Chapter Seventeen
The people will be coming for the Christmas Eve service soon.
I better look busy. Adam
picked up some leaves from a red poinsettia plant that Polly Graham brought in
out of the cold wind. There would be a blanket of red at the foot of the altar,
formed by the close placement of many Christmas flowers.
People began coming to the church at
six p.m. The folks in Middletown were much too practical for a midnight
service. Wives had to get up early the next morning to start their Christmas dinner. Adam guessed that God ought
to have just about enough practical people by now, with all the ones he had
seen in town.
“Mr. and
Mrs. Brumble, it’s good to see you this evening.” Pastor Silverman stood near
the West entrance and greeted parishioners as they came in. BeeBee was carrying
a new, expensive looking leather purse. She must have struck a pretty good
bargain with Mr. Brumble when she got rid of the birdcage, basket-purse.
“Good
evening Pastor. You too, Adam,” Mr. Brumble smiled. He seemed to stand a little
taller since the birdcage no longer dangled from Mrs. Brumble’s arm.
Adam had
become an accepted member of the congregation and he had only been in
church one Sunday. It helped that the Bremans and Gundermans
vouched for him with their friendship. The fact that he was the church’s newest
employee didn’t hurt either. The thought of building a good name with his hard
work at the church did not get past Adam.
“Hi Adam.”
Fritzy had come up from behind and startled him. He had just dropped down from
his perch in the bell tower minutes before Pastor Silverman came in. He was
still in transition, between hiding in
his alone place and circulating with friendly people.
“I’m going
to run down to the kitchen and see if they need any help. We’ll have punch and
the cookies we made after this evening’s service.” Frederica pulled on Adam’s
sleeve.
There wasn’t
anything he needed to do for Mr. G. at the moment, so Adam followed in mocked
protest. “Cookies? Who can eat cookies at this hour?”
“You can,
Adam Shoemaker, that’s who.” Fritzy continued to lead the way to the church
kitchen. The room was bright and warm and full of women dressed in their
Christmas best.
The bustle
and swish of red and green taffeta, fancy hats with veils and small Christmas
pins and decorations attached to the brim, hurried around the kitchen. Small
glasses were out of the upper cabinets and fancy Christmas napkins were stacked
near the corner of the counter.
“Ah,
Frederica.” Fritzy’s Grandma Stafford threw out her arms and hugged her
granddaughter. “I’m pleased to see you again too, Adam. Please come over after
services with Frederica for some wassail, non-alcoholic of course. The holiday
drink is a tradition of ours.”
“Oh yes,
please,” Fritzy grabbed hold of that same shirt sleeve.
“That sounds
nice Ma’am.”
“Unless you
have your own family traditions. I wouldn’t want to interfere with your
family’s Christmas plans.” Mrs. Stafford beamed with holiday joy.
“No Ma’am.
Not this year.”
“Adam’s
mother has been sick, Grandma. Remember, we talked about that.”
“Oh, yes.
Fritzy, your mother thought she knew her.”
“Yes Ma’am,
Bridget, Bridget is her name.” Adam felt uneasy. He did not like talking about
his family. They lived on a farm with no running water. Pops was a deserter and
Moms was in a sanitarium. Most people were afraid of TB. The disease was very
contagious. Recently, Moms had been treated with the new antibiotics but Adam
still had a feeling of shame about the disease. He wished the new medicine
would help, but Moms had said not to wish for things. She said the wee ones
grant wishes but there is no satisfaction. No matter what wishes came true, the
wisher feels more and more empty. When Moms was real sick and Adam was afraid
she would die, he had thought he would strike a bargain with the shadow people.
A deal with evil wouldn’t make anyone feel empty or unhappy. Because, once they
struck their agreement, they would never feel guilty or lonely again. They
would have no conscience.
But, Granny
had warned, “Don’t even made eye contact with the shadow people. They will
offer comfort, even healing, but they are evil. Once they have you, they won’t
let you go.”
The old
grandmother’s words haunted him as he struggled to turn off the bad feelings
that gnawed at him. He wanted to hide from all the Christmas cheer. He withdrew
inside himself, far from the happy people all around him.
“Come on
Adam, let’s go up and take our seats in the sanctuary.” Fritzy led Adam out of
the kitchen.
As they
walked out of the kitchen, Adam slipped his hand down and took hers. “Fritzy, I
don’t want to walk behind you. I want to walk with you.”
Fritzy
laughed and squeezed his hand. Adam had taken a stand and it was a good move.
He didn’t want to be led around.
The
sanctuary was full of Christmas music as Adam and Fritzy entered. The large,
horseshoe shaped room was beautiful. There was a huge gathering of poinsettias
at the base of the altar that resembled a red coverlet that had been tucked in
at the base. Red tapers glowed on the altar and additional ones lit the aisles
from candelabra that stood like sentries at the end of each pew. The whole
scene was a flickering masterpiece of flame and fire.
“It’s not
there,” Adam heard Pastor Silverman whisper to Alfred as they stood just
outside the sanctuary door.
“Not there?”
Alfred repeated. “That cannot be.”
“What?”
Fritzy interjected herself into the conversation.
“The Christ
Child carving. You and Adam went down to the storeroom and got the statue out.”
“No Sir,”
Adam interrupted. “Remember, you came in and asked us to help your wife? We
left the carving in the storeroom.” Adam knew the figure was not still in
storage because he was there, in the shadows, when the Christ Child was stolen.
“Yes, yes,”
Alfred spoke softly, but Adam could tell from his tone that he was concerned.
“The carving
just isn’t in the storeroom anywhere. I looked through every box myself.” The
pastor was concerned but restrained.
Adam could
not meet their gaze. His eyes searched the floor for a hole to crawl in. He
knew what happened to the Christ Child but he couldn’t tell them. It happened
at a time when no one should have been in the church. What could he say?
Nothing.
“Pastor,
there’s a doll in the nursery. I used to play with it when I was a kid,” Fritzy
offered. “Let me wrap Baby Bubbles in a blanket. Maybe no one will notice the
bundle isn’t our carving.”
“Well, all
right. It’s too late to do anything else tonight.” The pastor’s voice showed
his disappointment. “But remember, Fritzy, even the work of art is just a
carving. The real child of Christmas is in our hearts.”
Adam turned
away and walked to the windows in the church doors. He had to think, to sort out his stories, his lies. As he stood
there with his eyes fixed on the snow covered street outside, Fritzy hurried to
the nursery for the doll.
In our
heart? he sighed. The
real child of Christmas is in our heart? Most of the time, my heart feels
empty. No one lives there anymore, not even me.
Two dark
shadowy figures crossed in front of him. He was tempted to ask them for help
but he didn’t. He followed them with his eyes until be remembered Granny’s
warning and he turned away.
Fritzy
hurried back with Baby Bubbles wrapped in a blanket. “The babe doesn’t look too
bad. The doll will be okay this time,” she smiled weakly. “With the carving, we
always carried it with the blanket underneath so both of the child’s hands and
arms could be open, reaching up to his father. Mary will have to carry the
infant differently this year.” Anyone could see that Fritzy was upset.
Adam’s eyes
darted away from Fritzy’s. He could see her sorrow which made him equally sad.
He knew what had happened. He knew who had taken the Christ Child the night
before, yet
there he stood, cowering in the front entrance. He was as far
as he could get from the worship service without stepping out into the frigid,
dark night.
Fritzy
handed the doll over to the Mary for that year’s nativity tableau. Silently,
Fritzy and Adam walked into the sanctuary and took their seats.
Just before
the service started, Mrs. Silverman handed her husband a piece of paper. The
pastor read the note, closed the yellow lined sheet and bowed his head.
The chancel
choir, joined by the cherubs, sang Away in a Manger while the entire
congregation seemed to be focused on Fritzy’s doll. Adam’s stomach felt heavy.
It nearly fell to his knees when he saw Buddy and Freddy walk into the
sanctuary with their parents.
Those guys
come here to church? They pretend to worship in the very place they just
robbed? Adam watched
as the boys climbed the stairs to the balcony and sat in the section to the
right side above the pulpit. Great, I’m going to see them out of the corner
of my eye through the whole service.
“My
friends,” Pastor Silverman began his sermon, “some of you may have noticed that
our carving is not in the manger this year. I know how hard that is for all of
us. I left by the back door, but my wife found this note attached to the front
door of the parsonage when she left. It reads:
‘We have your carving.’”
The
congregation gasped. Mrs. Brumble mouthed, “What? How?”
Adam thought
he was going to be sick. To add to his misery, he saw Freddy elbow Buddy in the
ribs and both boys stifled childish giggles.
The pastor
continued. “That’s all the note said. My friends, we have to believe that someone is playing some sort of trick on us
and they will return the statue. Maybe not before Christmas, but perhaps we
will have the carving back for next year’s celebrations. The note doesn’t say
more, so I can only assume that they think this is a funny trick and we will
get the carving back soon.”
They have
no intention of returning that statue. They already have a buyer! Adam
screamed inside and thought his head would burst.
“Good
friends, we are not going to let this prank spoil our Christmas Eve service. As
much as we have loved having the carving over the years, a wooden Christ is not
whom we worship. We don’t value the representation. We worship the real thing.
Only truth is worthy of our praise. They were probably just children playing a
childish game.”
Adam heard
the boys gasp and wondered who else may have heard them. Go ahead wise guys,
get loud enough and you will give yourselves away. Adam actually hoped they
would do just that, then he wouldn’t have to do anything. But, deep down, he
knew he wouldn’t speak up. He didn’t last night when the carving was stolen and
he wouldn’t say anything now.
The pastor
talked no more about the Christ Child carving. He said that love came to earth
a long time ago and remained here for those who would accept that love.
The whole
service touched Adam. He marveled at the beauty of everything, the warm candle light, the music, and even a doll with
straggly hair that had substituted for the son of God.
Adam didn’t
talk about the doll either. He was afraid if he opened his mouth the whole
story would pour out, including the fact that he had been living a complete
lie.
Only truth
is worthy of our praise. The words echoed in his ears, like a bully’s taunt. But, he knew that
silence contributes to a lie, not clears up the mystery. Adam had done nothing
wrong but hide himself from those who tried to care for him. He was just an
empty shell of a person, visible but unknown, there but not there.
Shaddi,
what should I do? But, the wind was silent. In the void, dark shadows moved
from the corners. Adam saw them and knew how easy it would be to let them help
him. But, calling on the forces of darkness to find the Christ Child carving
was wrong. That partnership would be like two apposing worlds colliding in
space and Adam didn’t want to be under that fallout when the debris rained
down.
Chapter Eighteen
“Over here,” Fritzy directed after the Christmas Eve service
was over.
She grabbed
her coat from the cloak room, scooped up Adam’s jacket and hurried him to the
church door. He put on his jacket as he stepped out onto the freshly shoveled
sidewalk. The snow fell gently but had not corrupted his hard work. Adam smiled
with pride.
The Breman’s
hustled Adam into their station wagon as they followed the Stafford sedan out of the church parking lot. He looked out
the back window of the car at a long procession of other friends that joined in
the fun.
“They’re all
coming,” Fritzy smiled when she saw Adam count each vehicle. “The church is a
family and a family celebrates Christmas together.”
“It has been
a long time since I’ve experienced ‘family.’ It’s a little mind-storming.”
“Boy, you
can say that again. I know I find my family overwhelming sometimes.” Jim Breman
joked.
“All right
now, Jimmy,” his mother reminded. “Adam is talking about feeling a little
smothered about having so many family members around at one time, not that he
doesn’t appreciate his family.”
“Yes, Mother
Dear,” Jim mocked. “You’ll have to excuse me Adam. I am trying to figure out if
I’m the man my college expects me to be or the little boy my parents want.”
“Trust me,
Son,” Coach laughed, “for what college costs, there had better be a man coming
out the other side at graduation, not a perpetual little boy.”
I’m
fifteen and I’m on my own. Adam smiled inside. I’m growing up for free.
“The biggest decisions at Grandma and
Grandpa’s house will be, one: which cookie
didn’t I get to taste at the church and, two: do I want a
cinnamon stick in my wassail or not.”
Fritzy giggled and wrapped her hand through the crook of Adam’s arm.
Jim jumped
out of the car as soon as the wheels stopped in his Grandparents’ driveway. The
other visitors parked on the street.
The house
was Victorian in design and lit with the glow from hundreds of Christmas
lights. A decorated tree was positioned in the middle of a large, round window
and even the front yard had just enough snow to create a storybook picture.
Adam stopped
on the front sidewalk and tried to take in all he could see. He wanted every
light and every ornament to be a memory for him to carry back up to the dark
belfry.
“Come on in
Adam. The winter wind is cold out here,” Fritzy started to pull on his coat
sleeve, then paused and gently put her hand in his.
“Sure, and
if I forget to tell you later, Merry Christmas Frederica Breman.”
“And a very
Merry Christmas to you Adam Shoemaker.” As snowflakes lit on her nose and lips,
she giggled, stuck out her tongue and tried to catch a few crystals of the icy
fluff.
“You are
always so happy,” Adam marveled.
“Of course.
Why not?”
“Why not? We
just went through a war that wrapped around the whole world.”
“My point
exactly. You put that statement in the past tense. The war is over.”
“Not for
me,” Adam mumbled, surprised he heard his own words out loud.
“Sorry, Mr.
Negative. The war is over for everyone. That doesn’t mean that every problem is
solved for everyone.” She said nothing for a second as they walked into the
house. “I am sorry your father is still missing Adam. But, until you know what
happened to him, it might be better to believe he is well and he’s on the long
way home.”
Adam said no
more. People from the church and neighborhood pushed in and around them.
Laughter was everywhere. Smiling faces were reflected back wherever he looked.
“Come on
in,” Mabel Thornton called as she began to play the piano. “Silent night, Holy
night,” the people sang. And, “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire” was a reflection of the scene around the marble
fireplace in the Stafford living room.
“Have
yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light,” people sang
through the evening.
Fritzy led
Adam by the hand into the large kitchen that smelled sweet and wonderful. The
linoleum on the floor resembled multi shades of red bricks and looked new and
shinny. The cabinets were white and circled the room. Adam couldn’t help
compare the room to the farm kitchen he left behind.
“The kitchen
looks happy,” Adam observed. Flashes of the farm kitchen flooded his memory.
“All Moms had was the black, Home Comfort Range and that huge thing sure wasn’t
electric.” Adam laughed, “I remember the story about the day the salesman came
by in his horse and buggy and convinced Grandma that she simply had to have
that stove. That range was the best that could be bought for a non-electric
kitchen. Moms is still using the same range. She’d check the wood in the
firebox and if there wasn’t enough, I’d go out back and bring some in to fill
the wood bucket.”
“Adam that
sounds wonderful!”
“Wonderful?
It is primitive, Fritzy!” Adam nearly laughed at the thought that all that work
could somehow be wonderful.
“Sure Adam.
My Grandma and Grandpa Breman live on a farm and they have the same kind of
stove. Jimmy and I used to argue over who got to bring in the wood for Grandma.
Sarah was usually setting the table.” She looked at Adam with a look of
surprise. “How can honest work be anything but beautiful . . . and fun too?”
“I hadn’t
looked at it that way,” Adam admitted.
“I’m a
teacher because I wanted to work with kids.” Coach Breman added to the
conversation as he got a fresh pitcher of wassail. “I had a favorite teacher I
admired—Mr. Anderson. So, I worked hard and went to college,” the coach added.
“I don’t mean to interrupt you kids, but a college education is just a degree,
not a pedigree. Education doesn’t make you smarted or better. College makes you
prepared to choose the work you would love to do, not have to do the work you
can find.”
“I guess,”
Adam blushed.
“My brother,
George, was two years behind me. He graduated from the same college I did, with
highest honors, and he farms our parents’ farm. Why? Because he loves farming.
Working the land is honest work and you have no boss but God.”
“Honest
work?” There was that word again—honesty.
“There
aren’t special jobs that are worthy. A day of work is a day of work.” Coach
smiled and filled his cup with wassail.
An honest
day’s work. Adam thought about those four words.
“Come on,”
Fritzy coaxed again. “I want you to meet Grandpa Breman.”
No comments:
Post a Comment