Happily Ever After

by Jenn Faulk

~Cammie~

  She went back home afterwards. Back to the house she’d made her home.

  She had done Christmas by herself before, obviously. There had been several Christmases, in fact, spent overseas on her own, celebrating in her own way, with care packages arriving long after the season, quiet holidays spent reading, thinking about what she was missing back home.

  There had been a quiet comfort in it, though, in knowing the sufficiency of Christ, even alone like that, and she had weathered it well.

  But here in Namibia, what was the point of staying by herself and celebrating by herself when David was here, too?

  He’d made no mention of what was ahead for him that evening after the service, and as she’d watched him get caught up in conversations with the other pastors, she realized that perhaps he already had plans. He probably spent Christmas like this every year, and she had assumed too much to think that he’d be on his own, all too eager to have her join him.

  He’d been here three years, after all. Three Christmases. Three services just like that. He had plans, of course. So obviously. And he hadn’t intentionally left her out.

  She left before he could include her.

  Maybe she left too early, huh?

  She bit her lip even as she turned the Christmas tree lights on and made her way to the master bedroom, opening a chest of drawers and thinking about how she could change into her pajamas, camp out on the couch, and spend this holiday listening to music, thinking about the States, trying not to think about David, trying not to wonder if that had been disappointment on his face as she’d turned away...

  Surely not.

  Camille rolled her eyes. Stupid. This was stupid. Why was she wondering anything when she could just go back to where she’d left him, make an excuse for why she’d had to run home, and go with him, wherever he went?

  It didn’t make her look desperate, did it? Too eager to be with him?

  Who cared? She wanted to spend Christmas with him. Not just anyone. Him.

  Even as she left her bedroom and grabbed her keys off the counter in the kitchen, she thought of Christmas Eve at New Life-Dallas, where she’d conclude the candlelight service every year by hugging Charity and Hope, talking over what they hoped to find under the Christmas tree, always turning to find David, smiling at her and saying very simply...

  Merry Christmas, Cammie.

  She went to the front door, intending to walk the short distance to the amphitheater where David would surely still be waiting...

  ... only to run right into him.

  “Hey,” he laughed, just as her face hit his chest and his hands moved up to catch her arms.

  “Oh, hey, David,” she breathed, feeling foolish even as she got her balance back. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

  He let go of her arms, and she felt the loss. How stupid was that?

  “Probably not,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’m sure you have somewhere to go tonight.”

  And there it was. That strange something in his eyes that she’d seen more and more often lately. Expectation. Hope. Maybe more...

  “I don’t,” she said. “I was coming to find you. I don’t have anyone to spend Christmas with, David.”

  He seemed surprised by this. Surprised and... pleased maybe.

  “Me, neither,” he exhaled. “I’ve spent the last three Christmases by myself.”

  So had she. More than that.

  And they understood one another better than they had, better than most people would understand either of them. Christmas alone.

  Not anymore.

  “Spend this one with me, then,” she said.

  And he smiled. He smiled.

  She very nearly burst into tears at this, at the enormity of the feelings that rushed over her as he smiled.

  “Sounds great,” he said.

  So he followed her back into the house, neither of them saying much of anything, until she stopped him at the kitchen.

  “I made you a gift,” she said, thinking about the time she’d taken this afternoon away from him, decorating her house, thinking about him, hoping that he’d be here...

  ... just like this.

  “You made something?” he asked. “I’m honored.”

  She waved away the praise, reaching out for the box she’d put aside earlier, here on her counter. “Well, it’s not much, but I thought you might appreciate it.”

  She held the box out to him, nervous about what he’d think, what he’d say. He took it with a smile and a peek inside, a bigger smile breaking out on his face, just as he laughed out loud.

  “Christmas cookies! Made with sugar!” He lowered his voice and put a hand to his mouth. “Did I say that out loud? Because sugar just –”

  “Doesn’t taste right here,” she said. She grinned at him. “Thought it was just me, but the sweets here –”

  “Aren’t sweet enough,” he finished for her. “I mentioned it in the pantry the other day, with the Twinkies and all.” And at this, he stuck one of the cookies into his mouth. Didn’t even take a bite – just stuck the whole thing in his mouth.

  She could so clearly see twelve year old David Connor in the move, remembering times when he had done this very same thing.

  “Oh glory,” he mumbled, his mouth full. “Is that cream cheese icing?!”

  She smiled, almost hearing the boy he’d been in the words. “Yes.”

  “Well, happy birthday, Jesus,” he murmured, sticking a second one in his mouth. “And thank you, Camille.” He reached out and hugged her, holding her close for a few moments, then backing up and smiling down at her. “I’ll try not to eat them all tonight.” And with this, he popped a third one in his mouth. “But I’m making no promises.”

  “Your cookies, your business,” she said. “Want something to drink with it?”

  “Sure,” he murmured, even as she turned to start making something for them both.

  “Hot chocolate okay?”

  “The more sugar the better,” he said. “Love how you’re all settled in here. Love that it means I’m getting fed on a regular basis.”

  She smiled at him over her shoulder as she set the water to boil. “Happy to do it,” she said softly.

  He had no idea just how happy.

  “I have a gift for you, too,” he said, reaching in his back pocket for a small wrapped package. “I was going to wait until tomorrow, but... well, here it is.”

  “Can’t wait for Christmas morning, huh?” she asked.

  “Never could,” he said, grinning. “And Charity and Hope ruined Santa for me, so there was no need for patience.”

  “Oh,” she sighed sadly. “They told you Santa wasn’t real? That’s so mean.”

  “Santa’s not real?!” he gasped.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “David...”

  “Just kidding. And I was in the seventh grade when my dear sisters let me in on the big secret,” he said. “I think they thought I would never figure it out.” He handed her the gift. “Go ahead.”

  Camille smiled as she began to tear the paper away. And she lifted the lid of the box, feeling her heart race just a bit at the bracelet winking up at her.

  “Oh, David,” she murmured, pulling it out and studying it, “it’s beautiful.”

  “Called your name,” he said, smiling. “Knew you needed it to mark your first Christmas here.”

  “Sure did,” she answered, slipping it on, fastening the clasp, and peering at it more closely, her breath catching at what she saw. “David... are those diamonds?” She looked up at him with surprise.

  “Very tiny Namibian diamonds, yes,” he said. “You needed a piece of Namibia. And these beat just random rocks, I thought.”

  She was speechless for a moment by the generosity and thoughtfulness in this. “And I just made you cookies,” she said.

  “That was worth more than diamonds,” he said, eating another one. “Trust me.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you for this...
for everything.”

  They watched one another for a long moment. A comfortable moment that felt like home. Not unlike this place, which Cammie had tried her best to make into a home.

  David broke her gaze to look around, just as the water began to boil on the stove. She went to get their drinks ready, even as he stepped into the living room where the tree she’d dragged from the attic was decorated with lights she’d found and generic ornaments she’d bought at the grocery store until she could make some of her own for the long-term.

  “This looks amazing,” he said. “You’ve done a great job in making this place nice again. And the Christmas tree...”

  “Thanks,” she murmured, bringing their drinks to the coffee table. “Found a whole bunch of handmade ornaments with the name Marie on them. Figured they were special to the last family, so I boxed them up, called the board for a forwarding address, and shipped them out.”

  “They should get them in three months then,” David nodded. “They’ll be glad to have them, though.”

  “Actually, they’ve already gotten them,” she said. “I sent them with DHL. Had them insured and got a confirmation number so I’d know that the package got there.”

  David looked back at her. “Wasn’t that expensive?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, but worth it. Must have been something they thought they had to sacrifice and leave behind. I mean, there were little reindeer ornaments made out of plasters of tiny hands. Her little name scrawled on the back in marker. Special things, you know. They likely had to sacrifice so much to be here for so many years, and it just seemed a shame that they’d had to sacrifice anything going the other direction, you know?”

  He stayed silent, staring at her.

  “What?” she asked, wondering if she’d overstepped some invisible bounds, finding out this much information on the past missionaries, sending them the ornaments without asking anyone.

  “Thank you for doing that,” David said softly. “That was really thoughtful. I would have never thought to do that.”

  “You’re too busy being thoughtful when it comes to things like buying diamonds,” she said, holding up her wrist. “Happy birthday, Jesus, right?”

  “Happy birthday, Jesus,” he affirmed. “And thanks again, Cammie.”

  She smiled at the name. “Hey, your sugared drink to wash down your sugared dessert is going to get cold.”

  “Can’t have that,” he said with another smile, and she followed him, joining him as he made his way over to the couch. She’d only left the Christmas tree lights on, keeping the rest of the lights off in the living room, and the effect was festive, something that felt like home.

  Not unlike David himself, whose smile reminded her of so many Christmases past, all spent at New Life-Dallas and their candlelight services.

  “Great service tonight,” she murmured as they sat down on the couch together, and he picked up his mug. “Reminded me of some other Christmas Eves.”

  “Christmas Eve candlelight service,” he said. “Every year of our lives, huh? Not unlike tonight.”

  “Yes,” she said, “but it’s summer.”

  “Which is not all that different from Christmas in Texas,” he noted.

  “But still. And the service was all in Afrikaans. Call me sentimental, but I’d love to hear it in English.”

  “English,” David said thoughtfully. “The same English Jesus Himself spoke.”

  She grinned at this. “And He spoke English with a Texas drawl. At least in my mind, after hearing Paul Connor sermons my whole life.”

  “What you need to do,” David drawled, “is open up your Buy-bulls to the first chapter of the book of Ez-uh-ruh...”

  “Buy-bulls,” Cammie smiled, thinking of this. “You sound like him. All grown up like you are.”

  David glanced down at this, a pleased smile on his face. Not for the comparison to Paul Connor, obviously, but for the acknowledgment that he was all grown up.

  “Well, he was something,” David said. “Still is. Still will be.”

  “The same yesterday, today, and forever,” Cammie sighed. “Like Jesus.”

  David laughed out loud at this. She joined him in his laughter, blushing as he watched her appreciatively.

  “Well, not quite,” he said.

  “Not quite,” she said, thinking of all those years at New Life-Dallas.

  Big thoughts, deep thoughts... complicated, now that she knew the man who had been born out of it all. She could think of Paul Connor and how he sounded one way on the platform but was someone else in his home all those times she visited.

  David was the same in both places. Before a group of teenagers, right here with her...

  “And how,” she said, wondering at how constant and consistent David was now in her life, “did your dad manage to sound like that from the pulpit and sound entirely different in personal conversations? He wasn’t even from Texas originally.”

  David smiled at this. “All put-on, for the most part. But would you believe that the put-on accent he did for the Big D crowds actually is my legitimate accent?”

  She could believe it. David sounded the same, just with a deeper voice now, but she’d noticed his accent even more here. Slower than Kait’s clipped English, more drawn out than Piet’s proper accent...

  David sounded like home.

  What an odd thought.

  And what a comforting one as he smiled at her here in this home she’d made for herself that was becoming as familiar to her as the one she’d left, all because he’d gone out of his way to reach out to her.

  “Yes,” she said simply, thinking on this. “I want to hear it.”

  “My accent?” he asked. “Does it even sound like an accent since you sound the exact same way, you hillbilly?”

  “I do not sound like a hillbilly,” she laughed.

  “You sound like me,” he said. “Freaks Piet out probably.”

  “Yes, well,” she murmured. “Sounds like home. And I want to hear it. I want to hear you read it.”

  “Read what?” he asked, his smile certainly indicating that he had a guess.

  “Read the Christmas story for me, David,” she said. “Right from your Buy-bull and all. It’s a tradition, you know. Our New Life tradition.”

  He nodded, pulling out his phone and pulling up the Bible. “Maybe it’ll become our new Namibia tradition, huh?”

  And she smiled at this, earnestly praying in her heart that it would become just that.

  “I’d love that, David.”