A Simple Charity (26 page)

Fanny smiled as she watched dear Emma walk up and down the line of pupils, who were far more quiet and organized than the family members settling into seats. With her open smile and watchful eyes, Emma was the perfect teacher. So many little eyes stared up at her with respect and admiration. Fanny felt a flush of pleasure, just observing her daughter at work. Well, Tom’s daughter. Though she’d been mothering Emma for so long, a person would be hard-pressed to tell the difference. Fanny missed having Emma around the house, but she and Gabe had made their home in a small outbuilding on the King farm that had been converted to a living space. Gabe said they’d be moving to a real house as soon as they saved the money. Those two were hard workers, so Fanny reckoned they’d be moving to a house in no time.

The program got started when Davey King stepped forward. He was Will’s age, only six, a small, nimble boy with a freckled nose and two teeth missing in the front. But, oh, what a booming voice he had!

“I may be small and very young, but I can still be heard. I’ll raise my voice to welcome you and shout out every word. Merry Christmas!”

Laughter rippled through the room as Davey stepped back, and then the entire group began to sing “Joy to the World.” Fanny bounced Tommy on her knee in time to the song, as Will caught her eye. He looked so nervous. She gave him a firm smile of support.

His lips were a stern line as he looked away, off to her right. Then, his brows rose as he spotted something. Or someone.

Curious, Fanny turned to follow Will’s gaze.

A few yards away, Zed sat with his arms folded, his steady dark eyes on Will. How wonderful good of him to come! She had
wanted him here, but thought that folks might start talking if she invited him as her guest. Perhaps Will had asked him, and Zed had wisely brought his mother, Rose, who had a way of smoothing out the social creases.

Next came a little play about sweet honeybees, and all the positive things folks could “bee.” Seven children each had a picture that showed a bee and a word. Ruthie King said that a person must be generous. Hannah Lapp said that folks should be charitable. Be reverent, be kind, be unselfish—all such good messages for young and old alike. The last little bee brought it all back to the meaning of Christmas when he talked about being appreciative of God’s love and the Savior born on Christmas Day, and then the little bees buzzed back to the larger group of students.

When ten children came forward and Emma went down the line lighting their candles, Fanny knew this was her son’s big moment. Elsie took a squirming Tommy from her arms so that Fanny could give Will her undivided attention. She beamed with joy as an older child began the poem and blew out his candle. Down the line the story went, telling of ways that the little candles lost their faith, lost their light.

At last, it was Will’s turn. Fanny studied her boy, noticing the many changes in his face and manner. His chubby cheeks were gone, as was his rambunctiousness. He no longer barreled into the kitchen or pushed his sister to the ground in a fit of temper. Will was finding his way, not an easy path without a father.

“Two little candles, and now we’re nearly done,” Will spoke clearly, with good expression. “ ‘I’m too small and weak,’ one said, and then there was one.” He blew out his candle with a big sigh. Then he dared a look at Zed, and a grin lit his face.

Was there any gift greater than seeing joy on your child’s face?

As the last little candle lit the others and the children sang “Silent Night,” Fanny turned to her right and caught Zed’s eyes. This
man had been so good to her children, so good to her. Would there ever be a place or time when she could let him know how she felt toward him? Oh, but the eyes of the community were upon them, ever watchful, and it was sad when love and hope were tainted by guilt and shame. These matters of the heart were so complicated.

21

S
ilver and red glitter sparkled under the light of the kitchen counter as Meg tied a ribbon around a box of cookies she had baked for Jack. It was hard to believe that there was a special someone in her life this year after such a long dry spell, but lo and behold, she and Jack were an item. This would be a first—spending Christmas Eve with a guy she really cared about.

“So that’s your Christmas gift for him?” Zoey leaned back on the kitchen stool and folded her hands over her wide belly. “Sweet and personal. I like that you didn’t panic and grab for a last-minute safety like a scarf or cologne.”

“I wish I could come up with something else. Something special.” Meg plumped the bow. “But I didn’t want a token gift, and I know that Jack isn’t really into presents. He says that he’s lucky to be able to afford the things he needs. So what can you give the man who has everything?”

“That’s profound.” Zoey broke off a piece of one of the extra
cookies on the counter and took a nibble. “Mmm. Spicy gingerbread.”

“Jack’s favorite.”

“Well.” Zoey brushed crumbs from her hands. “I know something Jack could get
you
for Christmas.” She waved the back of her left hand in front of her ample bosom. “As in, diamonds are forever.”

Meg bit her lower lip. “It’s not the diamond I want …”

“It’s the forever.” Tears sparkled in Zoey’s eyes as she reached over to squeeze her sister’s arm. “Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you and Jack. It’s been so much fun watching you two get to know each other. Ice-skating and movies and walks down Main Street. This is a love story right out of a Hallmark movie.”

“I know, but we’re not in any rush to get married. We just met last summer, and we’ve been living hundreds of miles apart. Right now we’re both just grateful to spend time together.” Meg rubbed Zoey’s shoulder. It was a little scary how in tune her sister was with her emotions, but once again, Zoey had gotten it right. She could not get enough of Jack, and he felt the same way about her. Over the past two weeks they had spent almost every available hour together, sometimes on dates, and sometimes just hanging out at the inn, making a meal in the big kitchen or talking by the fire or watching television together. “Sometimes I can’t believe it’s happening to me, after so many years of having no one.”

“So many years. And at last, true love. I would jump up and do a happy dance if I wasn’t toting around a fifteen-pound belly.”

“A little aerobic happy dance would be okay,” Meg teased, always an advocate of exercise for her sister.

“Stop that. You are my labor coach, not my personal trainer.” Zoey slid from the seat and opened one large door of the industrial-size fridge. “You know, when Tate and I moved here, I had a feeling you’d be joining us. I knew Halfway would be your kind of place.
And now you’ve fallen in love, and you’ve been welcomed by my neighbors, the local sheriff, and the doctor.” She pointed a baby carrot at Meg. “Was I right or what?”

“You were right.” Last week Meg had met with Henry Trueherz to undergo a diagnostic test, and, of course, the conversation had turned to the need for a midwife in the area. “The situation around Halfway will be eased when the birthing center is open,” the doctor had told her, “but there are many outlying areas in need of midwives. Most of the Amish in Lancaster County choose to give birth at home; that makes life challenging for country doctors like me. I’d be thrilled to have you covering routine births. As for the Amish women, well, you’ve already worked with Fanny. Her recommendation will get you more clients than one woman can handle.”

It was all falling into place; after she delivered Zoey’s baby, Meg would collect her belongings from Pittsburgh and relocate to Halfway. With Dr. Trueherz as her consultant, she would start working with clients, both English and Amish, who wanted home births. She had also agreed to fill in at the birthing center when needed.

For now she would stay in her room here at the bed-and-breakfast; eventually, she would find her own place and give Zoey, Tate, and their baby more space to become a family. Granted, they had guests coming through all the time, but she suspected that was different from having your sister or sister-in-law breathing down your neck.

“Hey, there.” Jack’s low purr brought Meg back to the present. He stood in the arched doorway, his jaw shaved smooth, his hair fluffed from a shower. He wore gray slacks, a black shirt, and a lavender print tie, which was very dressed-up for Jack. “Shandell said I’d find my two favorite girls in here.”

“You don’t need to butter me up anymore,” Zoey said as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I like you, Jack.”

“Good news for me.” His smile stirred something deep inside Meg. “How about you?” he asked Meg as he stepped closer and dropped a kiss on her lips. His touch was light but electric. “You need any buttering up?”

“I like you, too, but I figure it never hurts to grease the pan.”

One eyebrow lifted. “Never hurts. So what’s your plan tonight, Zoey? You and Tate want to come to Evensong with us?”

“That sounds like a lovely Christmas Eve ritual, but Tate is taking me out to dinner in Paradise. Soon, we won’t have much opportunity to dine out, just the two of us,” Zoey said as she twisted the bag of carrots closed.

“Well, you guys will enjoy that.” Jack turned to Meg. “You’d better bundle up. I figure the best way to avoid traffic around the church is to walk.”

“I’ll get my coat.” Meg went into the main entry to grab her blue quilted coat. She had left her hair down today, and it made her feel pretty and feminine to have it swinging over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen.

“Don’t stay out too late, you two!” Zoey called after them. “You might catch me kissing Santa by the tree.”

“I do get a kick out of your sister,” Jack said as they started down the lane.

“She’ll keep you on your toes.” Some men were really thrown by Zoey’s mischievous sense of humor, but Jack seemed to get her. Meg reached out a gloved hand and he clasped it and pulled her closer.

“Let me hold on to you, in case you slip.”

She knew it was an excuse to stay close, since Tate had gone over the paving stones in front of the inn with a snowblower. She liked the way that Jack found excuses to warm her up, rub her shoulders, or keep her close.

The evening was cold but clear, with a scattering of stars overhead.
An oblong moon glowed silver just over the distant hills; it was a craggy moon, with gray and white spots that resembled the face of a wise old man. They had reached the end of the lane when she noticed the bright silhouette of the inn behind them. “Look at the way the lights outline the building,” she said. “It looks like Santa’s workshop at the North Pole.” The white lights cast muted reflections on the snowy lawn.

“Sure does.” They paused a moment to soak up the winter scene, and Meg felt caught up in the hope and wonder of Christmas Eve.

“Such a special night. Little kids hang their stockings and listen from their beds for sounds of Santa.”

“I could never sleep on Christmas Eve,” Jack admitted. “One time when I was supposed to be asleep in bed, I heard something on the roof … this scraping noise. It was probably squirrels, but I was sure it was Santa’s sled making a landing. I yanked on the string of the blinds, ready to see Rudolph, and the blinds fell off the window.”

“Oh, no!” Meg pressed a hand to her lips to stifle a laugh.

“Oh, yes. And I was supposed to be asleep. Needless to say, Gran wasn’t too happy about that, but she understood. You can’t keep a boy from meeting Santa.”

“Your grandmother was very understanding.”

“Putting up with me all those years? She’s a saint.”

“I’ve got to meet this dear woman,” she said.

“You will. She’s already heard about you. We’ll hook up a trip to Philly after Kat has the baby.”

“Perfect.” Snow crunched underfoot as they headed off under the glittering ceiling of stars. The distant glow was the town of Halfway, where a line of lampposts seemed to point the way to the little church. Like the star of Bethlehem, guiding the wise men.

“So answer this,” Jack said. “What was the most memorable gift you got from Santa? Answer quick. If you have to dig it out of your memory, it doesn’t count.”

“In-line skates,” she said. “But it’s a bittersweet memory.” She shared the story of the Christmas after her father had died. She had been six, Zoey ten or eleven. “Before Christmas, Mom sat us down and warned us that we would each get just one gift. She kept saying how sorry she was. I remember thinking that she was wrong; I knew Santa would give me everything my heart desired. Boy, was I surprised on Christmas morning when it turned out that my mother was right.”