The Christmas Promise (Christmas Hope) (12 page)

“This is little Gabe. Miriam and I practically delivered him ourselves. And this is…” I turned to see Erin. “Where’d she go?” I covered Gabe’s ears and yelled over his head. “Erin!”

She and Miriam walked into the kitchen and Matt’s eyes beamed when he saw her. Erin blushed but I was too occupied with Gabe to notice. “This is my son Matthew,” I said, pulling his face to me for a kiss. “And this is Erin. The gal we told you—”

“Hi,” Matt said, smiling. He offered her a piece of coffee cake. “I won’t knock that out of your hands.” She laughed and took the cake and a cup of coffee from him. He led her into the living room and I hovered in the doorway, watching them. Miriam stood at my side with her hand on Gabriel’s head.

“Am I missing something?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “But that’s beside the point. I knew all along that he was the handsome young man she met downtown.”

I snapped my head to look at her. “Do you think?”

She leaned over and kissed Gabe’s face. “I don’t know. But it would make a lovely story for their grandchildren.”

After the dinner dishes were washed and put away and the children were testing their new toys, I saw the envelope in the branches and crossed over boxes and books and tiny bodies to the tree. “Merry Christmas, Walt,” I whispered. I caught Matt looking at me and took the envelope off the tree for good, smiling.

I watch Jack work on the car and pour coffee into an insulated mug. He must be freezing out there, I think. I stick a sweet roll or, as Miriam calls it, a
heart attack shaped like a bun
in the toaster oven and wait for the icing to melt. Jack has never charged me a penny for the work he does on the cars that end up in my driveway, but he has always expected one of my sweet rolls and a cup of coffee.

Matt reaches for a pair of jeans and pulls on a worn flannel shirt. A thud at the door distracts him. The paperboy has delivered Matt’s neighbor’s paper to him again. He throws on his coat and walks over the small yard to the Kelseys’. Frank Kelsey answers the door in a pair of reindeer boxer shorts, his graying comb-over flapping atop his head in the morning breeze. The smell of sausage drifts out the door. Despite the time of day the Kelseys’ home always smells like sausage. “I stood right there at the window and watched him throw it to your door,” Frank says, taking the paper from Matt. “He knows what he’s doing.”

When his six-month lease ran out Matt moved across the street to the duplex next to Frank and Luanne Kelsey. Two months after they met Matt, the Kelseys took down the Christmas lights that had been up for fourteen months. Matthew helped Frank that day, and they worked together in the silence. Frank and Luanne still hope for the return of their son and weep at the not-knowing. That’s the part that kills them. I know.

Mrs. Kelsey walks from the bedroom wearing a green-and-red-striped housecoat that she’s snapping up to her neck. Her dyed auburn hair looks like a cinnamon bun on top of her head. “Good morning, doll,” she growls as she ushers Matt inside. She sounds like a three-pack-a-day smoker but she’s never lit up a day in her life. Matt normally wouldn’t like someone calling him “doll,” but it works with a voice like Luanne Kelsey’s. “You look so handsome today,” she adds. She pulls glasses from her pocket and perches them on the end of her nose as she fixes the collar on his shirt. The scent of Jean Naté fills the space around them as she finishes. “What a great day this will be.” She holds his chin in her hand. “Do you want breakfast?”

“Can’t today.” He looks at Frank in his boxer shorts. “Are you going like that?”

The phone rings and I answer it, nibbling on my second sweet roll of the morning. “Do you have your work clothes on?” Matt asks.

“Always,” I say, taking another bite. “Good meeting this morning?”

“Real good. I just dropped Frank off.”

I believe God put Frank Kelsey beside Matt that first day at AA. Matthew has been able to tell things to Frank that he’s not ready to talk with me about. Frank knows what it’s like to be broken, and has been a good friend to him.

It wasn’t an easy year for Matt; he had plenty of setbacks and failures, but they didn’t hobble him. Matt says that in a lot of ways it feels like he’s crawled back from the dead. With each passing day he has come back to life, and I’m proud. Very proud.

“I figured you’d be gone by now,” Matt says.

I look out the window at Jack in the driveway. “Unless you pick me up, I can’t go anywhere until Jack finishes with my car.”

“What’s wrong with your car?”

“I have no idea. Jack pulled in today to help with the Gray Goose that was left here three days ago, but said he also noticed a leak under my car. He’s got both hoods up and tools spread out everywhere.”

“I’ll come get you,” Matt says.

I reach for my cleaning supplies out of the utility closet and put them in a box. Five months ago Dalton saw a building on a street past Wilson’s that was for sale. “It’d be perfect for your work,” he said. “You could use it for
all
your classes
and
use it as a distribution center for all your stuff.” It wasn’t a possibility for so many reasons. “There are donors,” Dalton said. He turned the corners of his mouth up in a grin and I knew he and Heddy had been busy. “Miriam, too,” he said, winking at her.

The old brick building had once been a small warehouse. It needed a lot of work before we could use it—some windows needed to be replaced, the roof needed patching up, the plumbing needed to be updated, walls needed to be erected, and every square inch of the inside needed to be painted, including the concrete floor. We’ve been scrubbing and cleaning for the last four weeks, with little to show for it, but we do what we can—even Miriam, who always wears bright yellow latex gloves, her “green wellies,” and a blue work jumpsuit. Matt calls it her HazMat suit. “Hazardous materials coming through!” he yells whenever she passes. At the pace we’re able to work, I can’t imagine when we’ll ever be able to actually use the building.

Miriam’s house turned out better than she imagined. She was with me for ten weeks in all, refusing to move back in until every screw, tile, and picture was in place. She tells me that I should move in with her and redo my place, but I don’t think Whiskers and I are ready for that again. For the first time since I’ve known her, Miriam has decorated the outside of her house for Christmas. Dalton volunteered to help but soon regretted it when Miriam barked orders up to him on the ladder. He endured, and her house looks lovely. I opted for my usual evergreen and lights wrapped around my porch. I know it’s simple but I’ve never been much of a decorator. I leave that to Miriam.

Matt honks the horn and I jump. “Good grief! I just hung up the phone,” I say, pulling on my yellow boots. One pant leg gets stuck on the top of the boot and I stomp my foot, hoping it will fall as I reach for the cleaning supplies. The pant sticks to the top of the boot, but I ignore it and run out the door. Jack Andrews is gone; I hadn’t even heard him leave.

“You got here fast,” I say.

“I was around the corner,” he says. “Where’s Miriam?”

“I don’t know. We were supposed to take our walk and have breakfast, but she’s not home.”

“Getting her hair colored?”

I laugh. “Could be! The world stops on a dime when that appointment rolls around. Do you have class today?” He shakes his head. Matt got his GED and takes classes at college while he works at Wilson’s. He’s no longer in security, but instead works as a sales associate. He’s the most knowledgeable on the staff, if you ask me. Carla still works on the janitorial team, but only during the day, while Donovan goes to school.

Matt met a girl with whom he fell in love the first time he saw her. He learned her name at my house and will marry her in April. Erin’s mother found a job here and moved into town nine months ago; Erin and Gabe moved in with her. While Lois and Erin plan the wedding, Miriam and I play with Gabe—my eighth grandchild—and watch him grow. I swear he calls me Grandma, but Miriam says I’m “barking mad.” Regardless, Gabe is a brilliant and beautiful baby.

Mike was never far from Matthew’s mind, and when he was able to travel, Matt drove him south to Alabama. As he pulled into a home’s driveway a woman was standing, waiting at the door. She began to scream when she saw the car, and in moments the driveway was full of people laughing, crying, and jumping. Mike stepped slowly out of the car and his parents enveloped him in tears. No one in the crowd moved or attempted to break the small huddle of humanity. Matt said it was one of the most rewarding things he’d ever done in his life.

As Matt drives through town, I admire the decorated fir trees in the square and the decorations in all the store windows. I can’t believe it’s already Christmas again! I watch Janet wander through the town square, and wave at her. I used to think that I had to do everything within my ability to bring someone to a place of change, but I’ve finally learned, like Heddy says, that’s not my job. I must say, I sleep better at night now. We pull into the parking lot of the building and the gravel crunches beneath the tires. A banner stretches across the doorway and I shriek when I read it:
GLORY’S PLACE.

“Who put that up?” I ask.

Matt smiles and lifts the cleaning supplies out of the trunk. “I did. It’s not permanent, but I thought people should know you’re here.”

I stand looking at the bright green-and-red sign. “Glory’s Place? I didn’t think I’d put my name on it.”

He moves me toward the front door. “We love it.”

“You and who else?” I ask.

He opens the door and cheers erupt throughout the building. “We do,” he says, screaming into my ear. I grope for the bobby pin on the back of my head.

“It’s too late for that now,” Miriam says, linking her arm through mine.

I look across the floor at a sea of people. Robert and Kate Layton and Jack Andrews are here. “I was told to keep you at your house until Matt called,” Jack says, yelling above the noise. Dalton and Heddy are here; and there’s Carla, Erin, and Lois, who’s holding Gabe; lots of friends from church; and Frank and Luanne Kelsey. Marshall Wilson waves at me. I recognize one face after another. My three oldest children walk out from behind huge heating boxes, and I scream when I see them. As Andrew, Daniel, and Stephanie stand beside me, tears fill my eyes.

“This is the work crew,” Matt says, leaning into my ear. “We’re building walls, putting in bathrooms and a kitchen, and will have this place opened in a few weeks instead of months.”

Robert Layton steps in beside me and waves his arms in the air. The crowd quiets and I can feel my heart in my ears. “I’ve known Gloria for several years, and for all that time I’ve asked her when she’s ever going to open a place for her work. And for several years she has ignored me. If you know Gloria, you know that’s not unusual.” The crowd laughs and I shake my head, wiping my eyes. “Gloria, once and for all, would you please clean out your garage?” I nod, laughing, and use my palms to wipe away the stream of tears on my face.

Matt stands on his toes and cups his hand around his mouth. “All right, everybody. Man your battle stations and let’s get to work.” The crowd claps and disperses to every corner of the building.

Miriam wraps her arm around me, squeezing my shoulder. “Is it better than you ever imagined?” she asks.

I smile as I watch Matt and a group of men haul in a load of lumber and supplies. “Yes,” I say, trying to find my voice.

Art Lender sneaks in beside me and gives me a hug. “Thank you for everything, Miss Glory.” He looks at Miriam and tips his ball cap. “Thank you, Miss Mary,” he says, walking past us.

“Am,” Miriam says, yelling after him. “Miri
am
.” I laugh and she smacks her hands together. “I refuse to be called Miss Mary!” I laugh harder and she shakes her head, grumbling. “Oh, forget it.” She runs to help Heddy and Dalton rip up some floorboards and I spin, looking around me. Where is a camera when I need it? Some would say that my friendship with Miriam has drawn her out of herself, but I don’t know if that’s entirely true. I believe our friendship has made us both better, as any good friendship should do.

I look around the room and try to take it all in. In the past year I have gotten to know both the stranger who lived beside me and the stranger who knocked on my door. I never expected any of it. Neither did they. Matt told me that he used to look at his life and think,
How did I get here?
Today he says, “How did I come this far?” For years he stumbled and wandered, getting bloodied and bruised around every bend. He had lost his way, and his vision was nearly gone, but grace was relentless, always inviting him to come Home. That’s why grace came down at Christmas, to love and pursue us through dark days and desperate nights. Try as we might, we can’t outrun it.

I pick Gabe up and press his little face close to mine. “There’s your daddy,” I say, pointing to Matthew. “There’s your daddy.” Gabe looks nothing like Matthew, but neither he nor Matt seems to know that. Matt waves at the baby and Gabe kicks his chubby legs and claps his hands together. I smile and kiss his face.

Like Walt said years ago…life always makes a way.

Much appreciation to:

Troy, Gracie, and Kate, who fill my days with grace.

I always tell promising young writers that it’s important to surround yourself with a great team. I have a brilliant group around me. They include my agents, Jennifer Gates and Esmond Harmsworth, my editor, Jennifer Enderlin, and many people at St. Martin’s Press, including Matt Baldacci, John Karle, Carrie Hamilton-Jones, Lisa Senz, Matthew Shear, Nancy Trypuc, Mike Storrings for the beautiful cover, the entire sales staff who pound the pavement, and Sally Richardson for leading the way.

The AA members of Franklin, who were gracious enough to let me sit in on their meetings.

Nate Larkin, Rusty Owens, Mike O’Neill, and his son Michael O’Neill, who provided invaluable insight.

The Orchard Church in Franklin. Special thanks to Chris Carter for reading an early version of the manuscript and giving me feedback.

Sarah and Carrie Drumheller for being such crafty geniuses.

“Miss” Pam Dillon, “Miss” Jamie Betts, and “Mrs.” Laurie Griffith at Little School for your heart.

Lindsey Wolford, whose help was priceless this past year. Just so we’re clear,
you’re
telling the girls that you’re moving to Ireland, not me!

And to Bailey, who stayed by my side as long as he could.