“Don’ wanna chuch today,” Angus said for the third time, kicking at Romeo as the trio continued down the road on foot.
“Well,” Calico said cheerfully, patting the boy on his leg. “That’s part of what today is for, remember? We read the story of Jesus as a baby last night to help prepare you to hear it again tonight.”
“Why? Two times?”
“Yeah, two times. It’s a good story, right?”
Angus nodded, calming down enough to stop kicking.
“And we already opened our present for today; when we go to church, it’s time to give Jesus His present.”
“But more presents tomowwow?”
Romeo laughed. “Yes, there are more presents tomorrow… but tonight, it’s Jesus’ turn.”
“Weww… I duess so, Daddy.”
Angus smiled at him, revealing the gaps where two of his teeth had been knocked out when he’d fallen one day. His wavy hair, gelled back earlier in the day, was beginning to puff up, and his little tartan plaid suit was rumpled from wrestling around, fighting being carried.
“Hey,” Calico said all of a sudden. “What’s going on over there?” She pointed up the block to their left, two blocks from the church and across as they waited for the crosswalk.
Romeo turned to try to see what was happening, making sure to keep a good hold on his son. “Looks like someone had an accident. From here, I’m not sure what. Maybe someone at the church knows, though,” he said, wanting to walk away from the sickening scene.
As he turned away, the sound of sirens met his ears, and Angus nearly knocked him in the face with an elbow in his rush to cover his own. The trio waited and watched as a fire truck and three police cars sped past them in the night.
“Fiow?”
“Well, a fire truck, anyway, yes, Angus.”
The walk sign blinked on finally, and they quickly crossed and made their way to the church within a few more minutes. The plump, cheery old woman at the door smiled warmly at them as they entered, her glasses more than a little smudged. She bore a nametag that read “Hi, My Name is… Lucy.”
“Merry Christmas… isn’t it awful,” she said, her words half greeting, half query.
“Pardon me,” Romeo asked her, setting Angus down, but continuing to hold his hand.
“That poor woman.”
Romeo’s thoughts drifted to the accident.
“Yes… quite sad,” he replied, feigning knowledge.
“To lose her husband and children all in one night – and at Christmas! It’s just awful! She can’t be more than…” The woman looked around, her eyes landing on Calico. “Why, she can’t be much older than you are, Dear!”
Romeo watched his wife as she blanched; she bent down to pick up Angus and excused herself, leaving Romeo with the bearer of bad news.
“Was it something I said,” Lucy asked him, turning her head to watch Calico as she swiftly trembled away and into the sanctuary.
What could he say? He couldn’t well tell her Calico’s past, but he also couldn’t point out to Lucy the insensitivity of her comment. “Don’t worry about her,” he finally said. “She has a lot on her mind right now, that’s all.”
No need to tell her that most of it likely came to mind in the minutes that passed since they’d spotted the accident. No need to tell her that Calico had flashbacks every time she heard sirens, or that the idea of dead children frightened her into nightmares for weeks at a time; nightmares that brought her friend Andrea and her unborn baby back to life again, and her trapped with them.
“Well, if…”
Lucy shook her head and turned to greet the people who were now coming up the steps behind him, not even bothering to finish her sentence.
Romeo sighed. Probably for the best of all involved, he thought as he went in search of his little family.
The first strains of O Come, O Come Immanuel began just as he finally found them. They were sitting in the seventh row back, tears streaming down his wife’s face; confusion all over his son’s.
“It is with great pleasure that we welcome you to the First United Methodist of Seal Beach this fine Christmas Eve night to celebrate together the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,” the pastor began, quickly adjusting her collar as the last few chords of music died down. “We are honored and privileged to be spending this time with you tonight, but even more, we are honored to glorify our Savior, Who made it possible.”
She looked out over the crowd a moment before resuming.
“As some of you have observed, there has been an accident a few minutes away from here. I would request that we take a few moments of silence to pray for those affected before we continue on with the lectionary.”
A few murmurs passed through the crowd before all was silent. Calico’s eyes, bright with tears, scanned what was before her as she prayed, wishing for more time as the pastor resumed. She commenced with a quick prayer over the service and the Collect before moving along to a song by the choir. Only then did she call her reader for the evening forward.
“Our first reading comes from the book of Isaiah, chapter sixty two, verses six to twelve. Please feel free to follow along in your bulletin,” the reader – a short, rather stocky African-American young man with bottle cap glasses – said somberly. “I will be reading from the New Revised Standard Version.”
He called for everyone to stand, and then proceeded: ““Upon your walls, O Jerusalem, I have posted sentinels; all day and all night they shall never be silent. You who remind the Lord, take no rest, and give him no rest until he establishes Jerusalem and makes it renowned throughout the earth,”” he began, his voice deep and mellow and strong, his arms resting on either side of the Bible before him.
““The Lord has sworn by his right hand and by his mighty arm: I will not again give your grain to be food for your enemies, and foreigners shall not drink the wine for which you have labored; but those who garner it shall eat it and praise the Lord, and those who gather it shall drink it in my holy courts”” he continued, pausing to clear his throat.
As he smiled apologetically to the congregation, Angus pulled on Calico’s sleeve. She bent down to hear him: “What about Jesus?”
Whispering back to him quickly, she told him it would be soon. “Just be patient,” she said, her words overlapping with the resumed reading.
““Go through, go through the gates, prepare the way for the people; build up, build up the highway, clear it of stones, lift up an ensign over the peoples. The Lord has proclaimed to the end of the earth: Say to daughter Zion, See, your salvation comes; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him.” They shall be called, “The Holy People, The Redeemed of the Lord”; and you shall be called, “Sought Out, A City Not Forsaken.”” the man finished before praying once more over the service and blessing the reading.
Calico pulled Angus onto her lap and Romeo moved closer to her, sliding the fingers of a hand between hers and squeezing before leaving it to rest, holding her own upon his knee.
The pastor reclaimed her podium and spoke a few words about the importance of the reading. “And it is with great privilege that we, the Redeemed and Unforsaken, can now say that salvation has come,” she finished as she began flipping the pages of her Bible. “I would now like to read out of Psalm for the evening: Psalm ninety seven. Again, the words are printed in your bulletin. Will you please stand for the reading of the Word?”
Calico remained sitting, rocking Angus as she listened.
““The Lord is king! Let the earth rejoice; let the many coastlands be glad! Clouds and thick darkness are all around him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne. Fire goes before him, and consumes his adversaries on every side. His lightnings light up the world; the earth sees and trembles. The mountains melt like wax before the Lord, before the Lord of all the earth,”” the pastor began, pausing for a few sips of water.
As the reading continued, Calico allowed her thoughts to drift; the mention of lightening
in combination with the accident they’d seen earlier made her shudder, and Angus sat up quickly, turning around on her lap to look at her. She smiled wanly at him, and then closed her eyes as tears began to seep; hot tears that rose from deep within her. Silent tears that spoke louder than sobs or wails ever could.
Images of Dabney Reynolds’ basement flooded her; images of Arthur Reynolds standing over her; images of him torturing Andrea, and with the images, the horrible scent of impending death; the sense of lonely desperation she had felt in spite of her hope. In spite of her prayers for safety, in spite of her sense of peace when she was able to see the angel mirror that, she felt, watched over her, watched over Andrea and the baby she carried within.
Only one had survived.
Her.
Now, as the congregation around her sang… now that she was far distant in time and place from what had occurred in that dank, dark basement, she began to pray silently within herself for healing; she prayed for a heart to forgive and to let go.
Father God, it’s Christmas… it’s a time that reminds us of Your sacrifice; of Your love so great in spite of our wrongdoings. It’s a time to celebrate Your presence in the earth among Your people, and yet, I have been holding back; holding on; letting terror rule over my dream life and interfere with my emotions, affecting my family in ways I may not even comprehend fully. I thought I had forgiven Arthur, I really did… and yet, this survivor’s guilt eats away at me over being the saved one among his victims, and I indeed see myself still, a victim of what occurred. And in my heart I know I’m not; I know I was there for a reason, but that doesn’t change the fear, the worry, the doubt. It doesn’t take them away, she prayed within herself, holding her son close.
She could hear the pastor now as she preached, but couldn’t stop her own prayer as it took over her heart, even if she tried.
Lord, I don’t want to hate Arthur anymore; I don’t want to hate even what he’s done, in spite of how horrid it was. That was so long ago, but it still feels like yesterday sometimes; like tonight. Lord, that poor woman who lost everything; she truly lost everything, and as I sat here earlier, I was thinking, what if it were me? What would I do if Romeo and Angus were suddenly taken from me? And I realized, that’s how my family must feel; like I was ripped from them without reason or care; that I’m off, dead someplace instead of sitting in a church, heart beating, praying right now, holding my very precious son. But then I thought about You, God. I thought about how You went through the same thing at the crucifixion. Your Son was crucified, yes; He gave His life away, but not without torment; not without ridicule; not without surprise to many of His loved ones. He was pulled from their arms too soon for their understanding, too. And so were You, when You turned Your back to Him as He bore the sins of the world, and I realize, it must have shattered Your heart. It must have shattered Your heart and maybe made You proud, too. Father, I want to be more selfless and forgiving. I want to follow Your example, and yet, I fail daily, she continued.
Romeo took her hand again, startling her a moment before she resumed her prayer, the pastor’s words sinking into her heart even though she wasn’t quite processing them
I just….
What else could she say to such a great and wonderful Creator and Savior? The words, even within her mind, failed her, and she heard her own sobs; felt the eyes of others behind her boring into her back, but she didn’t care.
“Jesus Christ came as a babe; He was born lowly, in a manger. His parents weren’t welcome at the inn… and neither was He,” the pastor was saying. “The controversy concerning their marriage likely had gone ahead of them; whether there was an open room or not didn’t matter; that they not stay in a respectable home or inn did. It would have been a matter of reputation that even profits could not dissuade from,” she said. “And so, as we have read, Mary and Joseph were engaged; they were not yet married when they rode in on their donkey to Bethlehem. There was no way anyone was going to allow that unmarried status – even though engagements required a divorce – to be connected with them. Mary’s pregnancy and Jesus’ subsequent birth was the scandal of a lifetime. No television show could top what Mary and Joseph went through; what was happening with this little family.”
She paused again for some water, the sleeves on her robe swaying with the movement.
“It’s the stuff that fiction laughs at and knows must be true, because of how unreal it must have been. Even today… so many refuse to believe that an unwed mother – a teenager, at that – could be the mother of the Incarnate One, but what other explanation is there which the Spirit of God proves within our hearts; the hearts of those who believe,” the woman continued, her voice raising an octave.
“And then there are the shepherds; the shepherds were just as lowly as Jesus’ birth. Can you picture it? Here, a handful of men who had likely not properly bathed in weeks, possibly months, are out in a field. Their hair is matted; the sheep smell better than they do; their beards are covered in as much dust and grime as their feet. It’s the middle of the night; an autumn night, mind you. It’s hot, and they’re sticky with moisture as they leaned on various rocks in a circle around their flocks. They’ve decided it’s better to be safe; keep together, and so, there they are, on guard for wild animals that might come to hurt, maybe carry off and kill their employer’s or parents’ livestock. And then what happens?”
She paused, a few hands going up around the room. One of them was Angus’s, and she called on him. “Yes, young man? Do you know what happened?”
“Angles come sing,” he shouted, laughing.
“You’re right! Angels came to the shepherds, and with them, a message. Very good,” she told him before addressing the rest of the congregation. “An angel appeared to them, telling them where to find the Savior; a child newly born. And it scared them; I’m sure some of them sat there in shock, wide-eyed, unable to speak, even. Grown men, and maybe some teenagers. They were scared, and that was with a single angel. But once the angel finished speaking, even more came, and they began to praise God before the shepherds. And so, the shepherds trekked to Bethlehem, not caring what hecklers might say, or if they lost their jobs, because they were invited to come. They had been invited by the God of the universe to meet Him face to face through the eyes of an unwed mother’s newborn son.”
A holy hush came over the audience, and Calico had no trouble picturing the scene. She felt a sense of peace come over her; float over her and infiltrate her very being. Had it come from the inside, or from the atmosphere around her? She didn’t know.
She continued listening as the pastor kept speaking, her thoughts occasionally wandering into the imagery that was spoken. Before she knew it, the offering basket was in her hand. She withdrew the check Romeo had written earlier in the day and gently handed it to Angus. "Put the paper in the basket, Honey,” she whispered, even as he moved to do so.
She passed the offering to Romeo, and he, to the usher. The pastor said a final word, and then, it was time to pass the peace, the prayer and singing thankfully short as they bid love to God and neighbor.
And for the first time in her life, she truly felt she had peace to pass along.
Forty Nine
Vancouver, Washington… December 24, 2024
Night had long fallen when Paloma sat down on the old green velvet couch to watch Majesta open her birthday presents, Edward at her side, Confetti in her lap, purring.
Finally.
She sighed as she brought her cup of tea to her lips, thankful that most of the stress would be over soon… so she hoped.
A handful of people had already left, and it made for more room and intimacy as they finally celebrated the man and girl of the hour.
Majesta was sitting in Edward’s recliner: the seat of honor for opening the gifts.
Pink princess-print paper flew away from the first present in large swaths as Majesta made her way through one layer, then a second, revealing a large, decorated wooden box. She threw the remaining bits of pap
er to the floor and set the box in her lap.
It was nearly twice as wide as her knees.
Paloma tried to see the box’s design, but from where she sat, all she could see was a blur of wood tones. She watched as the young girl opened the lid, and inside lay three small bottles of bubble bath, each wrapped in purple tulle.
The rest of Majesta’s presents included three new dresses, a pair of slacks, a ladybug-covered mug, five gift certificates that came inside of cards, and a few school supplies she groaned about.
Then, with Majesta finished, it was Edward’s turn. The pair switched places so that Majesta now sat near Paloma, and Edward was in the recliner.
Paloma watched in excitement as he began to open his pile, cards first. About halfway through them, he started to open hers; she knew, because of how thick it was. Her pulse raced.
Withdrawing the card and its contents carefully, she watched as he peered inside, then turned his back to the small crowd to further investigate the findings.
Paloma almost giggled.
“I don’t know what to… well, at least I know how we’ll get some of that vacation paid for so quickly,” Edward told her when he’d turned around. Finally, he read the card, and blushed. “Merci, mon cher, et doux, Amour. Je l'apprécie plus que de mots maintenant peut exprimer,” he told her, smiling deeply.
The French flowed today as it had from the first time they’d met, and made her shiver in delight just as much. She smiled.
“What’s…?” Mark moved closer to Edward.
The kids gathered around closer, while Eugenie and Me’chelle took the opportunity to grab a few of the empty cups laying around and move them toward the kitchen.
Of course, they already heard what she’d done; there was no need for more curiosity.
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