by LoRee Peery
“I’m not afraid, Liam. If I ever feel I’m in danger, I’ll call you or the police. Help is only a phone call away.”
“What if someone takes your phone?”
She was halfway across the bricks, her boots click-clacking.
The man pulled off his stocking cap. “How-do, ma’am. I got a couple buddies who said you’ve got God’s Word to share, along with a warm blanket.”
“That I do. Let me get the door and you come on in for a moment where it’s warm.” She glared back at Liam.
Liam let the door slam, stomped to the work counter, and picked up his phone.
“I’m calling from Gorgeous Photography in the courtyard on Eighth Street. I’m about to open my photography studio. I don’t approve of men of the streets hanging around the courtyard in front of our business establishments. Such riffraff drives off potential business.”
7
Day Six ’couragement
Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
~Psalm 51:7
On her drive through the country next morning, Zoe’s thoughts centered on Liam. What else, these days? She’d wanted to tell him how many biblical references there were to angels, something like sixty-six in the Book of Revelation alone. He wouldn’t have been receptive.
This was a new day. She needed to put yesterday behind. She left her car parked in the garage and shook off Liam’s head invasion. She thought she caught a glimpse of the man who’d taken the camouflage coat, but he was too far away to identify.
She hummed Christmas carols on her way, and burst out with “Angels We have Heard on High” as she stowed her bag behind the decorative screen.
A city police officer approached her door. She met him just inside.
He pulled off his hat. “Zoe Danner?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?”
“Officer Strong. Nothing’s wrong. We’re aware of the clientele that come to your establishment. Have you had any trouble recently with any of the men loitering?”
“Not at all. Everyone who comes in has been grateful and shown respect. If I encounter those in need outside the courtyard, I try to acknowledge them, but I don’t indulge them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll offer to buy them a meal, if they accept, rather than hand over cash. I sometimes deliver blankets and pocket-size New Testament Bibles. No one has bothered me at all.”
“That’s good to hear. Keep your cellphone with you at all times.”
“Has something happened for you to be concerned?”
“Nothing beyond the usual. We had a proprietor report a particular needy man had been hanging around the courtyard.”
“I haven’t seen anyone misbehaving, Officer Strong.”
“That’s good to know. Watch yourself and have a happy holiday.”
“I will. Merry Christmas. Wait.” Zoe pulled open a drawer underneath the counter and handed him a dark green testament. “Pass it on or keep it for yourself, please don’t throw it away.”
She went to the window and watched him circle the courtyard. At Liam’s door, the officer hesitated, and then waved.
From the window, Liam lifted a hand in response, then caught sight of her and waved. He turned without waiting for her to acknowledge him. Had he observed the officer enter Agape Wear, or was there more to it?
To pass the time, Zoe took her long-handled duster and swept over open shelving, the window seat, and anything else that wasn’t fabric. The whole while, she was unsettled over the niggling notion that Liam had called the police. She got out the vacuum cleaner, but the noise didn’t erase her negative thoughts.
His negativity toward Christmas and street people bugged her.
She stored the vacuum and pulled out her e-reader. The romantic suspense needed more concentration than she had to give at the moment, so she tapped into the Internet connection and lost herself in the familiar comfort of the Christmas story in Luke chapter two.
Scripture chased away the gloom until two women entered. The youngest held the bottom of a baby sleeping in a sling.
“Good morning. I’m Zoe. What may I help you find?”
“I’ve got a two-year-old girl who has never played in the snow. Do you maybe have a snowsuit for her?”
Zoe led them to the correct shelf, where she found hot pink snow pants. “These should work. If you don’t mind, I like to know the names of those who get clothing, so I can pray.”
“My little girl is Ella. She has a coat but could use a stocking cap and moisture-proof mittens.” The young mother glanced at her companion, who nodded. “I’m Cinnamon, and this is my mother Ginger.”
Zoe busied herself to hide her smile, thankful Cinnamon hadn’t said her little girl was named Clove. She turned, garments in hand. “Let me get these articles in a bag for you, unless I can help you with anything else.”
“We need to take the bus back to the shelter. Pastor Mac told us about Agape Wear. Bless you.” The older woman spoke for the first time.
“I wish you the same, Ginger. I’m adding a small package of markers so your little girl can color on the sack when you’re ready. Merry Christmas.” She handed the bag to the older woman.
The baby started to fuss. Cinnamon pulled out a pacifier, and tucked a blanket around the baby’s head, holding it in place with a glove that didn’t look warm enough.
The action tugged at Zoe’s heart. She’d never given much thought to being a mother. Since running into Liam, though, she’d spent a lot more time on dreaming of a family to call her own. He’d come a long way. At first, he didn’t have enough Christmas cheer in his heart to encourage a potential customer to draw near to his window. Lately, more window shoppers had paused for a second look as they trickled by. She’d work on him until he added more color and life to his perception of Christmas, along with his photographs. She wished for a whole crowd to push their way through his door.
~*~
Liam stayed close to the front of the gallery. He had to stop calling it a studio. He kept an eye on Agape Wear while he arranged the neon pedestals so people could move around them. He’d placed turquoise and cobalt blue benches back-to-back so visitors could scope out each wall of photographs from a distance.
Had the cop cautioned Zoe? Why had she even chosen to house Agape Wear in a rather secluded courtyard where she could be trapped by an undesirable?
He rolled a neon green pedestal onto his foot. “Ouch!”
Irritated already due to spending so much time preoccupied by a woman whose life was none of his business, he rubbed his foot against the back of the opposite leg. Crossing his arms, he stared across the bricks at Zoe’s window and saw two other women with her. Better than men.
The corners of his mouth lifted. What would she have for him today? He ran an eye over the cards, star, and angel in the window. Zoe’s Christmas ’couragement had given him something to look forward to each day, got him to open his eyes to life in his environment. Everywhere, color caught his eye. Christmas proved to be a lot more than red and green. He noted faces in light of the season, rosy cheeks and gleaming eyes. Something inside had shifted. He wasn’t as dismayed by what he couldn’t change. He surveyed alleys and gray corners without the usual turn of his stomach.
All because he’d run into little Zoe Danner.
According to Meredith, Zoe’s life hadn’t always been seasonal bright. Something in her past periodically raised its head to make her feel ashamed. Little sis had pulled a lot out of Zoe the short time since they’d reconnected. Meredith even suggested he ask Zoe for a date.
And there she was, the subject of his musings, locking her door.
He grabbed his coat, and mimicked her action. They met in the middle of the courtyard.
“Hi, there.” His voice hadn’t squeaked since he was a kid. “What do you have for me today?”
She quirked a brow and slanted him a flirty smile. “Who said I have anything for you?”
He forced his face to droop into an exaggerated
crestfallen expression.
She laughed, giving him the reaction sought.
“Silly guy. Here you are.”
He accepted the snowy envelope, holding her hand in his while he studied the front. Instead of his name written on the outside, the black-lined drawing of a chubby snowman topped by a stovepipe hat fit in his palm. His name made up the facial features. The L formed a sort of nose with eyes on either side of the tall stem. The other three letters curved to shape the mouth. He couldn’t help but lift up his own lips at the corners. “Thank you. You are clever. If you want me to open it now, I need to go inside for my knife so I can get past the seal without breaking it.”
“You’re that careful with the wax?” She tilted her head. “I thought photographers were creative thinkers. If you gently pull up on the ribbon, the seal should pop loose from the paper.”
“Well, aren’t you the crafty one? Let’s see what’s inside.”
He took it from her hand, turned it over, and gently pulled on the ribbon. Sure enough, the seal tore loose. The card itself was in the shape of a snowman. Inside, Zoe had written: This is an invitation, but not for what you think.
“I’ll bite. What exactly am I to make of this invitation?”
“For one, I’m not asking if you want to build a snowman with me.”
“Been a few years since I rolled balls of snow around. I have a feeling any snowman I built now would be more square than round.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “One of these days you can come see where I live and play in the snow. Today, I’m inviting you to The Market Snow Festival. A block near the arena was closed off this morning in preparation. A week ago, water froze for an ice rink. I don’t skate, so don’t ask me.”
He gave an excessive body shiver. “Doing anything outside in December sounds cold.”
“The activity of the Snow Festival will warm you. Funny little snow people waddle around, much like clowns, and hand out treats to the kids.”
That sounded like fun to her? He re-tied his plaid neck scarf so it rose higher on his chin.
“You should invest in some long underwear. I’ve got plenty inside.” She slanted him that sexy smile—the one that shrank his shirt against his ribcage—and fake punched him in the chest. “It’s Christmastime. Snow, cold, and December go together. The festival is tonight, we’ll find plenty to eat there. See you at closing time?”
~*~
Zoe all but skated in the fake snow trickling onto the sidewalk from the blowers. She’d prefer real snow falling, but it helped set the mood. Children laughed, indulgent parents chatted. The crowd either sauntered along taking in the sights, or stood in clusters at the various vender booths.
She tucked her hair inside the fluffy fake fur that kept tickling her cheek, and took hold of Liam’s arm with both hands. “It’s warmer if we cuddle close. What do you think?”
“People are nuts for slurping crazy colored snow cones in December.” He jerked in response to her playful attempt to stomp on his booted foot. “I know it’s warmer if we’re close, but I can’t whip out my camera if you’re clinging.”
“Really? You brought your camera?” He’d learn to love Christmas yet. She hugged his arm then let go.
“Don’t move.” He unzipped his lined coat and pulled out his digital.
She didn’t mind watching for his cues and turning as he directed.
“That rosy light behind you makes you look ethereal. Guess I don’t have to remind you to smile.”
He clicked from different angles. “I could take pictures of you all night, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t go along with that.”
“You’re right. I want to see those handmade scarves and mittens. The wreaths and garlands of real pine boughs.”
“Stop me any time if you see anything you’d like me to snap. I’ll wait.”
“If anything catches my eye, I’ll point it out.”
He covered the camera lens.
She lifted her face to the sky. “I wish it was really snowing.”
Liam let his gaze roam. People didn’t seem to care the temperature was in the twenties.
Zoe nudged him as they surveyed the activities surrounding them. “I love snow. There is no snow or ice in the Christmas story, but snow falls in Bethlehem and Jerusalem. Jesus could have seen snow.”
“Bible talk instead of Victorian research?” Liam nodded toward a row of skaters. “Have you noticed some Americans have picked up on using the word queue instead of line these days?”
“European influence. Which reminds me, I did read an opinion that Victorians probably associated snow with Christmas because of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol.”
Talk about ragged Dickens characters. He tuned out the rest of what she said. Liam’s body tensed. He felt lines form on his own face as he clenched his jaw. “What is that guy’s problem?”
“What?” She pushed her hood down and looked around. “Who, Liam?”
“Camo Man. I catch him around everywhere I look, as though he’s spying on you.”
She scoffed. “I don’t even see him.”
“He dodged around the corner when he saw me.”
“If anything, he’s watching out for me. That poor man is not the problem here tonight, Liam. You are.” She unzipped her coat, slung her purse over her head and adjusted it in front of her, then pulled up her hood. “I think you’ve spoiled my evening. Have fun taking pictures that match your stony heart.”
8
Day Seven ’couragement
Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. ~Isaiah 1:18
Liam repositioned the snowman card he’d added to his lineup. No light shone across the courtyard within Agape Wear. He’d seen no one approach the door for a handout, either. Why couldn’t she be happy working at the church? Used clothing could be collected and distributed with her working behind the scenes. Why did Zoe have to become personally involved?
He strode to his printer and retrieved the stack of photos from the night before, many of them snapped while in anger.
Back to a flash of Zoe lumbering off at the same time she zipped her coat. His mind kept rerouting her direction. Uncharacteristic for her to show she carried a heavy heart. She’d kept her head lowered and her shoulders bunched as though she’d been weighted down.
A burden he’d handed her. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. His desire was to watch out for her. The same as Camo Man.
He slapped his forehead and then dug his fingers into his temples. Zoe defended Camo Man, same as Liam strove to defend her, without considering Liam’s viewpoint. Why did the woman invade every thought?
Liam fanned the array of pictures over his work counter and then separated them. Color had wormed its way into his work. Smiling faces, posed skaters, milling people dressed in snowmen suits. He’d ignored the food venders and gone without eating. The artisans had drawn him to their wares, yet at sight of his camera, said he wasn’t free to take pictures of their crafts.
Crafts. He glanced across the courtyard again, anticipating rather than dreading a promised visitor. Zoe was going to love the knitted scarves and mittens a local woman made. She had sold them from her booth the night before. Marcella Jones gave them to customers who promised to pass them on to people in need, asking for yarn donations in exchange.
He’d talked to her about Agape Wear and suggested she have Zoe accumulate yarn donations. Givers rather than takers entering the shop would ease his mind considerably.
Soon he was deep in the zone where slices of life, rather than still life, ran through his fingers as he sorted the photos in groups based on complementary colors and subject matter.
“We need to talk.” Zoe stomped through the door he’d left unlocked.
His upper body jerked in reflex then relaxed as soon as he set eyes on her. “Hi, you’re late today.”
“Had a rough morning. You know I set my own hours. Don’t change the subject. I nee
d to know why you look down on the underprivileged. Jesus showed compassion to everyone He met. His father created every human and looks at the heart. In the Bible we’re told to treat everyone as we would like to be treated.”
“Slow down, please. Let me lock the door. You’re right. You deserve to know where I got my jaded outlook. Bear with me. Want something to drink?”
“I’m fine. No. That isn’t true. Liam, something’s going on between us and as much as I want it all to be good, I have reservations. Please be open and up-front with me. I’ll do the same with you, but I don’t want to have that kind of talk until I know where you’re coming from.”
He invited her to sit on the turquoise bench where he’d positioned it against the back of the cobalt one in the center of the gallery. Seated, he swiveled to face her with their knees touching.
“I agree. Something is going on between us. I don’t like how often I think of you.” He cupped the back of her neck. “I don’t like the way you make me feel. Wait. Don’t pull back. I didn’t mean anything negative by that. I meant I don’t like the way you stir up my emotions.”
She sagged as though she’d been held up by a rigid board.
He caressed her jaw with his thumb, so soft. The contact soothed him. Did that touch do crazy things to her insides, too, making it hard for her to think?
“There’s nothing wrong with reawakened emotions. God wants us to share life with others, wants our hearts to be connected.” Her gaze probed deeper than he’d let anyone else reach.
“Guys don’t like to talk about feelings.”
She somehow pulled from him the desire to be open and honest. “It’s easier to keep closed off, to avoid the possibility of getting hurt.” He leaned in closer. “Love hurts.”
Zoe smiled, and her expression lit his world. “My answer to that is found in First John 4:18.”
As fast as he’d gone up, he plummeted, and pulled back his hand, releasing her neck. “Why do you always talk about the Bible?”
“Because God saved me from my destructive past. Every day I need to lean on Him to get me through, which He does. He loves me. He tells me there is no fear in love. His perfect love drives out fear.”