Tracie Peterson (10 page)

“Mrs. Bennett, it’s so nice to see you here on this less-than-perfect evening,” Pastor Gray said as they entered the building. The roly-poly pastor bobbed his balding head up and down as he shook her free hand. It was as if the actions of his hand dictated those of his head.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Ruth said, smiling. “And how is Mrs. Gray? I heard she had caught a cold.”

“Nothing to worry about,” the man assured. “She’s here tonight. Ever ready to take on her job at the piano. But thank you for asking.”

Helen quickly hurried downstairs to prepare for the play. Rachel leaned over to her mother. “I can take these downstairs for you.”

Ruth became instantly aware of a growing crowd. She felt David press in behind her. She turned and smiled. “No, I’ll handle it. You stay here and introduce David.” She gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “They’re coming to greet the hero of Pearl Harbor,” she said softly. “You’re important to them, David. You and so many others are the reason they are working so hard, doing without. Remember that.” He nodded.

“Ruthie, is this that young man you told us about?” a sweet-faced older woman questioned.

“Yes, this is the man. I’ll let Rachel do the introductions while I get these goodies to the kitchen.” She spoke for the benefit of everyone who had gathered to meet their houseguest. She added, “He isn’t
used to so many people. He’s been recuperating from his wounds, mostly seeing just doctors and nurses, so go easy on him.” With that she took her leave and Rachel took over.

Rachel threw David what she hoped was an encouraging glance. “This is Kenny’s good friend from the ship, David Cohen.”

“Well, we’re proud to have you here,” the older woman said, reaching a hand out to shake with David. “I’m Ginny Williams. My son joined up with the Army Air Corp just this year. I’m glad to get to meet you.”

David murmured thanks and was soon inundated with names and faces from congregation members. When her father came through the front door, shaking the rain from his hat and coat, Rachel felt a sense of relief. He would no doubt see to it that they made their way into the sanctuary and save their socializing for the party after the play.

True to form, he did just that. Marion Bennett paused only long enough to hang up his coat, as well as David’s and Rachel’s, then doffed his hat and suggested they find a seat.

“Looks like it will be a full house tonight,” Ruth said, sliding into the pew beside her husband.

“Looks like half the town has turned out,” Rachel’s father replied. “Some probably came for the play and some to catch a glimpse at David.”

He gave David a wink, but Rachel felt him tense in the seat beside her. She started to lean over and ask him why, but Pastor Gray made his way to the front of the church and a hush followed.

“Let us pray and give thanks for the season,” he began.

All heads bowed in unison, with exception to one. Rachel couldn’t help but note that David was uncertain what he should do. She squeezed David’s hand reassuringly, then closed her eyes.

“Oh, great and merciful God, we ask for a speedy end to the war and the safety of our boys. We ask that here, in the season celebrating the birth of your Son, Jesus, you would touch the hearts of all, blessing them with the assurance that you are in control. And that no matter what heartache we might have to face, you alone are just and righteous—thy will be done. Amen.”

Without much introduction, the Christmas play sprung to life. Mrs. Gray played familiar Christmas songs while a ten-year-old Mary walked faithfully beside a rather disgruntled twelve-year-old Joseph.
It appeared Joseph wasn’t all that excited about playing the role, but because the eldest Roland boy had gotten the measles, he had been forced to fill in.

The shepherds, complete with paper beards, dish towel-covered heads, and strange pillowcase sheep, took over the next scene. They sang with childlike strength.

“‘Silent night, holy night. All is calm. All is bright.’”

They drew a breath between each phrase and shouted the words to make certain the world could hear their declaration.

As they finished, Helen appeared on stage. She had been given a paper halo supported awkwardly with wire. It was a little bent on one side, but it nevertheless signified that this white-robed child was indeed an angelic being.

“‘Fear not!’” Helen declared. “‘For, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.’”

One of the shepherds began to fidget and tugged at his beard, while the youngest, no more than three years of age, began to wander around Helen as if in awe of her celestial appearance.

The congregation chuckled softly as Helen continued to deliver her lines, eventually having to pick up the shepherd and hold him so that he could inspect her halo. By this time, several additional angels appeared. Some were dressed in white like Helen, but others had decorated paper streamers affixed to their street clothes. And everyone had a wire halo.

While the angels sang, Mary and Joseph and a wooden manger were positioned on the side of the stage. The shepherd began to protest Helen’s grip, and so she put him down, only to see that he wasn’t going to be very cooperative. He continued to wander around even while the other shepherds were trying to deliver their lines. Rachel found it all pleasantly amusing, for she could remember a time when Helen herself had been the one stirring up trouble, snooping around while the play went on in her oblivion.

Helen tried to herd the little shepherd toward the manger scene, where he was supposed to say his only line, but he wasn’t very interested at this point. More laughter erupted from the congregation, and this seemed to please the boy immensely. So much so, in fact, that he began to jump around and do a little dance. Probably the only time dancing had been allowed in Faith Church.

Helen, in complete exasperation, took hold of the boy and pushed him toward the manger. “Go see Jesus,” she told him in a whisper, which seemed to echo throughout the church.

The boy howled in protest, but eventually something near the manger caught his eye and he left his one-man-show aspirations behind and shouted, “I want to see Jesus!”

Rachel laughed until tears were streaming down her cheeks. Even David was laughing, and this gave her hope that he could somehow find joy in his sadly tumultuous life. Maybe he would even come to the place where he would say those very words for himself.
I want to see Jesus!
How Rachel prayed that might be true.

And then the play was over and the actors had taken their bows. The children were released to join their parents, and the entire congregation made its way downstairs for fellowship and refreshments.

Rachel remained close to David, sensing his need for her protection, while her father and grandpa wandered off to talk with the other men of the church.

A group of ladies crowded around and introduced themselves to David. Rachel knew he would have rather run from the room, but she looped her arm through his good one and suggested they make their way to the refreshment table.

“You’ll enjoy this, I promise,” she said smiling.

David let her lead and seemed to perk up a bit when he found Ruth behind the table helping to serve.

“Oh, David, you have to try this,” Ruth declared, pouring him a glass of punch. “I made it myself. In fact, it’s my own recipe.”

“She’s not a bit proud of the fact that everyone here at Faith Church has declared it the best punch in all of Washington,” Rachel added.

David took a sip and smiled. “I’d say it’s the best punch I’ve ever tasted, anywhere.”

“High praise indeed,” Marion stated, joining them.

David filled a plate with food, as did Marion and Rachel, and together the three of them made their way to one of the many tables. Laughing and chatting about the town and the season, David seemed to relax. Rachel prayed that the demons would leave him, that God would replace his fear and hurt with hope and peace. What better Christmas present could either of them ask for?

“We love our baseball,” Ginny Williams told David. “We have a great rivalry with the town of Kelso.”

“You call that a town?” someone muttered and laughter erupted.

“My father once took me to see Satchel Paige pitch an exhibition game right here in our ball park,” another woman declared. “I was the biggest tomboy in all of Longview, and Satchel Paige was just the bee’s knees.”

Rachel laughed and noted that David took real interest. “Satchel Paige was here?” he questioned.

“He sure was,” the woman said as her husband came and plopped a chubby baby in her arms. “I must have been about fifteen, but I can remember it like it was yesterday. I thought surely the man would be ten feet tall. Instead, there he was, just about the same size as my dad. He came out carrying a satchel, all battered and black. He put it down on the mound and took out his pitching mitt. I’m telling you, you could have heard a pin drop.”

Everyone who had experienced the moment agreed in a murmuring of affirmation. Rachel could see that David found their stories fascinating, and even when the conversation turned to comments about how they hoped he would stay on in Longview, Rachel couldn’t denote any of his previous apprehension. Things went fairly well, in fact, until Natalie Bishop strolled over with her father.

“Mr. Cohen, this is my father, Max Campbell. He’s been wanting to meet you ever since he read the article in the paper.”

Max Campbell, a broad-shouldered logger turned factory worker, pumped David’s arm enthusiastically. “Good to meet you, son. It’s not often I get to shake the hand of an honest-to-goodness hero.”

Rachel saw David’s face pale. There was no way to graciously remove him from the attention, and yet at the same time she wondered if this attention wasn’t exactly what David needed.

“I’d like it if you’d come over to the plant and speak to the boys. Give them a pep talk about what they’re doing for the war effort. Seeing you there and hearing about Pearl Harbor . . . well, I know they’d get up a steam and really put out the work.”

“I don’t think I’d be very good at something like that,” David said shyly.

“Nonsense!” the man declared rather gruffly. “I’m telling you it would work wonders. You just come on over on Monday. Marion
can show you the way.”

David appeared at a loss for words, and yet Rachel felt compelled to keep her mouth shut. Funny, she always counted on God to give her words to speak, and when He didn’t, she found it almost impossible to believe that He would want her to remain silent.

The party lingered for another hour or so until the food was gone and the children began to grow cranky. Rachel watched David struggle into his coat as they prepared to leave. He was determined and strong. That was what had brought him this far, she thought. She could only pray it would be enough to take him to that place where he’d find peace for his soul.

Even though the trip home wasn’t all that far, the icy rain left them all chilled to the bone. “What say I make up a pot of cocoa?” Ruth suggested. “Marion, you could build up the fire just a bit and we could unthaw before going to bed.”

“Sounds good to me,” her husband agreed.

Soon the family was settled around a blazing fire, with the melody of Christmas carols playing softly on the radio. Even David appeared completely content. Ruth brought a tray with steaming mugs of the rare treat. It might have cost her extra sugar, but Rachel knew her mother would find somewhere else to skimp. A special moment like this required a special refreshment.

With everyone served, Ruth took up her own mug and proposed a toast. “I know we aren’t usually the kind of folks to take on such airs, but I’d like us to take a minute to remember Kenny. He would have loved tonight. He would have laughed with us and sang and probably eaten more than anyone there.”

“To be sure,” Grandpa Bennett chuckled. “Kenny would say, ‘Enough with the grief.’ He would tell us it was time to move on—to let go of his death and remember his life.”

Marion nodded and lifted his mug high. “To the best son a man could have.”

“To the best brother,” Rachel declared, her heart blazing with a wealth of emotions.

Helen echoed her and added, “And to the best baseball player Longview ever had. If we just had a hitter like him next summer, we wouldn’t have any trouble beating Kelso.” They all smiled and nodded.

“To a fine grandson who is sorely missed,” Grandpa Bennett added.

Ruth looked to David and waited for his toast. David stood and held out his cup. “To a good friend—the best friend a man could ever have.”

Ruth nodded and raised her mug to David’s, and one by one the others joined them there in the middle. “To Kenny,” Ruth murmured.

“To Kenny,” they called in unison.

The holiday season grew in a fervor of carolers and baked goods. David felt overwhelmed by the reception of those congregation members who stopped by from time to time to bid him a warmer welcome. He’d been given gifts of cookies, socks, books, and cards with a dollar—sometimes two—and always the warmest wishes that he might stay on in Longview.

Often in the evenings, Ruth would sit down at the piano and play Christmas songs for the family. Rachel and Helen loved to sing, and even Marion and Grandpa Bennett appreciated the music and often joined in. They were the family Kenny had described, right down to Rachel’s sweet voice and Helen’s tomboyish escapades.