The Santa Express

by Leeanna Morgan

  John turned on his computer. “There weren’t any programs. Even The Welcome Center didn’t exist. But what we did have was an abandoned motel and conference facility close to the church and a lot of people who wanted to make a difference.”

  Shelley had a feeling that, without John’s enthusiasm, none of the programs the church offered would exist. “Why did you open The Welcome Center? I wouldn’t have thought homelessness would be a problem in Sapphire Bay.”

  “Homelessness is a problem everywhere, especially in this economic climate. When we first opened the center, it was mostly military veterans and people who’d suddenly lost their jobs who needed our help. But it’s not the same now. People from all walks of life come here. Sometimes they have addictions that make it hard for them to find somewhere to live. Others have come to Sapphire Bay for work, but can’t find anywhere to live.”

  “Bailey told me about the church’s PTSD support group. It sounds as though that’s made a difference to a lot of people, too.”

  “I hope so. Your sister spends many hours here, offering free counseling. Without her therapy sessions, we wouldn’t be able to help as many men and women as we do.”

  Shelley placed the folder she was holding on John’s desk. “I’m proud of what Bailey’s doing.”

  John’s gaze softened. “You can make a difference, too.”

  “Hopefully.” She unfolded the spreadsheet she’d brought with her. “So far, The Santa Express project is on schedule. I’ve contacted the railroad company and the steam train trust to let them know we can use the barn. The train driver is confirmed and Santa’s Secret Helpers is recruiting elves.”

  John grinned. “You said that with a straight face.”

  Shelley’s lips twitched. “If I said something like that anywhere else, my friends would think I’m crazy.”

  “But not in Sapphire Bay and especially not at Christmas. We’ll need at least forty elves, especially if they’re stopping the children and their parents from wandering away from the barn.”

  “Do you think we’ll need that many?” She pulled another list out of the folder. A few months ago, some friends of John’s had formed a group called Santa’s Secret Helpers. They’d organized some wonderful Christmas fundraising events for the tiny home village.

  Somewhere along the line, they’d also started a Christmas wish program. For the last few weeks, they’d been working hard to find as many volunteers as they could to make the train ride a success. “So far, we only have twenty-five people who want to be Christmas elves.”

  “I’d sooner have too many elves than not enough.” John studied the inch-high folder on his desk. “Is that the information about The Santa Express?”

  Shelley nodded. “I have electronic copies of everything, but sometimes it’s easier to have paper copies for meetings. When I go back to Bailey’s cottage, I’ll update the computer files with everything we’ve discussed.” She turned the folder around so John could have a look. “If there’s anything you need, I can email you the documents.”

  While John looked through the folder, Shelley scanned the project plan. “I need to talk to Mabel Terry after our meeting. She’s coordinating all the food we’ll take to the barn. I want to make sure she has everything she needs. Does the barn have a faucet and some kind of table where we could organize the food?”

  When John didn’t reply, Shelley looked at him. “John?”

  His gaze connected with hers. “Sorry. Did you ask me a question?”

  “I want to know if the barn has running water and some kind of table we could use.”

  “There’s a full kitchen in one corner. I’ll call the Colemans and ask if I can take you on a tour of the barn.” He handed her a sheet of paper. “I don’t think this should be in the folder.”

  Shelley glanced at the document. As soon as she saw the heading, she cringed. “Oops. Thanks.” Before John could ask her about the list, she placed it face-down on the desk. “Were you able to find a Santa costume?”

  John cleared his throat. “We can use the same one we had for an earlier Christmas event. Why do you need a personal improvement plan?”

  She really wished he hadn’t asked that question. “I have a few things I’m working on. Making a list seemed like a sensible solution.”

  “How do you learn to be more patient?”

  Shelley took a deep breath. That was about number three on her list. She was grateful he hadn’t started at the top. “By putting myself in situations that stretch my comfort zone and give me the opportunity to become a better person.”

  John’s eyebrows rose. “It sounds like you’ve been reading too many self-help books.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a better person.”

  “You’ve got sub-clauses to each bullet point. How many issues are you worried about?”

  Shelley frowned. If he’d read the list to the end, he’d know the answer to his question. “A few. How would you learn to be more patient?”

  “Easy.” John sat back in his chair and grinned. “I’d stop sending three-page emails and bombarding people with texts.”

  Shelley’s mouth dropped open. “I only sent you a few long emails—and that was only because I had a lot of questions. And if you’d replied to my first texts, I wouldn’t have to send another three or four to make sure you were alive.”

  “Try eight or nine texts,” John drawled. “But at least it was electronic. All I had to do was turn off my cell phone.”

  “That’s terrible.” Shelley couldn’t believe anyone would turn off their cell phone when they were organizing an event. It was irresponsible, illogical, and so darn frustrating that…

  Her shoulders slumped forward. “You’re testing me, aren’t you?” The laughter in his eyes made her sigh.

  “Stretching your comfort zone is never easy. But luckily for you, you’re in the right place.”

  “That’s what I thought, too. Bailey and Sam enjoy living in Sapphire Bay. I thought if it worked for them, it could be good for me.”

  John shook his head. “I didn’t mean Sapphire Bay. I meant The Welcome Center. Most of the improvements you want to make can be tested here. Except being more assertive. I’m not sure that’s an issue.”

  “What do you mean?”

  John’s smile disappeared. “You seem to…well…you seem to be able to get your point across very easily.”

  Shelley took the personal improvement plan off John’s desk. “Thank you. I think. Did you have any other questions about The Santa Express?”

  “Not at the moment, but I’ll call you if I think of anything.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Shelley reached for the folder. “That’s great. I’ll keep working through the project plan and make sure Santa’s Secret Helpers are on track with recruiting elves.”

  “Where are you working while you’re in Sapphire Bay?”

  “I’m doing everything from Bailey’s cottage. She’s not home during the day, so it’s better than I thought.”

  “You could always work from here.”

  Shelley didn’t think that was a good idea. If John thought she’d gone overboard with her emails and texts, goodness knows what he’d think if they worked in the same building. “Thanks, but I’m happy working from Bailey’s cottage.”

  “Well, the offer’s there if you change your mind.”

  “Okay.” Shelley picked up her bag and slipped the thick project folder inside. “If you need me, I’ll be at the general store, speaking to Mabel.”

  John walked around his desk and held open the door. “Sounds good. Send my best to Allan.”

  Shelley plastered a smile on her face and left the center.

  Whether or not John realized it, she’d just failed the first bullet point on her list—being open to new situations.

  John turned to the last page of the book he was reading. For many of the children who lived at The Welcome Center, story time was the highlight of their day. On most evenings, at least fifteen chil
dren enjoyed the nightly ritual. And when the local families joined them, there were a lot more.

  John was part of a team of volunteers who took turns to read the stories. He enjoyed spending time with the children. When the stress and worry of his job became too much, looking into their faces made him appreciate the importance of what the church was doing.

  “…and one by one, the animals returned to the barn.” John smiled at the children sitting around him. “What are these two words?”

  “The end!” yelled the children.

  “Did you enjoy the story?”

  A resounding chorus of “Yes” filled the center’s living room. John hoped someone had closed the doors leading to the guest accommodation. If they hadn’t, anyone hoping for a quiet night would be out of luck.

  “Can we have another story?” Charlie, one of their newest guests, said shyly from beside his elder brother.

  “Not tonight. But if you find a picture book in the library, I’ll read it tomorrow.”

  Charlie bit his bottom lip and John had a feeling the library would be on his list of places to visit.

  “Are you ready to go into the dining room?” Everyone leaped to their feet. The smell of the freshly baked cookies was enough to send John into the dining room, too. With Mabel looking after her husband, Megan had arrived a little after five to bake some chocolate chip cookies for supper.

  The children hurried into the dining room and found a seat. As soon as mugs of hot chocolate and cookies arrived, their excited chatter dropped to a low murmur.

  Megan handed John a plate. The cookies were jam-packed full of chocolate. “I’ve left more for you in the kitchen. The container has your name on it.”

  “Thank you. They look delicious.”

  “Nora helped bake them.”

  Megan’s eight-year-old daughter loved helping at The Welcome Center and she enjoyed baking with her mom even more. John bit into the crunchy cookie and sighed. “These are better than anything I’ve tasted in a long time. I’ll have to visit Sweet Treats again and restock my pantry.”

  “Let me know when you’re coming and I’ll bake you a special batch of cookies.”

  “It’s a deal.” John’s smile faded as he looked at the children. “Did Charlie and Andy go back to their room?”

  Megan scanned the room. “They’re sitting on their own beside the water cooler. How are they settling in?”

  “As well as can be expected.” After six years of working in one form of pastoral care or another, John was still amazed at the ability of people to overcome experiences that could have brought them to their knees.

  The two boys and Andrea, their mom, had arrived at the center three weeks ago. For eight years, Andrea had lived with a man who emotionally and physically abused her. Divorcing her husband had only made him angrier. With nothing left to lose, she’d fled to Montana with her sons.

  Thankfully, she’d met Mabel at the general store and found a new home at The Welcome Center.

  “Andrea’s helping Brooke to clean the bathrooms. Do you want me to see if the boys are all right?”

  John shook his head. “I’ll go. You enjoy the time with Nora.” As he made his way to the back of the room, he tried to read the boys’ body language. Both were sitting quietly, watching what was happening with eyes that were far too wary.

  He slid the plate of cookies along the table and smiled. “I brought some extra cookies for your mom.”

  Charlie stopped chewing. He was eight years old and looked as though he carried the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders. “Thank you.”

  Andy carefully took a paper napkin out of his pocket. Inside were two pieces of crumbled cookie. “We saved some for Mom, too.”

  “That was very thoughtful.” John pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Keeping busy was the easiest way he could think of to hide his sorrow for what the boys had been through.

  “Mom likes cookies,” Charlie said as he looked longingly at the plate.

  “In that case, I’ve got something extra special for you. Megan has left more cookies in the kitchen. How about you enjoy these ones and we’ll give your mom the cookies in the kitchen?”

  Charlie looked at his older brother. When Andy nodded, Charlie smiled. “Yes, please.”

  John pushed the plate of cookies closer to them. “Here you go. Did you enjoy tonight’s stories?”

  Between mouthfuls of cookies, the boys nodded.

  “I thought you might.”

  Charlie picked up his mug of hot chocolate. “I want to work in a zoo when I’m big.”

  “That sounds exciting. What about you, Andy. What do you want to do when you’re older?”

  Andy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I want to be a police officer so I can stop bad things happening to people.”

  John was moved by Andy’s softly spoken words. “You’d make a great police officer.”

  Nora wiggled between two empty seats and sat beside John. “Hi, Pastor John.”

  “Hi, Nora. Your cookies are amazing.”

  Charlie’s eyes widened. “You made the cookies?”

  Nora nodded proudly. “With my mom. I made something else, too.” She slipped her backpack off her shoulders and opened the zipper. “I made you and Andy a picture of Mr. Whiskers.”

  The two boys studied the crayon picture as if it were something magical. Mr. Whiskers was the center’s resident cat. The large, fluffy ball of fur had become a celebrity, enjoying superstar status amongst the children.

  “It’s a really good picture,” Charlie said.

  Nora smiled. “After we have our supper, we could look for Mr. Whiskers with the other kids.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I think he’s hiding in the sleigh.”

  John could have hugged Nora. Both boys were so shy that it was difficult for them to talk to other children. But Nora, with her contagious smile and never-ending optimism, had realized how important it was for Charlie and Andy to make friends.

  Andy bit his bottom lip. “We’ll have to ask Mom if we can look for Mr. Whiskers.”

  “That’s okay. I have to let my mom know what I’m doing, too.”

  With a relieved smile, Andy took a cookie off the plate and held it toward Nora. “Do you want a cookie?”

  Nora reached into her pocket. “I’ve got one.” And with a mischievous grin, she took an enormous bite.

  John smiled as Andy and Charlie followed her lead.

  Now, with Charlie and Andy happy, all he had to do was check on their mom.

  “What about this one?” Shelley pointed to a picture of a barn decorated in fairy lights, white roses, and lace tablecloths. “It has the French country look that Bailey likes.”

  Sam, Shelley’s sister, frowned. “Having a wedding reception in a barn in mid-February isn’t a good idea.”

  “It wouldn’t have to be in a barn. We could recreate the look and feel somewhere else.” Shelley checked the time. She was meeting John at the Colemans’ barn in an hour. And knowing how Mr. Coleman was about punctuality, she couldn’t be late.

  “Put it in the maybe pile.” Sam rubbed the side of her tummy.

  “Are you all right?” Shelley’s sister was pregnant. There was no way anything would happen to Sam or her baby while Shelley was around.

  “Just a cramp. All of the ideas you’ve found are lovely. Just choose one and go with that theme.”

  Shelley looked at the pile of bridal magazines stacked on Sam’s dining room table, and the tray of magazine articles, pictures, and random ideas she’d collected over the last two days. “Which one do you like the best?”

  Sam shrugged. “It’s Bailey and Steven’s wedding. What I like doesn’t matter.”

  “That doesn’t help,” Shelley muttered.

  “Maybe you’re looking at it the wrong way. The theme doesn’t have to be perfect; it just has to make sense.”

  Her sister’s softly spoken words made Shelley hesitate. She’d done it again—fallen into old habits without knowin
g how she got there. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the tray of ‘maybes’ toward her. With a determination she hadn’t felt all day, she placed each piece of paper on the table.

  This was another chance to be spontaneous, to reboot her personal improvement plan and show the world she wasn’t the same person she used to be.

  One by one, Shelley quickly went through each idea, tossing aside any that didn’t grab her attention. In a few minutes, she’d narrowed the choice down to a red for romance theme or a French country wedding.

  Sam grinned. “That was quick. How will you choose between the last two ideas?”

  Normally, before Shelley made any decision, she’d make a list of the pros and cons of each theme, the projected budget of each option, and the availability of resources. But not today.

  Spontaneous people went with their intuition. They dreamed first, planned later. And, if they were lucky, everything worked out fine. “I don’t have to choose. I’ll combine them to create something amazing.”

  “That could be tricky.”

  “Not necessarily.” Shelley picked up her notebook. “I’ll call it a French country romance. Think red roses, chunky candles, chandeliers, fairy lights, and lace. And this”—she picked up a glossy catalog—“will be perfect.”

  Sam looked at the bridal magazine and sighed. “The dress is incredible. Bailey will love it.”

  “And Mila’s Cinderella flower girl dress would look lovely with it. All I have to do is talk to the designer and negotiate a price.”

  Sam smiled. “It’s a dress, not a house.”

  “A dress that probably costs more than both of us earn in a month.” Shelley gathered the ideas together and returned her sister’s smile. “A little bargaining never hurt anyone. And talking about bargaining, have you started decorating the nursery yet?”

  “Caleb’s working on it this weekend. If you’re not doing anything, you can come back and keep me busy. My lovely husband wants the nursery to be a surprise.”

  “So, no peeking?”

  “I can’t even ask Mabel about the color of the walls.”

  “He bought the paint from the general store?”