Regina picked up the book. It was wrapped in yellowed plastic and fastened around with string. She peered through the plastic to read the title, gold-stamped on a brown leather cover.
It was a Bible. That made sense. A very small one, no more than six inches long and four inches wide. It fit right in the palm of her hand. Many old books were small, Regina knew, because resources like paper had been expensive and precious.
Most old books were not worth much; she knew that, too. Especially something as common as the Bible. But it had been special to someone, to be preserved so carefully. Someone who had lived long ago, maybe even in this house.
Maybe the lady who owned the shawl? Regina imagined the woman carrying the little Bible to church and back every Sunday, or keeping it close by her bedside and reading it by candlelight or an old oil-wick lamp.
It was easy to picture the woman praying with the little Bible, and Regina wondered if her prayers had helped her. She didn’t pray much herself, though she did talk directly to God at times. More than ever lately, since their lives had gotten tough.
Sometimes, she thought He even answered. Not directly. It wasn’t as if she heard a voice in her head or anything like that. But now and again, she would ask for help and help would appear, out of the blue, coming in a way she never imagined. In the form of some extra money, or advice from someone who knew how to fix her problems. Or the way she brought Brian to the doctor for an earache and Molly Willoughby had offered her a job. Those gentle little nudges kept her going.
Regina held the little brown Bible in her hand and looked it over. She didn’t want Richard to throw it away. That didn’t seem right. Though it was so old, she guessed that if she ever opened the plastic and turned the pages, the book might crumble in her hand.
She tucked it into her jacket pocket. If only for the sake of the lady who may have lived in this house, who ate, slept, and prayed under the very same roof. If only to respect her memory, Regina thought.
RICHARD AND SAM RETURNED AND TOOK THE REST OF THE STUFF AWAY. When Richard came back again with the empty truck, it was already dark and Regina had supper ready. He had dropped off Brian after the first trip, and the kids were both in the living room, playing a board game they had found in one of the closets. The ancient TV set was on, too. It didn’t get any cable stations and the reception was snowy, but they still found a program or two they wanted to see.
Richard came in the back door and quickly closed it against the cold air. He looked tired, Regina thought, but had a strange expression on his face. Not exactly happy, but almost. Happiness mixed with confusion or surprise, she’d have to say.
“How did it go? Were you able to drop off everything?”
“The bulk of it. There’s more in the basement, but we’ll leave that for another day.” He took off his jacket and hung it on a hook in the mudroom, then poured himself a cold beer.
“It was nice of Sam to help you,” Regina said.
She had made roast chicken and potatoes and now took the pan out of the oven to check. She didn’t want the food to get too dry.
“Very nice. He’s got to be the nicest boss I’ve ever had.” Richard sat down at the table, the confusion on his face reflected in his voice. “I just don’t get it.”
“Maybe there’s nothing to get. Maybe he just likes to help people.”
Richard sighed. “I never met anyone who liked to help people as much as he does. You know what else he did today—I mean, besides coming over here on his day off and doing all that work with me?”
“What did he do?” Regina turned to look at him.
“After we brought over the second load, he told me to drop him off at his house and said I could borrow the truck for a while. As long as I bring it to work and we can use it to haul things to the job site. He has another truck,” Richard added. “A big, new one. So he said this one was just sitting in front of the shop most of the time and we might as well get some use out of it. This way, he knows I’ll be at work on time.”
Regina knew her husband would be at work on time, no matter what. Even if he had to walk all the way. That was the way Richard was. Sam probably knew that, too, but was just coming up with some rationale for his generosity.
Now Regina understood why her husband came in looking so mystified.
“He gave it to you? Really?” Regina looked out the window. She saw the old red truck parked in front of the garage, right behind their car. “Wow . . . that was very generous. What a guy.”
She didn’t know what else to say. She could sense that the gesture had disturbed—or maybe just shocked—her husband. He’d had so many bad breaks lately and had been let down by so many people he’d trusted, he didn’t understand how anyone could be so nice to him.
“I didn’t want to take it. But he insisted.” Richard’s face flushed. “I think he knows we need another car, but we don’t have the money.”
“Well, we don’t. This truck will be a huge help. It won’t be forever,” she reminded him.
Richard glanced over at her but didn’t say anything. He finally offered a small smile, but she could see that he had mixed feelings about accepting Sam’s charity. For that’s what it really was, and it was hard for Richard. It hurt his pride to admit need. Regina understood that, too.
She decided not to talk about it anymore right now. Richard needed time to process this unexpected good turn. She knew it hurt a little to take the truck, but she was also relieved. She had been worried that whatever extra money they earned at their new jobs would be eaten up buying a necessary second car, which would undoubtedly be used and needing a repair every other week. But they’d been saved from that pitfall. At least, for now.
Richard called Madeline and Brian in for dinner as Regina finished setting the table. The kids seemed happy, Regina thought. They didn’t seem to notice that the house was shabby. They seemed to like their new rooms, especially Madeline, who had spent a lot of time today fixing up hers.
“Dad, you’ll never guess what I found today in the junk pile,” Madeline said.
Richard smiled in spite of himself. “Did you finally come up with something good, Maddy? You sure took a long time poking around in all that stuff.”
“I found this beautiful shawl. I’m going to hang it in my room, on the wall. After Mom washes it,” Madeline added. “I left it downstairs on the machine,” she added, glancing at her mother.
It couldn’t be washed in the machine; it would shred to pieces. But Regina didn’t bother telling her that. “Okay, I’ll get to it soon. She also found a very pretty wooden box. It looks handmade. She’s going to use it on her dresser. Oh, there was an old Bible inside, wrapped in plastic. Someone must have saved it; a family memento, I guess.”
“A Bible? Maybe it belonged to one of your ancestors, Gina. Sometimes people write a family tree in the front pages. Did you check?” Richard asked between bites of food.
“I thought of that, too. But it’s so old, it looks like it might fall apart if I even opened it. I’ll show you later.”
“Sounds interesting,” he said. “Maybe there are a few useful things in all that junk. Maybe we shouldn’t toss it all without at least looking through it.”
Had her husband just agreed that being a “saver” wasn’t entirely a bad trait? Regina nearly laughed out loud but decided not to point that out to him.
It was moments like this, when things felt relaxed and easy between them, that she wondered why they were going to separate. She felt warm and affectionate toward him, noticing how handsome he looked tonight in a dark blue pullover and worn jeans, his hair mussed from working outdoors all day.
But it wasn’t always like this. Most of the time, it was just the opposite, she reminded herself. This was only a truce, for the sake of the children. Otherwise, they’d be right at each other, fighting and arguing over every little thing.
“Okay, close your eyes, everyone,” Regina said when the dinner was cleared away. “I have a surprise.”
Sh
e quickly started off toward the mudroom, where she had hidden the chocolate cake she baked that day when everyone was out of the house. Then she glanced over her shoulder and noticed Brian peeking. “Hey, cover those eyes, buddy, or you won’t get any.”
“Won’t get any of what?” he asked, sounding perfectly frustrated and making everyone else laugh.
“You’ll see,” Regina called back from the next room.
“Okay, now you can look.” Regina placed the cake in the middle of the table, and smiled as Brian’s eyes widened.
“Wow! Thanks, Mom! It’s not even my birthday!” Brian got so excited, he slipped off his chair.
Richard grabbed him just in time. “Steady, pal. It’s just dessert.”
“Can I have a slice with a lot of icing?” Madeline leaned over, watching Regina cut the cake.
“Me, too?” Richard asked in a quieter voice.
“Coming right up.” Regina carefully cut the slices and dished them out. Everyone was silent for a long time—even Brian—as they savored the delicious cake.
“This is the best cake you ever made, Mom,” her son said finally. “Really.”
“It is,” Madeline agreed. “But I still don’t understand what we’re celebrating.”
“Oh . . . I don’t know. We’ll be living here one whole week tomorrow. Let’s celebrate that,” Regina suggested.
Richard glanced at her with a doubtful look. Regina pretended she didn’t understand him.
“Okay,” Madeline said. “That’s a good thing to celebrate.”
“Let’s have a big cake every week we live here,” Brian suggested.
“There’s an idea,” Regina answered, not agreeing or disagreeing, which was a tactic she often used with her children. She did wonder how many cakes she would end up making if Brian had his way.
“Can you make a cake like this on Christmas?” Brian was picking up the last crumbs on his plate with his fingers.
“Sure thing,” Regina promised. That, she figured, was one thing she could safely guarantee them.
Soon it was time for the kids to get ready for bed. Richard took Brian upstairs to give him a bath and read him a bedtime story while Regina cleaned the kitchen.
By the time Richard came down again, she was sitting in the living room with a cup of tea and a novel that Sally Heller, the nurse at Dr. Harding’s office, had loaned her. Richard sat down on the couch but didn’t turn on the TV.
Regina put her book down and looked over at him. “Did the kids go to sleep already?”
“Brian went out like a light. I didn’t even finish the picture book I started. Maddy put her pajamas on, but she’s doing something to her hair.”
Madeline liked to try new hairstyles at night, when there was little risk of anyone she knew besides the family seeing her.
“Cute.” Regina paused. “They’re excited about Christmas.”
“No kidding. I bet they already know all the gifts they want.” Richard sounded worried.
“Well, they are children. The last two years have been very hard on them, especially the holidays. But this year, we have this house and we’re both working. It’s definitely getting better, don’t you think?”
Richard gazed at her, then rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “We have jobs, that’s true. And we have a roof over our heads. But it’s nothing like our old life, Regina.”
Nothing like the salary I used to earn and the house I bought for you and the kids, he wanted to say. To compare the past and present made him feel even more of a failure somehow, more ashamed of the way he had let her down. Didn’t she see that?
“No, it’s not. But it’s better than it was a few months ago. That’s all I’m trying to say.” Regina sighed. “I hope we can stick to our agreement and hold it together a little longer to give the kids a good Christmas. As good as we can manage. After that . . . well, we can figure things out. If you don’t want to stay together, I guess I’ll understand. I told you before, I don’t want to fight with you anymore. And I can’t change your feelings. I can’t talk you into being happy,” she told him. “I don’t even want to try.”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked wearily. “Let’s just get through the holiday.”
“All right, I understand.” Regina’s voice was calm. “We’ve already gone over this a million times. There’s no need to talk about it anymore.”
She stared at him a minute, her mouth set in a tight line. When she looked at him that way, he felt like his heart was going to burst. Sometimes he thought they had a chance to work things out. He would see a spark in her eye or she would smile at him or laugh a certain way. But he must be imagining all that, he thought. Just wishful thinking. She didn’t love him anymore. How could she, if she could say that to him, so plain and matter-of-fact?
“Right.” He managed to keep his voice steady. “There’s no need. You’re right about the kids. They come first. They ought to have a nice Christmas this year. I agree with that, too. They’ve had enough problems to deal with. They need a break.”
Regina nodded, feeling her heart crack in a few places, though it didn’t quite break.
“All right. That’s what we’ll do then.” She got to her feet, picked up her book, and headed for the stairs. “I’m going up. Good night.”
“Good night, Gina,” Richard said quietly.
She thought he sounded sad, but she didn’t turn around to look at him and maybe go back and talk it out and try to make things better. She felt too tired for that. She was tired of doing all the work in their relationship. She felt a lot of hope about her life lately, Regina realized. But not about her marriage.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE MEETING OF THE DEACONATE ON MONDAY NIGHT HAD taken much longer than Isabel expected. She didn’t have much patience for meetings. That was just the way she was; she couldn’t help it. It did seem at times as if God sent you certain situations to build up the weak places. As if the universe were some big spiritual fitness room. Patience with meetings and committees was definitely her weakest muscle group.
But the deacons were a great group of men and women, and there had been a lot to discuss, mainly all of the special services and events leading up to Christmas and the Christmas Day service itself.
Isabel’s first service on Sunday had been reviewed as well. She had been given high marks. She’d done well coming in and out with her parts of the liturgy, taking her cues. She had not given a long Sunday service in a while, so it had been a challenge. Her sermon, which she based on the day’s Scripture, had been well received, too.
Now it was on to Christmas, full speed ahead. She was new here and so much had to be explained. It would take her a while to process all the information coming at her. She might not even get it all straight before it was time to go, she realized.
Isabel went into her office right after the meeting to get her coat and briefcase. Tucker stuck his head in the door a few moments later, startling her.
“You’re the last to leave the church tonight, Reverend. I can wait and lock up if you like.”
“Oh, that’s all right, Tucker. You go ahead. I can lock the doors. I remember how to do it,” she assured him.
She had heard Tucker say that he had to be at work tonight for a late shift, as a favor for a friend. She didn’t want to keep him.
“I’ll just leave the glass door near the office open. I’ll lock up the rest,” he replied. “Good night now. You should go home and get some rest. Tomorrow is another day.”
“Yes, it is. Good advice,” she agreed. But tomorrow would be filled with its own demands. Every day here so far had been filled to the brim. She had forgotten how much work there was running a church, even a church this size.
Tucker said good night again and she heard him walking down the hall, closing up the church. She started to shut down her computer, but a few important e-mails caught her eye. Isabel sat down and started to write quick answers, hoping to save herself some time in the morning.
Bef
ore she realized it, she had been sitting there another hour. With her coat on. She leaned her head back and tried to stretch out her shoulders. It was time to go back to her cozy room at Vera Plante’s house. Maybe she could sneak into the kitchen and make herself some hot cocoa. She needed some downtime, all alone. That would be a treat, Isabel thought.
She finally shut down the computer and turned off the light on her desk. Then she headed out to the hallway to let herself out of the church. The long hall was dark, with only the light from outside streaming in through the windows.
As she walked to the glass door, she heard strange sounds. Was she imagining it? No, she heard them clearly. Voices, coming from the sanctuary. Along with an odd noise she couldn’t identify. It sounded like bowling balls, rolling down wooden lanes . . . so peculiar.
Without giving a thought to what she might find—or even to her own safety—Isabel headed through the wooden doors and into the church sanctuary.
Nothing could have prepared her for the sight she saw in the dim shadows.
Three teenage boys were skateboarding around the front of the church, doing rings around the altar table and down the long aisles between the pews, whooping and laughing and egging one another on.
Isabel flung the doors open wide, then turned on the lights. “What in the world is going on here? Stop that this instant!” she demanded.
Amazingly, they all obeyed her. For a split second. As if she’d hit a pause button on a remote control.
Then she saw them exchange looks and heard shouted expletives. Two of the boys grabbed their skateboards, flipping them up with a quick foot movement, then scuttled out the side door. But one boy was much closer to her. He was the most daring of all. He jumped on his board and raced down the center aisle, determined to brazenly escape by charging right past her. She saw him speed up the board with a foot maneuver just as he came her way.
Riding the board fairly low, his hands out for balance, he came straight at her. He must have been expecting her to be too shocked to do anything except jump out of the way. That’s what most people would have done.
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