by Mary Manners
The laughter continued as she set down the child and they commenced dressing the snowman in an oversized floppy straw hat, a red knit scarf, a colorful patchwork vest, and blue mittens propped on the end of his twiggy hands. Then Hope reached into a knapsack and pulled out a spray can. Noah couldn’t believe his eyes as she began to paint a pair of galoshes for the snowman’s feet and fat, black buttons across his protruding belly. Finally, she added a black rectangle to the surrounding snow, complete with intricate details, until it took the shape of a sled.
The kid squealed with delight when Hope offered her a second spray can and lifted her into the air once more. A moment later, Mr. Snowman’s face was graced with a wobbly, crimson smile. A pair of sunglasses propped on the carrot nose completed the snow-loving friend.
Hope…the word rolled off his tongue. Noah didn’t even know her last name. But, wow, Hope-whatever-her-last-name seemed a perfect fit for helping with the Christmas pageant. If only Noah could convince her. But she had a past, and apparently whatever it was had left deep wounds and a heaping bowl of self-doubt.
He shook his head and stepped back from the window. Somehow, he felt it would be easier to melt the snowcaps in Siberia with a single match than convince her she was just the person he needed. Noah glanced at the clock, which had inched an hour closer to the deadline for Christmas pageant rehearsals to begin. Without sufficient time to practice, they’d never get the musical ready.
Resigned, he wandered to the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee before settling in at the table with the church directory. There had to be someone willing to work with the set design…someone who had a passion for helping kids. If he couldn’t convince Hope to help create the set then he’d just have to make the best of things without all the fluff. The kids would be disappointed, but their disenchantment would surely ease…eventually.
A thorough perusal of the directory failed to unveil anyone new. He’d have to take on the set design himself. Maybe if all of the parents pitched in just a little bit, they could get it together. He’d promised, and he wouldn’t let the kids down. Somehow, with God’s help, he’d find a way.
There was no turning back now.
Chapter 4
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DID this.” Hope tromped across the diner’s parking lot toward her car. “Oh, Noah, you shouldn’t have.”
“You sound angry.” His long strides quickly overtook her and, once past her, he spun to face her, talking as he walked along backwards.
“I’m not…it’s just, I can’t repay you right now— maybe not for several weeks.”
“Who says you have to repay me?”
“I do.” She glared at the raised, white block lettering on unsoiled tires. He hadn’t just splurged on a decent second-hand set. Instead, these were the mac-daddy, all-weather treads of her dreams. Little nubs poked from the rubber to indicate the tires had never been used. How had he moved the sedan without soiling the tires—and without her noticing? Even from this distance she smelled new rubber. It reminded her of the bicycle shop Mama and Lorenzo Cantori had owned while she lived with them. “I can’t accept charity.”
“Charity?” Noah shook his head and blew out a breath. “Hope, I have a friend who’s a mechanic. He came by last night and towed the car to his shop, where he fixed it and then returned it to the lot. He didn’t charge anything for the work.”
“Not even for the tow…or the tires?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you, Noah. Tires are expensive, especially these tires. I know…I’ve been following the prices for a while now, searching for a good deal.”
“Well, it seems to me you found one.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. “Look, you can believe whatever you want, Hope, but I’m telling you the truth. Steve didn’t mind helping out, and the cost was nil.”
Hope frowned. She’d done it again—let her temper get the best of her. Now she was calling the youth leader a liar. “I’m sorry.”
“You apologize a lot, don’t you?”
“I have to.” A smile tickled her lips. “I jam my foot into my mouth excessively, which precipitates the stream of apologies.”
“Well, I’ll agree with that much.” He opened the driver’s door for her. “Crank it up…see how she sounds.”
Hope slipped into the seat and inserted the key into the ignition. One turn, and immediately she knew her problems—at least as far as the car went—were solved. The engine rumbled amicably, and she bet the tires would purr just as happily over freshly-plowed roads.
“Mission accomplished.” Noah thumped the car’s hood and then dipped his head through the passenger window, grinning. “I’ll follow you home.”
“On one condition…you come in for dinner.” She pressed the gas pedal and smiled as the engine revved. “It’s the least I can do to say thank you.”
“Well, there is one other thing you could do…” Hope froze. Here it comes—he’s going to guilt me into helping with the Christmas pageant. I knew this was too good to be true. “And what’s that?”
“Your name.” Noah winked. “It would be nice to know your whole name.”
“Oh.” How many times in one day would God convict her? “It’s Casey…Hope Casey.”
“Hello, Hope Casey.” He offered a slight wave along with a smile. “Thanks for the invitation. I’d love to share dinner with you.”
“So, how did you happen to begin working at the diner?” Noah took another bite of his sandwich and washed it down with a sip of coffee.
“Sydney and I stopped by there for dinner our first day in town. I saw the sign, asked a few questions, and Sam hired me on the spot.”
“It must be quite a change from…”
“Jacksonville.”
“Ah, from sunny shores to snowy banks. And from teaching to—”
“Serving food at the corner diner?”
“Well, it does make one wonder…what brought you here?”
“Budget cuts eliminated a handful of teaching positions, including mine. Apparently to some, the arts aren’t high on the list of priorities in education.” She swiped a hand across her brow. “I grew up not far from here, and I thought I might have better luck finding a job.”
Hope glanced at Sydney. “Besides, I wanted to raise my daughter here.”
“I see.” He set down the coffee cup. “And are you…home?”
“The jury’s still out on that.” She shrugged. “It depends on whether a teaching position opens. A new semester will start next month, and I’ve been interviewing, so maybe I’ll hear something soon. I can’t stay at the diner forever.”
“Well…” His gaze captured hers. “Have you considered finding a church home, too?”
“I told you, Noah.” She shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t have a strong faith. I assure you that I do. It’s just…people can be brutally judgmental.”
“Kind of like you’re being now?”
“It’s not about me.” Hope glanced at Sydney, seated across from her and gazing into her soup bowl. “You don’t understand, and it’s not something I want to discuss right now.”
“Fair enough.” Noah dipped a piece of crust into his tomato soup. “But, in my opinion, finding a church home is just as important as finding your family’s home.”
“Now you sound like Mama.”
“Mama?”
“Mama Cantori. She took me in when I was young and raised me like a daughter.” Hope waggled her fingers. “It’s a long story.”
“You mean Gina Cantori—married to Lorenzo?”
“For going on forty-five years.”
“I know Gina. She and Lorenzo go to church with me.” He tore off another hunk of sandwich, dipped it into the soup. “Perhaps you’ll consider joining them.”
“You’re not going to let it drop, are you?”
“No.” He shook his head. “If it helps any, we have an active children’s program—perfect for Sydney.”
“Wi
th singing?” Sydney interjected as she scrambled onto her knees and reached for her glass of milk. “’Cause Mom says I’m a good singer. I love singing.”
“Of course.” Noah smiled. “We do lots of singing.”
“Can we go, Mom?” Sydney gazed over the rim of the glass as she sipped her milk. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, and I miss Mama Cantori. We can see her at church.”
“I’m sure she misses you, too.” Guilt gnawed at Hope. “We’ll see, honey.”
“Well…” Noah slipped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. He brushed crumbs from his lips with his napkin and leaned back in the chair. “That was certainly delicious.”
“Sorry it was just grilled cheese and canned tomato soup.” Hope frowned. “I forgot there isn’t much in the cupboard right now. Yesterday was shopping day, but with the car’s battery dead—and the snow—Sydney and I made a snowman, instead.”
“I saw that.” Noah nodded. “It’s more like a snow scene. You have a gift, Hope.”
“Thank you.”
“Mom, Mr. Albert-the-Snowman looks lonely out there,” Sydney chimed in. “He needs a friend.”
“And what do you suggest?”
“Can we make another one—a girl snowman?”
“Wouldn’t that be a snowwoman?” Noah laughed.
“I s’pose so,” Sydney agreed. “But can we?”
“It’s awfully cold, honey.” Hope pushed back from the table and cleared their plates. “Mr. Armstrong—”
“Noah,” he corrected.
“Noah doesn’t want to go out in the snow.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” Noah stood to help her clear the table. “It’s never too cold to make a good snowman.”
“Snowwoman,” Sydney corrected.
“Right.”
“Then, can we?” Sydney was already reaching for her scarf. “Please, Mom?”
Hope glanced at Noah. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” He set his bowl on the counter beside the sink. “As a matter of fact, I’d love to.”
Chapter 5
“MOM, LOOK AT OUR SNOW FAMILY.” Sydney climbed onto a chair by the window and peered into the front yard beyond. “They look happy.”
“Yes, they do.” Hope eased beside the chair and gazed into the moonlit night. Snow glistened beneath the clear, starlit sky. The temperature had dipped into single digits once again, guaranteeing the white stuff would remain for yet another day. So, the snow family—yes, Noah had insisted on making two more of the frigid creatures, one adult-sized, decorated as a woman, and a smaller version for Sydney—would stand sentinel in the front yard for a while longer.
“Mr. Noah’s nice.” Sydney scratched her nose and ran a hand through her hair, still damp from her bath. The scent of strawberries lingered. “He made a snow fort for me and showed me how to make snowballs.”
“I saw that.” The packed wall ran the length of the drive and was laden with a small mound of ammunition.
“Maybe he’ll come over and play again tomorrow.”
Hope wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think so, honey. Mr. Noah is very busy.”
“I know. He said his church is putting on a Christmas pageant.” She turned to gaze at Hope with pretty blue eyes. “He said I can be in it, too.”
“I don’t think so, honey.” Hope smoothed the child’s damp hair. “Not this year, at least.”
“Why not, Mom?”
“I…um…” Why not, indeed? Unable to come up with a good answer, Hope quickly changed the subject. “It’s getting late, Sydney. Time for bed.”
“Do you think snowmen sing?”
Hope smiled. “Maybe when no one’s watching.”
“I bet they sing real pretty. Maybe Mr. Noah knows. I’ll ask him when he comes again.” Sydney gave the snow family one more glance and then turned away from the window. “Will you tell me a story?”
“What would you like to hear?”
“Tell me about a Christmas pageant, Mom. And I want to be an angel.”
Noah settled into the recliner and switched on the TV. He grabbed the remote and flipped through channels. A cursory glance told him there was nothing worth watching. He switched off the TV again and reached for the packet of materials he’d ordered for the Christmas pageant. He felt a sense of hope for the first time in a long time. But that hope mingled with regret. Romping like a child through the snow with Hope and Sydney only served to remind him of all he’d lost—and all he’d never have. What was the point in adding fuel to that sort of fire? He should keep his distance from Hope. Getting tangled up with her could only lead to heartache—for both of them.
Except Hope Casey chased away the darkness that filled his heart and replaced it with light…something he couldn’t explain. Quite the paradox, considering she harbored her own regrets. Maybe he’d pushed too hard, suggesting she find a church family—his church family. If only he could show her the peace and grace waiting there for her. Oh, why did life have to be so complicated? He bowed his head and prayed that God would lead Hope back to His fold somehow, some way.
And along the way, a detour through the Christmas pageant would serve as an added blessing, as well.
Hope curled up on the couch with a cup of herbal tea and a magazine. She wiggled her toes, clothed in thick, fluffy socks. The chill had finally eased. Down the hall, Sydney snored softly. The child was tuckered out. Noah had lingered much longer than required, and seemed to actually enjoy flopping across the blanketed lawn to make snow angels. He’d lobbed snowballs with Sydney, and they’d all shared a cup of hot chocolate and a bowl of popcorn afterwards.
It was almost like a dream—what she’d longed for since she learned she was carrying Sydney. The child deserved to know a father who would cherish her. Donald certainly hadn’t. He’d tossed her aside like a bag of rubbish. When Hope had finally gathered the courage to tell him she was pregnant, his reaction had rocked her world.
“How could you let this happen, Hope?”
“Me?” She gagged and nearly lost her dinner. “I didn’t do this alone.”
“Well, you certainly didn’t consider me.” He’d paced the small dorm room, his shoulders hunched in agitation. “I’ve got some money tied up in savings bonds, but I think I can cash them in. I’ll pay to get rid of it.”
“Get rid of it?” Hope could hardly believe the callous words. Her hand had splayed instinctively across her belly to protect their growing child. She tried to make sense of things. Donald was older by several years—about to finish his law school residency—and though sometimes stubborn in his ways, he usually displayed a sense of protection for her. “It’s a baby, Donald. I’m not going to get rid of it.”
“You’re actually considering having it?” He paused to face her, his eyes like two burnished black stones. “Do you realize what that means to my future?”
“The blessing of a family?”
“I’m not ready to get married, Hope. And even if I was, I don’t want kids—ever.”
“What?” She wondered if her expression registered the shockwaves that raced through her heart. “You never told me that.”
“Yes, I did. You simply failed to listen.” He paused at the small window overlooking the campus quad. “Oh, this complicates everything.”
“It doesn’t have to.” Her lips trembled, and the words came with great difficulty. Suddenly, she couldn’t seem to draw a breath.
“You don’t understand.” He turned from the window and took her by the shoulders. “I’ve been meaning to tell you…I’m moving to Washington after graduation.”
“D.C.?”
“Yes. I’ve been offered an interim position at the law offices of Jones and Hewitt.” He glanced away. “And if it goes well, they’ll make the position permanent. I can’t afford to mess things up.”
“But I still have a year of college.”
“My point, exactly.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We?” He shook his head. “Y
ou’re the one who got into this mess, Hope.”
“But…” Hope crossed her hands over her chest, her pulse stammering. She backed away from him as if he were a dangerous stranger. A sob escaped her lips. “I think you should go now, Donald.”
“I think I should, too.” But his gaze lingered, as if she were a specimen on a microscope slide and he was trying to make sense of what he saw. “And, for the record, you’re being foolish and unreasonable, Hope.”
“No, I’m being…” She paused. What was she being? Suddenly she knew what it felt like to stand at a fork in the road, deciding on which path to take. One was filled with weeds, the other with rushing whitecaps. Neither was safe or easy…or one she cared to travel. But she couldn’t turn back—there was no turning back. Her eyes filled with tears. “Just go. Please.”
“Suit yourself.” He turned, his shoes slapping the scuffed tile floor. At the doorway, he paused for one last look. “Call me when you’ve come to your senses.”
She’d remember him that way forever, though now he lay in a grave back in his hometown of Shreveport. A year into his coveted position at the prestigious firm of Jones and Hewitt—eight months following Sydney’s birth—he’d been in a head-on collision while rushing to an appointment. The injuries proved fatal.
The news had brought an odd mixture of remorse and sadness that covered Hope’s world like a veil. All Sydney would ever know of her father was carried in a photo and a few shared memories.
Across the street, a dog barked, drawing Hope’s attention back to the shadowed living room. She sipped her tea, guilt gnawing at her as thoughts of Noah returned. Was it really such a huge sacrifice to help him with the Christmas pageant? The commitment wouldn’t last more than a month, and it would mean so much to him. But that wasn’t the biggest concern. What if Noah started asking questions about Sydney—like where was her father? Would he still want Hope to help, and would he even still like her?