Pamela Tracy - Once Upon a Christmas

Only six months in Roanoke and already she knew a few faces. For the first time since entering the church doors, Maggie relaxed. She could do this.

Maggie quickly purchased a few tickets and followed the path Cassidy had already taken—sans the toddler. How Cassidy knew her way around, Maggie didn’t know. In a matter of minutes, they were both in line for the horse and wagon. Never mind the cold! There were a handful of adults and a crush of kids under ten, most of whom Maggie did not know, but Cassidy did.

With mittens on and hats down over their ears, Cassidy and Maggie rode in the wagon bed, singing Christmas songs at the top of their lungs along with anyone else foolhardy enough to be outside in the freezing weather.

Joel McCreedy, Jared’s brother, added a deep bass from his position at the reins. He listened to the kids’ suggestions for songs, told jokes and even paid attention as little ones shouted their lists for Santa Claus.

Joel was easygoing, not like his older brother. With a devil-may-care glint in his eyes and I-can-do-anything attitude, the younger McCreedy brother had quickly won over both Maggie and Cassidy this past summer while he worked on remodeling the store that became Hand Me Ups.

Still, it was the older brother that Maggie couldn’t seem to forget.

After three go-rounds, the cold soon drove the Tate women inside to the crowded fellowship hall where the food smelled as inviting as the people were. It only took a moment before Cassidy claimed she was warm again and stood at one of the large windows staring longingly at the horse toting around yet another group of revelers.

Not a chance. Maggie was so cold her teeth hurt.

“Joel said that when the crowd dies down, I can sit up front with him. Then it would be fair.” Cassidy stood so close to the window that her breath frosted the glass.

Maggie was no dummy. “Which means we’ll be here until cleanup.”

“Yes,” Cassidy said brightly.

Just as Maggie was ready to open her mouth, squash that idea—

“We can always use help with cleanup.”

Trust Beth Armstrong to walk by at just the right moment. Her arms were full of paper plates, cups and napkins. Matt McCreedy followed her with a stack of plastic forks. He tripped over his untied shoelaces and the forks hit the ground. Maggie and Cassidy gathered them up and followed Beth and Matt to the kitchen.

“I’m not quite sure where Jared’s gotten off to.” Beth joined the workers in the kitchen. “He’s supposed to be helping with serving. He never shirks his duty.”

“Dad’s busy,” Matt volunteered.

“Doing what?”

Matt gave the typical kid reply. “I don’t know.”

Maggie bit her lower lip. She knew how busy Jared was. She also believed Beth’s words about Jared and responsibility. Her husband had been like that, putting duty first. Could be Jared had lost all track of time and didn’t realize how cold it was. If Jared and Caleb were outside, then maybe now was the perfect time to start interfering.

Helping.

She wasn’t interfering.

“Watch Cassidy for just a moment, will you?”

In response, Beth set Cassidy to putting plastic dining ware into separate containers.

Stepping outside the kitchen and once again into the fellowship hall, Maggie quickly looked around. No Jared. She headed for the foyer, still full of people in varying stages of taking off coats, putting them back on. Most laughing. No Jared.

She really hadn’t been expecting to find him in either place.

Then, exiting the church, she rounded the corner and found both Jared and Caleb leaning against the building, both of them looking half-frozen.

“We’ll go in when you calm down,” Jared was saying.

“Noooooooo.”

Maggie had to give Jared credit, he didn’t lose his temper at Caleb’s belligerent whine nor did he give in. His voice, however, was sharp when he said, “I’m sure getting cold.”

“Nooooooo.” If anything, the whine got louder. Jared winced and stood his ground.

“I’ll bet you’re getting hungry, too,” Maggie announced as she rounded the corner, hoping she was doing the right thing, slightly nervous at intervening.

Helping, she was helping.

She wished someone had been around when she was first going through this.

“Cassidy’s been looking for you, Caleb.” Maggie looked at Jared, trying to gauge whether he wanted her help or wanted her to back off. His expression was unfathomable. But, judging by the way he gritted his teeth, he did need help—whether he wanted it or not.

“Seems your Uncle Joel has promised a hayride with a couple of kids sitting up front,” Maggie continued. “She thought you’d like to go with her.”

Happiness for a moment, back to anger and then doubt all flickered across Caleb’s face.

“That would be fine with me,” Jared encouraged. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his tan coat. A black knit cap was pulled over his head, low enough so Maggie couldn’t see his eyes, but not so low that it did a good job of protecting his face.

Caleb pushed himself away from the church, a little clumsily since he had on a heavy coat—just like his father’s but definitely a size too big—and boots that were also a little too big for his feet. It looked like hand-me-downs were alive and well at the McCreedy house. Without a backward glance, Caleb trotted toward the horse and wagon.

Maggie turned. She needed to get Cassidy pronto.

“Wait!” Jared said.

“Just let me get Cassidy out there to meet him. It’s important that I keep my word.” She hurried inside, fetched Cassidy, and rushed toward the horse and wagon.

A moment later, she promised Joel that she’d have the children’s tickets after he made the round. Caleb, used to both the wagon and Joel, hopped right up on the front seat. Cassidy scrambled alongside him. Both children shouted Giddy up!

Maggie headed to the side of the church, albeit hesitantly. Thanks to his winter hat, she’d not been able to read his expression and wasn’t one hundred percent sure he’d appreciated her interference.

Her help.

But Jared—sensible man—had already gone inside and was taking his place carrying hot dog buns to the serving area. No way did Maggie want to talk to him amid all these people.

There was a short line at the table where two women sold tickets. A jar with money inside had a photo of a family and in black marker were the words: all proceeds to go to needy families.

Nostalgia, unwelcomed and unwanted, hit Maggie like a surprise kick to the back of the knees. Three years ago, she’d been the church woman sitting at the table collecting the money. Sixteen years ago, she’d been a member of the “needy family” club.

Maggie took a deep breath. Tonight she was close to being the needy family again and as far away from the church woman as she could possibly be.

It’s not a church service. It’s just a party. We’ll be singing Christmas songs.

But Maggie could never forget, no matter how she tried to place her memories of Christmas on a back burner for Cassidy’s sake.

Christmas was not the best time to venture inside a church, and not because they collected for needy families and not because Maggie no longer prayed.

It was because it had been a December day that she’d received word that her husband had been killed in the line of duty. It had also been a December day that Maggie’s mother had walked out on her daughter and husband.

I’m strong. I can do this. I will do this.

Maggie managed to buy the tickets with minimal words and—her legs still feeling weak—backed away from the table and just stood in the middle of the crowd looking at the walls.

I’m strong. I can do this. I will do this.