by Annie Jones
“Sam saw the snowbirds. Sam saw the snowbirds!” Willa sing-songed the chorus she'd regaled them with at least a hundred times since getting Sam's news and their getting ready to walk over to the church for the Christmas Sing.
Nic scrunched her collar closed in one gloved hand. She huffed out a sigh that created a puff of moist air.
Sam elbowed her in the side. “Sort of makes you yearn for a few days back when she got stuck singing the last stanza of 'Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer,' doesn't it?”
“Sam saw the snowbirds.” The family-sized can of soup Willa had insisted she would carry all by herself jounced up and down with each step, making Nic grateful he had not let her carry the bottle of soda pop she'd originally requested.
“I wish she had seen them, too,” Nic said, not realizing how soft and wistful her voice would come out.
“She will.” He stopped long enough to command Nic's gaze to meet his. “In God's time.”
Sure, now he preached the virtue of patience and waiting. How she wished he had taken that advice earlier, before he'd offered her a marriage born of obligation and duty, not love and devotion. They had hardly spoken since then. Nic liked it that way. She had too much on her mind to allow the distraction of Sam wanting to use her and Willa as a solution to his own problems to intrude in her thoughts.
But it did intrude. Thoughts of Sam, of his predicament and her own seemed hopelessly intertwined in her mind and heart. She no longer carried any anger toward him, not even for the thoughtless way he had talked about the possibility of them sharing a future.
“Do you think the birds will still be there?” Willa waited at the side of the road for the approaching cars to turn into the church lot.
“Not very likely, honey.” Nic tugged the child's scarf in place. “Not with all the coming and going today. Folks are bringing by donations for the food baskets and gathering for the Christmas Sing.”
“But they're around and that's what's nice to remember.” Sam gave her daughter's shoulder a squeeze, and Willa beamed up at him.
The next car stopped. The driver motioned for them to go on across, and Sam started off, his hand guiding Willa gently along.
Nic didn't know what all emotions clashed in her at that sight. They came too fast and furious. At once she thought of snatching Sam's hand away or pulling Willa protectively close to her, but that passed almost instantly, and she pushed her misgivings over the growing bond between them aside. Head down, she did a quick half step to catch up to the pair.
Placing her hand on Willa's other shoulder, she smiled up at Sam. “He's right, Willa. You don't have to see them to believe they are back and be happy about it.”
“I hope we do see them, though.”
“I hope so, too, honey. I took them as a sign that good things are coming.” Sam met Nic's gaze. They paused in the parking lot to allow a family in a beat-up truck to maneuver into a tight space. “You know when God is at work in the world or in people's hearts, anything is possible. Wouldn't you say so, Nicolette?”
She had not meant to smile at him, but she couldn't stop herself. When she couldn't hold his gaze any longer, she leaned down to Willa. “What do you say we toss some food out for the birds tomorrow morning and see if that entices them to show themselves?”
“Not this food.” Willa had to use both hands and a push up from her knee to hold the big can aloft. “This is for someone who won't have a nice Christmas unless we help.”
“So right, Miss Angelface.” Sam tousled her hair. “Besides, those birds have traveled a long way. I'll bet they didn't even think to bring a can opener, and it's too far now for them to go back and get one.”
“Birds with a can opener! That's not right.” Willa giggled.
“Really? I could have sworn I saw a crow around here with a big, old can-o-matic tucked under his wing.”
“A crow? That's not right. You didn't get any of that right. You better ask my mommy to help you get it right next time.” Still laughing, Willa hurried to the large box beside the Christmas tree to put her donation inside.
“I would love to ask your mommy to help me get it right this time. If I ate a little crow of my own and didn't try to rush things, I'm hoping she might just give it a shot. What do you think?” He turned to Nic, his expression sincere.
“I think...” She met his eyes, and whatever she intended to say faded from her thoughts.
The gentle teasing, the practiced preacher, the usual defenses she had come to expect to see in him had disappeared. In the quiet of dusk becoming darkness, as they stood to the side of the old church that had been so much a part of their past and present, she truly saw him as he was. Sam. The man she loved.
Beyond the two of them she was aware of streetlights and Christmas lights coming on one by one, then in bright colorful strings, casting a warm glow about the scene. But it was the light inside Sam's eyes that held her transfixed.
“Nic, I never told you this before, but I didn't meet you at that party because I knew I couldn't give you the kind of life you deserved. I'd already...taken too much from you. I didn't want to take any more. I left because...because I loved you.”
“Sam...I...”
“That's why I hoped to find you again when I came back to
Persuasion. Why I didn't think Claire's suggestion was all that farfetched or unreasonable. Because I still love you, Nic.”
“Sam!” She pressed her hand to her chest and could feel her heart pounding beneath her fingers.
“I know I shouldn't say it here, with people around and all,” he rushed on, leaning over the box of groceries between them, his voice hushed. “But I figured if I had to wait until I got you completely alone, it might never happen.”
She raised her hand to cover her mouth. When she blinked, tears pooled on her lashes.
“Or if I waited too long, you might have made your decision about whether or not to stay without having all the information you needed to do the right thing.” He took a deep breath then let it out again. “Believe me, Nic, having done that exact thing in this very relationship, I can tell you I never want either of us to make that kind of mistake again.”
“Aren't you two coming inside the church?” Collier whisked past Nic, bumping her shoulder as her suede boots and corduroy skirt swished out her brisk pace.
“In a minute.” Nic tore her gaze from Sam's long enough to glance over her shoulder. “Wait, Collier, would you take this box of groceries to the donation bin?”
She had scarcely slid her hands beneath the box in Sam's arms when it lifted out of both their grasps.
“I've got it, Aunt Nic,” Scott smiled his all-American boy grin at her and winked. “Just in case you need to have your hands free to do a little...”
“Finish that sentence and die.” Jessica nudged her brother from behind, propelling him in several awkward lunges in the right direction as she followed behind.
“They are such good kids.” Petie patted Sam on the arm.
“Well, you gave them a good foundation,” he said, placing his hand on hers.
“That is exactly what I am counting on, Reverend.” She slid her hand from under his then touched his cheek. “A solid foundation. Faith, family, and life built on the things that matter.”
“I have a feeling you're not just talking about your kids now.”
She smiled and pushed Nic's hair back as she walked by. “Y'all don't stay out here too long now. You know how people talk.”
Without so much as looking, Nic nailed her sister with a long backward swing of her purse and landed a swat on Petie's behind. “Too bad she had on that long coat,” Nic complained loud enough for her sister to hear.
Petie's laughter answered from somewhere near the church steps.
“She's in a much better frame of mind.” Sam folded his arms. His leather jacket bunched up to show his thin black sweater beneath.
“She sent Parker an e-mail. I'm not sure what all she put in it, but when she checked last night, th
e account said he'd opened it.” She watched as the last of the crowd worked their way inside. “She's been almost endurable since then.”
“I like her, even when she's being insufferable. I like Park, too. I hope they work it out.” He stepped closer. “They aren't the only ones I hope can work out their differences.”
“Sam, this is...”
“Yes?” He inched close and put his hands on her shoulders.
She wet her lips and tipped her head up.
The opening chords of “Joy to the World” reverberated through the nearby windows.
She stepped away and shook her head. “This is such incredibly bad timing.”
He laughed. “Well, I wasn't planning on starting something up right here on the church grounds, but I did sort of hope you'd acknowledge what I said to you before we go inside.”
She nodded. “I understand about that night. We've both come so far since then. I think it's what we've become, not what we were that could—could—give us the basis, the foundation, like Petie said, for something solid.”
He waited a moment, then seeming to sense she would say no more, he smiled, leaned in, and kissed her forehead. “Okay then. Let's get inside.”
“Good idea.” She hurried to keep pace with his stride. Just as they reached the top of the stairs she held back a moment, let him step forward, and to his back, with the strains of her favorite Christmas hymn in the air, she whispered, “I love you, too, Sam.”
Twenty-One
Nic loved him, his church was nearly full tonight, and they were singing all the best songs of the season. He had hope of family, hope of healing the congregation he served, and hope of life everlasting. What more could a man want? Heart full, he sang the last verse of “O Come All Ye Faithful.”
He glanced at Nic over the top of Willa's head, the three of them sitting in the front row, just like a real family. Someday—soon, he hoped—that dream would become reality. Sam doubted that anything could ruin this one special evening for him.
“Thank you. Thank you everybody for coming tonight.” Mrs. Stern, who had spearheaded this year's food drive and thereby won the “honor” of hosting the annual Christmas Sing, stepped down from the platform where she'd been directing the group in song. “And special thanks to Mrs. Shirleetha Shively for her flawless performance at the organ tonight.”
Shirleetha, looking quite surprised for the acknowledgment but pleased as punch for it all the same, rose halfway from the bench and gave an awkward but endearing curtsy.
Sam led the applause to show his appreciation for one of the few people who had stood beside him in building this church from day one.
Others joined in quickly save a few sour faces here and there who sat, arms crossed and eyes locked forward. Probably old school, Sam thought. The kind that believed applause belonged in places where individuals seek personal glory and require recognition, not in God's house.
“It does my heart good to see so many familiar faces in our dear little church tonight.” Mrs. Stern continued to clap softly as she spoke even though Mrs. Shively had taken her seat again and the rest of the group had quieted. “I do hope this turnout is a foretaste of the many joyous—and well-attended—services we will all share in the future.”
A spattering of applause broke out in enthusiastic reception to her sentiment.
Mrs. Stern smiled as brightly as her narrow, lean face allowed.
The room grew quiet.
Someone coughed.
Willa wriggled around in the pew and onto her knees to stare at the rows of people behind them, as if to say, “What is the matter with you people?”
Nic scooted in close to her child and, just loud enough for Sam and Willa to hear, whispered, “Turn round and sit right, young lady. Don't make me give you a pew pinch right here in front of God and everybody.”
“Well, now, this is not a night for regular services nor do we have anything planned strictly speaking, but it does seem appropriate that Reverend Moss get up and say a word or two and dismiss us with a prayer and benediction.” Mrs. Stern held her hand out toward Sam.
He stood.
One or two people started to applaud then stopped short, for which he was grateful. Much as he longed for support and respect here, his true role was to serve not to be revered.
He would offer only a short, sincere prayer tonight. A thanksgiving for all who had come that would lay the foundation to rebuild this church. Tonight, he understood, giving a nod of thanks to Mrs. Stern as she took her place at the front of the sanctuary, would lay the groundwork for whatever he hoped to accomplish in Persuasion, Alabama.
“First I would like to reiterate Mrs. Stern's welcome to everyone who turned out tonight and who brought food to share with those less fortunate. Having been a child whose sole means of Christmas often came from the benevolence baskets provided by this very church, I can tell you all how much it means to those who would otherwise do without. Thank you again.”
A murmur went through the crowd.
“It's good to see so many folks here tonight, and I hope each of you will join us this Christmas Eve for our candlelight service. We'd love to have you then and at regular Sunday services. If there is one thing I want to emphasize, it's that each of you has a place here at All Souls Community Church.”
“Each of us has a place,” a male voice muttered from the back of the room.
Let it go and launch into the prayer. That would be the easiest way to deal with this now. But Sam had not gone into the ministry to take the easy way. Lifting his head, he searched the area where he'd heard the scoffing remark. “Did you have something to add?”
The murmuring grew louder.
Nic put her arm around Willa and pressed her lips together, her anxious gaze trained on Sam.
But he could not let her apprehension deter him from his duty. “Speak up. If you have something to say, stand up and say it to my face for everyone to hear.”
“Okay, I will.” Lee Radwell rose slowly. “Nobody here has a problem feeling we got a place in this church. Most of us was christened here, baptized here, and attended a goodly portion of our friends' and families' weddings and funerals inside these very walls.”
“And me right beside you, Lee,” Sam shot back.
“No. No, that ain't true, Reverend. You got kicked out of this church a long time ago.”
“If I recall right, I wasn't the only kid who caused a stir in church and was asked not to come back without proper supervision.” Sam paused and swept his gaze over the congregation. More than one person ducked to avoid eye contact. “The difference was I didn't have a parent who cared about supervising me in anything, least of all church services.”
Lee puffed up his barrel chest and tugged at the waistband of his dark jeans.
Sam met the antagonistic posture with a crooked smile. “I don't want this church to be like that anymore.”
“Why do you get to decide that?” Lee demanded.
“Because I'm the minister.” He held his hands out, palms open. “It's that simple. The board brought me here to lead and to serve this church.”
“I didn't have no say in it. Lots of people didn't have no say in it.” Like a dog with a bone, Lee wouldn’t let go.
“Speaking as a member of the board.” Big Hyde rose from his seat, though it took the old fellow a minute to get fully upright. The congregation waited in silence for him to go on. “Speaking as a member of that very same board that voted to bring Reverend Moss to town...”
Sam caught the old man's eye.
Big Hyde must have seen the sheer shock Sam felt to learn this man, who had given him grief on his very first day in town, had participated in bringing him here “I think I speak for the whole board when I say we got no quarrels with his leadership, his preaching, nor any other part of what he's done here since he got back.”
“That's right,” someone murmured.
“Thank you for saying it,” Aunt Bert chimed in.
“No quarrel with anythin
g he's done?” Lee crossed his arms. “Not even his private life?”
“If you are trying to dredge up my past, I'll gladly talk about how the kid you all knew became the man I am today. In fact, it's one of my favorite illustrations of God's grace, but—”
“Have you throw in our faces how we got a minister who came up from a no-good childhood?” Lee shifted his weight. Even his boots on the floorboards had a heavy, aggressive sound. “One who got into who knows what all trouble? One who thinks he's so much better than us that he can get up in a pulpit to tell us everything we do wrong? No thanks.”
“I don't think I'm better than anyone, Lee.” Sam stole a glance at Nic, but it was Willa's sweet face and worried expression that made his heart still and brought his mind back to the immediate moment. “And I'd be happy to carry on this conversation with you and anyone else interested but not tonight. Tonight we have come to give to the needy and to sing about the joys of the gift of Christmas. I regret we've gotten sidetracked from that.”
“You asked me to speak my mind,” Lee reminded him.
“Yes, and I thank you for doing that, now—”
“Ain't done it. Not yet. You never let me finish what I had to say. Guess that comes with all that leading and serving you came to do here. You lead the way you want the talking to go and cut it short when it don't serve your purposes anymore.”
Sam clenched his teeth to keep from calling the man a liar in the house of God. Taking a deep breath, he bowed his head and shifted his weight to rein in any anger the evening had churned up in him. When he looked up, he offered only kindness to Lee Radwell and all the people gathered before him. “I can see how my actions might look slanted to my advantage, but then it would be in keeping with the old church in the lurch to have a minister who knows how to handle an incline.”
Quiet, approving laughter lightened the tension in the room.
“Knows how to work the angles is more like it.”
“Mr. Radwell, Reverend said this ain't the time nor place.” Big Hyde did not rise from his pew as he spoke this time, but Hyde Freeman Jr. did scoot forward in his seat enough to lend his support to whatever the old man decreed. “Let's all just join in prayer, then get on with our evening and take this up another day.”