Blame It On The Mistletoe - A Novel of Bright's Pond (28 page)

Pastor invited everyone to sit. "Christmas, such a marvelous glorious occasion. The occasion of our Savior's birth. The greatest gift of all. Although we have never taken an offering at our Christmas pageant, a need has arisen among our people that merits our favor and attention. I need to ask you all to dig deep and give from your hearts as the baskets are passed. There is a child in need, and what better time to give from our hearts to this blessed child of God than on a day when we celebrate the birth of God's own Son?"

Sheila Spiney burst into "Angels We Have Heard on High" as the ushers passed the baskets. Being in the front, I couldn't see how much money was collected, but I did know that this time of year most folks were a little short of extra funds. But I also knew the congregation always gave from the heart—well, most of the time.

The room grew quiet once the offering had been taken. Dot took center stage. A small spotlight illuminated her. She looked especially lovely that evening in a pretty blue dress dotted with snowflakes. "Merry Christmas," she said. "And welcome to the Annual Bright's Pond Church of Faith and Grace Sunday School Christmas Pageant."

Applause and cheers filled the windowless room. Edie Tompkins stood on account of she had a niece in the play this year. And a few other scattered parents rose to the occasion also.

"So without further ado. I give you—
The Greatest Gift."
The curtains opened on the inn. Mary and Joseph and Bruce stood outside the inn door. They said their lines beautifully. Mercy was made for the part. The innkeeper shouted, "You are welcome to stay in the stable."

"With the mules?" Mercy said. "But, sir, I am to have a child this night."

The innkeeper shook his head. "I am sorry."

The curtain closed to applause and after a couple of minutes opened on the manger scene. The sheep were there and the angel choir was singing "Away in a Manger." I will admit it was so sweet that tears pooled in my eyes. Unfortunately, the exiting of the sheep didn't go so smoothly as the lead sheep lost an ear off his head and it was stepped on by the other sheep creating quite the laugh fest for the angels and the three other still-intact sheep.

After a couple more songs, the curtain closed and reopened on Mary and Joseph kneeling at baby Jesus' cradle. Mercy looked so proud to be there. She spoke her lines clearly and with force. Joseph was not quite so demonstrative but did a fine job nonetheless.

But when it came time for the offstage narrator to recite Luke's account of the birth of Jesus the stage fell into a nervous silence. He couldn't go through with it. Then Mercy jumped to the rescue and stole the scene. She moved to the front of the stage and began:

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night." She gestured toward the shepherds and Debbie. "And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone all around them." A bright light illuminated the shepherd field.

"And they were very sore," Mercy continued as the audience grew increasingly quiet.

"And the angel said unto them, Don't you shepherds be afraid because I got good news. Tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in crumpledup clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

Then she knelt back down and looked adoringly at the baby Jesus. I was so proud of her—even if she did steal someone else's lines. The rest of the play went pretty well, with Dot and Ruth ushering children on and off the stage. The kings and Bruce arrived with the kings appropriately singing "We Three Kings." Then Dot asked for the sanctuary lights to be dimmed as the angels helped light the candles everyone held. Sheila began to play and we all joined in singing "Silent Night, Holy Night."

All in all, it was a tremendous evening. A total of one hundred and twenty-two dollars and seventeen cents was collected for Mercy. After I dropped Ruth and Ivy home, Mercy and I headed for the library.

"I can't wait to show Mama how much money I made."

"Maybe you can buy some food."

"Maybe. So did I play-act Mary good?"

"You did a great job. In fact, I think you were the best Mary ever."

"Really, Miz Griselda, you mean that?"

"I do." I parked the truck, grabbed the flashlight from the glove compartment and got out with Mercy.

"It's OK. You don't have to walk me clear to home."

"No, I insist."

The walk had become familiar by then and we made it to the little house quickly. Smoke still poured from the chimney and one light illuminated the front window.

"Mama might be sleeping. She's been tired lately."

"It's OK if she's asleep. I still want to see you all the way home."

Mercy pushed open the door. It squeaked like a chipmunk. "Shhh," Mercy said. "That door always makes such a ruckus."

Charlamaine Lincoln roused from sleeping under a worn blanket on the sofa.

"That you, Mercy?"

"Sure, Mama. I'm home and I got paid just like they said."

Charlamaine sat up and rubbed her eyes. "How much you got, girl?"

"One hundred twenty-two dollars and seventeen cents."

"Hand it to me."

Mercy reached into her pocket and gave her mama all the money.

"I'm gonna say good night," I said. "You did a great job, Mercy."

I waited for Charlamaine to acknowledge me, but she never looked my way.

It was now officially Christmas week. The day before my wedding. Two days before Christmas and Bright's Pond was dressed in her holiday best. The weather had turned consistently cold with flurries nearly every day. The walk to the town hall or café had become brisk, and I traveled it quicker because cold mountain air could slip right through even my warmest jacket.

Lights had been strung across the streets from light pole to light pole. The shops and businesses along Filbert Street were decorated with multicolored lights and Santa and snowmen. Holly wreaths adorned the doors and even Charlotte Figg had placed some lights around the window of her new shop even though it wasn't scheduled to open until January, and it didn't have any distinguishing signs on it, except for the one handpainted by Rose. It was rectangular with a deep-dish cherry pie in the center and the words SOON TO BE CHARLOTTE'S PIE SHOP encircling it.

But I suppose my favorite of the Bright's Pond Christmas traditions was the loudspeaker atop the town hall that blared Christmas carols into the air. Most folks did their Christmas shopping in Shoops but the five-and-dime had a nice selection of gift items. Mr. Gleason always managed to find someone to play Santa for the children. This time I think he snookered his wife for the job. For me that year, my best gift was waiting at The Full Moon Café. It was still a little hard to believe that Zeb and I were actually getting married.

But we were, and that Monday we had a meeting scheduled with Pastor Speedwell to discuss the particulars and maybe a few of the personals. I pulled open the café door and saw Zeb standing there like a deer in headlights.

"You OK?" I said.

He looked at me after a few seconds. "I . . . I guess. Now, how come we need to speak with Milton Speedwell?"

"I told you already. Just to get some facts straight about the ceremony. Are you nervous? You look nervous."

Dot happened past. "Of course he's nervous. He's a man ain't he?"

"I'm not nervous," Zeb said.

"Then we better get to the church." I took his hand. "Come on, honey. Let's go."

"How come we're walking?" Zeb asked.

"Just thought we would," I said. "I think the cold air will do you some good."

Pastor Speedwell was in his office just where I expected to find him.

"Come in," he said as he stood. "Welcome."

Zeb didn't say anything.

"Morning," I said. "That was some pageant last night."

"It sure was. And that little girl—Mercy, you called her— she did a fine job."

"Thank you for taking the offering. She and her mother were very happy to receive it."

"I'm glad we can help."

Zeb finally took a breath. "Hello, Pastor."

"Hello, Zeb. How are you?"

"Fine. Just fine."

There was a much-too-long silence before Pastor Speedwell spoke again. It gave me time to notice his divinity school diploma on the wall. I guess it looked legit enough. I also saw a picture of his family: his wife, Darcy, and their four boys, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Next to that on his desk was a picture of an older woman I took to be his mother. She also resembled Abraham Lincoln.

I was glad that the pastor did not bring up that whole jealousy issue. I didn't think Zeb was in any shape to hear it and for all of his lackluster ways, pastor seemed to catch on also. Instead we went over the vows, the order of things and the pastor's fee, which he said, he always donated to the Society of Angelic Philanthropy.

"I guess I understand the need to be married at Greenbrier, but outside? In the cold?" Pastor said.

"It works best," I said. "I thought about the nursing home Sunshine Room, but I didn't want the place crowded out with residents who weren't . . . you know family or friends. Maybe it's selfish."

"No. It's not. But I think we'll make it short and sweet. I can dispense with the usual sermon since it'll be difficult for folks to hear."

The whole meeting took less than thirty minutes although from the look on Zeb when we left we could have been in there for hours and the pastor could have performed a lobotomy on him.

"Why are you so nervous?" I said when we got outside.

"I'm . . . not nervous."

"You sure? You still want to get married?"

"I do."

"Remember those words Tuesday afternoon. Now I got another question," I said. "How come you didn't make it to the church pageant?"

We walked toward the café.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. I just got busy at the café. Had some orders to put in and paperwork and the evening got away from me. I'm sorry."

"I guess it's OK. Mercy Lincoln did a great job. And get this, Pastor Speedwell collected an offering for her. I have never seen such poor people, Zeb. It was awful."

"What was?"

"I went to Mercy's house, if you can call it that."

"Oh, pretty poor, huh?"

"Yeah, and her mother is mean. Terrible mean."

"Poverty can do that to a person."

"I suppose, but to be that mean to your own daughter. I just don't get it."

After a few more steps toward the café, Zeb tugged my hand and stopped walking. "Grizzy, I got something to say."

My stomach went a little wobbly. "Sure. What is it?"

He took a deep breath and looked away from me. "Listen, I got to know. Do you really want to marry me or . . . or did you just settle for second best? Are you sure you don't want Cliff Cardwell and airplanes?"

My first inclination was to snicker. After all the rumination I had gone through. If he only knew. But instead, I took hold of both his hands, which I figured were about as cold as his feet. "I love you, Zeb. And yes, I am absolutely certain I want to marry you."

He let the breath he was holding out. Now you can believe it or not, but I think his breath formed a little heart when it hit the cold air.

"That's all I need to know," he said. And then we kissed and my toes curled and my kneecaps turned to pudding.

We were standing out front of the Full Moon when Mildred drove past.

"Is she still looking for Leon?" Zeb asked.

"I think so. I haven't talked to her in a couple of days but I'm thinking she still hasn't found him." I shivered as a cold wind kicked up around us. Zeb put his arms around me.

"Are you sure you want to get married outside, on Christmas Eve, in a gazebo?"

"We have to. For Agnes."

Zeb looked into my eyes. "Someday I hope you stop letting Agnes control your life. Now I have to get inside and get ready for the lunch rush."

"I guess I'll see you at the Christmas parade tonight?" I said just after he kissed me.

"Are you sitting in the grandstand?"

The grandstand was nothing more than a set of bleachers Stu and Asa would move in from the high school football field. It would stand right in front of the town hall.

"Yep."

"OK, I'll meet you there."

Christmas week was always a week off from the library whether I was getting married or not. It was great to have the whole day to myself. At least until five o'clock when I would be expected at the town hall to help get the parade off. I decided to check in on Ruth.

She was still at work on Agnes's dress. "Just fixing the sleeves," she said when I walked into the sewing room. "Then I think we should go out there and try it on her in case I need to make alterations."

"OK, but what about your dress?" I was suddenly beginning to feel like a nervous bride wanting everything to go right. "And I still need to head out to Paradise and check in with Charlotte to see how she's coming with the Christmas Wedding Cake Pie."

"Well, if you'd rather just take a chance that the dress will fit Agnes we can just forget about going." She sounded annoyed.

"Are you mad at me or something?"

Ruth looked at me. "No. Not really. I just feel like I am working my fingers to nubs and Agnes will still get all the glory just like at the pageant."

"Pageant? Agnes wasn't at the pageant."

"No. I mean Dot Handy. I worked just as hard as she did and I didn't get a bouquet of flowers. Agnes and I are co-maids of honors, maid of honors? Whatever, and she'll steal the show. Probably from you too."

"Oh, Ruth. This isn't like you. Pride has never been one of your faults."

Ruth ended the hem she was making and snipped the red thread. "I know. I'm sorry. Look over there, how do you like the hat?"

I saw the hat on the couch. I picked it up and looked at it from all angles. It was a wide-brimmed straw hat but you couldn't really tell—not with all the holly and berries and that big red scarf tied around the crown. It had a long tail that would flow down over Agnes's shoulders.

"It's beautiful. You do such nice work. You're like an artist. I can't do anything like this."

"Sure you can. Just have to take your time and think about it."

"Nah, you could scrape a dead raccoon off the road and turn it into a lovely centerpiece. I can't even wrap my own Christmas gifts."

"You're too hard on yourself."

I watched Ruth finish up the other sleeve. She then spread the dress out on the floor. The dress was large and red and absolutely stunning with the holly corsage and little holly leaves and berries sewn into the shoulders. Ruth had pinned a large plastic poinsettia on the front.

"We can always switch the poinsettia for a real one if we can. But the plastic isn't too bad."

"Like I said. It's lovely."

Greenbrier was all dressed up for Christmas. Strings of lights adorned the large evergreens on the front lawn. Two huge wreaths hung on the front doors, and inside, the place resembled a nursery school. A tall Christmas tree sat in the lobby with tons of ornaments and tinsel. Cardboard cutouts of Santa Claus, reindeer, elves, and snowmen hung on every window and practically every door. Even the nurses' station had green and gold garland hanging in swags from the counter. A wreath of holly and ivy with a big red bow hung on the medicine cart. It appeared that very little was not decorated in some fashion for the holiday.

"There are no gifts under the tree," said an old woman sitting on one of the hard visitor chairs. "There are no gifts under the tree."