A Cardinal Christmas (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza)

by LoRee Peery

  “I hear Werner has an old pickup similar to that one. He’s restored it and actually drove it here from the west coast.”

  “For real? That must be the one in our garage at home. I haven’t had a chance to ask Mom about it. She’s all consumed with keeping Dad comfy.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t mind being waited on hand and foot.”

  “Especially foot. Those tight hose he wears are a struggle for Mom to put on without a wrinkle, or the seams dig craters into Dad’s skin.” Blythe spun in a circle. “That’s why I need to jump in and decorate for her. I’m a dummy for not doing it sooner.” Blythe pointed to a dainty garland sprinkled with mini poinsettias and gold stars.

  “You just got here. Give yourself some grace.” Hayley stepped to a familiar, cobalt speckled washbowl. “I heap cinnamon-scented pine cones in that bowl every Christmas.”

  “It’s a treat to see you utilize a gift I gave you.”

  “Instead of a brow seamed with lines, you could smile when you say something nice like that.” Hayley’s eyes were the color of maize. She spread her elbows on the breakfront counter and leaned forward. “You, my friend, don’t look so hot this morning. I’m used to seeing happy highlights bouncing all over your face. What’s got you so blue?”

  “Everything. I don’t have the Christmas spirit. My thoughts are driving me crazy, I must be anxious.”

  Hayley raised a hand, palm out like a stop sign. “Hold it. Whatever happened to God taking care of tomorrow? You need only pay attention to today. Look at the birds of the air—”

  Blythe finally smiled, though it felt stiff even to her. She cocked her head from side to side. “How can you and Kameron be so likeminded after only being together a year?”

  Hayley straightened. “What do you mean?”

  “He talked about happy birds this morning.”

  “See? Birds don’t have hardened hearts. I believe God wants us to open ourselves to the possibilities He has in store.”

  “I’ve never understood that about you. How hard it had to have been growing up without your father, yet even when we were nine or ten, you never thought the Lord deserted you.”

  “That’s true. He’s never left either of us. Kameron or Werner, either. He never deserts His children.”

  “I’m just in a tough place. Deep inside, I know it’s not Werner’s fault that his parents took him away and he never contacted me. We were just kids. But the guy I went googly-eyed over in Atlanta, why am I still so mad about him leaving me for someone else?”

  “It’s natural. Women can have egos. Breakups are hard, similar to a grief process. I don’t know that firsthand, except for Dad leaving. I forgave him a long time ago. Do you pray for your ex, Blythe? There’s no better way to replace bitterness in your heart than to give that individual grace by praying for those who’ve hurt us.”

  “You humble me. How’d you get so smart? I need to pray for a repentant heart.”

  ~*~

  “You know what they say, if God is your co-pilot you’d better switch seats.” Werner spoke into the Travis Auto phone. He laughed over the caller’s agreement. “Right. You can have it towed here tomorrow. I’ll let the office know.”

  The door slammed. He jumped. Swung around. “Hi, Blythe. That was—”

  “Right now, I don’t care who it was. What’s that stupid comment about switching pilot seats? It’s as dumb as Jesus being the spare tire rather than the steering wheel.”

  “What’s your problem?”

  She actually grabbed her hair with both fists. “It raises my hackles. That’s what the jerk in Atlanta sang out to people all the time. Then he found someone new and dropped me. It couldn’t have been Jesus Who led him to make that decision. I don’t like such platitudes.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Here I was, ready to pray for you, to see you in a different light, and I hear you say something dumb like that.” She waved her arms in the air, and for the first time, shut the office door behind her. That one slammed as well.

  Enough was enough. He crashed through the door so hard that it bounced against the wall.

  She sagged against the desk, her back to him, shoulders drooped.

  Dare he touch her? No. In her state, she could swing around and blacken his eye.

  “Blythe? Whatever I did, can we fix it? Maybe you shouldn’t listen in on other people’s conversations.”

  “It’s not you.” Anger charged through the small space like a third person. “My life is out of control. I’m not me. I don’t know how to fix things myself, let alone advise anyone else.”

  He stepped close, smelled her hair. Sweet and spicy. A pleasurable scent he couldn’t name.

  She swung and flew to his side, flinging her arms around him.

  He rested his chin on the crown of her head. Lord, I don’t know what’s bothering Blythe. You have to reach her. Wipe her tears. Store them in Your bottle. Tell me what to say.

  She hugged him tighter.

  His arms lifted of their own volition and wrapped around her shoulders. He shut his eyes and pictured them inside a snow globe with huge flakes settling on their uncovered hair where they stood on a rise next to a pristine open meadow.

  A cell trilled “You are My Sunshine.”

  Blythe jolted back, swiped her eyes without looking at him, and opened a drawer. She kept her head lowered as she answered.

  He waited.

  She nodded. “All right. I’ll tell him. Thank you.”

  He took a step.

  She held up her free hand. “I shed ugly tears. My face is swollen and blotchy and red.”

  “How do you know unless there’s a mirror on the floor?”

  “Funny. I’ve looked in the mirror all my life. I don’t cry pretty.” She raised her head but didn’t show her face. “Pastor Gregg is busy with an elder meeting tonight. Hayley asked if you and I would have dinner with her and Kameron.”

  “I’ve been waiting. They both mentioned it to me. I’m game if you’re game.”

  “She’s counting on us, so I won’t call her back. We can go whenever we’re ready. The garage usually closes up around the same time as her shop, but it takes her longer to leave.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Kameron writes upstairs. If he’s on a roll, she waits for him. Or she does her own bookwork after hours. I haven’t walked home with her yet.”

  “I look forward to walking with you in the dark, Blythe. And for the record, no matter how red or blotchy you think your face is, you’ll always be beautiful to me.” He waited.

  She didn’t turn.

  A red flash of wings winked from outside. He looked closer. Sure enough, a female cardinal perched on a branch lower than the male. “Look out the window, Blythe. Did you know cardinals are like geese and swans? They mate for life.”

  The heels of her boots tapped extra loud as she approached. To him those footsteps accented her heavy heart.

  “Why are you so fascinated by cardinals?”

  “A pair showed at the cemetery during my grandfather’s funeral. My mom told me later that some believe a cardinal is sent from God to remind us of a loved one who is now in heaven.”

  “Like an angel?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but anything is possible with God. I do believe He brightens our world with color and sends signs that we’re not alone.”

  “The cardinal has a beautiful song. I know I smile whenever I hear one singing.”

  “I like to put words to their songs.”

  “Like what?”

  “I imagine what he’s singing: ‘I’m here, here, here.’ Or the higher-pitched, ‘find me, find me, find me.’”

  “You’re right. Dad once said the lower whistle of a cardinal sounds like the male knows he’s handsome and repeats ‘pretty, pretty, pretty.’ I’m sure the bird sings because it’s joyful to be alive.”

  He swung her hand. “Are you joyful to be alive, Blythe?”

  “You don’t hold anything back, do yo
u?” She drew in a quivery breath. “I do have joy. It’s buried and has a hard time surfacing these days.”

  “Think of the cardinal. How the brilliant, scarlet male appears with the backdrop of pure white snow. To me, those colors are a vivid reminder of the shed blood of Jesus. Once a soul believes, Christ sees us as white and pure as untouched snow. He views us as righteous saints.”

  She remained silent as she stared out the window.

  There was so much he longed to share with this woman whose beauty lit up a room. Lord, please restore her joy.

  5

  Blythe bathed her swollen face in cold water. Eye makeup hid any lingering damage from her crying jag, though the whites of her eyes looked pinker than usual. She made a face at the few hanging garments in her closet. She discarded the idea of choosing a casual outfit, and reached for tailored, warm navy pants with a matching jacket and emerald green camisole.

  A knock sounded on her bedroom door as she considered adding a scarf.

  “Whenever you’re ready, we can leave.”

  “Thanks, Werner. Be right there.”

  He greeted her at the bottom of the stairs with wide eyes. “Wow. That green makes your eyes pop.”

  Pfffft. “Where’d you hear such an expression?”

  “Does it matter? You smiled at me.” Pink rose on his cheeks. “No idea. A movie, maybe. Or a magazine ad.”

  “Read a lot of magazines, do you?”

  “Sure. Bike racing. Mechanics.” He held open her coat. “Gracious, woman, are your shoulders always this tense?”

  “Can’t help it.” She shrugged. “I happen to carry all my stress in my upper body.”

  He shook his head, donned his own heavy, lined denim coat, but didn’t zip it. He led her to the door. Huge flakes of gently falling snow greeted them.

  She rushed out without buttoning her wool coat.

  He laughed.

  “Oh, I love it. One thing I miss about Nebraska is the snow. In Atlanta, we may see a dusting a time or two. Stand still for a moment, Werner. It’s so quiet.” She tipped back her head, closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue to taste a melting snowflake.

  “Now that’s experiencing joy, dear Blythe. You may find this hard to believe. But earlier in the office, when I held you? I had a sort of vision of us standing in the snow.” He opened his arms. “Would you snuggle in again?”

  Unable to deny such a sweet request, she encircled his waist. “I feel like we’re in a snow globe.” She lowered her head, opened her eyes, and fit perfectly in his embrace. His warm coat enveloped her. Against his purple plaid shirt, she felt the vibrations of his voice. Then the rumble of his low laugh caressed her ear where it lay against his chest.

  “In the office earlier, I imagined us embracing inside a snow globe, not on a street, but on the tracks near the meadow where we first met.” He pulled back and reached for her hand. “We need to get over this hurt and move on. I don’t believe God wants us to dwell on the past.”

  She leaned back to see his eyes. “Do you remember the first time you held my hand?”

  “How could I forget? I’d never touched a girl. We were both ten years old. You slipped on the loose stones, and I kept you from falling down the bank. Once you were safe, you still held onto my hand.”

  “After that day, we held hands as we balanced on the rails, one foot in front of the other, side by side.”

  He squeezed her hand and braided their fingers. “Oh, the talks we had when we ventured off and explored beyond the tracks.”

  She filled in. “We made up stories. Where those trains came from. Where they went.”

  “I didn’t want to see summer end. Hated the idea we’d attend different schools. You’d see Hayley every day, but I wouldn’t see you.”

  “And then you disappeared.”

  Werner came to a halt at the end of Pastor Gregg’s driveway. “I was crushed. Dad didn’t tell us until we hit California that we wouldn’t come back to Nebraska.”

  “That first Saturday after school started, I walked across the pasture to where you lived. My heart broke when I saw the For Rent sign.” She stared off in the distance. “Every day for a month I hurried to the mailbox after school. Why didn’t you write?”

  “I don’t know that eleven-year-old boys wrote to girls twenty years ago. Too bad we didn’t all have cell phones.”

  “At least we would have kept in touch that way. Did your parents tell you why they just up and left like that?”

  “Not until I was older. Dad and I had a heart to heart when I was ready to date. He said boys weren’t the only predators. Girls, women, can be rather evil in their pursuits as well.”

  “What did he mean by that?”

  He shuffled his feet. “This is a heavy topic for an appetizer. Ready to ring the bell?”

  “Past ready. I just realized how cold it is out here.” She brushed snow off his shoulder. “But we aren’t finished with this topic.”

  Hayley opened the door and greeted Blythe with a kiss on the cheek and a hug for Werner, who immediately leaned over to remove his boots. That considerate action tunneled his way deeper into her heart.

  Kameron slapped Werner on the shoulder. “We’re celebrating tonight.”

  Blythe raised her brows and glanced at Hayley, so pretty in her burnt orange knit. “He finished a first draft of the second story in his new series. Come on in. I’ve kept everything warm. How does sparkling grape juice sound? Or we have flavored water.”

  “I’ll help.” Blythe trailed Hayley to the kitchen. “What should I do, Hayley? I really like Werner, but I have all these signals telling me it’s too soon.”

  “That guy in Atlanta did a number on you.” Hayley hugged Blythe and whispered, “Listen to your heart.”

  “It hurts.”

  “Forget the hurt and remember how the Lord heals. He restores joy.”

  Blythe pulled back, patted Hayley’s shoulder, and helped her get the meal on the table. It appeared the men were comfortable with each other, despite the difference in their vocations. Blythe savored the meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, kernel corn that tasted like it’d been cut fresh off the cob, and soothing conversation.

  Hayley was quiet, and smoothed a hand over her double locket as she raised bites of food to her mouth. What sparked that rather secretive smile? Maybe she was running Victorian inventory or unique jewelry trinkets through her thoughts.

  Blythe tuned in to Werner’s baritone voice. “Kameron, if you don’t mind my nosiness. I’ve heard you address Pastor Gregg as Dad, yet a church member at the auto shop praised him for his biblical pointers on marriage, wondering about his wisdom. I understand Pastor’s never been married?”

  Kameron straightened the knuckle he’d touched to his lips and glanced at Hayley, who gave him an adoring smile. “You could say we’ve adopted one another. I have no idea what my parentage is. I was abandoned as a baby on the church steps. My adoptive mother is Pastor’s sister, who lived with him until she married once I’d left home. She cleaned and cooked for him. Pastor Gregg is the only earthly father I’ve known, though it took me a long time to appreciate that.”

  “Sounds like an intriguing story.”

  “It gave me emotional nuts and bolts for all my lost boy stories.”

  “Until he met me and added a girl.” Hayley lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Now he puts love in his books.”

  “Hopefully, the nitty gritty of my stories is the love of Jesus.”

  “The ultimate love story,” Werner added.

  Kameron raised his glass. “With a comment like that, you must believe in God, Werner.”

  “Yes, His grace has touched me.”

  “Praise God. It took me a long time to see the light. I had the head knowledge, but I couldn’t shake the past. It took until a year ago for the Gospel to come alive for me. Your turn. You’ve heard about my writing. Now tell me about your week so far.”

  Werner didn’t answer right away.<
br />
  Blythe could have filled them in, and she could elaborate on how the man doing physical labor had her churned up every which way. Maybe it was a good thing there wasn’t more head work to do at the office. She’d make serious errors the way she didn’t have her mind on the job.

  Werner brushed at a lock of hair that curled against his left ear. “Flushed a carburetor, filled transmission fluid. Worked on brakes, replaced struts, repaired a drive shaft.”

  Blythe turned to Hayley. “I heard that talk all my life, and it still doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

  Kameron slid back his chair. “Sounds like a mechanic’s typical day at the garage.”

  They shared a laugh.

  Hayley stood. “Peach cobbler for dessert. I’ve added hot cider to my variety of drinks.”

  Each person chipped in and the foursome cleared the table in seconds.

  Something about the domestic scene heightened Blythe’s melancholia. Her ex would have never lifted a dish. She lived her life in Atlanta on a different plane.

  In unspoken agreement, they made individual drink choices and stood over their dessert at the counter that divided kitchen from great room.

  Hayley handed Werner a new napkin. “Has Blythe showed you pictures of her condo in downtown Atlanta? That opulent renovated brick building is a far cry from the old house where she grew up.”

  “Hey. We didn’t have exposed beams and pipes in that little house.”

  “Such a look wasn’t chic then. I’m thinking about opening up the ceiling in my shop.”

  “That would give Auntie’s Antiquities more places to hang product from.” Blythe scraped her plate. “I think that’s the best cobbler ever.” She conversed more with Hayley about Christmas items in Auntie’s but kept up on what the men were saying.

  Kameron asked Werner about having lived nearby as a child.

  He answered with the fake-vacation-that-turned-into-a-move answer. “I never felt close to my folks after that. To me, Dad lied. It drove a wedge between us. Especially because of my crush on the fair-skinned beauty with the shiny black hair back in Nebraska.” He grinned like a shy teenager. “One thing’s for sure. When I have kids, I’ll let them know what’s going on in the family. Depending on their ages, make them feel as if they’re involved in major decisions.”