Miracle (9 page)

“You’re kidding,” Virginia whispered. “Were they caught?”

“No,” Sharon said.

The rehearsal on the twenty-third was supposed to start at seven. By a quarter to eight the choir was still standing at the back of the sanctuary, waiting to sing the processional, the shepherds and angels were bouncing off the walls, and Reverend Wall, in his chair behind the pulpit, had nodded off. The assistant minister, Reverend Lisa Farrison, was moving poinsettias onto the chancel steps to make room for the manger, and the choir director, Rose Henderson, was on her knees, hammering wooden bases onto the cardboard palm trees. They had fallen down twice already.

“What do you think are the chances we’ll still be here when it’s time for the Christmas Eve service to start tomorrow night?” Sharon said, leaning against the sanctuary door.

“I can’t be,” Virginia said, looking at her watch. “I’ve got to be out at the mall before nine. Megan suddenly announced she wants Senior Prom Barbie.”

“My throat feels terrible,” Dee said, feeling her glands. “Is it hot in here, or am I getting a fever?”

“It’s hot in these
robes,”
Sharon said. “Why
are
we wearing them? This is a rehearsal.”

“Rose wanted everything to be exactly like it’s going to be tomorrow night.”

“If I’m exactly like this tomorrow night, I’ll be dead,” Dee said, trying to clear her throat. “I
can’t
get sick. I don’t have any of the presents wrapped, and I haven’t even
thought
about what we’re having for Christmas dinner.”

“At least you
have
presents,” Virginia said. “I have eight people left to buy for. Not counting Senior Prom Barbie.”

“I don’t have anything done. Christmas cards, shopping, wrapping, baking, nothing, and Bill’s parents are coming,” Sharon said. “Come
on
, let’s get this show on the road.”

Rose and one of the junior choir angels hoisted the palm trees to standing. They listed badly to the right, as if Bethlehem were experiencing a hurricane. “Is that straight?” Rose called to the back of the church.

“Yes,” Sharon said.

“Lying in church,” Dee said. “Tsk, tsk.”

“All right,” Rose said, picking up a bulletin. “Listen up, everybody. Here’s the order of worship. Introit by the brass quartet, processional, opening prayer, announcements—Reverend Farrison, is that where you want to talk about the ‘Least of These’ Project?”

“Yes,” Reverend Farrison said. She walked to the front of the sanctuary. “And can I make a quick announcement right now?” She turned and faced the choir. “If anybody has anything else to donate, you need to bring it to the church by tomorrow morning at nine,” she said briskly. “That’s when we’re going to deliver them to the homeless. We still need
blankets and canned goods. Bring them to the Fellowship Hall.”

She walked back down the aisle, and Rose started in on her list again. “Announcements, ‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,’ Reverend Wall’s sermon—”

Reverend Wall nodded awake at his name. “Ah,” he said, and hobbled toward the pulpit, clutching a sheaf of yellowed typewritten papers.

“Oh, no,” Sharon said. “Not a Christmas pageant
and
a sermon. We’ll be here forever.”

“Not
a
sermon,” Virginia said. “The sermon. All twenty-four minutes of it. I’ve got it memorized. He’s given it every year since he came.”

“Longer than that,” Dee said. “I swear last year I heard him say something in it about World War I.”

“‘And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city,’” Reverend Wall said. “‘And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth.’”

“Oh,
no,”
Sharon said. “He’s going to give the whole sermon right now.”

“We know nothing of that journey up from Bethlehem,” he said.

“Thank you, Reverend Wall,” Rose said. “After the sermon, the choir sings ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ and Mary and Joseph—”

“What message does the story of their journey hold for us?” Reverend Wall said, picking up steam.

Rose was hurrying up the aisle and up the chancel steps. “Reverend Wall, you don’t need to run through your sermon right now.”

“What does it say to us,” he asked, “struggling to recover from a world war?”

Dee nudged Sharon.

“Reverend
Wall,”
Rose said, reaching the pulpit. “I’m afraid we don’t have time to go through your whole sermon right now. We need to run through the pageant now.”

“Ah,” he said, and gathered up his papers.

“All right,” Rose said. “The choir sings ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ and Mary and Joseph, you come down the aisle.”

Mary and Joseph, wearing bathrobes and Birkenstocks, assembled themselves at the back of the sanctuary, and started down the center aisle.

“No, no, Mary and Joseph, not that way,” Rose said. “The wise men from the East have to come down the center aisle, and you’re coming up from Nazareth. You two come down the side aisle.”

Mary and Joseph obliged, taking the aisle at a trot.

“No, no, slow
down,”
Rose said. “You’re tired. You’ve walked all the way from Nazareth. Try it again.”

They raced each other to the back of the church and started again, slower at first and then picking up speed.

“The congregation won’t be able to see them,” Rose said, shaking her head. “What about lighting the side aisle? Can we do that, Reverend Farrison?”

“She’s not here,” Dee said. “She went to get something.”

“I’ll go get her,” Sharon said, and went down the hall.

Miriam Hoskins was just going into the adult Sunday school room with a paper plate of frosted cookies. “Do you know where Reverend Farrison is?” Sharon asked her.

“She was in the office a minute ago,” Miriam said, pointing with the plate.

Sharon went down to the office. Reverend Farrison was standing at the desk, talking on the phone. “How soon can the van be here?” She motioned to Sharon she’d be a minute. “Well, can you find out?”

Sharon waited, looking at the desk. There was a glass dish of paper-wrapped cough drops next to the phone, and beside it a can of smoked oysters and three cans of water chestnuts. Probably for the ‘Least of These’ Project, she thought ruefully.

“Fifteen minutes? All right. Thank you,” Reverend Farrison said, and hung up. “Just a minute,” she told Sharon, and went to the outside door. She opened it and leaned out. Sharon could feel the icy air as she stood there. She wondered if it had started snowing.

“The van will be here in a few minutes,” Reverend Farrison said to someone outside.

Sharon looked out the stained-glass panels on either side of the door, trying to see who was out there.

“It’ll take you to the shelter,” Reverend Farrison said. “No, you’ll have to wait outside.” She shut the door. “Now,” she said, turning to Sharon, “what did
you
want, Mrs. Englert?”

Sharon said, still looking out the window, “They need you in the sanctuary.” It
was
starting to snow. The flakes looked blue through the glass.

“I’ll be right there,” Reverend Farrison said. “I was just taking care of some homeless. That’s the second couple we’ve had tonight. We always get them at Christmas. What’s the problem? The palm trees?”

“What?” Sharon said, still looking at the snow.

Reverend Farrison followed her gaze. “The shelter van’s coming for them in a few minutes,” she said. “We can’t let them stay in here unsupervised. First Methodist’s had their collection stolen twice in the last month, and we’ve got all the donations for the ‘Least of These’ Project in there.” She gestured toward the Fellowship Hall.

I thought they were for the homeless, Sharon thought. “Couldn’t they just wait in the sanctuary or something?” she said.

Reverend Farrison sighed. “Letting them in isn’t doing them a kindness. They come here instead of the shelter because the shelter confiscates their liquor.” She started down the hall. “What did they need me for?”

“Oh,” Sharon said, “the lights. They wanted to know if they could get lights over the side aisle for Mary and Joseph.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “The lights in this church are such a mess.” She stopped at the bank of switches next to the stairs that led down to the choir room and the Sunday school rooms. “Tell me what this turns on.”

She flicked a switch. The hall light went off. She switched it back on and tried another one.

“That’s the light in the office,” Sharon said, “and the downstairs hall, and that one’s the adult Sunday school room.”

“What’s this one?” Reverend Farrison said. There was a yelp from the choir members. Kids screamed.

“The sanctuary,” Sharon said. “Okay, that’s the side aisle lights.” She called down to the sanctuary. “How’s that?”

“Fine,” Rose called. “No, wait, the organ’s off.”

Reverend Farrison flicked another switch, and the organ came on with a groan.

“Now the side lights are off,” Sharon said, “and so’s the pulpit light.”

“I told you they were a mess,” Reverend Farrison said. She flicked another switch. “What did that do?””

It turned the porch light off.”

“Good. We’ll leave it off. Maybe it will discourage any more homeless from coming,” she said. “Reverend Wall let a homeless man wait inside last week, and he relieved himself on the carpet in the adult Sunday school room. We had to have it cleaned.” She looked reprovingly at Sharon. “With these people, you can’t let your compassion get the better of you.”

No, Sharon thought. Jesus did, and look what happened to him.

“The innkeeper could have turned them away,” Reverend Wall intoned. “He was a busy man, and his inn was full of travelers. He could have shut the door on Mary and Joseph.”

Virginia leaned across Sharon to Dee. “Did whoever broke in take anything?”

“No,” Sharon said.

“Whoever it was urinated on the floor in the nursery,” Dee whispered, and Reverend Wall trailed off confusedly and looked over at the choir.

Dee began coughing loudly, trying to smother it with her hand. He smiled vaguely at her and started again. “The innkeeper could have turned them away.”

Dee waited a minute, and then opened her hymnal to her bulletin and began writing on it. She passed it to Virginia, who read it and then passed it back to Sharon.

“Reverend Farrison thinks some of the homeless got in,” it read. “They tore up the palm trees, too. Ripped the bases right off. Can you imagine anybody doing something like that?”

“As the innkeeper found room for Mary and Joseph that Christmas Eve long ago,” Reverend Wall said, building to a finish, “let us find room in our hearts for Christ. Amen.”

The organ began the intro to “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” and Mary and Joseph appeared at the back with Miriam Hoskins. She adjusted Mary’s white veil and whispered something to them. Joseph pulled at his glued-on beard.

“What route did they finally decide on?” Virginia whispered. “In from the side or straight down the middle?”

“Side aisle,” Sharon whispered.

The choir stood up. “‘little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie,’
”
they sang.
” ‘
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by.’
”

Mary and Joseph started up the side aisle, taking the slow, measured steps Rose had coached them in, side by side. No, Sharon thought. That’s not right. They didn’t look like that. Joseph should be a little ahead of Mary, protecting her, and her hand should be on her stomach, protecting the baby.

They eventually decided to wait on the decision of how Mary and Joseph would come, and started through the pageant. Mary and Joseph knocked on the door of the inn, and the innkeeper, grinning broadly, told them there wasn’t any room.

“Patrick, don’t look so happy,” Rose said. “You’re supposed to be in a bad mood. You’re busy and tired, and you don’t have any rooms left.”

Patrick attempted a scowl. “I have no rooms left,” he said, “but you can stay in the stable.” He led them over to the manger, and Mary knelt down behind it.

“Where’s the baby Jesus?” Rose said.

“He’s not due till tomorrow night,” Virginia whispered.

“Does anybody have a baby doll they can bring?” Rose asked.

One of the angels raised her hand, and Rose said, “Fine. Mary, use the blanket for now, and, choir, you sing the first verse of ‘Away in a Manger.’ Shepherds,” she called to the back of the sanctuary, “as
soon
as ‘Away in a Manger’ is over, come up and stand on
this
side.” She pointed.

The shepherds picked up an assortment of hockey sticks, broom handles, and canes taped to one-by-twos and adjusted their headcloths.

“All right, let’s run through it,” Rose said. “Organ?”

The organ played the opening chord, and the choir stood up.

“A-way,” Dee sang and started to cough, choking into her hand.

“Do—cough—drop?” she managed to gasp out between spasms.

“I saw some in the office,” Sharon said, and ran down the chancel steps, down the aisle, and out into the hall.

It was dark, but she didn’t want to take the time to try to find the right switch. She could more or less see her way by the lights from the sanctuary, and she thought she knew right where the cough drops were.

The office lights were off, too, and the porch light Reverend Farrison had turned off to discourage the homeless. She opened the office door, felt her way over to the desk and patted around till she found the glass dish. She grabbed a handful of cough drops and felt her way back out into the hall.

The choir was singing “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,” but after two measures they stopped, and in the sudden silence Sharon heard knocking.

She started for the door and then hesitated, wondering if this was the same couple Reverend Farrison had turned away earlier, coming back to make trouble, but the knocking was soft, almost diffident, and through the stained-glass panels she could see it was snowing hard.

She switched the cough drops to her left hand, opened the door a little, and looked out. There were two people standing on the porch, one in front of the other. It was too dark to do
more than make out their outlines, and at first glance it looked like two women, but then the one in front said in a young man’s voice,
“Erkas.”