Twilight Christmas: A Carolina Coast Novella (Carolina Coast Novels Book 3)

by Normandie Fischer

  “You sure they didn’t take the offerings?” someone asked. Annie Mac didn’t recognize the woman. “What about the cross and candlesticks in the sanctuary or the chapel?”

  “Nothing else. Except, obviously, a doll and blankets. Now, there may be other small items, and if you find anything else that’s not where it ought to be, let Father John or me know.” Clay paused for a moment. “It seems to us that we’re most likely looking at someone who is homeless. Maybe someone hungry and cold.”

  “And maybe there’s a kid, you know, on account of the missing baby Jesus.” That was from one of the middle school boys.

  “Excellent point, Jerrod. So, what I’m going to suggest is that we all keep our eyes open for someone who doesn’t seem to fit or who looks suspicious. Father John would like to help whoever did this.”

  “Not lock them up?” That was Andrew Williams, an insurance agent who always seemed full of himself to Annie Mac.

  “Of course not,” she said and then glanced sheepishly at Clay. He smiled at her.

  “But they broke in,” said Andrew. “That’s against the law.”

  “It is.” Clay nodded at Captain Obvious. “But maybe whoever did this doesn’t know where else to go for help.”

  “Maybe. And maybe we were just an easy mark.”

  Murmuring followed Andrew’s words.

  Clay ignored him and spoke to the group. “Report it to one of us if you see anything suspicious. In the meantime, let’s get some work done. We only have a few days to go before the pageant is live!”

  Annie Mac grinned at his gung-ho cheerleader’s voice and spoke quietly for his ears only. “I certainly hope Andrew won’t be the one to find our culprit or culprits.”

  “Unless, of course, the thief wasn’t homeless at all but staged the robbery for some other reason.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Which is why he left the valuables and went for food, clothing, and a doll. Sounds highly suspicious to me.”

  As she worked at her sewing machine piecing together costumes, Annie Mac couldn’t stop thinking about the homeless person or persons who’d broken into the church. Was there a child out there, a little girl who’d needed a doll for comfort?

  She supposed the person didn’t have to be homeless to be in need. He or she could just be out of work and hungry, maybe living in one of those trailers just beyond the field. Maybe the heat had gone out at their house, too. She could relate to being cold, especially at night.

  Thank heavens she had the quilts she’d inherited from Auntie Sim. What if she hadn’t had them? What if she and her babies were without an income, without a place to live—which could be the case come January if something didn’t happen to change her circumstances. Maybe every apartment would be full, every house rented, every room at the inn taken.

  There was certainly a precedent for no room at the inn. At least her name wasn’t Mary and she wasn’t pregnant.

  And wasn’t it something about Brisa not knowing the truth about Christmas? Had the child only heard about a non-existent Santa Claus whose non-existent love would never fill very real spiritual holes?

  Lord, could you please work on filling some very real physical holes in our life?

  She loosed a long sigh. The trouble with doing work like this, mechanical work that kept only one part of her brain engaged, was that she had too much time for the other part of her brain to fret.

  She’d rented out the house she’d inherited from Auntie Sim because the thought of living between walls that had seen so much horror appalled her. Even if she were about to become homeless, its tenants had a lease, obviously a much better one than she’d gotten from her own landlord. Besides, the income from the rent paid the house taxes and insurance as well as augmenting her measly substitute’s salary.

  “Mama,” a little voice said at her shoulder.

  Annie Mac released the foot pedal to stop her machine and turned to her daughter. “What do you need, sweetie?”

  “Do you think I should let them have Agatha? You know, for where baby Jesus is supposed to go?” Katie’s expression suggested the idea worried her.

  Pulling the child close, Annie Mac kissed the sweet cheek. “That is so kind of you, love. But I think they may want a baby doll instead of a little girl doll. I bet they’ll find another one soon.”

  “Okay.” Katie’s eyes brightened. “It’s just, angels are s’pposed to take care of the baby.”

  “Ah. Well, you do a lovely job of taking care of Agatha. And thank you for being so thoughtful.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” Katie hugged her hard and scurried back to the other children.

  That sweet baby girl.

  Annie Mac wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hands. It constantly amazed her that her two loves actually functioned as caring individuals, in spite of all they’d witnessed—and experienced.

  Thank you, God, for that.

  Because it had to be divine, didn’t it? The fact that Katie didn’t remember—or at least didn’t seem traumatized by—the horror of Roy. And the fact that Ty seemed to have moved past his own nightmares that had been an aftermath of the shooting.

  She and Ty had talked about what had happened, and she’d asked him if he needed to speak to a counselor, too. Her boy had looked surprised. “Mama, I have the lieutenant to talk to. I don’t need anyone else.”

  She’d been just a little hurt by that, if she remembered correctly. A little miffed that all Ty seemed to need was Clay—okay, and her. While she still hadn’t moved to the other side of the whole ordeal. Or gotten past her fear that she’d made too many mistakes to want to risk herself again.

  Clay walked past the open door carrying a piece of scenery that looked like the side of a stall. He wore a T-shirt, tight fitting and revealing those muscles she wasn’t supposed to notice. And his jeans… Oh, man.

  She turned back to the sewing machine and fed more fabric under the presser foot. She would not think about him, and she certainly wouldn’t think about his muscles or . . .

  Stop it! Annie Mac Rinehart, you get your mind settled elsewhere. Right now.

  She grinned. She was a mess. No doubt about it, a real mess.

  Tomorrow, she had a few apartments to see. Rita’d lined her up with two here in town and one just over the bridge in Morehead City.

  Her children would hate relocating to Morehead, changing schools, moving far from friends. The logistics of it felt overwhelming.

  But that was a worry for tomorrow. Today had worries enough of its own.

  14

  Louis

  Louis waited until dark to sneak Linney out to the little bathroom. “You gotta stay real quiet. There are all those people coming into the church parking lot, and we don’t want them to see us.”

  She put her finger to her lips.

  “Good girl.”

  After they finished, she smelled so much better. He’d rinsed out her clothes, too, but it was a good thing she had new ones. No telling how long the old would take to dry with it so cold out.

  Linney didn’t care about any of it. She had a new baby.

  Still, he shouldn’t have stolen any of it. He knew better.

  He sure hadn’t planned this escape of theirs very well. He’d admit that. He’d been in a hurry and desperate to protect his sister. Because things happened in foster care, and he couldn’t let her go back to that. Him either.

  He’d never forget the one time they’d been in for a couple of weeks when his mama’d had to go to a hospital and there hadn’t been anyone else to keep them. People had been mean to Linney. Real mean, only she couldn’t tell him what they’d done. He just knew it had taken a long time to get her to calm down after they got back home, and she’d wet herself all the time for months.

  Sometimes, life or maybe Linney’s condition had even gotten to Mama. And then he’d have to take care of both of them, his big sister and his mama.

  And at school, they’d put him in a class two ahead of his normal grade, which meant he was the o
nly shrimp in the seventh grade. Some of the kids had been nice anyway, not all, but some. Only, not in foster care. Never there.

  He sure wished he’d grow taller soon. And get some muscles.

  He was sorry about the broken door on that church building. He’d figure out how to pay them back once he figured out how to get out of the mess he’d landed them in.

  But it didn’t look like he had an out yet. He couldn’t let the social worker have his sister. And he didn’t want to be in the system either. If he thought being ten and in seventh grade was hard, how would it be to be ten and living with a bunch of guys who were twice his size and real bullies? And they might put Linney in an institution this time. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Ever.

  They’d had a close call. Nobody was supposed to be working because it was real early on Saturday, and he’d risked taking Linney to the little portable bathroom to wash her up in the water. She’d needed it. Her hair, too, which he figured would dry better in daytime. They’d been heading back across the lot to their hiding place when some guy had yelled at them.

  Louis had pulled Linney along, only she wasn’t real fast on account of one of her feet was a little out-pointing. It made her even more clumsy.

  He hadn’t taken her near the barn. Only into the woods to hide. He couldn’t let anyone know they were using the barn.

  Then it would be all over.

  But maybe it would be anyway. If that fellow had been one of the workmen and he told, they’d lock up their bathroom. If that happened, Louis didn’t know what he’d do. He sure couldn’t take care of his sister without water.

  15

  Annie Mac

  She’d agreed to let Ty go to Clay’s again this Saturday because she had apartments to check out and really didn’t want her children tagging along on this first visit. But who could keep Katie?

  Tadie already had plans with her husband and children. Rita was on her way to Raleigh with Martin to see his parents. Hannah?

  “I’d love to have that sweet baby come to visit. You know I would.”

  Yes, Hannah would. Hadn’t Hannah been the first to come to her rescue after Roy? The one who’d kept her babies while she’d been hospitalized?

  Annie Mac helped Katie pick out clothes for the day. “You get to play with Harvey and Miss Hannah.”

  Her daughter drew her thumb from her mouth and began dancing on her toes. “I love Harvey.”

  “I know you do. And Harvey loves you. Now hold still so I can brush your hair.”

  “I thought we were going Christmas shopping. We didn’t get to go last week.”

  Only because there’d been no extra money last week. Not that she had a great deal left even now, but she didn’t say that. She put on a happy face. “First Mommy has some other things she has to do. Then you and I can spend time together.”

  She made sure Katie had used the potty, and they were off.

  Harvey dashed out the front door the moment they came to a stop in the Morgan’s driveway. Barking ecstatically, he was all wiggling Irish Setter as he waited for Annie Mac to release Katie.

  Hannah followed more sedately. “I’m so glad you’ve brought this sweet girl to spend a few hours with her Auntie Hannah.”

  “I’m so grateful to you.” Annie Mac reached out to pet Harvey. “He seems glad to see you, Katie.”

  “Me, too!” She threw her arms around the dog’s neck. “We’re friends.”

  “As soon as I mentioned your name, he sat at attention at the door.” Hannah leaned toward Katie. “Are you ready to come inside? You and Harvey and I can have a snack and play games.”

  “Ready!” Katie skipped forward with the dog.

  “I’ll call if I’m delayed.” Annie Mac climbed back in the car.

  “You go on. We’ll be just fine.”

  Annie Mac took a deep breath, checked the map she’d printed out and the directions to her first stop, and backed down the drive.

  Please, please let me find some wonderful place for us to live.

  Her first stop was an apartment on the east side of town. As she pulled up to the brick buildings and found the one with a vacancy, her stomach did a flip—and not a happy one. She could never bring her children to a place like this, not with that jacked-up car at the curb and those toys scattered all over what was supposed to be a lawn. Someone was playing music loud enough for her to hear it through a closed window. Rusted lawn furniture and bikes leaned against walls in the walkway between buildings.

  She picked up her phone and dialed the leasing agent. She would not be meeting him today.

  The next address sounded more promising, especially as it was closer to Ty’s school. She slowed as she approached, checking house numbers carefully. There it was, on the left side of a duplex. The right side housed Madame Tiffany, Psychic Reader and Clairvoyant.

  Living only a wall away from a woman who read palms, looked in a crystal ball, read tea leaves and tarot cards, or pretended to talk to the dead? No thank you.

  These two couldn’t be the only rentals in her price range in Beaufort. What had Rita been thinking?

  She turned the car around and headed out of town and across the bridge to Morehead City. She would not be discouraged. But she did dial Rita’s cell phone.

  Her friend answered on the third ring. “Hey, girl, have you checked anything out yet?”

  “I just drove away from the first two. How did you learn about these gems?”

  “Oh, are they good? Martin, Annie Mac says they’re gems.”

  “Rita, the gem part was sarcasm.”

  “Oops.” Rita’s laugh made Annie Mac smile in spite of her disappointment. “One of the women at the center has been checking out places we might use to put some of our clients. She said they wouldn’t work for us but might for you.” Rita’s enthusiasm had fizzled to nothing. “I take it she was wrong?”

  “Let’s just say, I hope you’re not paying her and expecting wisdom.”

  “She’s a volunteer. Tell me. Were they horrible?”

  By the time Annie Mac had finished describing the two she’d seen, Rita’s laughter had Martin begging for an explanation. “In a sec,” she told her husband.

  “I’m headed over the high rise bridge now,” Annie Mac said. “I’ll let you know what I find at this last one.”

  “We’re almost to Raleigh,” Rita said. “I’ll call you later, and you can tell me you found the perfect place.”

  “Hope so.”

  The directions took her down Bridges for a couple of miles before she had to turn right, then left. The houses grew progressively smaller as she drove. When she finally located the address, she pulled into the driveway and stared at a tiny Cape Cod, painted a soft yellow. It was tidy with well-kept hedges and even a porch swing. And the neighborhood wasn’t bad at all. She could imagine them living here. She really could.

  With a smile, she walked next door to get the key from someone named Tallent. A slightly stooped older lady opened the door before Annie Mac had even knocked.

  “I’ve been watching for you,” the woman said. “I have the key right here. I put it on the table when that young couple returned it an hour ago because I wanted to have it ready. They were a delightful couple and really liked the house, so you may be too late, but you’re welcome to take a look at it for yourself in case they change their mind.”

  “I’m too late?”

  “They were going to call the owner. I told them they weren’t the only ones coming to see the house today.”

  “Ah.” Of course she’d be too late.

  “Would you still like to take a look around?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” It wouldn’t hurt to see it, and maybe the couple would find something more to their taste. And maybe she’d discover it was in terrible shape and not a place she’d want at all.

  It was perfect. A little cottage with three bedrooms and a den, as well as a living room and a kitchen twice the size of the one she had now. And the back yard already had a
swing set.

  She reluctantly returned the key to Mrs. Tallent and said she’d call later. The older woman nodded. “If it’s supposed to be yours, it will be.”

  Annie Mac tried not to hope that “meant to be” would be “meant for her.”

  Hannah wanted to keep Katie with her while they ate peanut butter sandwiches. “You come fetch her later, okay?”

  That was fine with Annie Mac. She had shopping to think about and how she’d pay for Christmas gifts for all the good people in her life. If her permanent posting at the school didn’t come through, she was going to have to reconsider teaching. Or she’d have to augment her salary with another job.

  And then who’d take care of her babies?

  One foot in front of the other. That was all she could do. Move forward and pray/hope/try to trust that a solution would come before she and her children found themselves sitting on the sidewalk, homeless.

  “That won’t happen.” She spoke the words vehemently to her car’s windshield. It wouldn’t. Not on her watch.

  And now she was talking to herself.

  She returned to the apartment that was still hers and climbed the stairs. As she made herself a toasted ham and cheese sandwich, she tried to imagine what she might be able to find at the dollar store. She couldn’t shop on Front Street, even if every time she passed Down East Creations, she longed to go in and buy just one thing. Maybe one of Hannah’s mugs to replace the chipped pieces in her cupboards, rummage-sale items she’d bought to replace what Roy had destroyed.

  If only she were talented like Hannah, the potter, or Tadie, the jewelry maker. Or brilliant like Rita, whose lawyerly expertise helped so many.

  If only.

  Oh, stop it. Pity parties were the worst things.

  She worried the issue as she ate her sandwich and washed the pan, as she dried it off with care as if it might hold the secret to a brilliant strategy.