Authors: Jan Karon
Light From Heaven (72 page)
“She has a point,” said Father Tim.
“Man!” said Dooley. “Do we have to do this? They say cows talk on Christmas Eve; I’d rather go to the barn and hear cows talk.”
“I’ll g-go with you,” said Sammy.
“I have a question.”
“I love questions.”
They sat before a low fire in the kitchen. As the Harpers hadn’t yet left for Dallas, where Hoppy’s school chum would be having brain surgery, Dooley had taken Lace home. Sammy was watching a pool tournament on TV
“Who’ll be here to observe our living Nativity scene?”
“No one, I suppose.” His wife was attempting to repair a hole in her favorite sweater. “Since you’re celebrating Mass, I thought we’d have a quiet Christmas at home, just the five of us.”
“It seems a lot of trouble to do it all for ourselves.”
“It could be a very moving experience.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “it could be.” But he didn’t think that each and every member of this particular cast would get the hang of being moved. “Maybe we should have a few people in. A buffet or something. Willie? Harley?”
“You’d feel up to all that?”
“Definitely. Let’s see, there’s Blake Eddistoe without a relative to his name, though I believe there’s a girlfriend in the picture. And if Harley comes, he could bring Hélène.”
“Yes, and what about Lon Burtie? Sammy would like that.”
“Good thinking!”
“I suppose Louella wouldn’t want to come out at night. But we could ask.”
“Absolutely!” he said. “Since she’s who she is, I’m sure Hope House would bring her in their wheelchair van. And Miss Lottie, what would you think of inviting Miss Lottie?”
“Of course!” She studied the kitchen intently. “We could move the table to the corner by the window seat, which would open up the room, and rent folding chairs ...”
He peered into the drawer of the small table at his elbow, and took out a notepad and pen.
He would make a list.
My dear Aunt,
I know you haven’t heard from me in an eon but remember I told you once that neither time nor distance would ever diminish my affection for you? Though you may doubt it this sentiment remains decidedly true.
Africa is not for sissies not where I’ve been. After years of roaming the world I am as ready as anything to come “home” and rest my weary bones if only for a time. I am perilously on the verge of becoming an old reprobate. Perhaps I will settle down and have a great number of children—I hear they can be a solace in old age!
Could I possibly put up at your place until I get my bearings? Only for a few days I promise.
I know you’re married again—I received your letter in the previous century am a blackguard for not responding sooner—and am thrilled to hear it’s to a very decent sort of fellow (at last!).
Will be arriving in the states on 23 December and will draw up to your door on the following evening if that will not trouble you overmuch. Good heavens it just occurred to me that the 24th is Christmas Eve!
I shall bear gifts.
Following is my international cell phone number you may reach me at anytime. And if this awkwardly last-minute self-invite doesn’t work for you, I shall fly on to another roost you mustn’t worry not even for a moment.
Your loving and devoted albeit adopted nephew
David
She handed him the letter, beaming. “David never did enjoy using the comma.”
When he finished reading David’s letter, she handed him another before he could comment on the one he’d just read.
“When it rains, it pours,” she said.
Dear Father and Mrs. Kavanagh:
Mother says she told you I will be making a new life in the mountains of North Carolina.
If it would not be inconvenient, I would greatly appreciate being able to spend a few nights with you at Meadowgate, beginning December 23, when I arrive in Charlotte. I would drive up and be there around four in the afternoon. I truly do not wish to trouble you in any way. I will happily take care of my own needs, as my years in foreign service have so well prepared me to do.
I will ring you on Monday next, and look forward to speaking with you. I know how very much Mother and Father treasure your friendship, and appreciate that you’re watching over things in their absence. I have a pleasant memory, Father, of meeting you some years ago, and look forward to seeing you again.
Sincerely,
Annie Owen
“Where will we put them all?” he asked.
“My brain is in a spin. What do you think?”
He had no idea. Nor did he have any idea about what he was giving his wife for Christmas. He was in a pickle, big-time.
He picked up the list and smoked it over.
Cynthia
Dooley
Lace
Sammy
T. K.
Lon
Harley Hélène
Willie
Blake
Laura
Louella
Miss Lottie
David,
he wrote.
he wrote.
Annie ...
Cards galore. Many forwarded from Mitford; one envelope bearing a note scribbled by the postmaster:
We owe you 32 cents
.
Merry Christmas, Jim.
We owe you 32 cents
.
Merry Christmas, Jim.
A postcard. That was refreshing. A Jersey cow in a meadow, with a banner reading WISCONSIN.
All is well with my soul, and pray same with yrs. Hope to see you in Mitford on Dec 24, my new territory brings me to western NC. I thank God you lead me in that prayer on Thksgiving Day in Lord’s Chapel. Your brother in Christ, Pete.
He picked up the notepad.
Pete,
he wrote.
Pete,
he wrote.
It was two in the morning. He heard some sort of shuffling about in the room.
“Are you up?” he asked.
“Yes!” she whispered.
“What for?”
“The usual.”
“Aha.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Scary”
“We need help.”
“What sort of help?”
“Lily. And Del!”
“For Christmas Eve?”
“Yes, for heaven’s sake, there’ll be sixteen of us, and heaven only knows who we might bring home from church.”
“Where are you?”
“Sitting in the rocker.”
“Come back to bed. Go to sleep. It’ll all work out. I promise.”
“We’ll need gallons of oysters.”
“Willie said he would be a wise man.”
That should be some consolation, right there.
If he were Harold ...
If he were Harold, he’d be married to Emma. There was a thought to make what was left of his hair stand on end.
Good grief, now he was a consultant on gift giving—he who couldn’t come up with a gift for the single most important person on his list.
There were no nice books on war.
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