Chapter 8

© Copyright 2008 by Elizabeth Delayne



Rachel spent most of Christmas Eve helping Millie and the Petersons decorate the church for the service. Candles were set out, prepared to be lit. A tree was at the front. The church smelled of rich pine.

Of Christmas, Rachel thought.

Millie sat on the front pew assembling the garland on a makeshift table, using the long pine boughs they’d cut. She had the help of Jeff and Lauren to decorated it with bows in velvet ribbon and lace Mrs. Peterson used and preserved each year. She wasn’t after perfection, Rachel noted as she watched the children help, but a spirit of love and joy.

Rachel helped Mrs. Peterson clean the windows and scrub down the pews and doorway. Part of it, she was sure, was that she was expected to do so as the teacher using the church for a school on weekdays.

However, there was a certain pleasure in doing something for the celebration, of putting in her part for the community.

But because this was her home.

And it gave her something to think about besides her family, the activities she’d known in the community in which she’d grown. She’d received a shipment from them for Christmas. As she had access to most everything she needed, and she could sew her own clothes, she’d asked for books. Her father, a teacher as well, had sent her a number of used books he had gleaned from his own collection and two new texts from the local bookstore.

Little was more precious to her then books.

Soon, they were hanging the garland and had turned the sweeping over to the children. Jeff, now well into five years old, was adept with a broom from his chores sweeping the store. Lauren—now four years old, had her own ideas of how to do it. Having roomed with her for several months, Rachel knew how particular in her cleaning the little girl could be.

Jeff simply listened, or ignored her—Rachel wasn’t sure—as he did the sweeping. They were the best of friends and the worst of enemies, their emotions, their weariness, their play all out there between them. Unlike Matt, they didn’t seem to hold anything in. Their world was so big and bright for them. Their laughter rang out over the church, lighting the day with music so much like Christmas bells.

James had said that they had not celebrated last year. Surely he was now more aware. Surely he was open to make a better effort this year.

But would he come to the service ... to bring Matt? Would she be able to wish Matt a Merry Christmas?

With the Christmas holiday, and the predicted winter weather, she would see less of him in the coming weeks.

She was too close, she thought ... too close to a boy that would never be hers.

She mentally shook herself and forced herself to focus ... on her job. On the church. On the season.

Decorated in the traditions of Christmas, the church reminded her of Charleston; of the flow of activities, small gatherings and the gossip of local parties. Of the singing and the caroling.

Maybe she missed her church back there and definitely the shops, but not as much as she missed her family.

Her friends—the Petersons, Millie—they helped her stay distracted.

Their children, with their buoyant hearts and laughter, lifted her heart.

This afternoon, before the sun went down, people would arrive. They would feast together on fellowship as the cool weather kept them from dining outside. They would sing, and listen to the story of Christmas, of Jesus and his arrival on earth.

Then they would return home ... to worship and celebrate as a family.

And for tonight, for a moment, she was part of their family.

* * *

The doors were open for the services. The sky was still blue, the day only beginning to die.

James stood at the side of his wagon where he’d dropped down moments before.

“Coming?” Gregory Forester asked.

He nodded, but continued to stare at the doors as his father walked on in, talking to the people gathered outside as he went. Music was spilling out. Mrs. Petterson was probably the one at the piano. It was the way things were.

Except ... the last time he’d heard Christmas music ... the last time he’d come on Christmas Eve, Anna had been with him. They’d stopped, talked to people. A blizzard had separated them from the people in town, he remembered. It had been more than a week, closer to two, since they’d had an opportunity to see anyone. And weeks since they’d been able to see everyone.

The time had gone by so fast. There had been so much to say. So much life around him. Anna had held his hand and he’d had Matt in his arms.

His little boy, so young ... his arms wrapped around his neck.

It was Matt he thought of now. He ran a hand over Matt’s head as his son leaned into him.

Still, he didn’t have Anna.

He’d avoided church in the last few weeks because of it. He couldn’t celebrate it. He hadn’t let himself.

“Pa?”

Matt looked up at him as if he understood; no questions, no impatience ... just a little determination.

It was time.

The thought came out of no where, like a voice in his head. Matt held out his hand and waited for James to take it.

James gave him a smile and reached out.

It was Matt’s hand he held this time as he walked into the church.



Rachel moved through the laughter and chatter. More people flowed in today than on any other Sunday she’d seen, but not everyone could get in every week from their farms. They’d made a point to come today.

Mrs. Whitaker had just given her a warm hug.

Home, she thought. It felt so much like it. People, so very familiar to her.

Children, she thought again—seeing Lauren dutifully walking with her father as he greeted people—so very precious.

And growing up.

Music flowed, the familiar strains of Christmas hymns.

And then she felt it. The prickle at her neck ...

She turned.

And there was James Forester. He looked a little lost, incredibly sad ... and so very withdrawn.

His eyes shifted and found hers, and for a moment, across the crowded church, they just looked. A feeling, not quite words, covered the distance between them.

She felt, rather than heard, a depth.

Not all longing. Not all sadness.

Just ... seeking.

Maybe that’s what connected them.

He shifted then, pulled himself in.

And the connection ended.

It was then she saw Matt, and Matt saw her. His face seemed to light up like the Christmas candles that would be lit later. She smiled, and held out her arms as he left his father and came across the church.

“Miss, Lynne! I’ve missed coming into town.”

She smiled and she knelt down to his level. “I’ve missed seeing you,” she said as he flung himself into her arms.

“We’ve been working with our horses. Pa and I. Pa let me ride Nuisance with him yesterday.”

“Nuisance?” Rachel glanced up and noticed that James had made his way over. “Sounds like it took you a whole lot of work.”

“Been a bur in my side since he was born.” James murmered. “Nuisance. Not Matt.”

“I get that.”

“Can we sit with you, Miss. Lynne?”

She glanced up, unsure what his father would prefer. On the Sundays he came, the Foresters sat at the back and were quick to leave.

Well, James Forester was—Gregory rode his own horse and took his time, went his own way.

“I ... its up to your Pa.”

James looked around at the pews being claimed. It took him back to his childhood church where the pews were reserved for families and everyone had a place. Out here things were different.

Things were just plain different now.

“That should be ... fine.”

HEY! and don't forget to e-mail me if you have a comment!




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