“Dad, please. Listen to me a minute. Remember when you were in the hospital a few weeks ago, and you had all those tests?” she began slowly.
“Yeah, I remember. Poked and prodded me like a bunch of house-wives picking out a chicken.”
Ben almost laughed out loud at the image but managed to contain himself. He could see Grace smile slightly, too.
“Well, the thing is the doctors did find something wrong with you. Something more than I told you,” she confessed. “They said you’ve been having little spells. Little strokes, they called them. The strokes have affected your memory—and muddled up your thinking, Dad,” she added quietly.
“Muddled me up? Why, I know I’m not as sharp as I used to be maybe. But I understand everything perfectly—well, pretty well for someone my age,” he argued. He looked over at Ben. “What is she talking about, Reverend? I’m not having muddling up problems like that.”
Grace glanced at Ben nervously. He could tell she wanted his help. “Aren’t you, Digger?” he asked gently. “Don’t you perhaps feel confused sometimes? I think that’s what Grace is trying to say,” he coaxed the old seaman.
Digger looked away, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest. When he didn’t answer, Ben said, “Now, think about it a moment. Grace tells me this morning you set off for the hardware store to buy paint. You agreed to come right back here to the shop. Then, somehow, you ended up out at Luke’s place, asleep in one of the cottages,” he pointed out gently.
“I got tired, I guess. From all that walking.”
“Yes, but you weren’t supposed to walk all the way out to the cottages,” Ben reminded him.
“You got confused, Dad. Mixed up,” Grace said bluntly. “It’s been happening a lot lately. I’ve never wanted to embarrass you or make a big thing of it.” Her voice softened. “But I think you know it, too. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“I can understand why this is hard for you to talk about, Digger. Honestly, I can,” Reverend Ben said. “It would be difficult for anybody.”
Digger pulled off his cap and sighed. He bent his head, rolling the woolen cap around in his big hands. “It happens to old people. It’s no crime, you know,” he said.
“I know, Dad. But it’s different with you. It’s . . . more than the usual. Because of this problem with your arteries, the blood flowing to the brain or something. Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Grace shook her head, sounding frustrated. “The doctor can explain it to you much better than I can. The thing is, you can’t be going around the way you’re used to—just wandering all day alone, without any company. It’s just too dangerous. I can’t let you. Something could happen next time. Something terrible.”
Digger lifted his head. His small blue eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I see,” he said slowly. “I can’t leave the house no more. I just have to sit here and molder away. Is that it?”
Grace, too, looked as if she might start crying again. Ben stepped closer and touched her arm, then reached out to pat Digger’s shoulder.
“Not at all, my friend. Not at all,” he promised. “But you must know the full story here, Digger. Grace has been shielding you from this. She’s been worried about how you’d react. But it’s a huge burden for her. You need to help her now by taking care of yourself. By being mindful of your own safety,” Ben urged him. “She can’t do it all on her own.”
Digger glanced up at Grace and took a long breath. “Yes, I know that, Reverend. She’s a good girl, always looking out for me. Ever since the good Lord took her mother. She’s my youngest, you know,” he added, as if Grace were still a little girl.
“Yes, I remember.” Ben nodded. He glanced at Grace. “I have a suggestion to offer. Why don’t you make an appointment with Digger’s doctor and have him explain this condition completely. Then he can advise you both on how this will change Digger’s routine. I’ll come along, if you like,” he added.
“I would like to have a long talk with that doctor, now that you bring it up,” Digger said. It sounded to Ben as if Digger was planning on talking the doctor out of the diagnosis. But the meeting would be a start at least.
“I was thinking of that myself,” Grace said. “I think we can handle it on our own, though. Unless you want the reverend, Dad?”
“Nah, the reverend’s a busy man, Grace. He doesn’t need to be tagging along at the doctor’s office,” Digger said, sounding like his old self again. “Besides, my language might get a little colorful for the reverend when I get a hold of that doctor,” he added, grinning. “Despite best intentions, of course.”
“Oh, Dad, what a thing to say!” Grace scolded, as she helped him up from the stairs.
“I understand,” Ben said, with a smile.
“So, did you save my lunch, Grace? I’m awfully hungry,” Digger announced, patting his stomach.
“It’s upstairs in the fridge.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find it.” He started up the steps, then turned. “So long, Reverend. Thanks for your help here today.” His gaze locked with Ben’s for a long moment. “I’m going to remember you in my prayers tonight,” he promised.
“Thank you, Digger. I appreciate that,” Ben said sincerely.
Grace stood by Ben, watching Digger climb to the top of the stairs and enter their apartment. Finally, she turned to Ben, looking somber but relieved.
“Well, it’s done now, Reverend. He knows.”
“I think he took it pretty well, all things considered.”
“Not as bad as I expected,” Grace agreed. “I don’t think I could have told him without you. I’m grateful for your help—again.”
She glanced at him in that way she had of not quite smiling, but almost—her eyes bright and the corners of her mouth twitching nervously.
“Don’t mention it, Grace.” Ben pulled on his cap. “I’m thankful that he’s all right and that he knows the whole story.”
“Yes, I am, too. Very thankful,” Grace agreed. She quickly glanced away, and Ben sensed she was thinking about the Lord again and her troublesome relationship with Him.
They heard a knock on the shop door. Two women were peering inside with hopeful expressions. “Are you open?” one of them mouthed through the window.
“Goodness, customers.” Grace rushed forward to unlock the door. “Yes, I’m open. Come right in,” she said, as the women entered.
“Good-bye, Grace,” Ben said, at the door.
“Good-bye, Reverend. I’ll see you,” Grace called after him.
I certainly hope so, he thought, closing the door behind him. He made his way to his car, then glanced back at the Bramble Shop. He could see Grace through the window, carefully taking a piece of china out of a cabinet to show her customers. She fumbled for a moment, almost dropping it. She recovered just in time, her plain features lit by a surprised expression.
Almost doesn’t count, Ben thought. Thank you, Lord, for that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT WAS SEVEN A.M. ON THE SATURDAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS, AND Ben walked through the church, amazed by the activity around him. The Christmas Fair was going to be remarkable this year, he realized, maybe the best ever.
Droves of volunteers were already at work setting things up. There were displays selling food and crafts in every spare room and lining the corridors, plus a children’s amusement center in one of the Sunday-school rooms. The decoration committee had done an inspired job, with paper garlands, glittering stars, and angels with feathery wings, floating just about everywhere.
The first wave of visitors arrived at nine o’clock sharp, most of them heading first to the arts-and-crafts booths in the all-purpose room. Christmas music played over the PA system, though Ben knew that later in the day the church’s own choir would be singing carols. Someone had even scheduled a trio of roving minstrels in Renaissance costumes, who played period music and told stories. And at noon the local theater group was providing a puppet show for the children about the little shepherd boy. How had all this work gone on, right unde
r his nose, and he’d hardly been aware of it?
Maybe it was because the preparations at his own house were so elaborate this year, Ben realized. After Mark received the airline tickets, he’d called to say he thought he could make it home. He promised to try his best, anyway, which was enough of a commitment to send Carolyn charging full-steam ahead, buying him more gifts, putting his favorite foods on the menu. She’d even hired a college student to put a fresh coat of paint on Mark’s old bedroom and had bought a new bedspread and curtains.
Ben secretly thought she was running herself ragged and would be too tired by the time Mark arrived to enjoy the visit. But it was good to see her in such fine spirits. Very good, he thought. Rachel had been acting only slightly less excited by the news. Of course, she had another imminent event to focus on. It seemed as if his family would be celebrating the happiest holiday they’d had in years, reunited and awaiting their newest arrival. No wonder he hadn’t noticed the preparations for the fair, Ben thought, glancing around and feeling almost awestruck. He’d had some distractions.
At the first booth near the door he saw Emily Warwick, selling fresh pine wreaths, poinsettia plants, and garlands. Her sister, Jessica, was there as well.
“You two are hard at work already, I see,” the reverend said, as he greeted them.
“I always sign up for this station,” Emily said. “I just love the smell.”
“There’s already a line at the bake table with Sophie Potter in there. Everyone wants to get a look at her, since she’s been on TV,” Jessica said.
“Yes, I know. As if they’d never seen her before.” Reverend Ben smiled. “Well, our new celebrity should boost the cake and cookie sales.”
Grace and Digger came in then, and Digger greeted them with a small wave of his hand. Grace glanced their way and nodded her head.
“Gosh, I didn’t expect to see Digger and Grace here, after yesterday,” Emily said.
“What a scare,” Jessica agreed. “But apparently he’s all right, thank heaven. I’m glad they came. I think it’s good for them to get out and be among their friends right now.”
“Yes, I do, too. Especially for Grace,” Ben said. “But who’s watching her store today? Did she actually close on the last weekend before Christmas?”
“Molly Willoughby is there with her girls,” Jessica said, mentioning her sister-in-law and nieces. Grace had come to know them through Sam and had even given Molly’s oldest girl, Lauren, an old piano a few months ago, so Lauren could practice at home.
“That’s good of Molly. Grace needs more help like that,” Emily said. “More help with Digger.”
“Absolutely. She can’t do it all herself. Maybe now she’ll see that.” Jessica turned to Reverend Ben. “Sam said we all ought to do something, make a chain to help Grace.”
“I think that’s a marvelous idea,” Ben said sincerely. He hoped Grace had come to a place where she would accept that kind of help. “Could you organize it—get the names of people who would join and when they would be available?”
“We already started,” Jessica told him, with a smile. “Sam and I each made some calls. There are a lot of people who said they’d love to take part.”
“That’s wonderful. But you know how Grace is. I don’t think this will work if the burden falls to her to get in touch. She just won’t do it.”
Jessica nodded, her long reddish-brown curls bouncing around her pretty face. “I understand, Reverend. Don’t worry, leave it to me.”
Ben smiled. “All right, then. I’ll consider it done. It will be a special gift from the congregation to Grace and Digger.”
“A perfect one, too,” Emily said.
Ben excused himself from his conversation with the sisters. He turned toward the Hegmans, first sending up a silent prayer.
Thank you, Lord, for sparing Digger again. I don’t know what you’ve been trying to tell us, if there’s a message in all this. May our efforts to help the Hegmans be pleasing to you. If there is more we can do, please show us. Please help me when I counsel them. At least I have some good news to offer now. I thank you for that.
SARA DIDN’T USUALLY WORK ON SATURDAYS, UNLIKE JANE WHO WENT IN on the weekend to work on Monday’s edition. But when someone had mentioned the church fair yesterday at the office, Sara had said she planned to go. Somehow Wyatt persuaded her to take pictures for him.
“And maybe you could work up a quick paragraph or two to run alongside them when you bring back the film? We’ll do a photo spread,” he added. “It won’t take you long. You’ve really gotten a lot faster,” he added, with an approving smile.
Though she knew very well that he was charming her into working overtime, it worked. His compliments made her want to prove that she had become more professional at her job.
When she came to the large room that held most of the displays, she looked around for familiar faces. Emily and Jessica were the first ones she spotted. She snuck up on them and succeeded in getting a great candid shot with Emily’s arms full of poinsettias and Jessica holding a thick, fragrant garland.
“Sara, that’s not fair,” Jessica protested. “I would have put on some lipstick or something.”
“Sorry, we go for the natural look at the paper,” Sara apologized, with a grin. Jessica was so pretty, she looked good no matter what. “Seems like you’re doing a brisk business here.”
“It’s a popular stop,” Emily said, smiling at her. “We’ll probably sell out before the end of the day.”
“What are you doing after the fair?” Sara asked. “Want to get together for dinner or something?”
“I’d love to, honey, but I’m going over to see Dan. I’ve been doing some Christmas shopping for him.”
“How helpful,” Jessica teased her older sister. “You didn’t offer to do mine, I noticed.”
Sara couldn’t help laughing when she noticed how Emily suddenly blushed and fussed with the bow on a wreath she was holding. Jessica caught Sara’s eye, and they exchanged a look.
“How about tomorrow?” Emily said. “Jessica and I are going to do some baking for Christmas. Well, I’ll mostly be washing the pans,” she added honestly.
“Can you, Sara? That would be fun,” Jessica said.
“I’m supposed to see Lucy, but maybe I can come by your house after.”
“I hope she’s doing all right,” Emily said. “I heard she was staying at her mother’s.”
“Yes, she’s moved in there temporarily, and she just found a new job at a restaurant in Hamilton,” Sara said.
“Well, give her my best,” Emily said kindly. “I’m sure it must have been difficult for her to leave Charlie at this time of year. Charlie is taking it pretty hard. I actually feel sorry for him.”
“I haven’t been in the Clam Box lately, but I guess I can imagine it. I think I feel sorrier for the people left working there with him,” Sara said.
More customers came for wreaths, and Sara decided it was time to get pictures of the rest of the fair. “I’ll call at Jessica’s tomorrow,” she said, with a wave.
“See you, honey.” Emily leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “And don’t work all day. I can tell you’re still not over that cold.”
Emily’s coddling made Sara laugh. She left them, wearing a small smile and feeling very much in the Christmas spirit.
A little further on she saw Carolyn Lewis and her daughter, Rachel, at a table selling Christmas stockings, place mats, and table runners with hand-worked trim. Sara stopped and took a photo of them, then bought a few things for her family and Emily as gifts.
Sara’s next stop was the table where Digger Hegman and Sam were selling handmade wooden gifts: plaques, boxes, and children’s toys. Digger didn’t even seem to notice her as she took a candid shot of him carefully personalizing a small wooden train, painting the name Alexander with a steady hand.
At the paper yesterday, they had heard about Digger’s second disappearance. Wyatt wanted to run the story, but Sara disagreed and held her
ground. It wasn’t really news and seemed a needless embarrassment to the family, she argued. Wyatt didn’t concede immediately but, about twenty minutes later, announced that he had a better story to run.
After roaming the large room for a while, Sara strolled down the long corridor and found a bake sale, a rummage-sale room, and even a children’s show in progress. Reverend Ben stood in the middle of the action, looking astounded as a juggler balanced a spinning plate on the tip of the minister’s outstretched finger.
When Sara finally checked the time, she realized she’d stayed at the fair a lot longer than she’d planned. At least she had managed to do most of her Christmas shopping, too, including a special gift for Luke—a framed piece of stained glass with a beautiful design of blue and green that had the motto “Blessings Bright” written in golden letters in the middle.
She knew Luke loved stained glass; he always noticed it. She wasn’t sure why she had felt so compelled to buy it for him after their argument. Did she feel guilty for hurting his feelings or disappointing him? Maybe, she thought, as she placed the gift carefully in the backseat of her car. But she also wanted Luke to know how much she cared for him, even though she wasn’t ready for the kind of commitment he wanted.
Sara started up the car, unable to stop thinking about Luke. Maybe she wouldn’t give him the gift at all. Maybe that would be sending the wrong message or hurting his feelings even more.
There are still a few more days before Christmas. I’ll figure it out, she decided.
Twenty minutes later Sara returned to the office and handed in her film. Wyatt immediately took it back to the darkroom to develop, while she started her article. The Christmas Fair might not be earthshaking news, but it was fun to describe. Sara wrote swiftly, feeling as if she was finally enjoying her job. When Wyatt emerged from the darkroom, she felt a familiar tension return.
“Just a sec,” she said. “I’ve almost got the copy to go with the photos. I just have to smooth this one paragraph—”
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