“Don’t get too excited; they’re not that great,” Sara warned, with a self-deprecating laugh. “One or two were published. But some are sort of out there.”
“You have a lot of talent. I’m sure they’re very good,” Emily contradicted her. “Besides, I know I’ll love reading them anyway, just because you wrote them.”
When it was finally time to go, Sara helped Emily get Lillian to the car.
“Will we see you at my house tomorrow, Sara?” Lillian asked.
“Yes, I’ll be there,” Sara promised.
“How about church? You ought to go to church on Christmas,” Lillian told her. “Everybody does.”
Sara did attend services with her family when she was home, but hadn’t thought about it up here. Besides, she wasn’t all that religious.
“Why don’t you come? It will be fun,” Emily encouraged. “I’ll pick you up on the way to my mother’s. The service starts at eleven so say about ten?”
Sara couldn’t refuse. She knew it would mean a lot to Emily if she joined them, and there seemed no reason not to.
“All right,” she agreed. “I can be ready by ten.”
There were some more good nights exchanged, and Sara soon got into her own car. She headed to the village down the Beach Road, and her thoughts turned again to Luke. Ezra had told her that Luke was in Boston with his family, and she’d been relieved to hear that he wasn’t spending the holidays alone.
Despite what Luke thought, she did care about him. She cared a lot. And that wasn’t going to change so quickly.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EMILY HAD JUST FIXED SOME COFFEE, AND SHE STOOD BLEARY eyed, waiting for it to drip through the pot. Despite the late night at Jessica’s, she had woken up at her usual time and been unable to get back to sleep. She had enough time to go for a quick jog before getting ready for church, so she’d pulled on her running clothes then set up the coffee.
Her two cats twined themselves around her legs, reminding her that they needed to be fed. Then they bolted in different directions when someone knocked hard on the front door.
Emily ran a hand through her uncombed hair. Who would be stopping by at this hour on Christmas morning?
When she opened the door and found Dan standing there, she had to consciously keep her jaw from dropping open.
“Merry Christmas, Emily,” he greeted her, with a huge grin.
“Dan . . .” She looked around her front yard, then back at him. “How did you get here?”
“I walked. I only live a few houses up the road, remember?”
“But what about your leg—your cast, I mean.” She looked him over as if to find the trick that enabled him to be standing there. He looked very handsome, she noticed suddenly, wearing a long navy blue overcoat and a cream-colored muffler.
Meanwhile I look a wreck! I haven’t even washed my face. She gave a silent, mental shriek.
“Got the big cast off yesterday,” Dan was saying happily. “I’m supposed to wear this shorter one. But it’s the removable kind. Comes off and on with Velcro,” he continued, seeming unaware of her distress. He swung his lower leg back and forth to demonstrate. “Feels a little stiff, but I’m basically good as new.”
“That’s terrific. What a great Christmas present for you!”
“Speaking of which—” He reached into a shopping bag that stood beside him on the front steps and produced a gift box wrapped in gold paper and thick scarlet ribbon.
“I really came to give you this,” he said, holding it out to her.
Emily took the box in two hands, wondering what he’d picked out for her. “This looks almost too pretty to unwrap. I have something for you, too,” she said. “Come inside.”
In the living room she crouched down at the Christmas tree and found the package marked with his name.
“Wow, this is big and heavy,” he said, shaking it. “Oops, not breakable, I hope?”
“No, not at all,” she said, with a laugh. She sat on the couch next to him. “Who goes first?”
“You first. Go on,” he insisted. He watched her intently, making her nervous. She undid the bow first and found her hands were trembling a bit. She lifted the cover and started to push back piles of tissue paper, still unsure of what it could be.
Then she saw it and couldn’t quite believe it. “The blue shawl . . .”
“The azure blue shawl,” he corrected her, with a grin.
“But how did you—”
“I had Lindsay pick it up for me,” he cut in.
“So that’s why it was gone when I went to buy it for her!”
“Exactly,” he replied, looking a little smug. “Very clever of me, I thought.”
“Very,” she agreed. “And very thoughtful.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful. I absolutely love it,” she said honestly.
“I thought you would.” His smile grew even wider. He looked extremely happy to have pleased her, as if it really mattered to him, and that was a kind of gift to her, too.
She ran her hand across the fine wool. It was even softer than she’d imagined. It must have cost a small fortune. She took it out of the box and unfolded it on her lap.
“I love the color,” she said, caressing it.
“That’s why I got it. It’s the same exact shade as your eyes,” he said. “Put it on. I want to see how it looks on you.”
“Over my sweatshirt?”
“Why not? It’s just me,” he said, in a way that made her feel special to him. He picked it up and helped her wrap it around her shoulders. She liked his touch, gentle and careful but still somehow strong.
She looked up at him. “What do you think?”
The look on his face said it all. “You look beautiful. Just stunning, I’d say.” His quiet, definite tone made her shiver.
She couldn’t answer at first. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“You’re very welcome. Merry Christmas, Emily.” With his hands still holding her shoulders, he pulled her near and kissed her. Her hands slipped around his back, and she held him close. It felt so good to hold him like this. This was what life was all about, being with someone you truly cared for.
She was falling in love with him. Maybe she’d loved him for a long time but just hadn’t faced it before now. As their kiss deepened, emotions welled up inside, making her feel as if her heart would just take flight. She finally knew there was no getting around it.
The cats jumped up on the couch, suddenly startling her. “I guess I should have fed them,” she sighed, lingering in Dan’s embrace. “Now they’re just trying to get back at me.”
Dan laughed quietly and reached out to cup her cheek in his hand. “That’s probably true,” he said.
They sat back again, and Dan turned to his gift. Emily felt a twinge of apprehension. She had never expected such an extravagant present from Dan. The present she got him was something rather mundane and practical. She hoped his feelings wouldn’t be hurt.
While he worked on the wrapping paper, she carefully folded her wool wrap and placed it back in its box.
Once Dan had removed all the paper on his present, he picked up the box and read aloud, “Five-in-one fog light?” He glanced at her then back at the box again. “Gee, this looks great. Just what I needed.”
“I got it at the marine store in town. The man said it’s a light, an air horn, a flashing distress signal . . . and . . . oh, gee, I forget what else it does exactly,” she admitted.
“I get the idea,” he said, glancing at the box again. “An electric can opener maybe?”
“No, I don’t think so. But something like that.” She laughed and then sighed. “You can exchange it. There’s lots of things there you might need for your trip,” she said, watching his expression carefully. Somehow the scarf had made her wonder if he was having second thoughts about his trip.
“This looks very useful,” he assured her. “I don’t have anything like it.”
“You mentioned
that you needed a new lamp for your trip,” she reminded him.
“Yes, I did, didn’t I? That was thoughtful of you to remember, Emily.”
His voice sounded falsely bright, she thought. Was he disappointed that she hadn’t bought him something more personal? Or was the fact that she bought him something for his trip somehow hurtful to him—as if she were saying it didn’t matter to her if he left. She had to admit, she’d picked out the gift hoping to show she had no hard feelings.
“I really didn’t know what to get you, Dan,” she confessed. “It’s not that I’m eager to see you go, believe me.”
He glanced at her and smiled. “I know that. You’re sweet to be so positive about it, Emily.”
“I do have something else for you,” she said, remembering her other gift. “Well, it’s for both of us actually,” she explained, as she picked up a small white envelope that was propped on the mantel.
She handed it to him and watched as he opened it.
“Tickets?” He paused and tried to read the small print. “Sorry, I didn’t bring my glasses.”
“They’re for a concert at Lilac Hall on New Year’s Eve. It’s an all-Bach program. Would you like to go with me?” she asked hopefully. It was a risk, asking a man out for New Year’s Eve—and it certainly wasn’t her style—but Emily had impulsively bought the tickets, hoping for the best.
Dan’s expression lit up instantly, and she knew the impulse had been a good one.
“I’d be delighted. I was going to invite you out to dinner that night anyway,” he told her. “I’ll find a restaurant for after the concert.”
“Okay, that sounds good,” she said, feeling relieved.
He rose to his feet and stepped over to her. “I’ve got to go now. Merry Christmas, Emily.”
“Merry Christmas,” she replied.
He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the cheek, and she closed her eyes, holding on to his arm just a second longer than was absolutely necessary.
When she looked up at him, he was standing back, gazing at her with a thoughtful expression. “You look very pretty first thing in the morning.”
She laughed, not quite believing him. “You really do need your glasses. I haven’t even combed my hair.”
“Really?” He reached out and gently mussed her hair even more. “It doesn’t look any different than usual to me.” Then he laughed at the expression on her face and leaned over to scoop up his gift box.
“Okay, I’m going now,” he said, heading for the door. “See you soon.”
“See you,” she replied. She stood in the doorway and watched him walk to the street and back toward his house, his five-in-one fog light jammed under one arm.
Dan’s Christmas gift had not been a total success, she thought. But maybe she’d given him something to think about. . . .
EMILY HAD TO RUSH IN ORDER TO GET READY FOR CHURCH. “DID YOU oversleep?” Sara asked, when Emily picked her up late.
“Not exactly,” Emily replied, with a secret grin. She didn’t know why, but she felt like keeping Dan’s visit to herself. Later when she had some time alone, she’d privately sit and ponder its deeper meanings.
“Late as usual,” Lillian complained, meeting them at the door with her coat and hat on.
“Merry Christmas to you, too, Mother,” Emily answered brightly.
Though Lillian fretted every inch of the way, they reached the church in plenty of time. Gus Potter, one of the ushers, met them at the door and showed them to seats in the front. Emily felt a glow of pride and happiness, following Sara up the aisle.
Finally, they were settled, with Emily sitting between her daughter and her mother. Jessica and Sam sat a few rows back, alongside Sam’s family. When Emily turned and caught her sister’s eye, Jessica smiled and gave her a cheery wave. Emily also noticed Lucy and her boys, sitting with Lucy’s mother, and on the opposite side of the church, she saw Charlie. Christmas was the one day of the year Charlie closed the Clam Box. A few rows behind him, she spotted Lindsay and Scott. Dan and Wyatt were not with them, she realized. Dan was not a churchgoer; she had always known that. It was just another wrinkle in the situation.
Emily forced her mind away from troublesome thoughts. Not right now, she told herself.
The church was crowded, filled to capacity. Surrounded by so many friends and familiar faces, Emily felt a deep sense of belonging and contentment—especially because she was seated next to Sara. For the briefest moment, Emily closed her eyes and silently prayed. Thank you, God, she said simply.
She opened her eyes again and looked over at Sara, her dark head bent slightly as she looked through the hymnal. It was still hard sometimes to believe that her dream of finding her daughter had finally come true. Did she dare ask for more?
The service started, and Emily turned her full attention to the altar. Finally, Reverend Ben stepped up to the pulpit to give his sermon.
“When I was a boy, back when dinosaurs roamed the countryside around here,” he began, drawing a laugh, “I would get a special toy in my stocking every year. Not a toy exactly, more of what you’d call a party favor these days. It was just a long strip of colored paper, rolled into a ball. When you unraveled it, little toys dropped out. A whistle perhaps and maybe a tin soldier or even a coin. You get the idea.”
Emily remembered those paper balls, too. They were fun. Funny how she’d forgotten all about them. But where was Reverend Ben going with this pleasant nostalgia? she wondered.
“At the very center,” he continued, “there would be a special surprise. Something that seemed so wonderful, it made all that work worth it—usually a big piece of candy. The kind that could last you a week, if you were careful with it,” he noted, drawing a few more smiles. “That was wonderful fun, unraveling that ball of surprises.
“That paper ball reminds me of Christmas in a way. But what is at the heart of Christmas? At the very center of all this activity—all the shopping and wrapping and parties? We are bombarded by advertisements, must haves, to-do lists, and money woes. All the new gadgets we get and give. We sit unraveling and unraveling, our attention drawn by the next flashy trinket and distraction that drops from the ball. And then the next . . .”
How true, Emily thought. And you got so exhausted that by the time Christmas arrived and you ended up in church, you were almost too tired to give God any attention at all.
“Slowly we work our way to the center, to the heart of it,” the reverend said. “For if you have the patience, my friends, if you don’t let yourself get distracted by the jingle bells and penny whistles and worries about your credit-card bills, you will finally find that very, very special surprise at the center.
“For at the heart of it all is something so small, so weak, so fragile, it often gets overlooked—overwhelmed. Blotted out by the rest.
“At the center, there’s a baby. Born in a manger. The story of a humble birth so eternally touching, so moving, it has somehow been handed down for the past two thousand years.
“I’ve heard it said that a baby is a messenger from the angels. Indeed, when you see one up close, it does seem so. You can’t help but marvel at his innocence. A pure heart. A new life, another chance.”
Emily glanced at Sara, who appeared to be totally focused on the reverend. Looking at her, Emily couldn’t help but think about her own hopes for the future, a dream beyond finding Sara—the hope to find love and to marry again. Even to have another baby, if she was perfectly honest with herself. For finding her daughter had made her even more conscious of the precious days she had lost raising her.
Maybe Reverend Ben was right. Perhaps it wasn’t wrong to ask God for more. It was at least honest. What was wrong was to give Him instructions on how these matters should be accomplished, she thought, with an inner smile. But it was never wrong to dream, to hope.
“Today, on Christmas Day,” she heard Reverend Ben say, “I urge you all to recognize and rededicate yourself to those same spiritual qualities. Today, reach down and ta
ke part in a real way, a spiritual way, in the birth of the Lord. God sent his only Son to live among us, so that we would be saved and given a second chance for life everlasting. In honoring and celebrating the birth of our Savior, let us find our Christlike center, our own spiritual rebirth.”
Emily’s gaze fell on the Lewis family. They were sitting in a front pew, Carolyn with Rachel and Jack Anderson. Even from across the church, Rachel’s pregnancy was obvious. Emily thought about how excited their family must be, waiting for the baby. Maybe that’s what had given the reverend his ideas for the sermon. As usual, his words had touched a chord within her, she realized, giving her something to think about.
AS HE ALWAYS DID AFTER THE SERVICE, REVEREND BEN STOOD IN THE church vestibule and spoke to each member of his congregation as they left. Today being Christmas, however, it was special. The organ music sounding the recessional seemed more joyous, more jubilant. His parishioners did as well, with wide smiles and high spirits, as they not only greeted him but greeted each other, spreading the Christmas spirit.
Ben felt a certain anticipation as Grace Hegman drew closer in the line. Finally she and her father stood alongside him. “Merry Christmas, Digger. Merry Christmas, Grace,” he said, reaching out to shake each of their hands.
It had done his heart good to find Grace Hegman in the crowded pews today—a small, positive note, despite his disappointment about Mark.
Ben managed to catch Grace’s evasive gaze. “It was good to see you here today,” he added.
“I came along with Dad. You know how it is now. . . .” Her explanation trailed off, and she glanced at her father, looking uncomfortable. “But I did enjoy your sermon, Reverend.” She looked up at him again, twisting her leather gloves in her hand, practically wringing them into a knot. “I’m going to think about what you said—about Christmas being like a clean slate and all. I liked the way you put that.”
“Why, thank you, Grace.” Ben was profoundly touched. If he had moved one spirit today, he knew his words had been inspired. And if that single spirit had been Grace Hegman . . . well, he considered himself truly blessed, like he had been sent an unexpected Christmas gift from above.
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