Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for ChristmasHer Montana ChristmasAn Amish Christmas JourneyYuletide Baby

by Brenda Minton

  “When you’re ready to talk,” Ethan said softly, “I’m here.”

  She nodded, but he left there with the impression that she never intended to say a word about what was really bothering her. That being the case, how could he possibly share what was in his own heart? Perhaps, he told himself, that was as it should be. He determined to place the matter at God’s feet and leave it there.

  On his way home, he determinedly went over his plans for the Christmas celebration and quickly realized that the next thing on his agenda was special music. He’d barely dropped his keys into the dish on the side table in his tiny entry hall when he recalled that he had some old music to go through. He put that at the top of his to-do list for Monday morning.

  Then he took off his collar, put on some sweats and went down into his basement to pump iron and talk to God.

  Who else, after all, could he trust with his secrets?

  Chapter Seven

  Feeling guilty, according to Robin’s great-grandmother, was a waste of time and a distraction. Guilt, she had maintained, was meant to spur one to repentance. After true repentance, it served no useful purpose. It merely sidetracked one from doing what one ought to do, most specifically, performing God’s will. Recalling that sage advice, Robin realized over a bowl of Ethan’s soup what she had to do about the lie she’d let him believe.

  Though technically she’d felt miserable and hadn’t wanted to expose anyone to her lousy mood, she was as guilty of untruth as if she’d claimed outright to have a cold. Once she’d apologized to God, she began to feel a bit better, but the real relief came the next afternoon when Ethan arrived at the museum bearing a box filled with books, photos and papers, including a stack of old music scores.

  “I was going through some things,” he explained, setting down his burden on Robin’s desk, “and I realized that this lot belongs with you now. I’d like copies for the church, but I didn’t think I ought to make them myself. I wouldn’t want to degrade anything, especially the hand-copied pieces. Some of this sheet music looks to be nearly a hundred and fifty years old.”

  Astonished, Robin picked up her phone and asked Livvie to come in at her first opportunity, adding, “You won’t believe what Ethan’s brought in.”

  Livvie replied that she needed a few minutes. That gave Robin enough time to set things right with Ethan.

  “Thank you for bringing this in. Before Livvie gets here, I just want to apologize for yesterday.”

  “You don’t owe me any apologies, Robin.”

  “I do. I wasn’t ill. I was upset.”

  He showed no surprise. Instead, his warm brown gaze captured and held hers. She could almost feel his tender embrace. “Care to tell me about it?”

  “No. I…” She shook her head, casting her gaze downward. “I just can’t. Not now.”

  “All right,” he said, his voice like silk. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  She lifted her head in an agony of doubt. “What if I’m never ready?”

  The sadness and empathy of his smile made her want to cry. “We all have secrets at some time, Robin. But not from God. He knows all, and He waits to see how well and wisely we handle what we keep from each other. Scripture commands us to walk as children of light. That means that all things that are kept in darkness must eventually come to light. Pray about it, and I trust you’ll see your way through.”

  “But I may have already waited too long. What if it’s already too late?”

  “It’s never too late. God will make a way.”

  Oh, how she wanted to believe that, but if that was true, then why hadn’t Great-Grandma Lillian—or rather, Lucy—come back and told her family what she’d done? Why hadn’t she confessed to faking her own death so she could be with Great-Grandpa Cyrus?

  Livvie came into the room then with a pair of gloves in hand. Robin took hers from a drawer and pulled them on so they could go through the box without damaging its contents.

  “Oh, this is good stuff, Ethan,” Livvie said as they spread out the contents on the worktable in Robin’s office. “How did you come across it?”

  He explained about going through old music files looking for appropriate arrangements for the Christmas services.

  “That reminds me, Robin,” he said, “we’re putting together a women’s a cappella group to sing on Christmas morning. I wonder if you might be interested.”

  She immediately began hedging. “Oh, I don’t know if—”

  “I get that you’re already loaded up with responsibilities,” Ethan broke in smoothly, “but you told me that you sung in college, and it’s just one song. Plus, you’ll be out of sight the whole time.” He pulled a folded sheet of music from the chronologically displayed papers on the table and handed it to her.

  Cautiously, she opened it and began to read both music and words. It wasn’t really a Christmas carol but a song about bright, pure, holy love. The music was written in a simple but haunting four-part harmony that would play to good effect in a cappella. It occurred to her that the addition of a pair of simple handbells could make this a very Christmassy song indeed.

  “I don’t suppose you have any handbells, do you?”

  Ethan’s gaze quickened. “As a matter of fact, we do.”

  “Wouldn’t they sound sweet at the beginning and again just here?” She pointed to a rest in the music score. “And here.”

  He beamed at her. “I’ll take that as a yes. And the handbells will be ready for practice on Wednesday after the midweek service. Oh, and don’t forget pageant practice tomorrow evening.”

  “Of course,” Robin murmured.

  Glancing at Olivia, he added, “I trust you will copy the music for us.”

  Smiling wryly, Olivia put a hand on her hip. “How many copies?”

  “Four should do it. Uh, better make that five. And thank you. I’ve already blown my events budget, big-time.”

  “Well, cheer up,” Olivia said. “It’s almost the end of the year. In two weeks, the new year’s budget will kick in.”

  “I was talking about the new year’s budget,” he divulged, heading for the door. “This had better be a Christmas to remember,” he told them, grinning, “because it’s going to have to hold us for a long while.” With that, he strode from the room.

  Robin looked at Olivia, and they both burst out laughing.

  “Guess we’d better do what we can to make this centennial Christmas a success,” Robin proclaimed.

  “One of us,” Livvie said drily, “is already giving it her all. Why don’t you just admit you’re interviewing for the position of pastor’s wife?” Olivia teased. “Seems to me you’ve practically got the job.”

  The room darkened, as if suddenly engulfed by a cloud. Robin ducked her head, pretending to focus on the materials spread out across the worktable.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not fit to be a pastor’s wife.”

  Pastor’s wives did not lie. They did not hang around for months without divulging their true connections to people. They did not withhold vital information, especially from family. They did not disappoint their parents and grandparents and hide things from the men about whom they cared, good men, honest men.

  “I don’t think the pastor in question agrees with you,” Livvie quipped. “And I notice you don’t deny that you want the position.”

  “Will you stop being silly and get to work,” Robin snapped.

  Obviously stung, Olivia drew back. “Sure,” she said after a moment. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

  “It’s not that,” Robin said, fighting to keep her voice level. “It’s just silly, that’s all.”

  “I don’t see what’s silly about it,” Livvie remarked softly. “He obviously likes you a lot, and I thought you liked him, too.”

  “I do like him,” Robin admitted, still not looking at her friend and coworker. “But nothing’s going to come of it, Livvie. Nothing can.”

  “I don’t understand. Why not?”

  “That’s our bu
siness,” Robin whispered. “Please, just let it be.”

  Olivia remained silent and still for a moment; then she squeezed Robin’s shoulder and briskly said, “Let’s get these things cataloged. I’m thinking these old hymnals and this sheet music would make nice additions to that display of guitars and harmonicas.”

  “These photos of the old pump organ would make nice backdrops, too,” Robin said, grateful that the subject of her and Ethan had been dropped.

  They chatted about the best process for blowing up and cropping the photographs and how to mount them in the back of the display. Meanwhile, Robin pictured in her mind’s eye the poignant smile that Ethan had given her and heard his words whisper in her ears.

  We all have secrets, Robin. But not from God…. All things that are kept in darkness must eventually come to light….

  If Ethan was right, then eventually, one way or another, her secrets would all be revealed. Either she would tell them or Rusty would. She toyed with the idea of asking Rusty to keep his own counsel on the matter. He had kept her great-grandmother’s secret after all—for decades! It didn’t seem fair to ask him to keep hers on top of that, but she didn’t know what else to do. Then Ethan’s final piece of advice wafted through her memory.

  Pray about it….

  She could do that, and hope that Ethan’s faith in her was not misplaced.

  *

  Pageant practice went smoothly on Tuesday, mostly because it involved only the older participants: the narrators, Mary, Joseph, the innkeeper, a single angel, the elder shepherds and the wise men. As a shepherd, Rusty was there, and Robin made sure to catch him after the practice.

  She timed it so that they were outside on the boardwalk before she caught up to him, but he seemed to be expecting her, turning to study her until she caught up to him.

  “Got something to say to me?”

  “Let’s get out of this cold first,” she suggested, aiming her key fob at her car and unlocking it.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He hobbled over and opened the passenger door, while Robin hurried around and let herself in on the driver’s side. As they both settled down into their seats, he said, “You haven’t been to see the mayor.”

  “No, not yet. And I hope you’ll keep my true identity to yourself until I decide exactly what to do and when and how to do it.”

  “You mean until you decide whether to tell the Shaws the truth or not, don’t you?”

  Robin took a deep breath. “I’m just not sure what purpose it would serve at this point.”

  “Tell me this. What would Lucy want you to do?”

  Sighing, Robin admitted, “She wanted me to tell them.”

  “That’s gotta be the deciding factor for me,” he declared, “but I won’t get out in front of you on this.”

  In other words, if she left without telling the Shaws the full truth, he would inform them of what he’d seen the night the car had gone off the bridge and of Robin’s full identity, but not before then.

  “I understand,” she told him. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not doing it for you,” he said in a gravelly voice. “I’m doing it for Lucy. I was always half-sweet on Lucy. She was special, Lucy was, and I don’t aim to fail her.”

  “My great-grandmother would be very moved to think she inspired such devotion,” Robin said quietly.

  “You think she doesn’t know?” the old man scoffed. “If heaven’s anything like I think it is, she knows that and more.”

  Robin smiled and shifted in her seat. “Can I ask your opinion about something else? I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit lately, and I’m puzzled. My great-grandmother was a God-fearing lady. She had great faith and believed in doing the right thing, so why did she never come back and let her family know she was alive?”

  Rusty lifted his hat and scratched his head. “Well, now, I can’t say for sure, but I figure she didn’t come back while Ezra was alive ’cause she knew he’d blame Cyrus and probably try to ruin him. Then, too, she gave up her share of the Shaw Ranch and all the Shaw holdings by faking her death. There’d have been legal problems if she’d showed up alive, even after Cyrus had passed. It might even have called into question the legality of her marriage, especially if she wasn’t married as herself.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of any of that.”

  “Kinda like Jacob after he stole Esau’s birthright. It was God’s will for Jacob to get the blessing, but the way he went about it caused some problems, if you see what I mean?”

  “I think I do.”

  “Of course, Lucy was young when she came up with that plan,” Rusty mused.

  “She told me that she didn’t regret it,” Robin divulged, “except that it had cost me the connection with my family.”

  “You know,” Rusty said, “Esau eventually forgave Jacob. Seems to me you oughta offer folks the same chance. Then again,” he added sagely, “maybe you’re thinking that you don’t want to ruin a certain someone’s Christmas.”

  She blushed at that and stammered, “I—I j-just w-want to get through the centennial c-celebrations.”

  “Mmm,” he hummed, opening the car door, “and the pastor just wants your expert opinion on every little thing.” Before she could form any sort of rejoinder to that, he crawled up out of the car and closed the door.

  Turning up the collar of his coat, he stepped up onto the boardwalk. Then he flipped her a wave and shuffled off toward his old Jeep.

  Cold, Robin started the engine of her car. She glanced toward the front of the church as she put the transmission into gear and prepared to back out of the parking space. Ethan stood in the doorway of the vestibule, his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold. With a nod of his chin, he turned back into the building. Obviously he’d seen Rusty get out of her car and must have wondered what they’d talked about, and just as obviously, he wasn’t going to ask.

  She wondered why that made her both grateful and sad.

  *

  Keeping his own counsel was a pastor’s stockin-trade, and to Ethan that meant not only keeping quiet about what his congregants told him, except where someone’s safety might be in question, but also about what he observed on occasion. Not asking unwanted questions was proving to be more difficult, however, especially in Robin’s case.

  He couldn’t for the life of him imagine what she and Rusty Zidek would sit in the cold to discuss. Still, if Robin remained unwilling to confide in him, Ethan didn’t know what he could do about it. Pestering her was not likely to help. Either she trusted him or she didn’t. Then again, why should she trust him with her secrets when he hadn’t trusted her with his?

  He thought about that when he saw her walk down the aisle to take a seat for the midweek service. She had pulled back from him, and no matter how often he told himself that was a good thing, he couldn’t quite make himself believe it. The previous pastor’s advice had been well meaning and perhaps even correct, but by following it, Ethan had made himself a hypocrite.

  Sadly, that realization had come too late. He had planned a series of sermons about all the second chances God had given His people throughout the Bible, and in those sermons Ethan had planned to gradually reveal the details of his past to his congregation. He’d intended to tell them how God had rescued him from the path of destruction and set him on the path to wholeness, but he feared what such revelations would do now. How could he expect Robin to confide in him when he kept his own secrets? Yet, she obviously needed to tell someone what was bothering her. Were his past as clean as everyone thought, he would feel free to push Robin to confide in him, even to pursue her. Instead, he could only mount a subtle campaign to win the lady’s trust as her pastor, though he could not technically claim even that much relationship with her.

  After the midweek service, during which Robin raised her hand when he asked if there were any unspoken prayer requests, she and the three others whom he’d asked to stay for a cappella practice gathered in the front of the sanctuary. That, however,
was not where he intended for them to ultimately practice or perform. Since he had hand delivered the music to everyone on Monday, they should all be familiar with it by now. One of the ladies played the piano, so she sat down to pick through the melody with chords, giving everyone the proper notes for harmony. They ran through the song once with the piano and again without it before Ethan moved them all out into the vestibule.

  “Now, bear with me,” he said, glancing at Robin. “I think you’ll find the acoustics out here more than satisfactory.”

  The ladies cast doubtful looks at each other, but they stood and sang. The sound resonated with a rich, full-bodied quality. Looking at one another in surprise, they went through the song again, this time using their voices to full effect. Ethan felt the hair lift on his forearms as the music swelled and eddied around them. Giving each other congratulatory smiles, they began to realize the possibilities.

  “Now, the bells,” Ethan said, grinning. “Robin, since we’ve discussed this, will you supply the cues? I’m going to take four beats to start.”

  She nodded, and he hurried off, returning to the sanctuary to remove two newly polished handbells from beneath the pulpit where he’d stored them earlier. With the music spread out before him, he began to ring the bells in time with the song, just as he’d practiced earlier, alternating hands and keeping in mind the tempo that the ladies had used.

  One, two, three, four, the music of the bells called out in clear, sweet tones, and the women lifted their voices as if in reply. The effect was joyous, bright but also ethereal, poignant, enough almost to bring tears to his eyes. He rang the bells again at the rests, and at the end he let them overlap the ladies’ voices. They came gushing into the sanctuary, laughing, clapping and all talking at once.

  “That was beautiful!”

  “Amazing!”

  “Could you hear us okay?”

  “Perfectly,” he replied to that last. “It was everything I’d hoped for.”