Bluegrass Christmas

by Allie Pleiter

  “Definitely. That campaign—and how delighted Thornton was with it—showed me things about my job I couldn’t stand anymore. Not after I came to faith. Now, I can’t understand how I found it so attractive. It feels so empty…even the money. Thornton used to say ‘we breed greed’ and we all smirked like that was a great thing. I’m ashamed.” There. She’d said it.

  “You’re right. You’re ashamed. Shame can be one of God’s most effective weapons—when only He gets to wield it. It’s we down here who tend to do harm with it. Me? I’m not so sure you’re the criminal you make yourself out to be.” He stood up. “I, for example, am simply giving thanks to God that He’s refocused your fine talents in a better direction.” He extended a hand to her, winking. “Of course, I ain’t shelled out big bucks for a bug-eyed blue bear, neither. Matt Lockwood might have a thing or two to say to you.”

  “Tommy Lee wants a Bippo Bear?”

  “Tommy Lee has a little sister. One who learns fast.”

  “Oh.” Mary almost managed a chuckle. It was as if life had loosened its choke hold on her neck. Someone knew. Two people knew, actually, and neither one of them hated her. Maybe it wasn’t really as dark a secret as she had thought.

  They began walking to the church offices. “Am I the only one who knows?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Mac found me one day after Thornton sent me a warning of sorts.”

  Pastor Dave stopped walking. “A warning? What do you mean?”

  In all her worry over the jingle, she’d not even mentioned her former boss’s nastier tendencies. “Well, as you can imagine, Thornton wasn’t thrilled to lose me. People generally don’t walk away from his agency—until he fires them, that is. I didn’t tell him where I am now because I didn’t want him to come looking for me. But my last paycheck arrived at the apartment. So he knows.”

  “How do you reckon he found you?”

  “This is an ad exec we’re talking about. The man has ways.”

  Pastor Dave pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mary, you should have come to me earlier with this. I don’t take to the idea of you dealing with this all by yourself.”

  “But I haven’t been. Mac’s been helping….” She realized that for the admission it was as soon as it left her mouth.

  “Yes,” Pastor Dave said with a knowing smile, “then there is Mac.”

  “No,” she countered quickly, “it’s not…”

  “…anything I need to know at the moment,” interjected Pastor Dave. “What I do need to know is what you think this Thornton fellow’s intending. Is he just rattling your cage or does he have real harm on his mind?”

  That really was the question, wasn’t it? Was Thornton toying with her like the predator he was, dangling her a bit while he licked his chops, just to show he could crush her if he wanted to? Despite all his meanness, Thornton did have a very keen sense of just how cruel he could be and still fall within legal bounds. He’d only crossed that line once while she’d known him, and paid a whopping harassment fine as a result—crime doesn’t pay especially when a senator’s daughter is involved. “I’d feel a lot better if I could be sure,” Mary admitted, “but I don’t think he means harm. I think he just wants me to be miserable because I’m not working for him anymore.”

  Pastor Dave looked at her over the top of his circular gold glasses. “And are you miserable?”

  “Only a bit.” She smiled. “But only two people know so far. And there’s two more days until Christmas.”

  He actually winked. “Miracles don’t take long.”

  Mary should have settled down to work on some paperwork, but she couldn’t. She had told Pastor Dave, and survived. Pastor Dave wasn’t necessarily a barometer of how shorter-fused Middleburgians might take the news, but he hadn’t fired her on the spot, either. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be fine with it. Thankful for the strength of her talents. She’d never thought to see it that way. This is a good sign, Lord. One that ought to be shared. She put her coat back on after fifteen minutes at her desk and told the church secretary she was going out to run last-minute errands.

  That was true—she did have several things to pick up at the hardware store—but this trip was mostly about giving Mac a dose of good news. Humming to herself, she walked briskly down Ballad Road, turning to wave at Dinah as she pushed through Mac’s office door…

  …and right into a nasty argument in full-blown process between Mac and Howard. Mac’s diagram hadn’t worked out nearly as well for him.

  “How many years are we talking about, MacCarthy?” Howard was bellowing. “Takes you over ten years to find your nerve?”

  Mac was pacing the back of his office. “And I suppose you’ve never done anything but sheer upstanding conduct your whole life. C’mon, Howard, I was all of eighteen. I’m not having fun here, but I’m owning up to my stupidity. When’s the last time you admitted you were wrong?” It was at this point that Mac even realized she’d entered the room. “Oh, no,” he said, clearly unhappy to see her. He and Howard exchanged a series of warning looks. “Howard, don’t,” Mac said almost under his breath in a way that made Mary wonder how low the conversation had sunk before her arrival.

  “And you, young lady,” Howard spat as he turned to her. “Are you proud of your résumé? Tell me, do you find your job here sufficient penance for your part in the Christmas-profit machine? I hear Bippo Bears are going for upwards of $300 in Louisville.”

  All the glow of her conversation with Pastor Dave left the room in a wave of ice. “Mac?” she asked.

  “I lost my cool,” he explained, looking angry and miserable. “I’m sorry. Howard’s infuriating.”

  As if that were an excuse. And how on earth had arguing with Howard over his teenage actions drawn him to spill her secret? The two topics weren’t even mildly related.

  “I stuck my neck out on your behalf,” Howard said sharply. “I had a right to know.”

  “Bippo Bears have nothing to do with what Mary does at MCC,” Mac shot back before she had a chance to say anything, which annoyed Mary further.

  “Haven’t you said enough already?” she snapped at him. “I’m not proud of what’s happened with Bippo Bears, Howard. I agree it’s the worst side of advertising. It’s why I left. But I did leave.”

  “This reflects terribly.” Howard scowled. “The whole church looks foolish. Have you seen the news lately?”

  That was a ridiculous question. She felt like she’d been living the news with all the Bippo Bear frenzy coverage. Thornton probably had four full-time public relations people fielding press releases to every major news network, considering the coverage they were getting. “I’m miserable about it, Howard.”

  Howard glared at her. “At Gil and Emily’s party, you didn’t leave because you were tired, you left because all that Bippo business was on Gil’s television. Grown people hitting each other over your toy. How can you sleep at night?”

  “Cut it out, Howard, it’s not her fault,” Mac ordered, coming around the desk.

  “You,” Mary started, her own anger rising at Mac, “you had no right.” She then turned to Howard, who was putting on his coat to go. Most likely to call an emergency meeting of the church council, if she knew him. Thank God she’d had the wisdom to go to Pastor Dave first. Maybe. Howard looked mighty sore at being caught unaware of what he considered a vital church issue. “Howard…” she began.

  “Mary,” said Mac.

  “Mac!” She glared at Mac, letting her full fury show.

  “I’m going to need to discuss this with Pastor Anderson,” Howard announced. “And as for you, Mr. MacCarthy, I think perhaps we should take a good look at the legal fallout of what you’ve just told me.”

  “I’ve already talked to a lawyer, Howard. I’m not going to pretend this isn’t serious. But I’d prefer to talk to Dave personally.”

  “I’ll bet you would,” Howard fired back. He glanced from Mac to Mary, obviously painting them with the same guilty brush. “The two of you.”
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br />   “Don’t go off half-cocked, Howard. It won’t do anyone any good. Come back in here and let’s try and have a reasonable conversation.”

  Mary could just imagine how “reasonable” the conversation would had gone. She wasn’t feeling one bit reasonable and she’d been in the room for about thirty seconds. At the moment she wanted to beg Howard to keep quiet and to throttle Mac for not being able to keep quiet. She didn’t need Thornton’s help to have a miserable Christmas—misery was thriving just fine. Howard said some mumbling form of goodbye and nearly slammed Mac’s office door shut behind him, leaving her to glare furiously at the man she’d come to encourage. Sufficient words just wouldn’t come.

  Mac was an unbearable combustion of frustration, anger and regret. He knew he’d lose his cool with Howard, he’d planned for what to do when Howard pushed his buttons—and he’d failed on all counts. He couldn’t even remember how the conversation had bent itself in such a way that he revealed Mary’s connection with Bippo Bears. He’d wanted to slam his head against the desk once the words slipped from his mouth, knowing full well the betrayal he’d committed. God had been especially cruel to see to it that she walked in at the moment she had—the ultimate in bad timing.

  “How could you?”

  He deserved every bit of the ice in her eyes.

  “With all you knew, how could you tell him? Him!”

  “I don’t have an excuse, Mary. He got to me and suddenly I told him and I’m sorry.” He’d never felt like such a lowlife.

  “He’ll tell everyone. He’s probably on his way to Pastor Dave right now.”

  Which meant that Pastor Dave would hear what Mac had done to MCC from Howard. Worst possible scenario. Mac thought it served him right; whatever Dave thought of him based on Howard’s revelation was nothing less than what he deserved. But Mary didn’t deserve what he’d done to her, and his top priority now had to be to put things right with her if at all possible. Her current expression left little possibility. “Have you talked to him yet?”

  “You know,” she said, hugging her arms across her chest, “I was just coming in here to tell you how well it went. He was wonderful. Supportive.” She leveled him with a hurt, furious look. “I was coming to tell you how right you were, coming to encourage you. Imagine that.”

  “Mistakes compound mistakes,” Pa used to say, and Mac was feeling that in every bone in his body right now. His original mistake had been bad enough. Keeping it under wraps for a decade had made it worse. Now his attempt at confession had not only hurt him, but seriously hurt the person he was most trying to help. Not even a Mac-Fifty-five diagram could fix this. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again, feeling the words woefully inadequate. “That was beyond stupid of me, and I’m so sorry.” A crush of self-loathing pushed against his chest and made it painful to breathe.

  “We have rehearsal tonight,” she said in an unsteady, trying-not-to-cry voice that let him know he could actually feel worse than he already did. “I don’t know how I’m…we’re going to do this. I’m going to go upstairs and figure out what to do next.”

  “I…”

  “Don’t!” she snapped back at him, fisting her hands. “Don’t talk to me.”

  He felt the slam of his office door as if it had busted every one of his ribs. Worst of all, as he gathered up his coat and keys, he could just make out the sound of her crying as it came through the floorboards between them. Mac had seen buildings fall, timber splinter, dynamite explode through solid rock, but the sound of Mary Thorpe crying did the most damage of all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mac barreled down the pike in his car, taking turns too fast and downshifting the car so hard it shuddered. He slammed the coupe through its gears, not caring what road he took or where it led him. The stereo was up so loud it thumped in his chest. Taking his anger out on the road ahead of him, he drove recklessly, half hoping someone would pull him over and arrest him like the jerk he was. It wasn’t until he missed a turn and sent the car skidding into a gravel-spitting spin that he pulled his temper back into check. He sat there, turned the wrong way of a deserted intersection, panting from the effort of holding the car through its spin, and let his head fall sharply against the steering wheel. It had all gone horribly wrong. Somewhere in the beginning of this mess he’d had good intentions. He’d run for mayor not only to push Middleburg toward its future, but to make up for his past. To prove to himself—and, he now realized, to Howard—that he wasn’t that angry teenager anymore.

  But he was.

  Everything had been lost in the never-ending sin of his short temper. Even the morning after the steeple fell, he’d never felt so utterly worthless. He banged the stereo knob with the heel of his hand, silencing the music to hear the echo of his own misery. He’d been so full of pride. So convinced of his ability to make the world a better place. And now look at you. At what you’ve done. Lord, I wouldn’t be half surprised if You washed Your hands of me right this minute.

  His cell phone rang. He ignored it.

  It rang again. On the third time, he fished it out of his coat pocket to see Gil Sorrent’s name on the screen. Here we go.

  Gil didn’t bother with a greeting. “Where are you?” He knew. Mac could hear it in his voice.

  Mac didn’t even know. He looked up, squinting at the route signs. “About a dozen miles out of town, I suppose.”

  “Did you do it?” There was no need for any clarification of details. Mac knew exactly what Gil was asking and why.

  “Yes.” Mac wiped one hand down his face and groaned. “I’ve messed this up something fierce. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Come to the farm.”

  Gil was right. The office was no place to go now. “Sure, in twenty minutes, tops. But I think I’d better drive a little slower than I have been.” In some sick desire to feel as bad as possible, he asked, “Who knows?”

  “By the time you get here, probably everyone. Howard ain’t much for being subtle when he’s mad.”

  Mary’s imagined lynch mob had come to life. Her overblown fear about people’s conceptions of her Bippo Bear involvement would get mixed in with their justified anger over his secret, and the whole thing would get tumbled together in a Christmas nightmare. “Mary…”

  “Emily’s on the phone with Dinah now, sending her up to Mary’s apartment to stay with her until we all figure out what to do next.”

  What to do next? That didn’t really need a lot of planning. Mac had to stand and face the music, that’s what happened next. There was an odd, almost hysterical freedom to having the whole process ripped from his hands. Mac was smart enough to realize he had very little control over how things played out from here. It could be everything from a touching reconciliation to a lawsuit to being run out of town—Mac resigned himself to whatever God handed him as a consequence for his actions.

  Mary, however, was another story. She’d brought none of this on herself. She was working through a highly emotional issue in the best way she knew how. God was clearly at work within her, and he’d made it all worse instead of offering the help he’d intended. Faith was still a new underpinning for her life—it had caught some tender part of him to watch her reliance on God grow. He’d barely realized how much he’d come to care for her.

  That is, of course, until he hurt her in the worst possible way. He’d always been able to smooth over his outbursts with a clever remark, a funny story, or even a prank to bring people back onto common ground. A hundred clever comebacks would never save him from this betrayal. He’d known that God had trusted him with the precious secret of Mary’s situation. Known the delicate nature of her new faith and her new place in this community. And he’d done it terrible harm.

  The fact that Howard goaded him into it wasn’t even close to an excuse.

  Mac wasn’t surprised to see Pastor Dave’s car in the drive in front of Gil’s house. Nor was he surprised to see the look of supreme disappointment on Gil’s face when he opened the door. Gil said nothing, j
ust nodded and ushered Mac into the huge den. Before its massive fireplace, Mac remembered, was where Homestretch Farm conducted all of its most serious business. Well, thought Mac, this qualifies.

  Pastor Dave looked tired. “This isn’t fair to you,” Mac offered as he took one of the large leather chairs that circled the hearth. “I’m sorry.”

  Pastor Dave took off his glasses and ran a hand across his eyes. “I’d much rather have heard this from you.” Mac could only imagine Howard’s rendition. He started to give his version of the story, then thought better of it. Whatever evils Howard had ascribed to him, he probably deserved them.

  “I had planned to tell you…next.” It sounded so weak, even if it was true. “I thought Howard needed to hear it first. It was his car that was damaged, after all. It was a terrible decision to keep this to myself all these years.”

  Emily entered the room, carrying mugs of coffee for the group. “Why now? What made you bring this up two days before Christmas?”

  “It was Mary, actually.”

  Gil looked up as he took a mug from Emily. “Mary?”

  “She was so terrified about what you all would think of her when you knew about the Bippo Bears. The secret was making her crazy. At first I just wanted to help, to let her know everyone has things they hope no one finds out. Then I realized I wasn’t much better. It was like God used her as a mirror to hold up against my own secret—if that makes any sense. I thought if she could see me survive mine, she’d know she’d survive hers.”

  “What’s Mary got to do with Bippo Bears?”

  Mac was not going to open his mouth. He was not going to heap more onto his whopping pile of betrayal, useless as it was now. He looked at Pastor Dave, silently asking him how much should be said.

  “Mary’s job before she came to Middleburg was with an advertising agency. Mary is the person who wrote the Bippo Bear jingle. She feels personally responsible for all this nonsense going on over these bears. And she’s pretty sure you all won’t think too highly of her when you find out.”