The Christmas Edition

by Robin Shope

  The pills his psychiatrist gave him to sleep made him groggy for days and he hated feeling like that. Joe staggered to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and took out the bottles of prescribed medicine. Pills for anxiety, depression, and sleep. One by one, Joe popped the caps on them and turned the bottles upside down. In a rush, the pills plopped down into the toilet. In his head he could hear Dr. Boshar yelling at him that he had just done something dangerous, but Joe flushed them away. The bottles he tossed in the trash.

  Joe took the wine to his bed. He was restless tonight, more than usual. These were the times Hudson was strongest. Maybe the letters would help settle the situation. Joe set the bottle on the bedside table while he got up to go through his suitcase. He only found the empty brown mailer. He couldn’t remember what he did with the letters. Fright settled in as he worried someone might have found them. He needed to be careful and find a secretive hiding place for them.

  Returning to the pantry, Joe went through the boxes for the second time. Plainly, they were not there. Joe scratched his head trying to figure out where they might be. As Joe stewed, panic set into every cell in his body. He knew he had brought them with him from Chicago because he read the first letter last night. Without explanation, he suddenly remembered he had left them in the side table within easy reach of his bed. Joe returned to the bedroom and sat at the edge of the bed. He pulled out the drawer. He sighed and smiled. There they were, bound safely together by the familiar rubber band.

  He took out the letters and lay back in bed. After he pulled off the rubber band, Joe set the first letter aside. “Hello, letter number two.” He slipped the second letter from the envelope and began reading.

  It’s late my love but I couldn’t go to sleep without writing to you. You are all I can think about. You are all I dream about. Come home to me.

  Staring at the ceiling, Joe put his right hand behind his head. His thoughts were filled with this woman. He had Hudson to thank for this. Hudson had introduced him to her. And now Hudson was dead.

  The wind threw sleet at the window. Moment by moment, Joe grew even more restless and more awake until he could no longer stand laying still. Time for a drive before Hudson came calling.

  The Christmas Edition

  The Christmas Edition

  Chapter Eleven

  December 8

  It was early morning and someone was knocking. Joe leaped out of bed and pulled on a pair of worn jeans. He was zipping them up as he walked to the door. Joe peeked out the window and saw Harold.

  “Hi, is everything all right?” Joe squinted at the man and then looked at the stove clock trying to see the time.

  “It’s Sunday!” Harold announced. “I’ve come to take you to church.”

  “Wow, as wonderful as that sounds, I am not able to make it this morning,” Joe answered, pressing his fingers against his scalp, trying to stop a hangover. “Let me get some things done around here this Sunday. Plus, I must admit, I’m not feeling up to par.” Joe realized his excuse was lame but the mere thought of listening to Pastor Owens while trying not to throw up gave him the willies.

  Harold looked surprised. Joe imagined in his world church was the only place to be on Sunday. He realized church going was a necessary act for him to perform if he was going to stay in this town for any amount of time. Religion was the moral fabric of these people and he guessed it was also a condition for dating Lucy. “Tell you what. Come next Sunday, I will come to church with you. In fact, I’ll not only drive everyone right up to the front door but I’ll take the whole family out to eat afterward. How is that?”

  “Okay, then I will count on it. I’ve got to admit, young man, you look as though you might be coming down with the flu. Take care of yourself and I’ll have Margaret make you some of her homemade chicken soup.” He waved goodbye and then held onto the railing as he went down the steps.

  “Say hello to Pastor Owens for me,” Joe called just before Harold disappeared around the corner of the garage.

  Joe pictured Pastor Owens in his mind’s eye. That man had an eagle eye and a suspicious gaze along with it. Even though the first time he met the pastor of The Town Church was at Elizabeth’s Family Restaurant, the man looked at Joe as though he knew him. Not like he knew him on a personal level; it was more as though he knew his kind and didn’t care for this riff-raff to be in his town, living within feet of the most influential family. Joe decided to figure out how to connect with this man. That meant he’d make the next move; a pre-emptive strike. It wouldn’t be done by going to church. Joe couldn’t avoid the house of worship either as if he were a criminal. Joe would pick the time, the day and the place. He was the man in charge. Not Pastor Owens.

  ****

  A few days later Joe decided to talk to this man of God. If he handled things correctly, then the pastor might just busy himself with someone else’s sins and leave his alone. Joe needed to blend into the community. He wanted nothing more than to go unnoticed. If it meant putting up with a couple of hours of church to make that happen, the sacrifice would be worth his trouble.

  It was late morning when Joe drove up in front of the church. As Joe forecasted, Pastor Owens stood at the door waiting for him. Being correct always made Joe confident. He checked his smile in the rearview mirror. Today he’d be just a good old’ schmuck who didn’t know much about God but sure wanted to get to know Him better in order to have a quality life. Praise Jesus. Joe knew the lingo and would use it if he had to, although he had to admit to himself that it pained him to be that insincere. Normally he was a truth teller, a lie slayer and a fact finder, but here under these circumstances, he was a player.

  After a cordial greeting, they walked together through the building. Joe politely greeted the secretary who gave him a long look and then he followed the Pastor into his office. Shutting the door, Pastor Owens turned and gave Joe his warmest greeting. “I am glad to have this opportunity to speak with you.” The pastor took a seat in his large leather chair and motioned Joe toward the smaller one on the other side of his desk.

  Joe found the seat to be too small and quite bumpy. It was a totally unexpected item he hadn’t expected to find where consideration should have been given to making the visitor at ease. Joe was irritated by it but he wouldn’t show it.

  “I’ve been looking forward to getting to know you better since meeting you the other day with Lucy Collins.” He threaded his fingers through each other and placed them on the ink blotter in front of him.

  “Thank you, Pastor Owens; I have been looking forward to this chat myself. I appreciate you making time for me on such short notice.” Good. Joe congratulated himself on showing enthusiasm.

  “It’s my pleasure.” Pastor Owens leaned over his desk. “Lucy is a wonderful girl and they couldn’t be a finer family.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more, sir.” Joe ran his fingers along the armrest of his chair. Stop, he told himself, you are starting to seem nervous. Nervous people have something to hide. Joe placed both hands in his lap.

  “I was wondering what your church upbringing has been.”

  Careful with your response. If you answer with a lie, he will follow it up with another question that you will not be able to answer. Go for the truth.

  “Sadly, I do not have a church background.” Joe then looked off through the window in a wistful manner. “Lately, I have been sensing that something is missing from my life. Being around the Collins family makes me realize that something could be God.” His eyes misted. It was shocking to find this was his true emotion. Scared now, it made him want to leave. He looked at the door but willed himself to stay.

  “Maybe you can begin your journey with God…here.”

  “That would be nice.” Joe flashed his disarming smile. “I hope a non-believer such as me will still be permitted to cover your Christmas Eve worship. I’ve been looking forward to it since you mentioned it in the diner.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I pray this is the start of a fr
iendship between us.”

  “That’s something I look forward to.”

  “And I also hope this is the start of you becoming a member of our church. By the way, if the Lord does beckon your heart to come hither during the Christmas Eve service, please do not hold back. It would be inspirational for us all to see it happen.”

  “I’ll certainly mull over that possibility.” Joe tried to hide the look of surprise on his face. Never had he considered that one’s salvation was for public consumption.

  The minister opened his well-worn Bible and began reading scriptures in a theatrical tone of voice. Joe couldn’t help but think he would be good on the radio. Pastor Owens was the sort who got folks jazzed up enough to shout words like “Thank you, Jesus!” and “Praise God!” Joe also had to admit that if he were listening to the man while driving down the road, he would flip the station. Or if he were in a church filled with folks, he’d sneak out the side door. But in the office, there was no chance of that happening. Joe looked at this watch. He needed to be going. This was meant to be a quick visit not a drawn out and agonizing one. An hour slowly passed before Joe finally stood to his feet, held out his hand and thanked Pastor Owens for his time. Joe felt mentally exhausted by the time he reached his car.

  Joe was in the whistling mood when he drove back to his apartment. Things had gone quite well. Just as planned, he had remained in control and was able to figure out the correct responses to his inquiries without lying and without giving anything away about himself. He had learned a lot from his time on the psych floor. It would serve him well here in Turtle Creek.

  Now he began his ritual. He sat alone at the table and ate in silence. After the dishes were washed, dried and set back inside the cabinet, Joe walked to his bedroom. The room was dark as he sat at the edge of his bed and looked out the window toward the cabin. He hoped to see someone, preferably Lucy, hurry between the car and the house, but there was no sign of anyone. He didn’t detect any movement inside either but he imagined they were doing something quite colloquial, like singing around the piano or playing a board game together. Odd. He suddenly wanted to do that, too.

  A lonely feeling enveloped him. Joe knew depression would be an issue before long. Normally, this was the moment when he reached for his meds, but since he emptied all the bottles down the commode, that was impossible. Joe looked at the phone, wondering if he should call Dr. Boshar for help. No, no. He decided to go it alone tonight.

  No matter how may successes or degrees he had, something vitally important always seemed to elude him. Joe could never figure out what that was. It occurred to Joe that Turtle Creek was his destiny. This is where God had intended for him to come, where he would be set free from the past. He remained sitting on the bed and watched the sky turn from blue to caramel colored to pitch black.

  After a shower, he read the next letter. This one was his favorite and the words swept him away.

  Okay, in your last letter, you asked me to tell you all about my day. Pretty boring but here goes. I helped clear out the attic today. I thought nothing but junk was up there. Was I ever wrong. There was a treasure trove of forgotten memorabilia, but the item that stood out the most was a dusty box. Forgotten? I think so. Inside were old pens with advertisements on them. Mainly, they were from various gas stations or banks. But then at the bottom of the box I found part of a poem. Evidently, my grandfather wrote it when he first met my grandmother. The poem is corny and predictable but it’s the kind of love I always hoped to find. Here is what it said ‘was like the mid of springtime when the clouds were in the skye. I loved you when I seen you with the twinkle of my eye. I walked with you and talked with you on down the railroad track, wondering every moment if I would ever get to come back. We walked up on the front porch and sat in the old porch swing, my heart was filled so full of love I could almost shout and sing.’ It ended there. And so must this letter to you. Good night, my love. Sleep well. I pray we are together again soon.

  Joe smiled, contented. He returned the letter to its envelope and put it at the back of the stack. The rubber band was placed around them and the bundle put back into the drawer.

  What would he do now? If he were back in Chicago, he knew exactly what he would do. He’d grab a paperback and go sit in Starbucks for half the night. Here there was Ma’s Diner. He liked the place but wasn’t in the mood for it tonight.

  There was a bookshelf in the apartment. Interested in finding a gritty novel to read, Joe looked through the shelves. Nothing caught his interest until he saw the Bible. According to the Christians he’d met, the Bible could be pretty gritty, too. Speaking to the pastor today made him curious to find out more about Christianity. Of course, he was familiar with the basic belief that Jesus was God’s son and he had left his Deity behind in heaven and came to earth as man to die for everyone’s sins. Given that knowing this didn’t mean it made sense, he decided to read all about it.

  Joe tucked the Bible under his arm and went for the wine. The drink was fast becoming his mistress of the evening. He laid the Bible on the counter and just as he uncorked the bottle, an odd sensation took him over. He looked down at the book and decided not to drink tonight, although he still argued with himself a bit. Joe ended the conversation once and for all by pouring the last of the wine down the sink. He picked up the Bible, shut off the lights and went off to bed. Once in bed, Joe turned on the small lamp on the nightstand before opening the cover and starting to read Genesis. Before he got all the way through that first chapter, he had fallen asleep.

  When he woke up, he felt startled. It was daylight, and for the first time since he was very young, he felt hope.

  The Christmas Edition

  The Christmas Edition

  Chapter Twelve

  December 10

  Joe couldn’t go with her today. Supposedly there was another last minute emergency he needed to attend to which meant Lucy was left to finish the last of her man-on-the-street interviews without him. Lucy worried about Joe’s urgent situation but it was nothing in comparison to her disappointment over not spending today with him.

  Since she couldn’t take photographs and interview at the same time, she asked Monica to come in Joe’s place. Today they traveled to the picturesque town of Whitewater, an un-glaciated area of southern Wisconsin. In fact, it boasted the state university where Lucy had completed three years of college before dropping out to help her parents at the paper.

  While spending girl time with her best friend would be fun, Lucy hoped they’d also get useful material for the article. Very quickly, though, she realized this day was about to be a bust as Monica asked her lack-luster questions.

  “What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”

  “A doll.”

  “A pony.”

  Then she interviewed a few college kids. “What do you want for Christmas?”

  “A diamond ring.”

  “The answers to Mr. Keenan’s final exam.”

  None of it was really useable. It was expected, ordinary, nothing that would make folks ask, “Did you read that special Christmas article in the paper?”

  Lucy wished she had a list of Joe’s intuitive questions instead of the message he left on the office phone. “Hey, Boss. Wow, you actually have an answering machine at the office. Impressive. Listen, sorry to do this to you today but there’s a situation I need to take care of. Thanks for understanding. Bye.”

  Okay, so he used the word ‘situation’ and didn’t say ‘emergency’. It still made Lucy all the more aware she needed to get Joe locked into the paper for at least two years. First, as a businesswoman, she knew they needed an editorial genius at the helm. Second, the romantic side of her was starting to bloom again. She needed time to explore this relationship with Joe and two years would be a good start.

  As soon as they returned to work, Lucy went straight into her dad’s office. What a relief not to see him there, sprawled out on the couch taking his daily nap, since he was supposed to be on vacation. She wa
s handling things just fine if the high spirits and happy looks on everyone’s faces were anything to judge by. Even Carol was asking Lucy for her advice. Someday this would all be hers—that is if they could survive the other paper when it came to town. It was meant to be.

  Lucy closed the door behind her and made her second call to the attorney.

  “John Friedman, please. Lucy Collins calling.” This time she got right through to him.