Authors: Jan Karon
Shepherds Abiding (16 page)
Slowly, and with reverence, she spoke what was written in a careful hand on the yellowed paper.
Christmas,
1932
My dear little sister,
I am thinking of you this year with special feeling. I know how you enjoy having notes from me, and I must admit you are a very fine note-writer yourself.
I would like to take this opportunity to say that you are dear to me, and I am proud of you. You please me very much with your fine reading, which I can say from experience is a hard thing to grasp.
It is my fond hope that you will like your gift. Please know that it was chosen with much affection, and hope for your bright future by
Your devoted brother
“Oh,” she said, moved. She held the letter as if it were something deeply personal and long desired.
“Hope.”
“Yes?” She felt her hair slipping loose from its careful bun.
“It’s amazing that this letter says some of the things I’ve been wanting to say to you.”
“Really?”
He stood behind her and put his arms around her and held her close; the lights of the tree turned the empty room into a prism of color.
“I’d like to take this opportunity to say that you are dear to me, and I am proud of you.”
She felt a slow warmth rising in her, a quiet and surpassing joy.
“It is my fond hope,” he said, reading from the letter in her hand, “that you will like your gift. Please know that it was chosen with much affection, and hope for your bright future by your devoted friend and brother in Christ.”
She held her breath, unspeaking; her hair fell to her shoulders.
“I’ve been wondering how to say it,” he told her. “And someone said it for me, all those years ago.”
He placed a small box in her hand. “Please don’t open ’til Christmas,” he whispered, holding her in his arms as if there were all the time in the world to stand in this room with the glittering tree, and the letter, and the sense of promise that lay ahead.
H
e wasn’t much on checking his e-mail these days, and was flattered and mildly thrilled when he saw a queue of sixteen messages waiting.
Where to begin?
Where any priest with common sense would begin—with his bishop.
be with us for that miraculous event.
<†Stuart
. . .
. .
“Miss Betty, what if I was t’ walk aroun’ in th’ yard?”
“The doctor said you can, Uncle Billy, but only when spring comes. It’s too cold now.”
He peered over her shoulder and into the cook pot. Collards! His all-time favorite. An’ a big, fat hen a-roastin’ in th’ oven! Maybe he’d died in th’ hospital a few months back an’ went to heaven.
“If I was t’ dress warm, how’d that be?”
“I don’t think so, Uncle Billy. Wait ’til May when th’ flowers start to bloom, that’d be a good time.”
May?
A man oughtn’t to have t’ wait ’til May t’ leave ’is house! He had important things t’ do. Besides, he could be dead an’ gone by May.
“What would you like best of anything?” Father Tim asked Sissy and Sassy, who flanked him on the study sofa.
“Books!” they exclaimed as one.
His order was waiting by Hope’s cash register, gift-wrapped and ready to go. “What else?”
“Goldfish!” said Sissy, who looked at him with the inquisitive green eyes he loved.
“Ice skates!” said Sassy, whose infectious smile had always done him in.
Why had he asked such a question? Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone, and make do with books? The answer was simple—these were his grandchildren!
“Consider it done,” he said, patting a bony knee on either side.
Sassy poked his arm. “What would
you
like best of anything, Granpaw?”
“Ah. A fine question. Let me see.” He dropped his head and put his hand over his eyes.
“He’s thinking,” said Sissy, nodding with approval.
Peace on earth, that’s what he wanted.
“Healthy siblings for you two!” he said, naming another front-runner.
“What is siblings?” asked Sassy.
“A sibling is a brother or sister.”
“One of each,” said Sissy. “That’s what I prayed for.”
“So how about a trip down the street?”
“Sweet Stuff!” they chorused.
He had just delivered the girls home from Sweet Stuff and was on his way to the Oxford when the phone rang.
“Father Tim?”
“The same!”
“Lew Boyd, Father, I need somebody to talk to.”
“My time is yours.”
“Is there any way you could drop by the station?”
“Ah. Well . . . let’s see. Sure thing! I’ve got to get gas, anyway. How about—thirty minutes?” Afterward, he’d pop down to the Oxford and work for a couple of hours. . . .
“I ’preciate it. I’ll sweep you out good and give you a car fresh’ner—Ripe Peach, it’s called. On th’ house.”
“Thanks, Lew. I’ll pass on the Ripe Peach, but I’ll see you in a half hour.”
. . . and after the Oxford, he’d zoom to the Wesley mall and pick up a couple of goldfish and a pair of skates. Make that two pair. Then home again with the stuff to bake the chocolate pie for tomorrow—it was better if it sat overnight—and back to the Oxford for a final hour before making dinner with his good wife.
He was fairly giddy with all that had to be done, not to mention the blasted haircut he was forced to get somewhere, somehow. . . .
He had no intention of answering the phone when it rang again, but his hand shot forth like an arrow, and there he stood, saying, “Hello!”
“Father Tim?”
“Is that you, Esther?”
“It is. Father Talbot’s a busy man, you know.”
“Ah, yes. Packing for Australia as we speak, is my guess.”
“So could you give me some advice?”
“If I can. Be glad to.” He checked his watch.
“I’m only human.”
“True enough.”
“I hate to admit this.”
“You can admit it to me.”
“You know Ol’ Man Mueller?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Every Christmas, I take him an orange marmalade.”
“That’s
very
good of you, Esther.”
“Scripture tells us to visit the poor. But I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“Aha.”
“I was crossin’ Main Street the other day, an’ the old goat nearly ran over me—he didn’t even slow down.”
“Don’t take it personally, Esther.”
“After Gene and I have slogged out to his place every Christmas Eve in th’ pitch-black dark to deliver his cake!”
“I think his eyesight is going, he nearly bagged me a couple of times.”
“Would I be a hypocrite if I didn’t want to take ’im
a cake but did it anyway? Or would I be worse if I just thought about doin’ it an’ didn’t do it at all?”
“In my humble opinion? Worse!”
He heard her sigh. “I knew you’d say that.”