Mistletoe Prayers Page 8

  “We got some oats at home.” Charlie said, turning up at her side with Kyle. “You want us each to bring some in our pockets?”

  “That’s okay.” She smiled at them, relieved to see that they seemed to have turned into the best of friends. “I’ll take care of that. I don’t want you raiding the breakfast cereal.”

  “My mamma wouldn’t mind,” Charlie said earnestly. “She’ll be here to get me in a minute, so I can ask her.”

  Kyle nodded, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “We can…”

  “Kyle, there you are.” Kyle’s father spoke. Kyle’s mother put her hand on his shoulder. And Annabel felt as if someone had punched her right in the heart.

  Kyle’s face changed. In an instant, he was transformed from a smiling, normal kid to a sullen, angry stranger. And behind the anger, she saw it.

  Fear. Kyle was afraid.

  Her heart twisted, forming a wordless prayer. Kyle was afraid. Travis was right.

  An accusation of abuse, once made, could shatter lives for good. True or false, it was such a serious thing that the burden of it seemed to weigh on Annabel’s shoulders, dragging them down.

  She sat at the kitchen table at the farm the evening after the dress rehearsal. Tomorrow would be the real thing, and as worrisome as that was, it didn’t hold a candle to her fears for the situation with Kyle.

  The report on her laptop was for the board that supported her work at the farm. Without their backing, there would be no children’s program. If she accused Kyle’s parents of abuse without proof, her work would end, and all the good she’d done would come to nothing. Pastor Tim had said to wait, but she was discovering just how hard that was.

  She leaned back in the chair, the silence pressing on her. It was nearly dark out, and the single Christmas candle in each window reflected gold against the panes.

  The glass formed a mirror, showing her the interior of the cozy farmhouse kitchen with its brick walls and exposed beams. The herbs she’d cut dried in bunches hung from the beams, their faint aroma filling the air.

  She could see herself in the reflection, too, and the troubled expression she wore as she tried to find an answer.

  Tried to figure it out for herself, she realized. She was forgetting to turn to the One she should rely on.

  She clasped her hands, bowing her head. Trying to still the furious clamor of her thoughts.

  Dear Father, thank You for bringing Kyle into my life. I want to help him, and I’m not sure what to do. I know that You care for Kyle in a way that is impossible for me, so I’m asking for Your guidance. If I’m meant to help Kyle, please show me the way and give me the courage to take it. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

  She sat for another moment, head bowed against her hands. Then she stood. No answer flooded her mind, but she had a sense of peace. The answer would come. She just had to recognize it.

  She moved to the sink, reaching for a glass, and looked out the window, seeing past the reflection to what lay outside. She froze, frowning. A faint light came from the barn.

  It could be Sam, she supposed, but the lights were on in his apartment above the garage. Then she recognized the car that was parked at the edge of the lane—Travis’s car. He’d left hours ago. Obviously, he’d returned.

  She went quickly out the back door, grabbing her denim jacket from the hook. Why was Travis here? More to the point, why hadn’t he told her he was back?

  She crossed the grass to the barn and slipped in the door that stood ajar. Her breath caught.

  For just a moment it was like stepping back in time to that stable in Bethlehem. The scent of hay and animals, the soft sounds they made moving in the stalls—those things hadn’t changed in thousands of years, and it overwhelmed her. She had to blink back tears. This was what they tried to do for others with the Living Nativity.

  Travis stood in a circle of light cast by the lantern that hung from a post. He faced Toby, who watched him with wary eyes. Deliberately, Travis put the lead line on the floor in front of Toby’s front hooves.

  “Stand,” he said, palm out, and took a step back.

  Toby moved toward him.

  “No.” Travis’s voice was firm. He took the halter and nudged the donkey back to his previous position. “Stand,” he said again, palm out.

  This time Toby let him get several steps away, standing motionless.

  “Good boy.” Travis returned quickly, pulling a carrot from his pocket and feeding it to Toby as he stroked the furry neck. “Good boy. Good Toby.”

  Travis was going to all the trouble of teaching the donkey to ground tie just so the Nativity would be a success. Her heart swelled with love and admiration.

  She wasn’t the only one who admired Travis. Despite his reaction to Travis’s questioning, Kyle clearly did, as well. Each day the bond between them seemed to grow stronger.

  The idea slid into her mind, so natural it was as if she’d thought it all along. If Travis were to tell Kyle his own story—

  She must have moved or made some sound. Travis turned and saw her.

  She went toward him quickly. “I can’t believe it. You actually taught Toby to ground tie.”

  “Well, let’s say I’m trying.” After the initial surprise at seeing her, Travis seemed to relax. “He’s not the most teachable critter in the world, but he’s making progress. I figured it might help his performance a bit.”

  “I’m sure of it.” She rubbed the donkey’s face. Her fingers brushed Travis’s, and awareness of him went shimmering through her.

  He clasped her hand, fingers curling around hers. “Annabel.” He said her name softly. “I’ve been trying to do what we agreed—to stay friends, nothing more.” He shook his head slightly. His dark gaze focused on her face, and her skin seemed to warm where it touched. “I can’t.”

  He hesitated a moment, as if waiting for her to say something or pull away. She didn’t.

  He raised his hand to her face, tilting it toward his. His lips neared, touched, clung. Her heart pounded until she thought it would leap from her body. She put her palm on his chest, and his own heart seemed to beat in rhythm with hers. The moment stretched out, timeless.

  Toby’s head moved, jolting them. They came apart, Annabel’s breath catching on a gasp.

  Travis gave a low chuckle. “Guess Toby doesn’t approve.”

  “He just wants some attention, that’s all.” She rubbed the donkey’s muzzle, trying to get control of the emotions that rampaged through her. She ought to be thanking Toby. Without his interruption, she might have completely lost her ability to think rationally at all.

  Maybe she already had, where Travis was concerned. She took a shaky breath. She couldn’t do this. She had to find the courage to talk to him about Kyle. To say the thing she knew he didn’t want to hear.

  “Travis, I…I have to ask you something. About Kyle. I want you to talk to him.”

  His expression changed indefinably. “We agreed to wait, remember. Anyway, I thought you didn’t want me to talk to him at all.”

  “Maybe I was wrong.” Please, Lord, guide my words. “I’ve seen how Kyle looks at you. He admires you.”

  He shook his head, eyes questioning. “I don’t think—”

  “I want you to tell Kyle your story.” She rushed the words, because otherwise she might not be able to get them out. “If you do, if he understands what you went through, it could give him the courage to tell the truth.”

  He didn’t move. Maybe he couldn’t. Suddenly, nothing seemed alive about him but the torment in his eyes.

  “Don’t ask that.” He thrust her hands away from him in a gesture so abrupt that Toby jerked back.

  “I don’t want to.” Her voice thickened with tears. “I know it’s painful. But if Kyle heard it—”

  He grew a ragged breath. “I’d do anything to help him. To help you.”

  “Then—”

  His face twisted. “But that’s the one thing I can’t do. Don’t you understand? I can’t.”

  He
turned and walked out.

  Chapter Eight

  “Here you go, little guy.” Travis nudged the straying sheep back into the makeshift pen on the church lawn. “You don’t want to go wandering off.”

  But he did. He’d give a lot to be anywhere but here at the moment.

  “He don’t…doesn’t…know when he’s well off,” Sam said, patting the small Nubian goat.

  Travis nodded, but his mind wasn’t on the goat. It was on Annabel.

  Thinking about her was just asking for pain. Still, he couldn’t seem to quit. The chasm between them was so wide and deep that it couldn’t be crossed.

  Annabel wanted him to do the one thing he couldn’t do. It had been hard enough to give even Annabel that glimpse into his past. To tell the story to someone else—to a child, no less, was impossible.

  Annabel ought to know. He stopped that line of thought, his jaw clenching. He couldn’t blame this on Annabel. It was his choice. He’d survived by clamping a tight lid on his past and never letting it out.

  That was his way. He couldn’t put that onto anyone else.

  Sam nudged him. “Looks like they’re almost ready to start. You think that donkey’s gonna behave?”

  “He’d better, for Annabel’s sake.”

  “Yeah.”

  He saw, on Sam’s face, the same look that was probably on his. The longing to have all this go well because it was what Annabel wanted.

  “You think a lot of her, don’t you?”

  “Miz Annabel? She’s the best. If it wasn’t for her, I dunno what would have happened to me.”

  Travis felt a flicker of shame that it had never occurred to him to wonder about the boy. “She gave you a job,” he said.

  “More’n that.” He gave Travis a look that seemed to measure his interest. “See, my mamma used to work for Miz Callie, when she lived at the house in Charleston. After Mamma died—” pain flickered in the boy’s dark eyes. “—things got bad with my daddy. Quick with his fists and his belt, he was.”

  The words were like a blow, knocking a hole in his heart. Sam was looking at him. He had to say something.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Why hadn’t Annabel told him? Maybe because she’d seen his reaction to Kyle.

  “Miz Callie, she’s a special lady. Stood up to my daddy, got me out of there. And Miz Annabel gave me a job and a place to live.” He grinned. “Now she’s nagged me into getting my GED. Says I need to do something with my life. I tell you, you might as well give in if Miz Annabel wants you to do something.”

  The words echoed uncomfortably. “So what do you want to do with your life?”

  Sam shrugged. “I’d rather work with the animals than anything. Miz Annabel says there’s no reason I can’t aim high. Be a vet, maybe.” He shrugged, his gaze slipping away. “Maybe that’s aimin’ too high.”

  Travis put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Miz Annabel’s right. You’ll never know unless you try.”

  He’d never fancied himself good at giving advice, but Sam seemed to take heart at his words. The boy smiled, standing a little straighter.

  “Yeah. Maybe so.”

  The choir began to sing. “O Come, All Ye Faithful” rang out, silencing the murmurs of the crowd, calling them to worship, it seemed.

  His gaze sought out Annabel. She stood with Toby and the kids playing Mary and Joseph, waiting for their moment. Her hand rested on the donkey’s neck, and she was saying something softly to the kids.

  Encouragement, probably. That was Annabel. Encouraging, warm, giving. A woman in a million. He loved her.

  The thought hit him with the impact of a two-ton truck. He loved her. He’d put an impossible barrier between them, but he loved her.

  The choir switched to the hymn that was the signal for Mary and Joseph’s arrival—“Once in Royal David’s City.” He held his breath as Joseph took the rope and led the donkey forward. And then he let the breath out in a sigh of relief. Toby plodded along as patiently as if he really did carry the mother of Jesus on his back.

  The pageant moved forward. That sense of peace and purpose that affected the little donkey must be contagious. The animals, the children, the music—everything came together as if inspired. Maybe it was.

  For God so loved the world… The spoken words set up an echo in his heart, reverberating until it seemed his whole body felt them.

  His mind spun with confusion. Pain. How could he let himself believe in a Father who loved him? How could he not?

  He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t. He slipped away into the silent night.

  From where she stood, to the side of the stable ready to intervene in case of problems, Annabel had a good view of the crowd. She could see the effect on them—the smiles and the tears. And she could see Travis leave.

  She pressed her lips together. She would not let them tremble. As for the tears in her eyes—well, plenty of people had those. No one would know if she wept for what she had lost.

  An arm went around her, and she turned to find her grandmother next to her. “It’s beautiful,” Miz Callie murmured, and tears filled her eyes, too. “And the animals are perfect.”

  “So far.” She glanced at her watch. “They’re supposed to remain in position for the next hour, so that people driving by can see them. That might be asking a lot of kids and animals.”

  “They’ll be fine.” There was no doubt in Miz Callie’s voice. “It’s as if they all realize that this is something special. Sacred.”

  She nodded. “That was what I thought when Toby walked on. It was as if he really understood who he was supposed to be carrying.”

  “Maybe the animals know more than we think,” Miz Callie said. “After all, God chose them to be part of that first Christmas.”

  She clasped her grandmother’s hand. They stood silently for a few minutes, watching the scene, listening to the music.

  Annabel let out her breath in a sigh. “You know how we sometimes use Christmas as a measuring stick? We say, ‘That was a great or happy Christmas,’ or whatever?”

  Miz Callie nodded. “Foolish, isn’t it?”

  “That’s not what Christmas is, is it?”

  “No.” Her grandmother’s voice was soft. “Christmas is holy and humble and a time for astonished joy that God loves us so much. It can’t be measured in human terms.”

  Annabel nodded, her throat too tight to speak. And when her tears spilled over, she knew they were for the right reason. For the incredible gift that was Christmas, not for her own heartache.

  Miz Callie squeezed her hand. “You and Amanda did a wonderful job. I’d best find her and tell her so, too.”

  She moved off, and Annabel stood where she was, gazing at the scene, thinking over the events of the past weeks. She seemed to see everything more clearly now.

  She had taken on entertaining Travis for motives that were at least partly selfish. Oh, she’d done it because he was her brother’s friend, of course. But she’d also thought it would distract her from memories of the past.

  It had worked too well, hadn’t it? Knowing Travis, caring about him, had made her realize just how flimsy her relationship with Foster had been.

  She thought of that now with astonishment. She had wasted two years grieving over a man who wasn’t worth a second thought. And now that she’d found someone who was, she’d lost him.

  It hurt. It would go on hurting. But through the pain the healing power of Christmas flowed, and she knew she was not alone.

  “Where is he?”

  The shrill voice, loud in Annabel’s ear, startled her. Startled Toby, too, and he jerked back against the lead line.

  Annabel soothed him with a pat and a gentle word and then turned to the woman who’d spoken. “Mrs. Morrison.” She recognized Kyle’s mother, and her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. “Is something wrong?”

  “Where is Kyle?” The woman grabbed her arm and gave it a shake. “Where is he?”

  Dread pooled in her chest. “What do you mean? He
was here a few minutes ago.” She glanced across the area. Quite a few people lingered, either helping with the cleanup or chatting.

  “Judith, calm down.” Don Morrison appeared at his wife’s side, closely followed by Pastor Tim and Amanda. “I’m sure Kyle is here somewhere. We weren’t more than a few minutes late.” He glanced at Pastor Tim with a look of apology. “Sorry to miss it, Pastor. I’ve been away on business overnight, and Judith came to the airport to pick me up. We thought we’d get here in time to see some of the program, but my flight was a bit late.”

  “Of course.” Pastor Tim was clearly not interested in why Kyle’s parents arrived late. “Now, when did each of you last see Kyle?”

  Amanda’s brow wrinkled. “He was on stage until the very end, when I brought the kids off. They were milling around a bit—supposed to be taking off their costumes, but there was a certain amount of horseplay going on.”

  “Only natural when they’d been still so long,” Pastor Tim said, his voice calm and soothing. “Anyone else see him?”

  “He brought the donkey over.” Annabel gestured with the lead line, as if that would help. Her mind seemed numb. What had happened to him? “I asked if he wanted to help load the animals, but he said he had to go.”

  Sam took the lead rope. “That’s right. I heard him. Usually he wants to help but not tonight.”

  She nodded, trying to keep her expression calm even as her mind raced and her stomach tumbled. “You go on with the loading, will you, Sam? Just check in and around the truck and trailer as you do.”

  “Sure thing, Miz Annabel.” Sam clucked to Toby and led him away.

  “He was supposed to wait here for us.” Judith Morrison’s voice trembled, and there was an edge to it which suggested hysteria wasn’t too far off.

  Her husband put his hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy, honey.”

  Annabel looked from his face to hers. Was what Travis believed true? If Don Morrison did beat his son, had Kyle disappeared because his father was coming back tonight?

  “I think we need to talk to the kids who are still here before we do anything else.” Pastor Tim took control with calm assurance. “Amanda, will you and Annabel round them up? I’ll get a few people started searching the church. He might easily have gone inside.”