Christmas Comes to Bethlehem - Maine

by Ludwig, Elizabeth

  Why? There was never a time when she didn’t sing. Even when there was no music, she’d had music churning inside her head. Sometimes she would burst into song without warning. He’d asked her once why she did that. She’d smiled, pointed to her head, and explained there was music playing inside her all the time.

  So where was the music now? Why wasn’t she singing? Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard her sing once in the weeks he’d been here. Not even at church.

  A knot of fear kicked in his gut.

  “Are you hungry?” Angie wiped her hands on her jeans. “I’m starved. Are you up for some homemade beef stew and fresh bread?”

  “Sure. Sounds good. I think tree decorating whips up an appetite.”

  Lily had grown bored with the tree once her part in it had been completed and had gone to her room to watch a movie. Callen was grateful for the time alone, because he needed to ask Angie about her singing. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

  Chapter 7

  Angie stood at the stove stirring the stew, smiling as she thought about how enjoyable the day had been. Having Callen here to help with the tree had completely changed her attitude.

  Only one small cloud still hovered in her mind. She’d known the very second when Callen had realized she wasn’t singing with the music. He’d want to know why. He’d want to know all of it, and he wouldn’t be satisfied with some vague explanation. Besides, she didn’t want to lie to him.

  She heard him enter the kitchen, her breath catching when he stopped behind her. His nearness never failed to play havoc with her pulse. “This won’t take long to heat up. Would you like something to drink? I made a pot of fresh coffee.”

  “Sounds good.” He moved down the counter and filled a cup, lacing it with cream.

  An odd silence filled the kitchen. Angie braced for what was coming.

  “Angie, why don’t you sing anymore?”

  Her hands stilled on the wooden spoon, her heart racing. “What do you mean? Didn’t you hear me humming?”

  Callen remained at the end of the counter. She was grateful for the distance between them. It made it a little easier.

  “Angie. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” She prayed Callen would let it go.

  He reached out and pulled her around to face him. She averted her eyes. “Tell me.”

  Her shoulders sagged and she exhaled a tense breath. It was useless. She had to face this. Slowly she met his gaze. The fear in his blue eyes tore at her heart. He would be devastated by what she was going to tell him. “You have to promise not to tell anyone. Ever.”

  “I promise.”

  She gripped his shoulders. “I’m serious, Callen. I shouldn’t even tell you.”

  “Angie?”

  She straightened her spine and faced him. “I can’t sing anymore. I damaged my voice.”

  Callen searched her face, as if unable to believe what she’d told him.

  “How? What happened?”

  She leaned against the counter, searching for a starting point. “That last year before Nell got pregnant, before she found out she was sick, I was miserable. My career was soaring, but the higher it went, the worse I felt.” She wrapped her arms around her waist in a feeble attempt to protect herself. “I’d drifted away from my faith. I was struggling to stay on a moral path. I was involved with someone I shouldn’t have been. My managers were booking me everywhere. I was performing nearly every night.”

  Callen stood silently in front of her, offering quiet support.

  “I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was miserable and lost, and I didn’t know how to find my way back. I hadn’t talked to my family in over a year. And every time I sang, I’d channel all my frustration, all my disillusionment, into my voice.”

  Callen made a move to embrace her, but she stepped past him. If he touched her she’d fall apart. There was more to tell. “I suffered a severe vocal hemorrhage. I had to cancel the next six concerts and put a recording session on hold.”

  “Wasn’t there anything they could do?”

  She nodded, keeping her back to him. The pain in his voice brought an ache to her chest. “My producers scheduled surgery with a doctor they used for all their people. But something went wrong. The surgeon messed up. They told me I’d never sing again. I found out later that this wasn’t the first time the doctor had botched a surgery. I threatened to sue, but my manager wouldn’t hear of it. When I threatened to go to the press, he offered me a deal. He’d release me from my contracts if I agreed to never press charges and never reveal what really happened.”

  Callen turned behind her, his breath caressing her neck. “You should have exposed them all, Angie. They destroyed your life. Your career.”

  She faced him, resting her hand on his arm. “No, they didn’t. God worked it for good. I wanted out so I could raise Lily. We reached a financial agreement, and I walked away. I rededicated myself to the Lord and moved here and changed my name as an extra precaution.”

  Callen searched her face, his blue eyes revealing his shock and sadness. “What about another surgery? Special treatments? Maybe in time, if you take care of your voice…”

  Angie shook her head. “No. I had to face the truth. My singing career is over. After I moved here I was referred to a specialist in Portland. He examined me and thought he could repair some of the damage. Six weeks ago I had surgery. He thinks I might be able to sing a little. Never like I did, but it’s something to hope for. I have to be careful and not strain my voice for the next few weeks.”

  Callen drew her into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Angie. I know how much singing meant to you.”

  Angie wrapped her arms around his waist, drawing comfort from his strength. “It’s okay. I can still listen and hum a little.”

  “Oh, Angie.”

  The deep groan in his throat broke her heart. No one had cared as much about her singing as Callen. He’d always been her champion. “I’m taking piano lessons. If the surgery doesn’t work, I can express myself that way.” She pulled away, missing the warmth of his embrace.

  “Why don’t you want anyone to know? It would answer all the questions people have. Put the speculation to rest once and for all.”

  Angie shook her head. “No. It wouldn’t. Don’t you remember the horrible media storm that surrounded JoJo and her downfall?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it will happen to you. Look, I’m a reporter. I can handle things like this. I can manage the information.”

  Angie touched his cheek. “I know you think you can. But you’re wrong. If I break that agreement, the record company could sue me for everything I have. It’d mean a trial, headlines in the paper, my past will come out, Nell’s story and Lily’s will be splashed across the Internet. I don’t want her exposed to any of that. The paparazzi will make it impossible to stay here. I’ll have to start all over again. I’m happy now. I want the past to stay there.”

  A deep frown creased Callen’s forehead. He turned away, the muscle in his jaw flexing rapidly. “My boss called the other night. He’d heard a rumor that you were in New England. He wanted me to see what I could find out.”

  Angie’s heart chilled. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “Of course not. But someone must have. You’re pretty visible around this town. Maybe someone isn’t as loyal as you’d like to believe.”

  Angie paced off a few feet, chewing her thumbnail. “It’ll die off. It’s happened before.”

  “You talked about God being in the small things. What if he brought me here to help put this question to rest?”

  Angie shook her head. “No. I don’t think that’s why you’re here at all. I think it’s for a totally different reason.”

  “What then?”

  Heat warmed her cheeks. What would he say if she told him she hoped his presence here was for her? “Please, Callen, just let this be. I know in my heart this is where I’m supposed to be, and I know God will take care of the rest. Please?”
<
br />   Callen held her gaze a long moment, then nodded. “All right. We’ll do it your way. For now.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.” Callen opened his arms. She didn’t hesitate to step back into his embrace. She felt safe and cherished in his arms. She always had.

  “I’d make this all go away if I could.”

  “I know you would.”

  He held her for a long moment then pulled away. “How do you stand it?” He searched her face. “I can’t think of you without thinking of you singing.”

  “I miss it. Sometimes I’m so happy, so filled with joy, that I want to lift my arms to God and sing at the top of my lungs. It hurts that I can’t. So I pray instead. And then I look around at the life I have in Bethlehem with Lily. I’m so blessed. I’d sacrifice my voice a dozen times over for my daughter. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not such a big loss.”

  Callen took her face between his hands. “It’s not right. Your voice was a gift and now it’s gone.”

  Angie wrapped her arms around him. “I’m content, Callen. Don’t worry about me.”

  Callen strolled briskly down the sidewalk, feeling lighter than he had in days. Things between him and Angie had grown comfortable since the tree trimming and her revelation about her voice. They’d spent as much time together as they could, looking at Christmas lights, visiting Logan Franks’s wildlife habitat, and taking a trip into Freeport to visit the L.L. Bean store.

  This afternoon he was meeting his girls—when had he started to think of them as his?—at the Bethlehem Community Church. Angie had a meeting with the nativity committee, and afterward they were taking Lily to see Santa at a nearby mall.

  Jogging across the street, Callen smiled as he scanned the area. He never grew tired of the scenery in Bethlehem. Today it sparkled like one of Lily’s glitter-dusted stars. The sun was bright, the snow thick and powdery around the buildings, but conveniently melted away from streets and sidewalks.

  People were drifting out of the church as he approached. Angie stepped from the front door, a huge smile on her face. A tall, dark-haired man walked beside her, carrying Lily and smiling back.

  Callen’s heart burned with a wave of jealousy and fierce protectiveness. A need to defend his territory rocked him backward a step. He had no claims on Angie or her child. She had a right to see anyone she pleased. She owed him nothing. But the feelings remained so strong he had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from shouting. They looked like a family walking together. That hurt.

  Angie smiled at him as she and the man approached. Lily waved. It was all he could do to muster a smile in return.

  “Hello.” Angie spoke softly and smiled into his eyes.

  He couldn’t think straight.

  “Callen, I’d like you to meet Dave Marshall. He used to be one of our selectmen before becoming the head of the state tourism board. Dave, this is Callen Grant.”

  Marshall shifted Lily in his grasp and shook Callen’s hand. “Grant. As in the Granted travel books?”

  “Guilty.”

  “I love those things. When’s the next one coming out?”

  “May of next year, but I’m afraid that’ll be the last one.”

  “Oh, man. I hate to hear that. Though my wife won’t. She swears your books give me bad ideas for vacation. What will you be doing next?”

  A wife. The relief nearly distracted him from the man’s comment. “Not sure. I have a few options I’m considering.”

  Lily reached for Callen and Marshall delivered her over to him. “I wish you the best. Nice to meet you.”

  “Same here.” Marshall walked off and Callen smiled.

  Angie smiled back. “Are you ready to brave the long line of hyperactive children waiting to see Santa?”

  “Is it too late to change my mind?”

  Lily gasped and looked him in the eye. “No, Daddy, you have to come. You promised.”

  His heart stilled. He glanced at Angie and saw his own surprise reflected in her eyes.

  “Lily. His name is Mister Grant.” Angie’s voice was oddly thick as she spoke.

  Lily frowned and tilted her head, studying his face closely. “But he looks like a daddy to me.”

  Her innocent comment cracked the lock on his heart. He touched her soft cheek with his fingertips. “Lily, that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

  “What’s a compulment?”

  “That’s when someone says something nice about you,” Angie explained softly.

  Lily peered at Callen closely, one little finger pointing toward his eyes. “You have blue eyes, the same color as my favorite crayon.”

  Callen laughed. “I thought your favorite color was purple.”

  “And blue.”

  Callen hugged her close. “And you have brown eyes the color of my morning coffee.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Very good. My morning coffee is very important to me.”

  Together, they started down the sidewalk to the parking lot. Man, woman, and child. A family.

  Chapter 8

  Snow had fallen during the night, making the roads wet and slippery. Angie steered the car cautiously along the ramp to the interstate on her way home. She’d come to Portland this morning for a checkup with the surgeon. She hadn’t anticipated any good news. While the doctor was pleased with her progress so far, he reminded her that even with an optimal outcome from the surgery, she would never sing the way she used to. He wanted to see her again in a week and reminded her to not strain her voice.

  But it was the season of miracles. God was certainly capable of restoring her voice and giving back the instrument that had provided pleasure and fulfillment her entire life. But no matter the outcome of her operation, she was content with her situation. She’d been totally honest when she’d told Callen that.

  Callen filled her thoughts as she navigated traffic. Lily had called him Daddy. He’d handled it with great tenderness. Neither of them had mentioned it again, but the moment had replayed in her mind all night. What did the future hold where Callen was concerned? She knew the old spark was still there. Their kiss had proved that. Did they want to pursue their relationship further?

  She did. She’d known from the moment Lily had called him Daddy. That one name had filled a hole in her heart she didn’t know was empty. A hole only Callen could fill.

  This weekend marked the final presentation of the live nativity. Monday he’d be leaving. She wanted him to stay and spend Christmas with her and Lily. But he had choices to make for his future. She wanted to be one of his options, but she had no right to ask him to stay and take on a ready-made family. Unless, of course, he wanted that, too. So why were they both afraid to discuss the issue?

  She knew she’d broken his heart all those years ago. So many things her drive for fame and success had destroyed. All she wanted now was her quiet life and to raise Lily to know God’s love. And maybe the love of an earthly father. She shook off the notion. She shouldn’t be dreaming of a life with Callen, even if this was the season of miracles. This time, she’d stay out of God’s way, and if He had a future in store for her and Callen, then she’d let Him work it out. But she wouldn’t stop praying for that very thing.

  Angie turned on her blinker and pulled onto the highway that would take her home to Bethlehem.

  Callen closed his laptop and shoved back from the small desk in his room. He’d grown fond of the place. The room was large and comfortable, with a fireplace, a cozy chair, and a flat-screen TV. He had a hot breakfast each morning and an open invitation from Edna for dinner with her and Simon each night. He suspected it wasn’t because she liked him that much, but that she knew he was an old friend of Angie’s.

  It didn’t matter. He liked it here at the Stoval-Mills house, and he liked Bethlehem. He liked being close to Angie. Only one thing pinched like a too-tight shoe on his spirit. He had to come to grips with his faith and decide once and for all if he was going to embrace it again with renewed dedication, or turn away for good.
/>
  Rededication. Angie had used the word. Callen sat on the side of the large Victorian bed and pulled open the drawer in the nightstand. As he’d expected, a Bible rested inside. He turned to the Christmas story, reading the verses with a new interest. He’d never thought about the humanness of Christ. Living His life like other men, He understood all the struggles of mortal man. But because He was also God, He knew His children and had a plan for each of them.

  For so long Callen had believed that God was too busy with more important things to care about him. Angie, on the other hand, believed that every event in a person’s life was noticed by God. That He’d take whatever mess or wrong turn she made and bring about something good from it.

  Lord. Is it true? Do you love me that much? I don’t know which way to turn. I don’t even know what I want. No. He knew exactly what he wanted. Angie and Lily in his future.

  A profound feeling of humility stole his breath. He shifted off the bed, sinking to his knees. Resting his face in his hands, he prayed for forgiveness and restoration. If he couldn’t get that on track, then the rest of his life was pointless.

  The kitchen smelled like Santa’s cookie shop. The chocolate chip cookies were done and cooling on a rack on the breakfast table. The oatmeal cookies only lacked the raisins.

  “Now can I put them in?” Lily held the bag of raisins poised over the glass mixing bowl, her face revealing her anticipation.

  “Not yet. First I have to put in the oatmeal and mix it all up.”

  “Can I do it, please?”

  Angie measured out the correct amount and handed her daughter the cup just as the doorbell rang.

  Lily dropped the bag on the counter. “Misser Grant is here.” She scurried down the small stool she’d been standing on and raced for the front door.

  What had gotten into her this morning, to invite him over to make Christmas cookies? As far as she knew, he’d already collected all the information he needed for the nativity article. He could have left town days ago. But he’d stayed, and she was glad.