Christmas in Bethel

Chapter Two

The interesting thing about waiting in queues is that you never know who you’ll meet besides the person you came to meet.

Beth Stilton’s Diary

I finished my coffee, went back to the Starbucks counter and ordered a cappuccino grande for the woman who was holding my place, then took it back to her.

“Here you go,” I said.

“That took a while. I was starting to wonder if you’d skipped out on me.”

“No. I drank mine in the café.”

“By the way, my name is Kathy,” she said, extending her hand.

“Beth.”

“Do you know if he’ll sign his earlier books or just the new one?” On the ground next to Kathy was a canvas Trader Joe’s shopping bag filled with books.

“I think the paper said he’s just signing the new book.”

She groaned loudly. “And I lugged these all the way here. I swear it’s like fifty pounds.”

“I wish I had brought another book,” I said to her. “I only brought one. Everyone else here has stacks.”

“They have them at the table,” she said. “If they don’t sell out. How long have you been reading J.D.?”

“About ten years.”

“I started a little before that,” she said. “I came across Jacob’s Ladder, then I got Bethel. Then the rest of them. I’ve already read this one twice. I’m going to read it again when I get home. I told my husband, you better pick up some tacos on your way home from work, because I’m not cooking.”

“Bethel was the first book of his I read.”

“That one broke me open in a million pieces, you know?”

I nodded. It made me a little sad to hear this. A part of me wanted to believe that it was only me who was so affected.

“Seriously, I don’t know how this man does it.”

“Have you met him before?” I asked.

“Once. I was in Jacksonville, Florida, on vacation. When I found out he had a book signing in Miami, I drove all the way there. That’s five hours each way.”

“Was it worth it?”

I could tell from her smile. “I’d drive a thousand miles more.”

“He was nice?”

“He’s such a gentleman. I mean, the people around him rush you through, but he makes you feel like you’re the only one at the signing. I know he’d sign all my books if I reminded him about Miami.”

“You think he’ll remember? I’m sure he meets a lot of people.”

“He might. We’ll see.”

It was more than an hour later when we were finally close enough to the store to see some action. There were so many people around my author, and they had bent the line around a mall display so you couldn’t see him until you were almost next in line.

As we stepped forward, Kathy squealed. “He’s so handsome. I swear he gets better looking with age.”

That’s when I saw him. He was seated in the middle of a long wooden table with people on both sides of him moving the books. He was bent over, signing a book, so I didn’t see his face right off, but I immediately recognized the shirt. J. D. Harper was Lee from the coffee shop. When he looked up, someone pulled the book from him, while the other woman shoved a stack of open books toward him. That’s when he saw me. An amused smile crossed his face. He winked.

“I’m so nervous,” Kathy said. “Which one of us was first?”

“You go before me,” I said. “You were here first.”

“Thank you. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” I said.

“Next!” shouted a young, ubiquitously tattooed woman.

Kathy walked up to the table with her bag of books. I could see the staff telling her their signing policy, but, as she predicted, he just waved the books on and signed all of them. She was still talking to him when someone literally pushed her away.

“Next,” the tattooed woman said.

I walked up to him with my one book. “Hello, Lee.”

He smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Your book please, ma’am,” a woman said curtly. I handed her my book.

“Is Lee really your name?”

“Lee is my real name. J. D. Harper is my pen name.”

The woman opened my book and slid it to him.

“You know, you could have saved me two hours and signed my book at the table.”

“I could have. But then there was no guarantee that I’d see you again.” He held up his pen. “Would you like this signed to you?”

“Yes, please.”

“Would that be to Leigh or someone else?”

“I go by Beth,” I said. “But you can sign it to Leigh. Since that’s the name that brought us together.” I was talking too much.

A young, pixie-haired woman standing slightly behind him stepped forward. “Ma’am, we need to keep this line moving.”

I looked over at her. “Sorry.”

Lee glanced over. “It’s okay, Carlie. She’s a friend of mine.” He looked back at me. “Are you still not available for dinner?”

I felt embarrassed that I’d turned down his offer. I’m sure that didn’t happen often. “Is the offer still open?”

“It’s open. Even though I’m not happy you want to go to dinner with J. D. Harper and not just Lee. Lee’s a pretty good guy.”

“I’m sure he is,” I said. “For the record, I don’t care about the famous author part. I want to meet the man who wrote those words that saved my life.”

“That was the right thing to say,” he said. “I have a speaking event at seven, so it will have to be early. Would five be too early?”

“I’m flexible. Where should we meet?”

“I’ll consult with my publicist. Give me your phone number, I’ll call when I’m through.”

“Mr. Harper,” the short-haired lady said, “the natives are restless.”

“They’ll wait,” he said bluntly.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I quickly scrawled down my phone number. “Here.”

He read my number out loud, then, handing me my book, said, “I’ll call you.”

“Oh. I wanted to get another book.”

“I’ll bring one to dinner. It’s a guarantee you won’t stand me up.”

“Like that’s going to happen.”

I started to walk away. “Oh, Beth,” he called after me.

I turned back.

“Thank you.”

I smiled as I stepped away from the table. After I was away from the crowd, I opened my book to see what he’d written.

To Leigh,

We’ll always have Starbucks.

JD Harper

It was cute, even though he had horrible handwriting. I wondered if he really would call.