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Authors: Kimberley Montpetit
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keep secrets in this family,” Mom said with a sweet
smile.
“That’s not always a good thing,” I told her drily.
She lowered her voice, almost whispering as she looked furtively
about the entry hall as we grabbed our coats and hats off the rack. “You want
to be available in case he’d like to drive you home afterward.”
I made a noise of aggravation in my throat. “I swear, Mom, you say
lines like an actress from a 1940s movie.”
“Well, those were very good movie years. Not that I was alive,
mind you.”
“Boys, I mean, men—guys—and girls, do not play hard to
get anymore. We’re more open and honest.”
She lifted an eyebrow, letting me know she didn’t believe that a bit. “I’ll keep that in mind, but the male and female species are not much
different now than they were through the history of time. I did a paper on that
in college—”
I cut her off. “My mother, the history major. Can we just go
already?”
Within minutes we were passing the church again. I was sitting in
the back seat of Catherine’s van squished next to two car seats. Mom was in the
front passenger seat. Sam had managed to find a ride with a friend and had
disappeared like a ghost behind a camera lens.
I cursed myself for not taking my own car. I’d given up my potential
freedom. Coming with my family meant staying until they wanted to leave.
Dad was one of Santa’s “helpers” tonight. As the town dentist he
volunteered for a lot of charity work, my mother, too. Which kept them busy and
off my back during much of the year except for our weekly phone calls. Tomorrow
was the biggie. The hospital fundraiser. I planned to stay home under an afghan
with a stack of movies and the television remote.
Of course, every time we had to go into town or up or down Main,
we passed the church. Tonight the sign read: Prayer: Wireless Connection to God with no Roaming Fees.
Mom turned around in her seat, the street lights glowing off her
face. “I was just thinking that the church sign is so apropos, Jessica,” she
murmured. We all need God in our life.”
“How do you know what I need?” I practically snapped. I turned my
head to the window without another word. Thank goodness we were at the town
square and Catherine and Mom focused on finding a parking spot. Finally, we’d
exited from the car and Amber and Joanie took my hands, one on each side. Maybe
they knew I didn’t want to be alone with my mother. Or James Douglas.
Maybe they sensed that I was afraid.
The square was crowded—what was so compelling about a story
and hot chocolate? In the freezing cold, no less?
Despite ordering myself not to scan the clusters of people, I
couldn’t help wondering when or where I’d see Pastor John’s nephew. I shouldn’t
have worried. Instantly, he was there, bearing hot chocolate for the whole
family.
Like a homing pigeon.
I pursed my lips as I looked up into his face. His smile was
mellow tonight.
“I’m surprised you have time for this,” I told him, burning my
lips when I took a gulp of the hot cocoa. “Damn—I mean dang.” Now I
couldn’t feel my tongue.
He raised his eyebrows, and then grinned.
I glared at him, as though daring him to make something of it.
“I already helped the committee set up for the Bake Sale and
Gingerbread House contest. They’re ready for tomorrow. Did you enter
something?”
“Is that a serious question?”
He laughed. “I guess not. You don’t look like the baking type.”
“Actually, I do make a mean chocolate chip cookie. My mom taught
me all her secrets, as you got to sample yesterday—and yeah, they’re
pretty— ”
“Spectacular,” we both said at the same time.
“Please tell me we did not just do that,” I growled.
James Douglas didn’t miss a beat. “We didn’t. You’re safe.”
“Thank God. I mean, thank the Good Lord.” I smiled sweetly.
“You’re on one tonight,” he observed, sipping from his Styrofoam cup
while gazing at my face with his
smile.
“That’s not always a good thing,” I told her drily.
She lowered her voice, almost whispering as she looked furtively
about the entry hall as we grabbed our coats and hats off the rack. “You want
to be available in case he’d like to drive you home afterward.”
I made a noise of aggravation in my throat. “I swear, Mom, you say
lines like an actress from a 1940s movie.”
“Well, those were very good movie years. Not that I was alive,
mind you.”
“Boys, I mean, men—guys—and girls, do not play hard to
get anymore. We’re more open and honest.”
She lifted an eyebrow, letting me know she didn’t believe that a bit. “I’ll keep that in mind, but the male and female species are not much
different now than they were through the history of time. I did a paper on that
in college—”
I cut her off. “My mother, the history major. Can we just go
already?”
Within minutes we were passing the church again. I was sitting in
the back seat of Catherine’s van squished next to two car seats. Mom was in the
front passenger seat. Sam had managed to find a ride with a friend and had
disappeared like a ghost behind a camera lens.
I cursed myself for not taking my own car. I’d given up my potential
freedom. Coming with my family meant staying until they wanted to leave.
Dad was one of Santa’s “helpers” tonight. As the town dentist he
volunteered for a lot of charity work, my mother, too. Which kept them busy and
off my back during much of the year except for our weekly phone calls. Tomorrow
was the biggie. The hospital fundraiser. I planned to stay home under an afghan
with a stack of movies and the television remote.
Of course, every time we had to go into town or up or down Main,
we passed the church. Tonight the sign read: Prayer: Wireless Connection to God with no Roaming Fees.
Mom turned around in her seat, the street lights glowing off her
face. “I was just thinking that the church sign is so apropos, Jessica,” she
murmured. We all need God in our life.”
“How do you know what I need?” I practically snapped. I turned my
head to the window without another word. Thank goodness we were at the town
square and Catherine and Mom focused on finding a parking spot. Finally, we’d
exited from the car and Amber and Joanie took my hands, one on each side. Maybe
they knew I didn’t want to be alone with my mother. Or James Douglas.
Maybe they sensed that I was afraid.
The square was crowded—what was so compelling about a story
and hot chocolate? In the freezing cold, no less?
Despite ordering myself not to scan the clusters of people, I
couldn’t help wondering when or where I’d see Pastor John’s nephew. I shouldn’t
have worried. Instantly, he was there, bearing hot chocolate for the whole
family.
Like a homing pigeon.
I pursed my lips as I looked up into his face. His smile was
mellow tonight.
“I’m surprised you have time for this,” I told him, burning my
lips when I took a gulp of the hot cocoa. “Damn—I mean dang.” Now I
couldn’t feel my tongue.
He raised his eyebrows, and then grinned.
I glared at him, as though daring him to make something of it.
“I already helped the committee set up for the Bake Sale and
Gingerbread House contest. They’re ready for tomorrow. Did you enter
something?”
“Is that a serious question?”
He laughed. “I guess not. You don’t look like the baking type.”
“Actually, I do make a mean chocolate chip cookie. My mom taught
me all her secrets, as you got to sample yesterday—and yeah, they’re
pretty— ”
“Spectacular,” we both said at the same time.
“Please tell me we did not just do that,” I growled.
James Douglas didn’t miss a beat. “We didn’t. You’re safe.”
“Thank God. I mean, thank the Good Lord.” I smiled sweetly.
“You’re on one tonight,” he observed, sipping from his Styrofoam cup
while gazing at my face with his
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