A Simple Charity (24 page)

“Yes, of course. Just go. I’ll buy what we need and meet you down the street in a few minutes.”

As her sister ducked into the small grocery store, Meg returned her attention to the town’s main street, where horses nickered at hitching posts, a line of gray-topped buggies behind them. Cars cruised slowly and people moved through the brisk cold. Red-cheeked shoppers lingered at shop windows and hustled into stores, and Amish folk bundled in coats or capes walked with purpose.

The charming scene was a welcome relief from Meg’s neighborhood in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, where there were no decent shops or restaurants within walking distance. Lately there had been a rash of stolen cars in her area, and she had begun to feel wary whenever she had to pass through the grounds of her apartment
complex in the dark. She passed by Ye Olde Tea Shop, a small tidy space with lemony yellow walls and cute little tables. It looked so warm and inviting; if they weren’t aiming to get home before dark, she would stop in with Zoey and have a warm cup of tea—spicy chai for Meg, and a cinnamon spice tea for her sister. The Country Store seemed equally charming, though a bit crowded with shoppers. A small furniture shop would be worth investigating one day, and the bakery smelled heavenly.

Yes, she could see herself living here in Halfway. Compared to her current situation, this would be like a trip to Disneyland. How had Jack described it? Like stepping into a Norman Rockwell painting.

Jack. Something fluttered in her chest at the thought of him. Although she had always been skeptical about long-distance relationships, Jack had proved her wrong, endearing himself through his phone calls and text messages. His unwavering faith in God had shed light on her darkest moments, and his sense of humor always helped her keep things in perspective. While she was practical and pragmatic, sure to keep two feet on the ground, Jack was quick to take off and soar with his dreams. While he saved her from being stuck in the muck, she kept him grounded. They were quite a complement. Meg was looking forward to seeing more of Jack over this longer stretch of time.

A Salvation Army Santa was set up down the block with his boom box and red bucket, and strains of “I Heard the Bells” filled the air, adding to the poignant atmosphere: “… with peace on earth, good will to men.”

Digging her hands deeper into the pockets of her quilted coat, she lifted her gaze to the tall tree that loomed ahead, the glow of its bright lights blurring in a lovely display of blue, green, red, purple, and yellow. How she loved Christmas! There was such a joyous spirit in the air. Granted, the lights and trimmings were a palpable
sign of the commercial holiday, but every year around this time she saw hard hearts soften. At Christmastime the message of hope from the birth of the Savior reached many people who ordinarily looked the other way.

She was mulling over the true meaning of the holidays when she heard him call her name. She glanced away from the tree and there he was, as if she had dreamed him there. In his navy jacket and slacks with a black stripe down the side, he looked lean and authoritative. There was something about a man in a uniform that made a girl want to salute and wrap her arms around him, all at the same time.

When he spread his arms wide, she rushed forward and threw herself into a big bear hug. His arms closed around her, and joy burst inside her as he lifted her off the ground. Soaring in Jack’s embrace, she laughed at the thrill that bubbled forth.

“Meg! Look at you! It seems like forever.”

“I know, I know.” She had never experienced such a feeling of sparkling delight and excruciating tenderness at the same time.

He planted a kiss on her temple, then lowered her to her feet. “You’re a welcome sight, girl. How was the trip?”

“Good. I didn’t think I’d catch you until later.”

“Same. I’m usually rolling on patrol, but I just happened to be back there in the office, catching up on paperwork when I got this text from your sister.” He took his phone from his pocket and tapped it to open the message. “Go to the Christmas tree for a holiday surprise,” he read. “So I stepped out and you know what? Zoey’s right. I’d be happy to find you under my tree any morning of the year.”

“Well, then, Merry Christmas. Zoey strikes again.”

“You gotta love her.”

He leaned close, his voice low and husky. “Missed you. It’s hard to let you go, but I don’t want to put it all out there in the center
of town.” He rubbed her shoulders, then let his hands slip away. “You got here ahead of the snow. They say it’s coming tonight.”

“I planned it that way. Didn’t want to get stranded on the turnpike.”

“We couldn’t have that.”

It was still there … the spark of energy between them. The excitement in the air around them. The irresistible impulse to smile at him. She forced herself to breathe deeply in an attempt to slow her racing pulse. Oh, she had it bad for this guy.

“So what’s the plan, girl? You gonna pencil me in for some ice-skating or a movie or whatnot?”

Amazing how the heart could soar over the prospect of a few dates. “I’m counting on it,” she said.

He told her he was working until eleven, but would text her when he got off.

“I’ll be up,” she said.
And waiting for your message
. Jack filled her vision, her mind … her heart. It was time to tamp down the doubts that always nipped at her when happiness came her way. Time to step away from the roles she was so comfortable with—midwife, caretaker, responsible sister. Time to nurture her own hopes and dreams. Time to push that naysayer out of her mind and take a chance on love.

They chatted awhile about a charity event Jack was working on and Jack’s sister, Kat, who was due at the end of the month. They were talking about the glittering tree, which Jack said was decorated every year by Halfway’s volunteer fire department, when Zoey arrived. She was sipping contentedly from a steaming cup.

“Well, look who you ran into!” she said, grinning up at Jack.

“The jig is up, Zoey. I saw the text message you sent him.”

Zoey smacked Jack’s well-padded arm. “You weren’t supposed to tell her.”

He shrugged. “I never was any good at lies.”

Perfect
, Meg thought. She was a person who lived in the truth.

Zoey cocked her blond head to one side. “I just figured, since we were taking a walk to get some exercise, maybe Meg could catch up with you.”

“I like the way you think, Zoey.” Jack nodded, lifting the cuff of his coat sleeve to check his watch. “Look at that! I gotta get back to work. But I’m glad we caught up. And thanks for dragging her into town, Zoey.”

“Actually, we came in to get vanilla,” Meg said. “We’re doing some baking. Trying to re-create the old family Christmas cookie recipe.”

“That’s right. The vanilla.” Zoey pointed at her forehead. “I’m telling you, pregnancy does affect the brain. I can’t remember anything these days. I hope that changes after the baby’s born.”

“So you ladies are going to bake some cookies?” Jack’s eyes, those kind, earnest eyes, had a direct line to Meg’s heart at the moment.

“That’s the plan,” Meg said. “We’ll save you some.”

“Mmm. I got to get me some of those, hot right out of the oven.”

“So come over tonight,” Zoey said, forging ahead, as usual. “What time do you get off?”

For once, Meg wasn’t annoyed by her sister’s persistence. “Eleven.” She and Jack said it at the same time.

Meg smiled up at him. “See you then?”

“Will do.”

As Jack headed back to the police station, a small snowflake twirled before her eyes. “It’s snowing,” she said.

“Naw.” Zoey looked up from her cup of tea and blinked. “You’re right. It is!”

Suddenly the air was filled with lacy flakes. Zoey stretched her arms out and lifted her face to the sky. “I love snow when I don’t have to drive in it.”

With a chuckle, Meg held out a hand and looked up toward the heavens. White flakes floated and danced, suspended in the light from the streetlamp. Flakes dropped on her cheeks and clung to her lashes—a baptism of snow. It was as if all the hardships and grief of the past year were being washed away, and God was delivering her, shiny and new, to her dear sister and a tender new love.

“Don’t you just love Christmas?” Zoey exclaimed.

Meg had to agree. “It’s the best time of year.”

20

T
he kitchen was warm with the smell of fresh-baked cookies, and the lingering glow of the stove made the room cozy. Fanny held Tommy in her lap and read the story as they paged through a children’s book about the birth of Jesus. Kneeling on a chair beside them, Beth leaned on the table and carefully cut out paper stars with the blunt children’s scissors that had been used by her older siblings years ago. Scissors were very good practice for little hands, and Fanny saw the makings of a patient quilter in Beth.

“Da-da-da-da.” Tommy pointed to the figures in the book, as if he had a very important message to give her.

“Yes, liebe. That’s Jesus, the son of our heavenly Father. And Christmas is all about celebrating His birth.”

“I like the part about the star that shined so bright,” Beth said. “And the wise men saw it and followed it to baby Jesus. That’s why I’m making stars.”

“That’s right.” Fanny glanced over at the stars. Some had uneven
edges, but bit by bit, Beth was getting more skilled with her cutting. “That will make a fine paper chain.”

“Da-da-dah,” Tommy repeated.

“Why do you always say the same thing, Tommy?”

“Because that’s what babies do when they’re learning to talk.” Fanny pressed a kiss onto his chubby cheek. Not even a year old yet and this one was babbling all the time. Fanny knew that the “Da” syllable was one of the first things most babies said, but she knew if Thomas were here they would joke that the boy was already asking for his dat.

This would be their first Christmas without Tom, and so far every tradition, large and small, had brought him to mind and heart. After Thanksgiving dinner, when they had put all the adults’ names into a hat to pick for the gift exchange, she had wanted to put Thomas’s name in. When she and Elsie had wound some pine greens and cones into a swag, she had wished Thomas was there to hang it in the front room. When Will practiced his lines for the Christmas program, over and over again, oh, how Tom would have enjoyed hearing it! The boy was not built for memorization, and Teacher Emma wanted him to say the lines exactly as they were written.

She could imagine her husband’s amusement over that. Thomas would joke that rambunctious Will had met his match in Teacher Emma, and Fanny would have to hide a smile so as not to rile Emma and Will.

How she wished Thomas could have been there to be a part of their lives. But Gott had other plans for her good husband, and she was beginning to accept it all: the cold, empty spot in their bed, the need to step up and make decisions for this household. This was no mistake; she was right where Gott wanted her to be, and lately He had granted her the grace to see that.

And the wisps of longing for Tom did not make Fanny blind to
her many blessings. She had six children, a roof over her head, a side business that was about to open up, and some new friends in Anna and Zed. There was much to be grateful for.

Two casserole dishes sat atop the stove—one for tonight’s dinner and one to take over to Anna, who was still using a walker and was unable to make the trip to Ohio for the holidays. Fanny knew they had best get the dish over to Anna before the day got away from them.

On the way to hitch up the buggy, she stopped in at the carriage house, where Zed was working on the stairs. A box of new laminate flooring was open, and Zed was piecing together panels with a shiny, dark finish.

“Looks like real wood,” Fanny said with an approving nod. She knew it was easier to install and clean than hardwood floors. Cheaper, too. Tommy leaned out of her arms and reached for the piece of flooring, and Zed held it steady, letting the baby boy inspect it.

When Tommy grasped the edge and pulled it toward his mouth, Zed took it away with a grin.

Zed held up two grooved boards. “See how they snap together like puzzle pieces? With the way these panels fit together, it will only take me a day or two to finish the stairs.”