A Log Cabin Christmas (51 page)

I
want to thank you all for coming.” Beth turned up one of the lamps hung between the windows on the log wall. Though it was midafternoon, the log church sat in a grove of pines that—while protecting the structure from howling blizzard winds—blocked out a great deal of sunlight. “If you’ll find a place in the front pews, we can get started.” She took her place behind the lectern and consulted her notes, flipping through the pages while men and women jostled and settled, some still chatting while others stared expectantly.

A bubble of anxiety lodged in her stomach. Was she up to the challenge of shepherding a dozen adults through a program? Most of whom were nearly twice her age? Todd took a seat at the end of a row, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and watched her. She turned her shoulders a bit to put him on the edge of her vision and mustered her best “in-charge” voice. “I thought it might be easiest to break the service down into the different areas. We have the choir, the living nativity, the Christmas tree, and the food. First, the choir.”

A hand shot up. “Who’s going to direct the choir?” Mr. Hampton inclined his head.

“I had thought to direct.” Beth toyed with her pencil and leaned on the lectern her grandfather used when he taught Sunday school.

“How can you direct when you’ll be playing the piano? I don’t mind directing.” He tucked his thumbs under his braces and leaned back.

Mr. Hampton direct the choir? She consulted her list, buying time, searching for a way to say no that wouldn’t wound him. “Mr. Hampton, that’s very generous of you, but if you’re directing, the choir wouldn’t have your fine tenor voice. I had planned to have the choir stand behind the piano, so I can play and direct at the same time.”

Mary Kate Bormann raised her hand. “What kind of food were you thinking of having? We always have
krumkake
on Christmas Eve.”

“I don’t want any of that foreign food. Plain old shortbread cookies should be enough for anyone.” Clive Jenkins rubbed his round middle and stuck his red whiskers out. “Maybe some cider.”

“Cake would be nice. Maybe fruitcake?” Sophie Amboy piped up. “I’ve got a new fruitcake recipe that I would love to try. I just know it will be the right one this year.”

Beth’s stomach knotted. Sophie had been trying—and not quite succeeding—at making Christmas fruitcake for the past several years. One year they would be hard as bricks, the next squishy and oozy.

Suggestions and counter-suggestions flew through the group, and a dozen conversations blossomed. “Please, if we could all be quiet and handle this in an orderly manner …” She might as well be talking to the white-pine log walls for all the attention her words garnered.

“Excuse me.” Todd’s deep voice rolled over the conversations. Talking ceased. “Maybe we should move on to something else. The menu for the treats doesn’t have to be decided this minute.” Heads nodded, and Todd waved for Beth to continue.

She took a deep breath and consulted her lists again. “I’d like to move on to the living nativity. I need a Mary, a Joseph, a couple of shepherds, and some wise men. Of necessity, we’ll have to have some of the choir members do double-duty in the play. There will be time to shed the costumes before the last choral piece.”

Immediately the chatter started again. Everyone seemed to know who should be doing what, and there were several volunteers for each part in the play.

“I think Mary Kate should be Mary. She’s got such pretty yellow hair.”

“Everybody knows Jesus’ mother didn’t have yellow hair. She was Jewish. It’s only in the paintings and such where she’s got yellow hair. Maybe Mary Kate should be an angel. Everybody knows angels have yellow hair.”

“Are we having angels in the play?”

“I thought angels were boys in the Bible.”

“Christmas tree angels are girls.”

“Please, if we could quiet down, I have a few ideas—” It was like trying to herd butterflies. Beth rapped her pencil on the lectern, but no one paid any heed. Except Todd, who remained silent, never taking his eyes off her face. Chatter continued.

“That doesn’t mean Mary Kate wouldn’t make a good Mary. She’s already got the name.”

“I don’t know if I could play that part. I mean, all those people looking at me. Mary is the center of the whole play.”

“I thought Jesus was supposed to be the center of the whole play.” This dry remark from Mr. Hampton caused both frowns and a ripple of laughter.

“Perhaps we should focus on—” Beth tried again, but the discussion didn’t stop. How could she prove what a good pastor’s wife she would make, how excellent her organizational skills were, if people refused to stop talking and listen?

Mary Kate’s face flushed, and she smacked Mr. Hampton on the arm. “Youknow I didn’t mean that Jesus wasn’t important, but are we going to have a real baby to play Jesus? Last year they tried that when the kids put on the Christmas service, and little Arnold Harrison screamed the rafters down the entire time. I thought he was going to break all the new glass windows and we’d have to go back to those drafty wooden shutters again. Maybe we should just use a doll or wrap a towel in a baby blanket.”

“Please, everyone, if we could just quiet down.” Beth raised her voice and slapped the podium. The sound ricocheted off the log walls, and heads swiveled. Heat swirled in her cheeks and ears, but at least everyone had stopped talking.

She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the smile teasing Todd’s lips. How dare he laugh at her? She narrowed her eyes in his direction and pulled back her shoulders. “I’m going to ask you to all remain quiet. I’ve given each aspect of the service considerable thought, and I believe, if you’ll just listen, you’ll agree it is a plan we can all work with.”

Without waiting for any comments, she barged ahead. “For the choir, we’ll be singing three songs. ‘Silent Night,’ ‘Hark, the Herald Angels Sing,’ and my favorite, ‘Joy to the World.’ “

“I like ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem.’ That would be the best one to sing, since we’re doing the nativity play.” Clive scratched the hair over his right ear.

Todd cleared his throat and rose. His head almost brushed a crossbeam. “Folks, we all seem to be laboring under the idea that this service is still in the planning stages. Miss Sorensen says she’s got it all mapped out. Why don’t we listen to the director all the way through before we throw around any more opinions?”

Beth’s lips trembled, but she grasped the edges of the podium and gathered herself while Todd resumed his seat. “Thank you. Now, I’d like to explain how the gift tree will work, then the food we’ll serve, and finally, I’ll assign parts for the play.”

She plowed ahead, and for the most part, folks stayed quiet. Until she started casting the play. Nobody was happy. If she put people in, they declared themselves unfit. If people weren’t cast, they took umbrage. Her head spun, and through the entire process, she could feel Todd judging her, weighing up her lack of skill in corralling this renegade congregation.

She glanced out the window at the fading sunlight and realized they’d been thrashing things out for over two hours. And they hadn’t even managed to practice one song yet. Nothing had gone the way she’d planned.

Shuffling her papers, she blew out a breath. “Folks, it’s getting late. The last thing on my list is the schedule of practices. We’ve got two weeks until Christmas Eve. In that time, we’ll have four evening practices and one afternoon dressrehearsal the day of the service. We’ll also meet on the twenty-third to decorate the church and build the stable for the play.”

Once more everyone jumped into the conversation, objecting to or agreeing with the schedule. The room swayed. Beth closed her eyes as a wave of tiredness washed over her. She hardly dared look at Todd to see what he thought of this turn of events. The noise tapered off.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring right at Todd, who had stood once more. His eyebrows rose, and a smile quirked his lips. “I think the schedule sounds just fine. I’m sure we’ll all do our best to fit in with what you’ve got planned.”

Billy Mather’s hand went up. “You’re gonna need help getting all the pine and holly and the Christmas tree and such. And the lumber to build the stable. Maybe you need an assistant director. I’m thinking Todd is your man.”

At his phraseology, heat charged up Beth’s neck and pooled in her cheeks.

“Todd’s a fair hand with a hammer,” Billy went on, “and he’ll be driving through the woods nearly every day between the logging camp and here. Lots of time to scout out a Christmas tree and the decorations you might need.”

The only thing the entire group agreed on that night was that Todd would make an excellent assistant for Beth.

“Are you all right?” Billy got up from the table and flopped into the chair before the fireplace in Todd’s cabin. “You haven’t said a word since the practice ended. Are you mad because I volunteered you to help Beth? I figured with you two starting to court, you’d be happy to have an excuse to spend more time with her.”

Todd scooped leftover ham and beans into a crock and covered them for his lunch tomorrow. He was no great shakes as a cook. Their supper had tasted nothing like the flavorful roast he’d eaten this noon at the Sorensen table. What would it be like to eat that well every day? And how much better would the food taste if he could look across the table and see Beth there? “I’m not mad.”

“You’re sure not happy. What’s wrong?”

Stowing the crock in the cupboard, he returned to straddle his chair backward. The wood creaked, but he’d built it strong, and it fit his long frame so he could cross his arms across the back and rest his chin to stare into the fire. “She said no. She doesn’t want me to come calling.”

“What?” Billy struggled upright. “Why not?”

He shrugged, feeling the tug of his suspenders. “She didn’t say. Just a ‘no thank you.’ “

“I’m sure sorry. I thought, from the way you were watching each other and how she blushed every time her eyes lit on you, that she’d said yes.”

She had blushed every time she’d caught his eye, but it wasn’t from pleasure and anticipation or the beginnings of tender feelings. It was embarrassment, pure and simple.

His chin dug into his forearm. The optimism and challenge he’d felt before had faded with each of her attempts to pretend he wasn’t at the rehearsal. What had started as a drizzle of doubt that he could win her heart had developed to a downpour in his chest the more he thought about things. “She had her hands full today.”

Billy laughed and plonked his elbows on his knees. “She sure did. Seemed like we’d just get headed down one road and somebody would make a break for it down another. If all the practices are this chaotic, I don’t imagine we’ll be ready for the service in just two weeks.”

Two weeks until Christmas. “We might need more than just a few practices between now and then.”

“You’ll get to spend a lot of time with her, especially if you’re helping with the decorating and set building. Maybe you can get her to change her mind … see what a terrific fellow you are. A real catch.”

“A man can’t do his courting with all those people around.” Todd grimaced. “With Clive and Sophie sniping at each other, and Mary Kate arguing with every word that comes out of Hampton’s mouth? Not exactly the most romantic of settings.”

“Pshaw! You’re not trying. I bet if you put your mind to it, you can find ways to show her you care, and there won’t always be so many people around. Don’t give up so easy.”

Was he giving up too easily? How did a man go about courting a woman who wouldn’t be courted?

“What you need is a little outside help.” Billy studied his fingernails. “I bet if you asked them, every last person in the Christmas service would be happy to nudge things along.”

A spark of hope lit in Todd’s chest, but he shook his head. “Would that be fair?”

“‘All’s fair in love and war.’ Beth wouldn’t stand a chance if the whole group was working to get you two together. You do love her, don’t you?”

He did. And he had for a long time. Since the first time he’d laid eyes on the preacher’s granddaughter. He’d scoffed, telling himself he didn’t really know her and that being pretty wasn’t enough of a recommendation to be a wife. But the more he watched her, the more he learned of her character, the more his love grew. As did his certainty that she was the one God wanted him to marry. Was all fair in love and war? “Let me think about it. I thought she was perfect for me, but maybe God has another plan.”

His friend rose, stretched, and yawned. “I’d best head home. The boss will be after me tomorrow if I’m late and droopy from staying up.” He grinned and got into his coat. “Thanks for supper. Don’t give up on Beth. She might not know what she wants until you show her. Think of some ways to romance her, show her how much you care. No woman can resist a man who is truly in love with her.”

The door closed, leaving Todd alone in his single-room log cabin. He stirred up the coals and added more wood. Firelight pushed the shadows to the corners of the room.

How did one go about romancing a woman? The dead of winter was a rotten time for flowers.

He could give her a Christmas gift. But what? He could purchase something from the store, but if he made something, that would be more personal, right? What could he make? She was hardly in need of a new cant hook or wagon wheel rim. Ice skate blades? A bridle bit? A string of harness bells?