Endless Chain (40 page)

E
lisa moved back to Helen’s once the roads were cleared, and although Sam understood why, he missed her even more than he had expected—and he had expected to miss her the way his lungs would miss oxygen. In the two weeks since the blizzard, there had been another hard snow, but they had managed to find time together, despite the rigors of the holiday season and their work schedules. Still, it was not the same as coming home to find her there.

Today, just two days before Christmas, there was no chance they would spend time relaxing together. They
were
together, however. In the church social hall. With sixty children, ranging from two to fifteen.

Elisa clapped her hands.
“Damita, camina más despacito, por favor.
Mary would walk a little slower. Of course, if we can find a spare donkey you won’t need to walk at all.”

Adoncia, who was standing at the head of the ragtag procession with Fernando and Maria, swung her baby son into her arms. “No, then we will have to keep the donkey from stepping on San Jose. Now, everybody, remember, two by two. Walk very slowly. You are tired, and you are trying to find a place to spend the night. Then stand still when you get to the door and sing. This is the door. Pretend.”

Two by two, the children of
La Casa
and the Sunday school began to march around the room. They had banded together to reenact
Las Posadas
on Christmas Eve instead of the traditional nativity pageant. The Mexican celebration of Mary and Joseph’s struggle to find shelter in Bethlehem had injected new life into the holiday. Instead of vying for the same old spots as shepherds or angels, the Sunday school children were learning Spanish songs. And for once the
La Casa
kids were teaching their language and performing starring roles, and they were making the most of it.

Sam saw a trouble spot just in front of him, and with heavy hands he weighted the shoulders of two particularly rambunctious little boys, one Virginia born, one from El Salvador. “Okay, guys, see if you can stay in character here.”

Rory Brogan, the smaller of the two, locked his hands behind his back, a Pavlovian response Sam suspected his mother had engineered out of desperation. “Are we almost done? Angel and me want to play!”

“Do you know the songs?”

“I don’t like to sing.”

“Do you like parties?”

Rory was young, but not too young to know what came next. He chanted his response, as if he’d been called on to make it before. “If I sing and walk in line and co-op-er-ate, I get to hit the piñata.”

“You got it, partner.” Sam squeezed both boys’ shoulders, dropped his hands and waited. The boys looked at each other as if to say, “Man, this guy is too much,” but neither went back to the wrestling match. They continued the march.

“Okay, now we’re at the last door. We’re going to sing the song one more time,” Adoncia said. “Then we have cookies and punch before
tus padres
come and take you home.”

She turned to the boy Sam had once thought least likely to take a starring role in any production. “Miguel,
por favor?
”

Miguel, who had once been too depressed to speak, began to sing in a high, clear soprano, and the children joined him.

The moment they finished, a little girl’s hand shot up. She was about eight, and Sam recognized her as a chronic questioner. “What does that mean again?”

“In the name of heaven, I ask you for lodging for my dear wife, who cannot walk.” Elisa translated for the umpteenth time.

“I don’t think Joseph would have to ask,” the girl said, shaking a head thick with blond curls. “Couldn’t the man at the door see she needed a place to lie down? I mean, she’s riding on a donkey and she’s going to have a baby. When my mommy was going to have my little brother, she didn’t even ride a bicycle.”

“Just remember it’s a story about the way we welcome strangers,” Sam said, saving Elisa from trying to explain. “Sometimes we welcome them freely, even if we’re a little frightened. We see they need help, so we help them. Sometimes we see they need help and we turn away, because we’re afraid or just selfish and don’t want to share. The people at the first few houses turned Mary and Joseph away, even though anyone could see they needed a place to stay.”

“But Mr. Meeks would never turn anybody away,” a boy about the same age said. “Once when my little brother skinned his knee in the parking lot, Mr. Meeks carried him back into the church and helped me find my mom.”

Early Meeks, who lived just down the road, had agreed to let the children process to his door first. He had learned his part of the song, which he performed in an off-key baritone. He would refuse to let Mary and Joseph inside and shut the door in their faces so they would have to go to the next house, which belonged to another church member. Some of the children were still having trouble with this notion.

“Mr. Meeks is just pretending,” Sam reminded them. “The same way you are. In real life, I promise he wouldn’t shut the door.” Aware he was losing his squirming audience, he took a shortcut. “But if he doesn’t shut the door on Christmas Eve, then you won’t get to come back here and have the party, right?”

That seemed to make enough sense that they were able to finish practicing their part of the songs.

With relief Sam watched as they finally disbanded and took off for the Sunday school chapel, where cookies and punch were waiting.

Sam corralled Adoncia before she could follow them to help several of the parents supervise. “I don’t know what we would do without your help translating for some of
La Casa’
s kids.”

She pulled a lock of her hair from Fernando’s grasp. “I envy the way they pick up English. Some of them speak it better than I do now. Soon they will translate for me.”

Elisa joined them, her hands over her ears. “I have never heard such noise!”

“You should be at Nana Garcia’s house on Christmas morning,” Adoncia said. “You think this is noise?”

“You’re going to let the children open their presents on Christmas with her?” Elisa asked.

“You think I could hold them until the 6th, like we did at home? They will open some on Christmas and some then. They will have both days to look forward to.”

“Do you have plans for Christmas evening?” Elisa’s eyes flicked to Sam, then back to her friend. “I will be at Sam’s. Could you come with Diego and the children for a little while? I have presents for all of you.”

Adoncia hesitated; then she held out her hand. Sam didn’t understand the significance, but Elisa did. “Diego’s ring?”

“He found the beads you gave me. There was a fight.”

“Donchita, I’m so sorry.”

“It is not your fault we are no longer together.”

Sam was sure this was the right moment to disappear downstairs with the children, but Adoncia finished quickly. “There could not be, as they say here, a meeting of our minds.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elisa said.

“It’s best.” Adoncia bit her lip. “I will take the children to Nana Garcia’s after
Las Posadas
on Christmas Eve, then I will come here to your service before I go to Mass.”

“Then we’ll make plans for Christmas on Christmas Eve.”

Maria galloped by, and Adoncia collared her. They left for the chapel together.

“He wanted children right away, and she didn’t,” Elisa explained. “It became a power struggle.”

“It doesn’t sound like anybody won.”

“Maybe Diego will come to his senses. I tried to talk to him, but he refused to listen. I think Adoncia’s had her fill of men who expect her to do things their way.”

“It
was
a simpler system.” When she glared at him, he held up his hands to show he was joking, then he smiled, leaned over and kissed her.

“Sam—”

He realized what he had done. It had seemed perfectly natural to kiss her here, perfectly right. Yet they were surrounded by people who didn’t know why or when kissing her casually had become acceptable.

“I’d better get downstairs.” She fled to the Sunday school chapel.

He wondered if anyone had noticed. He wondered how long he was going to be able to pretend Elisa was the church sexton and nothing more.

“Reverend Sam?”

He found himself face to face with Leon Jenkins.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” Sam told him. “I didn’t see you with the others.”

“I’m not here for any rehearsal.” The boy sounded angry.

For a moment Sam thought Leon was upset because of the kiss, but immediately he abandoned that as the source. Leon was clearly too wrapped up in his own troubles to have noticed anything or anyone.

“My office,” Sam said. “Come on.”

In the privacy of his office, Sam motioned to the leather sofa that looked out on what had been his flourishing rose garden. Now it was a muddy patch of earth adorned with clumps of snow and skeletal bushes, waiting for the regeneration of spring.

“Okay, what’s up?” Sam said.

Leon rolled back the sleeve of his sweatshirt. At the boy’s first wince, Sam knew what was coming. As expected, in a moment he saw that Leon’s arm was black and blue.

Sam reminded himself that anger was not the correct response. “How did that happen?”

“You know how it happened!”

“Your dad?”

The boy sniffed. Sam reached for the box of tissues he kept on a side table for parishioners who came in to unburden themselves or plan memorial services. He went through a lot of boxes every year. He held it out to Leon, who took several.

“What happened?” Sam asked gently.

“He’s been drinking a lot more than…you know…he did.”

Sam nodded.

“Last night—” Leon blew his nose. “I went to this Christmas party. Like, a friend invited me. Dad said I could go. But when I got home, he was passed out on the sofa, beer cans all over. A lot more beer cans than I saw at the party.”

“It’s not a good feeling to walk in on something like that.”

“Most of the time I just leave him there. You know? It’s easier than trying to get him into bed. But he was breathing funny. So after I cleaned up the cans, I shook him to see if he would wake up. I mean, I was worried he might be really sick from all that beer.”

“That makes sense.”

“At first he didn’t know what was going on. Then he sat up, and that must have made him feel worse, because he put his head in his hands and his shoulders started to shake, like he was going to be sick.”

Sam guessed that by now Leon was all too aware of the trajectory of his father’s binges. He remained silent, letting the boy proceed at his own pace.

“He wasn’t sick, he was mad. He lifted his head and started to shout. He said he’d been waiting up for me, that he didn’t know where I’d gone. I told him I’d been at Jim’s party and that he’d told me I could go, but he wouldn’t listen. He said…I had betrayed him, that I was a bad son and I was growing up to be a…a loser.”

Sam chose his words carefully. “Alcohol has a language all its own, Leon. Your father may be unhappy with some of the choices you’ve made, but he doesn’t think you’re a loser.”

“And what’s this?” Leon held up his arm. “Because when he got finished, he grabbed me and jerked me off my feet. Then he started to hit me. I bet I’ve got bruises on my back, too!”

“Your father was way out of line.”

“I snuck out and walked all the way back to Jim’s last night and slept on his couch. I’m not living with Dad another minute. I’m going to run away. I’m old enough. I can get a job. Anything would be better than living with him.”

Sam made an effort to sound calm. “I’m going to find you another place to live. Don’t worry about that. I think Gayle Fortman will take you in. You know her sons, don’t you? You probably go to school with them, and they’re in the youth group.”

“Yeah.” Leon wiped his eyes.

Sam knew that, as Leon’s minister, he was not specifically required under Virginia law to report child abuse. But the law was murky enough that he could interpret it his own way.

“I’m going to talk to your dad and tell him what you’ve told me. Then I’m going to tell him he has to get counseling before I’ll let you go home, and if he refuses, I’ll explain I have to notify the authorities and ask them to take custody. And I will. But you’ve got to decide right now that’s what you want me to do. Because if you change your mind or your story, my help is going to make things worse, not better. And things have to get better, Leon. You can’t continue this way, and I can’t let you.”

“I’m not going to lie to anybody. And I’m not going home.”

Sam could see that Leon meant his words, although he knew from experience that when emotion faded, resolve sometimes faded with it. “Let me call Gayle. You’re okay with that?”