by Lynne Gentry
“Not to judge a book by its cover?”
She shrugged like she deserved the little jab, but she wasn’t going to let anything deter her from finishing this conversation. “I’ve learned how much J.D. loved his life. At the church. In this old house. With you and the kids.” Roberta took Leona’s hands in hers. “Your husband may not have left you a fortune, but J.D. was a very generous man and he left you the most important thing in the world. Happiness. Don’t waste his gift by grieving forever.”
Tears stung Leona’s eyes. “It’s only been a few weeks, Mother.”
“I’m not rushing you, dear.” Roberta squeezed Leona’s hands gently. “I’m just saying don’t try to keep everything like it was. Don’t be afraid to live, child. Try new things, like your job. And encourage your children to do the same.”
Leona’s tears were flowing so freely now, she could only nod.
“That’s better.” Roberta pulled a tissue from her sleeve. “We’ll let Melvin pick up Maddie, and you’ll let me treat us to a pedicure and a stiff drink.”
Leona dabbed at her eyes. “Mother, you know I don’t drink.”
“You might want to start.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How else are we going to survive this shindig Maxine’s daughter is throwing tonight?”
“You’re going?” Leona couldn’t contain her surprise. “You know there’s a good chance they’ll mention Jesus, right?”
“Cotton never misses the Christmas Eve service at Mt. Hope Community.” Roberta’s habit of pushing at the back of her hair cemented her decision. “And from here on out, I will never miss being with Cotton.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?”
Roberta’s smile was thoughtful, deep, and comforting. “I know your heart is breaking right now, my dear. But you have something I didn’t.”
“Faith,” Leona said.
Robert gave a little nod. “That and some really good people around you.”
“Why the change of heart?”
The doorbell rang.
“Oh no you don’t.” Roberta shook a warning finger. “I can’t have you rubbing my nose in how you’ve been praying for me to leave the dark side.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Go. Answer the door. I’m sending Melvin to the airport.”
“And you think I’m stubborn.” Leona put down her purse. “Send him. I can use the extra time to get ready for our family Christmas.” She gave her mother’s cheek a quick peck then ran to the front door. “Maxine—”
“I just came from the church.” Maxine pushed past her, storming into the living room, then wheeling around so fast her huge handbag nearly smacked Leona in the chest. “Do you know what your son’s done now?”
“Maxine—”
“Davy’s letting vagrants prepare the refreshments for tonight’s service.”
Leona scowled, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“There are vagrants in our church kitchen!” Maxine shouted.
“They’re not vagrants.” Roberta had rolled herself into the living room. She pushed at the back of her hair with an air of defiance. “They’re caterers.”
“Caterers?” Leona asked. “Mother the church can’t afford caterers.”
“David needed help,” Roberta said. “So I suggested he toss Cornelia’s ridiculous menu and let me hire caterers to make a few treats for this little production.”
“My daughter has been breaking her back to help,” Maxine snarled. “She’s thought through every detail, including homemade brownies in the sanctuary.”
Roberta bowed up and Leona knew Maxine was fixing to get an ear full. “Your daughter has practically run everyone into the ground with rehearsals.” Roberta rolled her wheelchair to within inches of Maxine. “Wilma’s ankles are swollen from hours of standing behind the piano. Ivan hasn’t written his newspaper column in two weeks. And poor Bette Bob’s fingers are so bloody from strumming that dang guitar she couldn’t stir brownie batter if her life depended upon it. If your heart wasn’t a stone, you’d have hired the caterers yourself.”
“Quality takes time and dedication, Roberta,” Maxine defended.
“I just know Bette Bob had both the time and the energy to pop brownies in the oven when my Leona was running Christmas Eve,” Roberta said smugly.
Maxine stepped toe to toe with Roberta’s wheelchair. “Now listen here, Bertie.”
“Mother. Maxine.” Leona separated them, still in shock her mother not only knew so much about everyone, but actually had cared enough to step in. “Let’s just all calm down and try to figure out what’s going on. Start at the beginning, Maxine.”
Maxine took an exasperated breath. “I stopped at the church to leave lunch for Cornelia and her band.” Maxine’s lifted nose implied Leona wasn’t the only one who could show concern for others. “When I entered the fellowship hall, I found two strangers puttering around in the kitchen. Grinding mint. Bags of the stuff. The place will reek like a candy cane when they put those brownies in the oven.”
“Strangers?” Leona asked. “Did you call David? Or the police?”
“I did not waste my time,” Maxine said.
“Why not?” Leona demanded.
“Because”—Maxine rolled her eyes. –“one of the strangers was that skinny vagrant your son has taken a shine to, and when I asked the boy what he thought he was doing in my kitchen, he said David had not only let them in, he’d given them a key.”
“First of all, it’s not your kitchen.” Leona could feel her blood beginning to boil. “And secondly, Angus is Ruthie’s grandson. The boy sat behind you Sunday and he wouldn’t still be a stranger to you if you’d bothered to turn around and introduce yourself.”
“Well, for the record, the boy sings terribly off key.” Maxine’s look radiated superiority.
“He was singing! In church!” Leona realized Maxine was trying to lead her down a path she refused to travel. “If the church won’t help bring families together, who will?”
Maxine was too wound up to listen. “Well, when Ruthie sues the church after that boy empties her till, it’s coming out of Davy’s pay,” Maxine huffed. “But I don’t think even you can defend Davy allowing that other vagrant to have access to the church.”
“What other vagrant?”
“The old codger who looked like he’d been rode hard and put up wet. We don’t know him.” She pointed toward the church building. “And now that stranger has a key.”
“He must be a friend of Angus.”
“I don’t see how that makes him a friend of ours,” Maxine said. “Don’t you get it, Leona? David’s giving strangers keys to our church building. What next? Handing out keys to our homes!”
“Angus proved to be very trustworthy while he was living here,” Leona argued.
Maxine crossed her arms. “Just because a person has darkened a church door, that doesn’t mean they’ve changed.”
“Church certainly hasn’t changed you one iota, Maxine.” Roberta mumbled.
“Mother!”
Feathers obviously ruffled, Maxine took a big breath and plowed on, “Don’t think I’m missing the significance of what David has managed to accomplish, Leona. But if we help one person, what’s to keep that person from telling another person? Then another? And another? Before you know it—”
“There’s a full-scale revival in this town?” Leona asked.
“Mock me all you want, Leona,” Maxine said. “But I think having one vagrant sitting on our church pew last Sunday and two poking around in our church kitchen by mid-week proves what I’ve said before. Let one vagrant in, and the next thing you know, they’re stacked up like old newspapers outside our door.” Maxine’s head quirked in sarcasm. “Oh, wait. They won’t be stacked up outside our church building. They’ll all be inside, all warm and toasty because our interim pastor gave them a key!”
“There’s only one thing to do,” Leona said.
“Fire the Ha
rpers before vagrants burn our church to the ground?” Maxine huffed.
“No,” Leona said as calmly as she could. “Offer to help them.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
David deposited the last of Shirley’s neatly folded Christmas Eve programs near the poinsettias on each side of the foyer door. The whole building had been transformed into a welcoming wonderland of red blooms and white candles. The Christmas Eve service was going to happen and he had Nell—Cornelia to thank. He couldn’t believe all she’d accomplished in such a short time. He owed her a big apology for doubting both her ability to pull it off and her motivation. Not a date, just an apology.
Determined to get his thank-you over with, David strode toward the sanctuary’s open doors and the beat of Ivan’s drum. Cornelia had even managed to make the band sound halfway decent. Standing center stage, Cornelia lifted the mic and belted, “In eggshells is day-a-a-a-o.”
Her pained voice stopped David in his tracks. Struggling to breathe, Cornelia took another stab at the chorus. When she did finally manage to cough out something, she sounded more like a chain smoker than the angel her sexy, white-sequined sweater suggested.
This was not good.
Why hadn’t he worked harder to convince Amy to sing? He knew why. Amy wasn’t speaking to him. She’d avoided his calls, texts, and although Ruthie and Angus had denied helping Amy sneak out through the kitchen every time he came through the front door, he’d seen a flash of blonde through the pass-thru the last time he’d dropped in.
David strolled to the stage and sliced his finger across his throat to signal Cornelia to cut it off for a moment. “You okay, Nell—Cornelia?”
A pleased smile lit her face. “I’m good,” she croaked as she rubbed her throat.
“Maybe you should cut your warm-up short. Save your voice for tonight.”
She came to the lip of the stage and crouched down, making it difficult for David to avoid the mountainous view framed by her V-necked sweater. “We’re almost there,” she raised her elbow to her mouth and coughed.
“You sure you’re okay?” David took a step back. “Sounds like you may have a sore throat.”
“Maybe a little.” She started coughing again, so much so, David looked to the band for help. They shrugged, like they didn’t know what to do but wait out their leader’s hacking fit. When Nellie finally quit coughing, she began fanning her flushed face. She whispered, “Be a dear and bring me a bottle of water from the fridge in the fellowship hall.”
“Sure. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done. It’s going to be a wonderful evening for Mt. Hope Community.” He smiled, genuinely. “Thanks, Nel—Cornelia.”
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Out a show of respect he didn’t wipe it off in front of her and he didn’t check for braces marks, but once he was safely in the hall, he did run his sleeve over his face...in case whatever Nellie was coming down with was contagious, he told himself.
Familiar laughter, laughter he hadn’t heard combined in years, floated out the fellowship hall doors. David peeked in to catch the unlikely duo in the act. Sure enough, Momma and Maxine were standing side by side around the kitchen island. They were laughing so hard, tears streamed down their faces. On the other side of the island, Angus and Ollie were entertaining them by tossing eggs back and forth.
“Hey, Momma.” David came into the kitchen. “What’s going on here?”
Momma swiped her eyes. “Maxine and I decided to come over and help.” Her subtle message came through loud and clear. Maxine hadn’t approved of his new volunteers. So why was everyone so happy, especially Maxine?
“I’m glad you’re getting to know Angus and Ollie,” David said.
“Davy, you’ve got to sample these.” Maxine spoke around the big bite of brownie in her mouth. “These are the most decadent things I’ve ever tasted.” She winked at Ollie. “I’m pretty sure it’s the mint, right, Ollie?”
Ollie dumped a few green leaves in a small stone bowl. “Awe, now, Miss Maxine, you know I cain’t give away my secret recipe.” He began to grind the leaves to dust with a stone pestle.
“Ollie here has been telling me about all the famous folks he’s cooked for.” Maxine shoved the last bite of brownie in her mouth. “He once made brownies for Mick Jagger.”
“No joke?” David asked.
Maxine cut herself another brownie. “Willie Nelson had Ollie on retainer until he got himself arrested.”
David subtly moved the brownie platter. “Nellie, I mean Cornelia, is not going to be too pleased if you polish off all the brownies before tonight.”
“These are just the samples.” Maxine waved off his concern. “Once the fresh ones come out of the oven, my Nellie won’t be able to stop either,” Maxine giggled. “I mean Cor-neel-ya. Doesn’t seem right to call her that without Colton.”
David looked at Momma who was looking at him with the same confused brow.
Maxine reached across the counter and took another brownie. “Let me tell you, Ollie, anyone who can cook like this needs to be cooking in the White House not the Koffee Kup.” Maxine waved the brownie at Angus. “Everyone says you’re a smart boy, Angus Freestone. I think taking up with this fine man is proof. I might have been wrong about you.”
The fellowship hall door flew open. Nellie stumbled in, both hands clutched around her throat. Her mouth hung wide open in what appeared to be a silent scream.
Maxine dropped her brownie. “Nellie!”
Momma tore from the kitchen. David raced after her. They met Nellie at one of the serving tables.
“Nellie, are you choking?” Momma helped her to a chair.
Nellie shook her head. Tears streamed down her face. “It hurts,” she mouthed, silently pointing at her throat. “Can’t breathe.”
“Maxine!” David turned. Maxine had not left the kitchen. From her horror-stricken face, he knew she was reliving the day Colton’s horse went down, and her terror made him as sick then as it did now. “Maxine! Is your Caddy out back?”
Maxine could barely nod.
“Give me the keys,” David shouted as he took Maxine’s daughter in his arms. “We’ve got to get Nellie to the hospital.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The moment David and Maxine had Nellie in the car and were on their way to the hospital, Leona rushed to the sanctuary to make a plan with the band. The Christmas Eve service was less than four hours away. If the doctors at the ER couldn’t give Nellie something to revive her voice, Mt. Hope’s Christmas Eve service wouldn’t have a singer.
Ivan laid his drum sticks on the bongo. “My Joseph robe is in storage, but I’d be happy to belt a choir robe and drape a towel over my head, Leona, if that would help.”
“I appreciate the offer, Ivan,” Leona chewed on her lip, mentally running a checklist of all the things that would have to happen to revive her old show. “The Moots’ newborn is sick. Which means we don’t have a baby Jesus.”
“We had to use a doll the year the Moots didn’t have a newborn,” Bette Bob offered.
Leona shook her head. “Y’all have practiced for hours. I’d hate to let your work go to waste.”
“Why don’t you sing, Leona?” Wilma began playing the introduction to Leona’s favorite Christmas song. “Nobody can sing Mary Did You Know like you.” She nodded her head when Leona was supposed to jump in.
“I haven’t been on stage in years, Wilma.” Leona sat on the front pew. “But we all know who could knock that song out of the park.” She locked eyes with the electric guitarist.
Bette Bob shook her head. “Amy won’t do it, Leona.”
Leona sighed. “And it’s not right to ask her.”
Bette Bob undid her guitar strap. “Guess we’ll have to go with a few hymns and David’s reading of the Christmas story.”
“And let the Episcopalians have the Christmas crowd?” Everyone turned to see who had weighed in with fighting words.
“Maddie!” Leona ran to the back of the sanctuary and wrapp
ed her daughter in a big hug. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Maddie’s loosened scarf revealed the chiseled good looks she’d inherited from her father. “When I landed, I had a text from David asking if I knew a magic cure for Nellie’s laryngitis.”
“We’re hoping it’s just a sore throat, maybe strained vocal cords.” Leona knew from Maddie’s expression she was being overly hopeful.
After Maddie gave everyone a quick report on her residency interviews, Leona pulled her aside. “You’re going to the hospital, aren’t you?”
Maddie’s beautiful face sobered. “Amy texted me when David brought Nellie in. She said she’d noticed a lump on Nellie’s neck and tried to convince her to have it checked.”
“So you’re worried it could be something more serious than just a sore throat?”
“Let me go to the hospital and see what I can find out,” Maddie said. “We’ve still got a few hours before the service.”
“I’m going with you.” Leona turned to Wilma and the band. “Everyone. Pray. And don’t you dare pack up the band.”
Leona and Maddie rushed to Mt. Hope’s little hospital. They found Maxine, Howard, and David pacing the ER waiting room.
The moment Maxine saw Leona she rushed to her and buried her head in Leona’s shoulder. “I can’t lose another child.”
Leona wrapped Maxine in a rush of forgiveness. “I’m praying you won’t have to, friend.” All the pent-up anger she’d had toward this woman dissolved in the puddle of their mutual tears. Bleary-eyed, Leona glanced over Maxine’s shoulder. Howard seemed equally lost. “Let’s find a quiet corner.” Leona led Maxine across the waiting room, got her settled in a comfy chair, then took Howard by the arm and guided him to the adjoining seat. She offered Maxine a tissue. “What can we do to help?”
“I need you to send Maddie back there.”
“Maxine, I’m not certified yet,” Maddie said.
“I don’t care. The doc on call is that new kid who thinks we’re all a bunch of illiterate goat ropers.”
“Maddie?” Leona asked, her eyes pleading. “Is there anything you can do?”