The Gift of Hope (4 page)

He wasn’t required to attend any of the pre-Christmas events, but as a new minister, it was a good opportunity to get better acquainted with members of his congregation.

All week he’d been thinking about Hope, wondering whether she’d forgiven him for making the suggestion to pacify Emily and her grandmother. He’d wanted to be helpful, and her disapproval had come as a surprise. Much to his astonishment, her good opinion meant a great deal to him. She was like a fresh breeze wiping away the cobwebs in his brain. Maybe, as his mother liked to tell him, he needed to put past sorrows behind him and look for new friendships, new relationships.

He’d prayed hard about what was best for Anna, but maybe it was time to focus on his own future. Much as he loved his daughter, sometimes loneliness overcame him. He struggled to be both father and mother to his daughter, but he knew his melancholy moods were hard on her.

A harsh wind with snow flurries was sweeping through the town so he warmed up his old van and drove Anna to the church for the pageant rehearsal. He could easily return home and go over tomorrow’s sermon a few more times in the quiet of the parsonage, but he felt drawn to the church. He parked and followed Anna through the side entrance and down the steps to the commons area.

The scene was chaos, and Hope was trying to be everywhere at once, organizing her little sheep, angels, and shepherds in a calm encouraging voice. Her honey blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but strands had escaped to caress the back of her creamy neck. She was wearing navy tights with high boots hugging her slender legs. An oversized red sweatshirt belied how petite she was, and he couldn’t help but notice how pink her cheeks were. She more than had her hands full, and several helpers were adding to the confusion rather than helping much.

“Does every shepherd have a sheep to watch?” she asked the milling group of children as two of the wise men chased another around the room.

Noah intercepted the rowdy boys and sent them to sit at a table until Hope was ready for them. She’d been so sensitive to his suggestion last week, he hoped she didn’t notice.

At the other end of the room another noisy group was unloading boxes of outdoor lights and testing to see whether they were good. Only these were older boys, three seniors who were preparing to string the lights on the outside tree. Noah wanted to shush them for Hope’s sake, but last week he’d learned his lesson about interfering.

He had things to do in his office, but he watched, mesmerized by Hope’s patient handling of both groups. She was lovely in his eyes, but he was disturbed by long dormant thoughts. He felt the loss of his wife’s companionship more keenly than he had in a long time. As a minister, he was often with people, but no matter how friendly a congregation was, there was no one he could share all his thoughts with. He missed long conversations with his wife, the one person who understood his troubles and triumphs. Would there ever be someone special in his life again?

Hope felt Noah’s eyes on her before she saw him. He was standing off to the side, watching her as she tried to bring order to the children and still monitor the decorators.

“I say we should replace all the bulbs,” Henry Oxford said, interrupting the children’s procession up the stairs. “Save us having to get the ladder out and change them.”

“No need to waste money like that,” Sam Reisner, the church treasurer said.

“I vote for all blue lights this year,” their third helper, John Llewellyn, said. “Give a nice glow to the tree.”

Hope wasn’t surprised by his suggestion. Harriet had been lobbying for all blue lights since before Thanksgiving, so it figured she would pressure her husband to lobby for them.

She needed the wisdom of Solomon to find a workable compromise, but first she had a long lineup of children beginning to fidget. She quickly asked the mothers who were helping to start the procession.

“I’ll be right up,” she said, hoping it was true.

“About the blue lights,” John said.

“It’s a good suggestion,” Hope said, giving herself a few seconds to think.

Noah was still watching from across the room. She looked in his direction and met his eyes. Was he waiting to see whether she could handle this little squabble? She stared intently for a few seconds, hoping he would trust her to smooth things over.

“Let’s do this,” she said in what she hoped was a firm voice. “Take out all the bulbs that are burnt out. If more than half need to be replaced, we’ll go with all blue. If not, we’ll replace them with a mix of colors.”

“Be pretty expensive to get all new,” the church treasurer mumbled.

“Not likely that many are burnt out,” John Llewellyn complained.

“There’s something to be said for putting in all new,” Henry said, “but blue lights don’t say Christmas to me. Red and green would be more like it.”

“Please check the bulbs, and see how many replacements we have on hand,” Hope said “I’ll be back as soon as the children run through their parts once.”

She glanced over at Noah one more time and saw him smiling. Was he laughing at her predicament, or was that sympathy she saw on his face?

By the time all the children had been picked up by parents, the men were already outside stringing the lights. The church owned a stepladder tall enough to reach the uppermost branches of the huge pine tree, but even the thought of going to the top made Hope tremble. She was in charge of the decorating, and she was scared to death of heights.

Fortunately the perch on the highest step was occupied when she came out to help. She looked up at a pair of utility boots and jean-covered legs, her heart in her throat when she thought about what a long fall it could be.

At the base of the tree, her three senior helpers were still squabbling about the color of the lights, and she realized Noah was the man at the top of the ladder. She held her breath and tuned out the older men as she watched him affix lights to the highest branches.

“I still say we should’ve gone with all blue,” John groused.

“Not when we had enough new mixed color bulbs to fill all the strings,” the church treasurer insisted, rubbing his hands together in a futile effort to keep them warm.

The snow had stopped, but the wind was fierce, making Hope even more concerned about the man on the ladder. Sam, a fairly heavy man, was holding it steady at the bottom, but she desperately wanted Noah to descend to a lower rung. She paced at the bottom until he gingerly climbed down to move the ladder to the other side.

“Maybe we should do this another day,” she called out over the wind.

“Wind could be even worse,” Sam said. “This is Iowa.”

“The ladder seems pretty sturdy,” Noah said when he was on solid ground again.

Hope wanted to beg him not to go up again. She couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be if the ladder blew over with Noah on it. When he insisted on climbing up again, she added her weight to Sam’s to hold it steady.

Attaching all the bulbs to branches seemed to take forever, and Hope was paralyzed with fear when the top of the ladder quivered in the high wind. When the lights were finally done, she was weak with relief even though she hadn’t been the one to scale the heights.

“Good job, Noah,” Sam said. “First year in a long time I haven’t had to do the top branches.”

“Yes, thank you,” Hope said in a faint voice. Thank you for giving me the scare of a lifetime.

Later she wondered why Noah’s time at the top of the ladder had scared her so badly. What was fear telling her about her feelings for the minister?

CHAPTER 5

It was less than two weeks until Christmas, and Hope was doing her best to pull the pageant together and chair the decorating committee. This Saturday was the next-to-last rehearsal and also the day when the two trees inside the church were traditionally decorated. The one in the commons would have bright blinking lights and an array of ornaments to remind the Sunday school children of the meaning of Christmas.

Upstairs, the ceiling-high evergreen would be decorated with a choice collection of glass angels, stars, and bulbs. Several large strings of white lights had to be affixed before committee members could hang the ornaments. Hope prayed one of them would volunteer to mount the scary-high ladder and do the upper branches. She was petrified at the idea of climbing that high herself.

She arrived at the church early in the morning after checking to be sure she could get inside. Snowy, icy conditions had convinced Granny Doe to stay home, so Hope arrived alone to begin her long day. Sam had taken the wooden manger figures home to spruce them up with fresh paint, but so far he hadn’t had time to pull out the ornament collection. Hope lugged several large bins to a table in the commons and started checking the contents.

“Can I help?” a soft voice asked.

“Anna, I’d love your help. It looks like a lot of ornaments need hangers, and we should sort out the badly damaged ones before the tree trimming begins.”

If Anna was here, her father must be somewhere in the building. Hope found herself looking for him, even though she was a little nervous about seeing him face to face. She’d felt like a coward at the Sunday service when she sat in a rear pew and slipped out without greeting him at the door. He was in her thoughts too much, making casual contact feel awkward.

“Look, Baby Jesus has come unglued from his manger,” Anna said, holding up a small ornament. “I’ll find some glue in the Sunday school cupboard and fix it.”

“Good idea,” Hope said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Anna proved to be a big help, and they went through the ornament collection in much less time than Hope had expected. They were just finishing when Noah bounded down the stairs from the upper level.

“Do you need help carrying those bins upstairs?” he asked. “They look pretty heavy.”

“Yes, thank you. I’d appreciate it. I don’t know how I would’ve finished without Anna. She’d been a wonderful help.”

Noah nodded approval but didn’t second her compliment to his daughter. He picked up a bin and started up the stairs.

Hope tried to remember whether she’d ever heard the minister say something nice to his daughter. She could understand not showing favoritism when other children were around, but he sometimes seemed aloof from his daughter.

She sighed, knowing a job as a children’s librarian didn’t qualify her to tell him how to raise his child. Still, Anna glowed when Hope praised her. Was she starved for more affection from her father?

Tree trimming was a church-wide event followed by cookies and hot chocolate. Although Harriet had excused herself from the event due to a ‘pressing’ appointment, Hope was confident they’d have more than enough help. She’d intentionally scheduled the children’s rehearsal so all the young people would be gone before the decorating began. She’d had enough chaos for one holiday season. Both groups would not be in the sanctuary at the same time.

It was a full dress rehearsal with the choir director there to play the piano and direct the songs. Emily was glowing in her new role as soloist, and it was obvious she’d been practicing. Hope had to give Noah high marks for his suggestion.

Anna was a quiet, understated Mary. Her calm portrayal was an example for the boy playing Joseph, who managed to say his few lines quite well when he wasn’t tugging on his tight-fitting robe. Hope made a mental note to take it home and let out the seams as much as possible. The little sheep tended to stray, and two of the shepherds had a giggling fit, but all in all, the rehearsal could’ve been worse.

Hope hurried home to check on Granny Doe after the children had all been picked up, but she was too wired to bother with her own lunch. Surprisingly, she wasn’t the first to arrive back for decorating.

“Ernestine, I’m glad you’re here to help,” Hope said. “You’re the first to arrive.”

Harriet’s older granddaughter had been a few years behind Hope in high school, a quiet girl who didn’t participate in many activities. No one could describe her without using words like ‘plain’ and ‘average.’ Neither cute nor homely, she had pale brown hair, apple cheeks, a tiny mouth and nearsighted eyes hidden behind owlish frames. Unlike her vocal and aggressive sister, Emily, and grandmother, Harriet, she never asserted herself. Hope liked her modesty and kindness, although they were acquaintances, not friends.

“I have a problem,” Ernestine said. “My grandmother keeps volunteering me to bake cookies, and I’m really not good at it. I burnt two pans and ended up going to the bakery this morning. Do you think people will mind having store-bought cookies for the decorating party?”

“Not at all! It’s the fellowship that counts.” Hope didn’t want to criticize Harriet, but it seemed terribly unfair to expect her granddaughter to do so much baking. “Probably other people will bring treats too. Mary Oxford always likes to share her double-chocolate brownies, and I’d be surprised if Sam doesn’t bring a pan of his wife’s date-nut bars.”

“I hope you’re right.” Ernestine slipped out of her gray hooded parka. “But what about Christmas Eve? My grandmother will be so cross if I back out.”

“I’ll help you. We’ll have a baking party, and I know just the person to help us: Anna.”

“The minister’s daughter? Do you think he’ll mind? He is a little intimidating.”

“Noah?” Hope asked, a bit surprised anyone would think that of him, let alone Ernestine. Apparently she didn’t know her grandmother’s matchmaking plans. “You’re not—well, interested in him?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Ernestine laughed, a rare response coming from her. “Oh, no, it was my grandmother, wasn’t it? She’s on a rampage since Brad and I have been, you know, interested in each other.”

“Brad?” Hope drew a blank.

“Bradley Howard. He works for the town and drives a snowplow in the winter. He stopped and helped me when my car slid off the road last year.”

“Your grandmother doesn’t like him?”

“He isn’t what she wanted for me. He doesn’t wear a suit and work in an office, but he shares my love of the Lord. He’s hinted we may get engaged at Christmas. My parents like him, but Grandmother Harriet hasn’t given him a chance.” Ernestine sounded defiant.