Myra Johnson - Their Christmas Prayer

With great flourish, Shaun flipped open his steno pad and whipped a ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket. “Me, too.”

Her scowl returned, but a teasing glint flashed in her eyes. “You’re purposely trying to annoy me, I can tell.”

“Who, me?” What was it about this woman that brought out his playful side? Or was he merely growing more and more relaxed the longer he stayed in Juniper Bluff? Either way, it was a welcome change. He sat back and crossed his arms. “Since you’re so organized, why don’t you go first?”

“I will, thank you.” Brooke arched a brow as she turned her attention to her tablet screen. “Of the top three ideas we’d settled on, I’m leaning toward collecting grocery items and delivering them to needy families so they can make their own Christmas dinner. One of the agencies I contacted said they could provide some names.”

“Christmas dinner? Is that the best we can do?” Shaun had already crossed that idea off his list. All humor evaporating, he flipped to the page where he’d jotted his reasons. “Donating a few turkeys, yams and cans of cranberry sauce sounds easy and doable. But it’s one meal. So we do our good deed for the holiday and feel good about ourselves for the rest of the year, while these families face another year of wondering how they’re going to feed their kids or keep a roof over their heads? Sorry, that doesn’t work for me.”

Brooke stiffened. “Obviously, you have strong feelings about this. I wish you’d said something before we included that option on our list.”

He hadn’t meant to offend her, but clearly he had. He lifted both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’ve had more time to think about it, that’s all, and I think we can do better. I’d rather we choose something that will benefit the recipients for more than a single day.”

Lips pursed, Brooke typed something into her tablet. “Okay, one of our other ideas was organizing a Christmas store. We talked about collecting toys, clothing and other items, and then bringing families in to select Christmas gifts for each other—things they’d be able to use year-round .” She shot him a raised-eyebrow glare that communicated, I dare you to shoot this one down .

He drew a deep breath. “On the surface, it seems like a good plan. But you know what they say. Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day—”

“Teach a man to fish and he’ll never go hungry.” Brooke nodded briskly. “I get it, okay? But this is just a Christmas outreach. That’s all we signed up for. We’re not out to save the world.”

Fist clenched in his lap, Shaun glanced away. “ Just doesn’t cut it for me, Brooke. Never has, never will.” Scooting his chair back, he gathered up his pen and steno pad along with the trash from his lunch. “Sorry to cut this short, but I told Kent I’d mow his lawn this afternoon. I should get going.”

What just happened here? Brooke picked up her jaw before it crashed onto her tablet keyboard. She swiveled in time to see Shaun toss his trash into the nearest receptacle before he marched out of the deli.

“We never even got to idea number three,” she muttered, her gaze shooting daggers at Shaun’s rapidly retreating back. Oh, well, he probably had a dozen reasons why he didn’t like that one, either.

Then why hadn’t he said something the other day when they were first paring down their list?

Her glance fell upon a nearby display of baked goods, where a tin of chocolate-frosted brownies sprinkled with walnuts caught her eye. Unable to resist, she hurried to stow her tablet and dispose of her trash, then took the brownies to the deli cashier. Five minutes later, she sat in her car with the open container on her lap. She was just about frustrated enough to eat the whole batch.

Sanity prevailed, however, and she stopped at two. After finding a used tissue to wipe crumbs and frosting off her lips and fingers, she decided some retail therapy was in order. Maybe not as good for her wallet but much better for the waistline. She headed downtown and parked at one end of Main Street across from the town square.

Two ladies’ boutiques, a card shop and the drugstore later, she now owned a new pair of silver hoop earrings and two bottles of nail polish. The next shop, WE Design, boasted a window display of handmade baskets amid autumn leaves and colorful gourds. While Brooke gnawed her lower lip and wondered if Shaun’s sister had made these baskets, an auburn-haired woman juggling an art portfolio and a huge cardboard box stumbled toward the entrance.

“Let me get the door for you,” Brooke offered, recognizing Erin Dearborn from the Sunday school class. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Thank you!” Sparkling blue eyes peeked over the top of the box. “It’s not as heavy as it looks, just bulky.”

As Brooke held the door, the petite woman edged through. A glimpse inside the crate revealed several different-sized baskets. “You’re Shaun O’Grady’s sister, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and you’re Brooke from the chamber. Hi, nice to see you again.”

A million questions racing through her head, Brooke followed Erin inside. Maybe Shaun’s sister could give her a little more insight into what made the guy tick.

Behind the counter, a buxom woman in a full, flowing skirt was completing a phone call. She stepped around to relieve Erin of the box. “Mrs. Yates just called to reschedule her living-room consultation for Monday morning. Said she forgot about the church seniors trip to Kerrville today.”

Church seniors trip—must be the same one Brooke’s dad had signed up for. Seemed his social life was going gangbusters since they moved to Juniper Bluff.

Erin set down her portfolio. “Oh, good. That gives me more time to fine-tune my presentation.” She turned to Brooke with a smile. “Let me introduce Wanda Flynn, the other half of WE Design.”

Wanda offered her hand. “Redecorating is our specialty. Is there a project we can help you with?”

“Actually, I was hoping Erin could spare a few minutes. I’m Brooke Willoughby. Shaun and I—”

“Yes, the church committee. I’m so glad you two are working together.” Erin leaned closer, her tone becoming secretive. “He’d never admit it, but he really needs this.”

Maybe so, but Brooke didn’t need the man’s uncompromising attitude. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

Ten minutes later, they sat across from each other at Diana’s Donuts. Brooke had wisely left her remaining brownies in the car, but control had gone out the window since lunch, and she couldn’t resist a caramel latte with whipped cream. Watching Erin sip Earl Grey with nothing but a dash of honey, Brooke suffered a twinge of guilt but quickly brushed it aside. She had more pressing matters on her mind than counting calories.

“I assume you want to talk about my brother,” Erin said with a guarded smile.

“I’m just trying to understand him.” Brooke dabbed whipped cream from her lips. “We met over lunch to discuss this outreach project but couldn’t agree on anything.”

“I guess it’s pretty obvious Shaun is an idealist, especially when it comes to making people’s lives better.”

“Which I’m sure served him well on the mission field. But this is small-town Juniper Bluff, and we’re just one teensy church committee.” Brooke’s frustration boiled over again. “ Just . That’s the exact word he used. He said just doesn’t cut it for him.”

“Sounds like Shaun. He’s never done anything halfway. Kent, my fiancé, even jokes about how hard Shaun works at the ranch.”