Pamela Tracy - Once Upon a Christmas

“Why don’t you like girls?” Cassidy asked.

“I do like girls,” Jared assured her, “especially ones who eat blueberry pancakes and ones who show me exactly where to park.”

Cassidy giggled and pointed to a visitor’s spot right by the front walkway of Roanoke Elementary. “Am I a visitor?” Jared asked.

“Yes,” Cassidy decided. “Because you’re not a kid and you don’t work here.”

“Good enough,” Jared agreed.

A moment later, both he and Maggie had signed their children in as tardy and watched as all of them, clutching late slips, scurried to their classrooms.

Well, Matt didn’t scurry. He looked at Jared accusingly. The only thing worse than being late, to Matt’s way of thinking, was being late alongside Cassidy Tate.

* * *

Jared had never stopped at Roanoke’s only coffeehouse just to have coffee. What he was paying for two cups could buy a whole pound, not that he would have. He didn’t like coffee. Plus, the concept of just sitting around, doing nothing, felt strange. He resisted the urge to fidget.

“You always come here after dropping Cassidy off at school?” He shifted in the brown hardback chair and stretched out his legs. They didn’t fit under the tiny table.

Maggie took a sip of something that was more chocolate than coffee and nodded. “As often as I can. It’s my one treat before I open the store for the day. Usually, though, I’m alone so I sit here and write in my journal. Or I read. Do you like to read?”

He hadn’t been asked that question in almost fifteen years, not since high school. “I read the Bible.”

“Oh.”

She visibly recoiled, her withdrawal so tangible it made him stop thinking about where to put his feet and how much he’d paid for the stupid cups of coffee.

“When I have time,” he added, hoping to get her to relax, “I read the newspaper.”

“Online or paper?”

“A little bit of both.”

Instead of looking at Maggie and trying to figure out why his reading the Bible could put such a look of vulnerability—or fear?—on her face, Jared took a drink of his coffee. Bitter stuff, downright nasty. Good thing the cup wasn’t that big.

He decided to get right to the point. “Beth has pretty much insisted that I come talk to you.”

“And here I thought you just stopped by because you knew I needed help with breakfast.”

When she smiled, it about made him want to forget the real reason he had stopped by. But, only for a moment. “She thinks you can give me some ideas on how to help my son Caleb. He’s having trouble at school.”

Maggie was already nodding. “I told Beth she could send anyone my way. When Cassidy started having trouble in school, I felt so alone. My husband wasn’t around and when he was, he didn’t really understand. For months my only friends were the specialists and the books and articles I was reading practically every night on how to deal with Attention Deficit.”

He looked at her empty ring finger and desperately tried to remember what Joel had said about why a Mr. Tate wasn’t around.

“I’m not sure that anything is wrong with Caleb,” Jared said finally. “I think I just need to be stricter and—”

He knew the moment he lost her. Her smile flattened. Her stare was suddenly focused on something other than his face. His late wife, Mandy, used to get the same look on her face, usually when he was saying something about why the living room wasn’t picked up or why they were having hamburger for the third night in the row. It was only when Mandy got sick and couldn’t do anything that he realized just how much she’d been doing.

And how clueless he’d been.

“Look,” he backtracked, “Caleb is just five. He lost his mother when he was not yet two, and he pretty much lost me for almost a year. That he can focus at all is a miracle. I want to be a good dad. Beth says you have more parenting tips than Dr. Spock.”

He was trying to be nonchalant, but he was out of his comfort zone. He was used to women who wore comfortable shirts tucked into jeans. She wore enough pink to be a flamingo. She didn’t look old enough to be a parent, let alone one who gave advice when the going got tough.

“The most important thing I can tell you is don’t be afraid to ask for help, take all the advice that is offered and also be willing to sacrifice to get it.”

“Sacrifice?”

She nodded. “Time mostly.”

Something Jared didn’t have in abundance.

“You asked me for advice,” Maggie reminded him. “Funny, but it all goes back to something we talked about the first time in Beth’s classroom. Here’s the truth. When dealing with Caleb, patience isn’t a virtue, it’s your only barrier between sanity and chaos.”

Great, Jared thought, because if he remembered correctly, she had told him, upon that first meeting, that patience was seldom found in a woman and never in a man.

“I was really hoping,” he said, “that you’d give me some concrete advice. You know, an earlier bedtime, maybe he needs to eat more fruit.” Jared was grasping at straws and trying to remember everything he’d looked for on the internet.

She shook her head. He had an idea that whatever concrete advice she gave would be hard, harder than he could do.

“An earlier bedtime is always good. What kind of advice do you really want? I mean, is Caleb having trouble finishing homework? Sleeping? Does he worry a lot?”

Unfortunately, the only thing that didn’t ring true was worry. Caleb didn’t have a care in the world, especially when it came to homework.

“He gets stomachaches more than my other two and spends more time in the bathroom. Other than that, he’s a normal kid.” Thankfully the cell phone he’d never wanted and now couldn’t live without saved him from having to say anything else. He wasn’t prepared for her questions, and he knew her advice would be near impossible to follow.

“This is Jared,” he answered. It only took a moment to hear about the latest catastrophe facing those in charge of the church party.

“Absolutely,” Jared promised. “I’ll head home now and get some more.” Never before had he been glad to hear that he hadn’t brought enough hay for a maze. By now, he should be an expert on mazes.

He couldn’t help it. After he disconnected the call, he checked his watch again.

This meeting was over.

And Maggie Tate was looking at him as if he’d disappointed her.

For some reason, it bothered him.

* * *

“Mom, Mom, Mom.” Cassidy rarely said Mom only once. She usually said it three or more times just because she could.

“I’m getting dressed.”

“But I’m ready. Did you know that this outfit would look much better with red boots?” Cassidy didn’t expect an answer. She just looked at the two presents under the tree: one really small, the other really big. Neither looked the size of cowboy boots.

Maggie was no dummy. She’d wrapped the cowboy boots in a box five times their size.

“For now, your regular shoes will have to do. And, Cassidy, if you keep interrupting me, we’ll be late.”

Cassidy had put on her good clothes the moment she had gotten home and had been chanting “I’m ready” for almost three hours.

Maggie applied a layer of red lipstick that matched the red of her Norma Jean wool-blend winter dress. The weatherman predicted snow, and although it hadn’t arrived yet, cold temperatures had. Maggie wanted to be prepared for the worst and a fully lined frock would do the trick.

At least on the outside.

The inside, her insides, had a completely different need—one that pretty clothes couldn’t mask. She’d not stepped foot in a church for a year, not since Dan died.

It’s not a church service, Beth had insisted. It’s just a party. No Bible study and we’ll be singing Christmas songs.