Pamela Tracy - Once Upon a Christmas

It wasn’t Beth’s invitation that was getting Maggie to church. It was Cassidy’s, “But, Mom, all my friends will be there.”

It’s not a church service, Maggie told herself. And even if it turns into one, I can just take a bathroom break.

Maggie’s biggest fear was letting God get close.

Because that would stir up a memory Maggie was trying desperately to bury, one that involved Dan and injustice.

“Cool,” Cassidy approved when Maggie finally made it to the living room. “I’m ready.”

“I feel cool,” Maggie agreed. Only, really, she didn’t. Ever since Jared had taken her out for coffee this morning, broached the subject of Caleb needing help—of Jared needing help—and then chauffeured her home, she’d felt a bit off.

As if she’d left something undone.

It was usually mothers who’d come to Maggie to ask quietly if meeting with a developmental specialist had made a difference. They’d often thrown out tidbits of how their own children were behaving as if hoping Maggie would say something like, “Oh, that’s just typical kid behavior. I doubt you need to do all I’m doing.”

But Maggie wasn’t a specialist and wouldn’t offer any advice as to what someone else’s child needed. Early on, she had discovered that sometimes the mothers hoped she’d give them ideas on ways to “fix” their children.

Their children weren’t broken. Cassidy wasn’t broken. There was no fix. All Maggie could do is share what had worked and what hadn’t worked for them.

Patience worked, but it took time. Losing her patience didn’t work and took even more time.

“Mom, Mom, Mom.”

“What?”

“Can I have some hot chocolate?”

“No, they’re serving a meal at the party. I’ve already paid the five dollars, and I want you to eat real food.”

“Hot chocolate is real.”

“Real sugary,” Maggie agreed.

“But—”

“Get your heavy coat, plus mittens. Then grab your backpack. I think there will be prizes and candy. Let’s go.”

She’d diverted Cassidy. Taken the child’s mind off the hot chocolate and on to something else, something Cassidy wanted. End of problem.

It worked, this time.

Something else that worked for Cassidy was walking—well, Maggie walked, Cassidy skipped—to the church, waving at people who passed by.

As they turned onto Calver Street, Maggie could see the Main Street Church ahead. The parking lot was already fairly full. A few stragglers were exiting their cars. In the back, she could see the hay bale maze Jared and his crew had been working on. A campfire was already burning. Plus, she could also see a horse pulling a wagon full of kids.

Good thing the storm was holding off and the weather was cold but not freezing.

Near the wagon ride was Jared’s big black truck, tailgate down, and even though the festival was starting, a group of men were still unloading bales of hay.

All day long she’d been thinking about the man, how his presence had filled her kitchen, how wonderful all the noise had been, and—

“Caleb told me about this maze. His uncle, Joel, designed it. They started it yesterday, but something happened and they had to fix it. I think Matt’s daddy didn’t bring enough hay the first time. He had to go back for more.”

Aah, that’s why coffee and conversation was cut short.

They reached the parking lot and hurried toward the entrance.

The horse neighed, a distant sound that echoed in the early-evening chill and beckoned Cassidy. “Mom, Mom, Mom. That’s what I want to do first!” She sped up, her hand automatically reaching back for her mother and dragging Maggie along.

That’s when Jared McCreedy exited the front door of the church, Caleb’s small hand in his. Caleb was dragging his feet, practically falling in an effort to halt his father’s progress. A constant stream of “No, No, No” came from his mouth. Heading to the side of the building, away from the crowd of people, Jared bent down and starting talking.

Maggie couldn’t hear the words, but she knew by Caleb’s bowed head that somehow the little boy had gotten in trouble. And Jared McCreedy was doing what good fathers across the world do. He was shepherding. He was offering wisdom. He was trying to teach right from wrong.

As Maggie entered the church, she could imagine Caleb arguing with his dad. It didn’t take any imagination at all to picture Jared. He wouldn’t be open to an argument, especially coming from his youngest son.

“Welcome, we’re glad you could join us!”

Maggie shelved her musings about Jared for a moment and smiled at the woman greeting them. Upswept hair, perfect makeup and wearing an outfit that could have come right out of Maggie’s store.

“Is that Lilli Ann?” Maggie asked.

The woman turned. “Where?”

“I mean the designer of your vintage suit.”

The woman checked her outfit. “Oh, this is just something I threw on. My sister sent it from Des Moines a few years ago. She said it just looked like something I’d wear.”

Too bad. So far in Roanoke there’d not been a true fashionista who could talk Crepe Fox Fur or gold-tone pearl buttons.

Safe topics for in a church foyer when you really didn’t want to be there.

“Let me take your coats,” the woman offered.

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

“No,” Maggie insisted. “We’re fine. I’ll hang them up.” If she hung up her cocoa leather and shearling coat, she’d know right where to get it if she needed a quick getaway.

Not that her coat could get lost amid the heavy leather jackets and box-store offerings hanging on the rack. None of tonight’s attendees seemed to be into double-breasted fronts and huge collars.

“Have you been here before?”

Maggie knew what was coming next: an invitation to services.

“Excuse me.” Maggie pulled Cassidy in front of her. “We need the restroom.”

“Right over there.”

After a thorough washing of her hands—not because they were dirty but because Maggie needed to get her bearings—and several deep breaths, all while Cassidy urged “Come on, Mom, Mom, Mom, pleeeeeease,” Maggie headed for the foyer again. The woman who’d greeted her was already at the door with some other victim.

“There’s a horse,” Cassidy reminded.

“Perfect.” The horse was outside. To Maggie’s way of thinking, being outside a church was much better than inside a church.

As they made their way to the line for the horse and wagon rides, first picking up plastic cups of hot chocolate, Maggie noticed that Jared and Caleb were still standing at the side of the church.

Cassidy, though, was all about Cassidy. In a nanosecond, Maggie was holding both their drinks while Cassidy charged full speed ahead. She would have made it, too, if a toddler hadn’t suddenly veered in her way.

Cassidy recalculated, turned left, stumbled, went down, seemed momentarily stunned, but then hopped up and without so much as a backward glance at the toddler who had deterred her, got in line.

It was that magical seven-year-old energy.

Nope, Maggie thought for the second time, she wouldn’t change a thing about Cassidy. Every nuance was part of the precious package that Maggie loved, unconditionally.

Looking behind her, she watched Jared with his son. At one time, Maggie had been a prayer warrior. If that were still true, she’d be praying that Jared McCreedy was the kind of father who would soon figure out the same thing about his youngest son.

But Maggie no longer prayed. She’d seen firsthand the power of answered prayers and it terrified her.

Chapter Four

The Main Street Church certainly drew a crowd. Maggie recognized customers, parents of Cassidy’s classmates and even Henry Throxmorton, the owner of the antiques store from across the street who never seemed to smile. He wasn’t smiling now, but he was sitting at a table across from two other men—both knew how to smile—and looking as comfortable as she’d ever seen him. His wife, looking frail but content, sat next to him.