That Christmas Feeling

by Catherine Palmer

  She decided to brave her battle. She’d found comfort and strength at her new church. The Sunday before, she’d left the church feeling guilty as the Scripture reading rang in her head. “O you of little faith… Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Do not judge, or you, too, will be judged.”

  She had worried, and she had judged Paul. He’d made promises that he’d meant to keep but often didn’t. He’d asked her to trust him, but trust had been difficult since Don’s betrayal.

  Yet when she arrived home from worship, God had answered her prayer. Paul was ready to help with the border. They’d had fun, and she sensed a change in their relationship.

  In the past weeks, church attendance had drawn her closer to God. She realized moping wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Until the Lord directed her otherwise, she would continue to be a nanny for the twins, and if Paul came home with a woman, she would have to…

  That thought unsettled her. There was one issue she hadn’t resolved—her feelings for Paul. He hadn’t helped the situation either, because the past week he’d arrived home earlier than expected and even surprised her once by cooking dinner. One evening they had listened to the children relive their trip to the museum. Another night he’d taken them to a family movie. She’d become a part of their lives, but sadly, Rose knew one day it would end.

  Through the window Rose saw the children bounding toward the house, then caught sight of Paul. He crouched and clasped the children in his arms. She longed to be there, too, wrapped in his strength and comfort.

  She pushed the useless thought aside and looked toward the sky, noticing the sun had sunk below the treetops. Night came fast in late autumn, and the wooded setting only added to her feeling of solitude.

  Paul headed toward the house, and Rose moved from the window. “Hi,” she said as he entered. “You’re home early,”

  “Sure am.”

  She recognized his conspiring look. “What’s up?”

  “Aunt Inez agreed to sit with the kids tonight.”

  Her heart skipped. “Why?”

  “You need a night out. We’re celebrating.”

  “Celebrating?”

  “I’ve finally made progress at the plant. I know what’s causing the problems, and today I put together a plan to implement the changes.” He shrugged. “I realize it’ll still take time.”

  “And that’s what you’re celebrating?”

  He moved closer. “No, but here’s my good news. L.A. is sending someone to give me a hand for a few weeks.”

  “That should be a relief.”

  “It is. I’m anxious to spend more time with the kids.” He reached out and touched her arm. “But we’ll still want you to hang around. The place is too quiet without you.”

  “You’d get used to it quick enough,” she said, wondering if he would miss her. “Where are we going?”

  “First to the arts and crafts fair. Do you realize that Christmas will be here before we know it? November’s here in four days. Then Thanksgiving. Then Christmas.”

  Christmas. The word washed over her. “You mean we’re going Christmas shopping?”

  “If you remember, I suggested a while back we look for a new painting to go behind the sofa.”

  That seemed ages ago, and she’d forgotten. “Okay, but you said ‘first.’ What’s second?”

  “That’s a surprise.”

  Walking beside Rose, Paul enjoyed the closeness. She was a lovely woman. Her smile, her thoughtfulness, her joy—she exhibited so many attributes he admired.

  He adjusted the package clutched in his arms. Since they’d entered the Elks Lodge, Rose had already goaded him into buying Christmas decorations, a huge wreath and numerous gifts for the children.

  At the end of the aisle Paul spotted a booth selling artwork. He moved closer, drawn by a large watercolor that captured his interest—a wooded setting, a stream and two leaves, stems still locked together, floating along on the ripples. Elusive lines, muted colors, yet a vibrant image. He thought of himself as a leaf floating along life’s river, caught on the ripples with no turning back. Yet he drifted alone. The picture filled him with hope. Two leaves glided side by side, their stems bent upward toward the sun filtering through the trees. Hope and completeness, two leaves as one.

  “It’s beautiful,” Rose said.

  He turned toward her and realized she was gazing at the same painting.

  “It touches me here,” she said, resting her palm against her heart. “I see togetherness through the rough spots, a kind of solidarity. I can’t explain it.”

  Neither could he. “I’m going to buy it. It’ll look good over the sofa.”

  “It’s perfect.” Her smile warmed him.

  Paul was amazed at their oneness. So often they thought the same. Yet other times he sensed her wariness—her sensitivity—and he wished he understood.

  He paid for the watercolor, then moved on. Within moments Rose stopped at another booth.

  “I like candles in the windows at Christmas,” she said, surveying the decorative tapers.

  Candles in the windows. Rose’s exuberance fueled that Christmas feeling that made Paul want to burst into a chorus of “Joy to the World.”

  Before they moved farther, she turned to him. “Thinking of Christmas, I’d like to take the children to Sunday school, if you wouldn’t mind. I think they should have the chance to know what Jesus’ birthday really means.”

  Paul caught his breath—another way he’d neglected his children. “Sure. It’ll be good for them.”

  Rose gave him a pleased look, then moved on ahead.

  He’d never been given a strong faith upbringing, but Della had thought it was important, and before she died they’d all been going to church. Paul recalled it had become a comfort. It gave him something to cling to when times got rough. But when Della died, his faith did, too. He agreed. The twins needed a chance to learn about Jesus on their own.

  Something to cling to. The words surged through his mind. He’d needed something to cling to these past months. He’d hung on to his problems as if they were treasures. They’d caused him to become even more self-focused, and he hadn’t given God a chance to direct him. Had the stress in his life been a reflection of his weak faith? If this was the Lord’s way to give him a swift kick, He’d done a good job.

  Another booth caught Rose’s interest. She shuffled through a display of handcrafted wooden puzzles. “Look. The kids’ll love these. I’ll buy a couple for Christmas.”

  He agreed. They were intriguing.

  She selected two for each child, and he wanted to hug her for being so generous.

  Paul toted the growing mound of packages, and when they arrived where they’d begun, he stopped her. “Are we about finished? Remember, we have one more place to go.”

  She tilted her head with questioning eyes. “I know.” She gave him a wry grin. “I won’t ask.”

  He gave her a wink, but before he moved, he had to ask one last question. “Out of all these gifts, didn’t you find one thing you liked for yourself?”

  She thought a minute. “I loved those bracelets. The ones with the fused glass beads. They were beautiful, but too expensive for my taste.”

  “I remember,” he said while his gaze darted in the direction he thought he’d seen the booth. “Do you mind waiting a minute while I find a rest room?”

  “Not at all,” she said. She reached for the packages, and he handed her a few and then set the others against the exit wall. “I’ll be right back.”

  He had no idea where he was going, but he hoped to find a back entrance into the craft show. As he rounded a corner, he spotted a doorway and maneuvered his way down the crowded aisles to the booth selling stained glass.

  In only a minute he found the perfect bracelet, with translucent glass beads in pastel blue and amber, each bead connected with small gold links. It was lovely and fragile like Rose. He paid the money, dropped the package i
nto his pocket and wended his way to the exit.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Can’t wait,” she said, her voice dubious. Rose returned his packages, and she carried the watercolor.

  The night was chilly, and the scent of snow filled the air. They hurried to the car. On their way, he and Rose talked about everyday things, and when Paul reached the town, he followed the signs to Historic Log Village.

  “Where are we?” Rose asked.

  “Crosslake. It’s north of Little Cloud.” He spotted another marker and turned. “I think you’ll enjoy this. You deserve a little fun.”

  When the parking lot came into view, Paul pulled into an available slot and opened the door for her. Her smile was illumined by moonlight, and it roused his exhilarated feelings. He paid the admission, and they were each handed a lit candle. Rose sent him a curious look, but once inside the Historic Log Village, the purpose was clear.

  Rose grasped his arm and released a breathless sigh. “It’s beautiful.”

  He agreed. In front of them lights flickered in the darkness as visitors were taken back in time to the days of the pioneer settlers. Candles brightened a turn-of-the-century schoolhouse, a restored logger’s shack and bunkhouse. Workers were dressed in costumes of the day and offered them cups of cider as they made their way along, learning about the days of the Minnesota pioneers.

  “The twins would love this,” Rose said, her eyes glinting brighter than the candles. “You’ll have to bring them here. They would learn so much.”

  “We will,” Paul said, wanting Rose to share the pleasure.

  She paused to sip the cider, and Paul was mesmerized by the shape of her mouth and the soft look of her well-formed lips. To quell his thoughts, Paul swigged down the tart juice.

  He disposed of their empty cups, amazed at the realization that had washed over him. For so long, he’d wanted a mother for the children, and lately he’d felt an urge for a companion. Tonight he found one standing beside him. He’d never appreciated Rose’s charm and beauty until now.

  She turned to face him, the candle flickering a soft light over her lovely face. “Thank you for the surprise.”

  “You’re welcome.” Unbidden, he drew her into an embrace. “You deserve much more,” he whispered into her hair. She felt fragile against his chest, and a gentle fragrance of fruits and spices surrounded her. Puzzled by his feelings, he released her.

  Bewilderment covered her face, probably matching his own confusion. He lifted his gaze to the sky. Lord, tell me what You want. I need Your direction.

  Chapter Seven

  Rose sat in her too-quiet apartment. In the dim lamplight the moon spread its glow along the living-room rug like silver fingers.

  Sleep had escaped her. The evening had been wonderful. The twinkling candles, like fireflies, had danced along in the darkness. The historic buildings, the costumed workers, the tangy cider had made the evening more than memorable. Most of all, Paul had embraced her.

  He’d changed so much. In past weeks he’d been arriving home earlier than expected. The children were ecstatic. They had time to enjoy his company before bedtime. Watching them lifted Rose’s spirits.

  But it was more than that. He’d mellowed. Paul seemed more sensitive, almost as if he were pampering her. She loved it. Yet she distrusted it. They were from two different worlds. He had an education, a position and polish. She’d become employed following one year of business school. She’d never traveled. She’d experienced little. She had so little to offer a man like Paul.

  Often Paul looked at her curiously as if he didn’t understand why she reacted as she did. She’d never been open with him about her broken engagement and the issues it had caused. The situation had destroyed her trust and confidence. She’d been pitied, and no one wanted pity.

  Had Paul pitied her, too? Was he pampering her to motivate her to stay in Little Cloud? She couldn’t ask him. She would have to explain too much.

  Rose shifted in the chair and reached for her Bible. She scanned the pages until her eyes focused on Proverbs 3:5, 6. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

  That’s what she needed, a straight path. Rose had tried hard to let God lead her, but she fought Him every step. Lean not on your own understanding. She would make that her motto.

  Rose placed the Bible back on the table and switched off the lamp. The moon guided her steps, but before returning to bed she pulled back the curtain. Tonight she saw a melon-colored moon. The mountains and valleys that created the moon’s face were clear, and the moon seemed nearer than its great distance from earth.

  Melon moon. Melancholy moon. She gazed upward into the black sky, seeing the lonely orb in a sea of shimmering stars. The stars captured her imagination and drew her back to the candlelight at the log village.

  “Twinkle, twinkle little star.” The childhood rhyme played in her head.

  Twinkle, twinkle little star.

  The melon moon is not so far.

  She smiled to herself. The moon was nearer than any other heavenly body. Why did it make her lonely?

  God is much nearer, she thought. The words hummed in her head.

  “Are you coming? We’ll be late.” Rose stood at the bottom of the staircase, waiting for the children, as she’d done for the past few weeks since Paul’s work had become more demanding.

  “Why are you leaving so early?” She turned and saw Paul in the dining-room doorway. “The kids haven’t eaten yet.”

  “I know.” She slipped her arm into her coat sleeve. “The church is having its annual pancake breakfast this morning. The offering is used to purchase Christmas gifts for needy families.” She shrugged her other arm into a sleeve. “Anyway, the kids love pancakes.”

  “So do I,” Paul said.

  She felt her mouth fall open. “I know, but—”

  “Can only members attend?”

  “No.” His question shocked her. “I didn’t think to—”

  “To invite me.” He grinned.

  Footsteps could be heard pounding along the upstairs hallway, and in an eye blink the twins bounded down the steps.

  “We’re having pancakes,” Colin said, dragging his tongue over his lips and rubbing his belly.

  “Me, too,” Kayla said, mimicking Colin’s actions.

  “Me, too,” Paul said, aping them both.

  “You are?” Kayla’s eyes widened. “Are you really coming, too?”

  “You don’t mind, do you?” He pointed the question to the children, but Rose sensed he was aiming it at her.

  “We’d love to have you join us,” Rose said.

  Paul held his arms extended at his sides and eyed his slacks and pullover sweater. “Is this okay?”

  “You’ll be the best-dressed man there,” she said.

  Rose stepped from the house, amazed that Paul had joined them. She’d longed to invite him to church, but she’d felt an invitation was out of place.

  Since his help had arrived from L.A., he’d fallen back into his old pattern—home late, no time for the kids, no conversation. She missed it. The long hours were reflected in his tired face.

  Paul drove, and as she sat in the passenger seat she gazed at the leaden gray sky, but she didn’t let the weather darken her spirit. She grinned, thinking if she’d known all it would take to get Paul to church was a meal, she would have invited him to the Mulligan Stew and Bar-B-Cue they’d held a few weeks earlier.

  “I’m pleased you decided to come along. It’s good for the kids to see you at worship.”

  “And good for me.” He gave her a tender smile. “I know I’ve been quiet lately. My mind’s filled with details, and I’m so talked out at the plant I’m not in the mood when I get home. But we’re making progress.”

  “I assume the L.A. exec has been helpful.”

  “Absolutely. Gretchen’s top-notch. Wonderful. I respect her immensely.”

  Gr
etchen. A woman. Rose hadn’t considered he’d been spending late evenings with a female. She stared out the passenger window, trying to control her sudden fear. Paul’s long days away, his silence, his withdrawal. She knew the day might come, but she wasn’t ready for it.

  “She’ll be leaving right after Thanksgiving. By then, everything should be in place. Then it’s a matter of training.”

  “That’s good,” Rose said, managing to sound sincere while facing her worst fear. A woman had walked into Paul’s life—a woman he admired and respected.

  They entered the church through the side door, and the enticing aroma of buttery pancakes and grilled sausages guided them to the fellowship hall. Rose tried to push Paul’s startling news out of her mind. She was in the Lord’s house, and today she needed solace. They joined the buffet line, then found empty seats.

  To Rose’s surprise, Paul recognized two men from the plant at their table. After they were introduced, she waited for a raised eyebrow or a questioning look.

  “You’re a nanny?” one of the wives asked.

  “She baby-sits us,” Colin said, “except we’re not babies.”

  “Me, either,” Kayla added.

  Rose grinned at the children, thrilled at Kayla’s outgoing nature. The change had been overwhelming.

  “I’m sort of the baby-sitter and glorified housekeeper,” Rose said, managing a pleasant look while enveloped with a sense of uneasiness. Today she needed nothing else to play with her emotions. She studied the woman’s face, but saw nothing but cordiality.

  “I never thought housekeeping had any glory in it,” the woman said with an amiable grin.

  Everyone chuckled, and the chatter continued. Rose wanted to relax, but she couldn’t. She forced down the breakfast she, for once, hadn’t prepared.

  Paul watched Rose with concern. She’d gotten quiet, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake inviting himself to the breakfast, but the reactions of his employees settled over him like a gift. At the office, conversation felt strained, but this morning it seemed spontaneous and congenial. Maybe being in church would create a new bond between them. Believers seemed bound together with special ties. An old hymn lilted into his thoughts—“Blest Be the Ties That Bind.” Perhaps those ties were stronger than he had realized.