they could spare a little butter and sugar for cookies! Especially if Aunt Mary b
rought Evelyn to visit Mama.
Maybe I could make icing, too!
Grace had just begun measuring out her ingredients – sugar, flour, butter, eggs, baking soda, vanilla – when she heard the back door open behind her. A cringe spread up her spine.
Papa.
She stiffened but kept measuring her ingredients out. Most likely, he would simply ignore her; he usually operated like that now. Who knows where he’ll go for Christmas? Or if he’ll suddenly expect Mama to throw a big Christmas dinner and act like we’re a happy family?
She jumped when a rough hand clapped over her eyes. “Guess who?” asked a familiar deep voice.
It couldn’t be… “Ben!” Grace gasped, wrenching away from the hand and swirling around to meet her brother’s teasing gaze. “You came home for Christmas!”
She fell into his fierce bear-hug, breathing in the well-loved scent of horses, sweat, and cheap cologne. “I can’t believe it!” The tears rose to her eyes, bubbling over and obscuring her vision. She wiped them away with hasty fingers; she wanted to see as much of Ben as she could while he was home.
“Hey, canary, why’re you crying?” Ben held Grace back to look into her eyes. “Things that bad here?” He hugged her to himself again without waiting for her answer. “Where’s Evelyn?”
Grace gripped Ben in one final embrace, gathering strength from his solid muscular frame. Then she pushed back. “A lot has happened since you’ve been gone, Ben,” she started. “Here, sit down. Mama’s napping. I’m baking cookies.”
Ben whistled softly. “Cookies? My little canary-bird’s baking cookies?” He gave her a wink. “Guess I will sit down then.”
Sarah could hardly believe it. Benny… My darling, sweet Benny!
Wiping the blur of sleep from her eyes, Sarah rushed across the floor toward her firstborn. Ben met her halfway, taking her into his strong, grown-man arms. So like Charlie when he was young…
She felt Ben’s tough, thick fingers run over her graying hair as she rested her head again her son’s hard chest. He stank of that rotten racing-stable, but what did Sarah care? Her son was home for Christmas!
“You can’t stay here,” Sarah said after a long moment of silent joy. “Your papa, he hasn’t forgotten.”
She glanced up to see Ben clench his jaw but give her a smile, too. “Yeah, I know, Mama. I’m sleeping at Red’s house. They got a spare bed. Don’t worry about it. Okay?”
“Okay,” Sarah agreed. “How’d you get here?”
“Hitched a ride with a guy going to Providence,” Ben replied, shrugging. “I’ll get back the same way.”
“Still working at the track?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah, Mama.”
Watching Grace as she cut out the sugar cookies with a clean empty can, Sarah bit her lip. “We ain’t got no tree this year, Benny,” she said apologetically. “I… I just didn’t feel up to it.”
The slight sadness that crossed Ben’s face brought a pang to Sarah’s heart. “Don’t worry about it, Mama,” he assured her. “Who needs a tree when we got sugar cookies?”
“And hot cocoa,” Grace added, her face beaming as she placed the dough rounds on the rectangular cookie sheet.
“And,” said Ben, getting up from where he’d sat down at the table, “we’ve got the best little mama in all of Chetham, right, Grace?”
Sarah rolled her eyes, and before she knew what was happening, Ben had swept her into his arms and began jigging around the kitchen with her, loudly humming a jazzy tune. Their shoes clomped on the wooden floor as Ben swung her around.
For the first time in months, Sarah felt laughter pulse from her heart and out of her throat. Feebly, she pulled away, but Ben would have none of it. They passed the radio, where he paused, keeping a firm grip on her, lest she escape from his arms.
“Let’s have a little real music,” Ben proposed, switching on the knob.
The radio crackled and poured out a rendition of “Jingle Bells.” No wonder; it was Christmas Eve. Ben swiveled round and round the kitchen in time to the music, dragging Sarah along with him.
At last, the song finished, Ben allowed Sarah to drop breathlessly into a seat at the table. She looked up and saw Grace’s delighted yet shocked eyes on her. We haven’t danced in this house for years, Sarah realized as the next song streamed through the radio and filled the room:
O Little Town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by.
Something about the Christmas hymn’s simple melody struck a deep place in Sarah’s heart. The radio minister’s words from a few days ago reverberated through her mind: This peace is found in the manger of Bethlehem where the little child lies asleep…
Resting her hand on her own growing belly, Sarah looked at Grace and Ben, curious to see if the song had affected them in a similar fashion. But no, it seemed not; Ben sat teasing Grace and sipping a mug of cocoa, while flushed Grace pushed pans of cookies into the hot oven.
Suddenly, an idea nudged its way into Sarah’s thinking. Without a word, she went to her bedroom and gathered her coat and pocketbook, checking to make sure that she had a little change.
“Where you going, Mama?” Ben asked when she returned to the kitchen.
Feeling a bit shy – whoever knew why – Sarah just shook her head. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
She would let it be a surprise.
Harold Quincy was ready to close up the shop. Sarah could tell from his loud sigh when she stepped into his tiny five-and-dime store on the corner of Main Street and Trellis Avenue. The doorbell rang above her head, announcing her entrance, though Harold had already seen her.
“Evening, Mrs. Picoletti,” Harold greeted her in his crisp baritone. He didn’t smile.
He knows a cheap customer when he sees one.
“Evening, Harold,” Sarah answered. She could remember Harold from back when, as a kid, he went frogging with her brothers. “You don’t close ‘til five o’clock, right?” She glanced up at the prominently-displayed clock ticking above the cash register. The hands read quarter-to-four.
“Usually, no. But it’s Christmas Eve. Gotta get home early tonight, you know,” Harold replied, scratching with a pencil on some receipts.
“I’ll just be a minute. I already know what I want.” Hoping that no one had bought her intended purchase, Sarah traveled down the tightly-stocked aisles full of trinkets, necessities, and little gifts of every kind, from miniature china dolls to pocketknives.
There it was. Just where she had seen it on her shopping trip last week. Carefully, she picked it up and brought it to the front of the store. She laid it down on the heavily-nicked wooden counter.
Harold looked up from his receipts. “Done already?” he said, raising his bushy black eyebrows in surprise.
Sarah couldn’t keep the small smile from her lips. “Yes.”
Removing the ticket, Harold held out his hand. “That will be one dollar and five cents, please.”
The extravagance of such a purchase nearly stopped her, but Sarah refused to give way to prudence this once. She placed the five dimes, seven nickels, and twenty pennies into Harold’s hand and snapped her purse shut. “Wrap it up good for me, please. Don’t want it to break or nothing.”
A few minutes later, Sarah stepped onto the curb just as the street lights began to glow. Her chest lifted in a happy sigh, and she clutched her small package close to her plump body, trudging through the snow toward home with a lightened heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“I don’t think she’s coming, Geoff.” Emmeline let the lace curtain drift back into place. She turned from the window with a sigh. The extra stuffing, pies, and ham would stock the refrigerator for the rest of the week.
Geoff offered a sympathetic smile from his seat next to the Christmas tree. “I’m sorry, Emmy. I know that you look at Grace almost… well, almost as a daughter, short time though you’ve known her.”
Emmeline shook her head and walked over to the tree, staring up at its star with a rueful expression. “It’s silly, isn’t it? Of course Grace has her own family. Of course she wants to spend Christmas Day with them.”
She fingered one of the glittery red balls hanging from a needled branch. With a wisp of laughter, she went on, “I suppose I’ve been picturing myself as Grace’s salvation of sorts. Thinking that she needs me when perhaps…” Emmeline let her words trail off as she met Geoff’s eyes.
He rose from his cozy armchair, putting his mug of hot cider aside, and wrapped his arms around her. She could smell nutmeg and cinnamon on his breath. “When perhaps Jesus is who she really needs?” he questioned softly, finishing her thought.
Emmeline nodded, fingers still tracing the shimmery lines of the ornament. “What do you think?” she ventured, half-hoping he’d disagree with her.
Geoff paused before answering. “Yes and no, I think, dearest one,” he replied at last. “Ultimately, yes, Grace does need only Jesus. I’ve told you that my own heart has ached for her more than once during this school year. Not merely for her obvious poverty, but also for her evident desire for approval, for praise. Grace wants worth, but only Jesus can give that to her.”
Again, he hesitated, then said, “And no, too. Because in a way, you are Jesus to Grace. I don’t mean literally, of course, but you are making Him real to her. She sees Him in you, Emmy, and I pray, in me, by His grace. And when she comes face-to-face with Him someday, I hope that He will seem to her like coming home.” He smiled; Emmeline felt it in the curve of her neck.
The Fragrance of Geraniums (A Time of Grace Book 1) Page 19