The Christmas Catch

Chapter 4

Chapter FOUR

Bebe groaned as her cell phone rang. The simple ringtone belonged to one person: Will. She stared at the screen as it rang a third time. Did she really have to answer it? Another ring. Answer or let it go to voicemail, girl.

“Hello?”

“Lucille, it’s Will.”

She winced at the use of her given name. No one called her that. No one. Lucille was mere formality, and because her father was an avid B.B. King fan, he’d graced her with the nickname Bebe. Will refused to use her nickname, had thought it low-class. Should’ve been red flag number one.

“How can I help you?” Please help me keep my cool, Lord.

“I’m not going to be able to get Hope up here this Christmas. Angie’s nonprofit is throwing a charity ball on Christmas Eve.” He paused. “It’s a black-tie event.”

“You can take Hope with you. She’d enjoy it.” Which was the truth. Her little girl loved parties and would love to get to know her father. She hadn’t seen him since they moved here. Video phone calls once a year didn’t count. And no matter how many times her ex chose Angie or some work event over their daughter, her little girl refused to give up hope that she’d have a loving relationship with him.

Of course, it could be because Bebe refused to tell Hope about his annual request to see her. One he’d yet to follow through on.

“Ugh. It’s like you don’t even hear me. It’s black-tie, Lucille . You know kids can’t sit still at these types of prestigious gatherings.”

He was so not a good person. How had she ever fallen for him? “Fine.” She took a fortifying breath. “Maybe you could pick her up after the event. Keep her until New Year’s.”

“We’ll be with Angie’s parents. Their place isn’t equipped for kids.”

Why do I even bother? A picture of Hope entered Bebe’s mind, and she made one last attempt. “She doesn’t have to sleep over. I’d be happy to drive her up to Atlanta and occupy myself while you two visit.” Visit. Her lip curled in derision.

“I’m busy . Don’t you get it? You’re the one with the time since you’re a teacher.” There couldn’t have been any more derision if he’d put teacher in an online dictionary with the definition useless .

“Fine,” she snapped. Why did she continue to try, year after year? He hadn’t bothered to see Hope since the ink dried on their divorce papers. Even when they were married, Will had been away from home more than he’d ever been present. It was Bebe who’d attempted to keep their marriage together. She’d been so worried about being labeled a failure that she’d put up with way too much disrespect.

“Thank you.” His words were clipped with annoyance. “Tell her I’ll call her on Christmas.”

“Her birthday is Christmas Eve, Will .”

“I’ll be busy helping Angie, Lucille. Besides, Hope won’t care. Birthdays don’t matter that much at her age. Bye.”

She stared in disbelief at her mobile screen. How could he think the day after Hope’s birthday would be good enough? “Birthdays don’t matter at her age? Do you even know how old she is now?” Her jaw clenched.

Lord, why does that man think he doesn’t have to show up?

Bebe stared at her phone again, hot tears pressing against her eyelids. How long will Hope have to pay for my mistakes? She bit the inside of her lip and sniffed. Tilting her head back, she looked up at the ceiling. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

Three years. Three years since the divorce paperwork had been finalized. Almost eight years since he’d first cheated on her. Why had she stuck around after that? That should have been enough to send her back home right then and there. She was done shedding tears for herself, but her precious girl didn’t deserve his indifference.

A knock sounded at her bedroom door. Bebe glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 9:30 p .m. She blew out a breath, getting rid of any evidence of her sorrow even though Hope might notice anyway. Her girl didn’t miss much. “Come in.”

Hope peeked her head through the door, her little pink silk bonnet covering her hair. “Mama, I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, baby girl, I’m so sorry.” She patted the spot next to her on the mattress of her four-poster bed. “Climb in.”

Hope ran and leaped onto the bed, grinning the entire time. Her gap-toothed smile pulled one from Bebe and made her wonder if her daughter really had a bad dream or just wanted some snuggles.

“Will you tell me about the wise men, Mama? And maybe I could sleep in here tonight?” Her doe eyes looked hopeful.

Bebe turned on her side, facing her sweet girl. “Just tonight.”

“Yes!” Hope grinned, showcasing even more of her missing teeth. Seven was such a precious age. No longer a baby or toddling after Bebe, but not so grown that she distanced herself from her mother.

Whispering, Bebe told the story from memory. It was their tradition to talk of the men who searched for the Child King each Christmas season. Bebe painted a picture of a sky so dark but full of God’s light. How the stars illuminated the darkness, but one in particular was their guide.

“A baby’s a special thing, right, Mama?”

“The best, pumpkin.” She traced a finger down Hope’s face. Her cheeks had thinned out over the years, but that childish joy remained in her green eyes, ones that mirrored Bebe’s own. Lord, don’t let her lose that joy in You.

“But Jesus was extra special,” Hope added.

“He sure was, and the wise men wanted to pay homage.”

Hope’s nose wrinkled at the word. Bebe used it every time she told the story, so her girl was used to hearing the difficult word. She just didn’t understand why adults used big words when there were easier choices available.

Bebe picked the story back up, lowering her voice until Hope’s eyes began to drift closed. Finally, she finished the tale. She closed her own eyes and sighed. Lord, please let her remain full of faith, hope, and love. May she remember You are a perfect Father, even when her dad isn’t. May she always remember the reason for the season. In Jesus’s name, amen.

Bebe stared at the Walker residence from her walkway. Candles glowed in the windows, and the simple white lights outlining the roof brightened the night sky. The wind danced through the trees surrounding the home, which gave the white lights in the trees the appearance of dancing. The porch light illuminated the front door as the porch swing swayed in the breeze. The house seemed to welcome her presence, but knowing who was inside had Bebe hesitating to go any farther.

She clutched the opening of her sweater. Any moment she’d gather the nerve needed to cross her patch of grass and step onto the Walkers’ greener side. Tonight the church’s Christmas committee was meeting with the Reverend and his wife to determine this year’s holiday program. Last year was the first time they had deviated from the Reverend’s tradition of a long sermon. Mrs. Walker had convinced him that times were changing and adapting to the younger crowd would prevent parishioners from leaving. The congregants were always restless when the Reverend decided to become long-winded, but Christmas brought out the worst— or best? —in him.

Last year, they’d separated the children from the parents for festivities. The kids had made Christmas ornaments: stars with Scripture written on them. After service, they’d held a potluck. Everyone had loved the turn of events—well, except for Reverend Walker. He’d stood to the side looking very much like Scrooge. She wasn’t sure why he was so opposed to enjoying life, but considering the small population of Peachwood Bay, going to another church wasn’t an option unless she wanted to travel out of town. However, he wasn’t all bad. Bebe learned a lot from listening to his sermons, even when he went past the allotted time.

But that was neither here nor there. What she needed to do was place one foot in front of the other so that she could help plan this year’s event. So what if she ran into Jahleel? Most likely he’d be holed up in his room.

Yet the idea of seeing him again made her feel like a watermelon with a thousand rubber bands squeezing it. An extra car had been in the Walkers’ driveway when she came home from work yesterday, but now the car was gone. Probably Jay’s physical therapist. Did that mean Jahleel had left as well?

Bebe glanced down the gravel road that served four other homes, all lit up with Christmas cheer. The Cavanaughs’ home had the most decorations, ballooned Christmas figures filling their small yard. Bebe glanced back at her own home. She should put lights up this weekend.

Where was May? She’d promised to show early so they could walk inside together.

The front door of Jay’s house opened. Mrs. Walker rested her hands on her hips. “Bebe, what on earth are you doing standing outside? Isn’t it a little chilly for that?”

Praying God protects me from your son! She offered a strained smile. “Waiting for May.”

“Humph. That child’s never on time. Come on in here before you catch a cold.”

Bebe sighed, tugging her knit cap lower. You can do this. Her short strides carried her across the yard and onto the Walkers’ front walkway in a matter of seconds. Short people are supposed to be slow walkers, Lord. I got here entirely too fast.

Though it wasn’t like the yard was that big anyway. Hadn’t been when they were kids and certainly seemed smaller now that she was an adult. Strange to think of all the times she’d played in the yard with Jay while their mamas had looked on.

“Where’s Hope?” Mrs. Walker asked.

“She’s at Rosa’s for a playdate.” Thank goodness for the kindness of others. Since her parents moved to Florida last year, Bebe no longer had ready babysitters. Then again, she didn’t go out much anyway.

“Oh, that’s good. Come in, come in.” Mrs. Walker motioned her inside, then quickly shut the white front door. “Barbara Ann is in the kitchen preparing some food for us.”

“Great.” Bebe gave a quick peek around the house, looking for signs of Jay.

“Jahleel’s in his room getting cleaned up from his therapy session.” Mrs. Walker smirked.

“How’s that going?” Bebe kept a straight face, hoping not to give away any signs of embarrassment.

Mrs. Walker’s mouth tugged downward. “I hate to see him in so much pain.”

“I’m praying for him.”

“Good.” Mrs. Walker paused, cocking her head to the side. “How long has it been since you two talked?”

“We talked Sunday, remember?”

“No, Bebe. I mean really talked.” The pointed look Mrs. Walker gave her sent flames up her cheeks.

She pulled her gray sweater tighter, wishing she could sink into a black hole. “High school.” For some reason, she couldn’t keep the truth from Jay’s mother.

“Y’all need to fix this rift, or whatever it is.” Mrs. Walker wagged a finger back and forth. “Y’all used to be the best of friends before...”

Exactly. Before she’d fallen for Jay and then had her heart trampled on.

“We’re fine.”

“Oh, really? Y’all used to talk to each other. Every single day. Then y’all go to college and act like you don’t know one another. Uh-uh, something ain’t right. Now, I’m not saying it’s all your fault. I know how stubborn Jahleel can be. He is his father’s son, after all.”

Bebe let out a low sigh as shame filled her gut. She certainly hadn’t tried to bridge the gap with Jay. Instead, she’d buried herself in college life. Then, when Will came along, her lonely heart had blossomed under his attention. Would she have fallen prey to his charms if she’d let go of the hurt and bitterness of the breakup with Jay? Something to think about later.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll give him a stern talking to as well. Just do your part, Bebe. You hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Walker smiled, her brown eyes softening. “Good girl. Let’s go sit in the kitchen. Obadiah is probably there already.”

He would never play football again.

The pain of Ryan’s words crushed him. If it had been any one else, Jahleel would have called them a liar. But Ryan had always been straight with him. His Tennessee drawl had borne no nonsense with his assessment. He’d studied Jay’s medical images and assessed the knee through touch. Instant relief had flowed through Jay’s knee when Ryan removed the immobilizer from his leg. Unfortunately, standing had been its own ordeal. Ryan’s goal was now to get Jay walking without a limp and to prevent any trouble with his left knee due to compensation. Apparently that was the best Jay could hope for.

It’s not fair, God.

He should have had four or five more years before retirement even became a consideration. Plus, this was his very first injury—first major one, at least. You couldn’t escape getting banged up playing football. Despite the uncertainty of his contract negotiations, his agent had assured him that getting re-signed was a done deal. Only now he couldn’t even stand without pain and certainly not without the aid of crutches. Was he supposed to accept the fact that his career was over?

Laughter reached his ears. Had his parents invited more people over for dinner? Could Bebe be out there? The urge to hobble out of his self-imposed exile grew within him. If Bebe wasn’t out there, no worries; he’d simply tell everyone he was hungry. If she was...

You’ll what? Do you really think she wants to resume a friendship, considering how you ended things?

Maybe not, but Bebe was his only friend in Peachwood Bay. The only one he could be himself around and not expect censure.

Jahleel placed his crutches in position, rising on his good leg like Ryan had shown him. He could already feel a difference in his left leg. It didn’t ache from the extra weight but accepted the load. Carefully, he headed toward the sound of laughter.

The glow from the kitchen cast a shadow on the hallway. They must be in the eating area. The smell of fried foods drifted his way. Visions of hush puppies and catfish danced in his head. He hadn’t eaten this much fried food since he was a teenager, back when he could eat all he wanted without worry of gaining weight.

He stepped into the all-white kitchen, and the chatter stopped. Everyone turned to look at him.

“What are you doing up?” Irritation filled his father’s coal-black eyes. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” Those words were a little softer than his initial question. Did his father really care, or was he pretending since they had company?

“I’m hungry.” His stomach growled on cue. Thank goodness his cover became the focal point, because Bebe sat right at the table. Huh. That’s a new table.

Her hair had been gathered into a ponytail. Instead of making her look plain, it accentuated her gorgeous heart-shaped face. And those eyes. The green depths had haunted his dreams since he’d returned home.

“Sure you are.” May smirked.

“I can fix you something to eat, Jay.” Ms. Barbara Ann smiled his way from her position in front of the stove.

“Thanks, ma’am.” He ignored May’s stare and her double meaning.

Ms. Barbara Ann gave him a side hug. “How’s that knee doin’, chil’?”

“It’s a pain, but I’ll live.”

“To God be the glory.” She pointed toward the dining table that fit eight people. “You want fried shrimp, catfish, or both?”

His stomach rumbled. “I’ll have the catfish, please.”

“Fries and hush puppies?”

He grinned. He’d been right. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good to know you didn’t lose your manners in the NFL.”

“He better not have.” His mom chuckled.

Jahleel hobbled toward the end of the table. He stopped, searching for a way to prop up his leg.

“Here.” Bebe stood. “You can use this.” She pointed to her vacated seat. “Do you need a cushion?”

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. His mom smiled, mouthing the words thank you .

“Thanks, Bebe.”

“Sure.” She walked out of the kitchen and came back with a pillow. Carefully, she lifted his leg and slid the pillow underneath it. “How’s that?”

“Good.” Great .

“We were talking about the Christmas program, Jay. Maybe you can stay and offer some suggestions?” His mom’s eyes shined with hope.

“All right.” He thought about what Bebe had said about enjoying the time with his parents. The least he could do was sit here and listen. Anything to make his mom happy.

She beamed and motioned toward his father. “Go ahead, Obadiah.”

“Let us pray.”

Jahleel peeked at Bebe while his father thanked God for their gathering. She was sharing a seat with May, eyes closed. He sighed and closed his own. Lord, please help me remember I’m not staying in Peachwood Bay forever. No way, no how. How easily he’d slipped right into praying again back home. I hope that’s okay, Lord.

“Amen,” his father said.

“Amen,” they chorused.

“I hope everyone brought some fresh ideas with you for this year’s celebration.” His mom shot an extra-bright smile his way and then turned toward his father. “Obadiah, did you have any concerns before we brainstorm?”

His father leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together, resting them on his stomach. “I think we need to remember this is the time to celebrate the birth of our Savior. I think the ornament craft and separate services for the children last year were a bit much.”

“Oh, Obadiah. The people loved it.” His mom looked around for validation.

“I agree,” Bebe spoke up. “The kids had a blast last year, Reverend Walker. I think we should do something similar. All the ornaments had Bible verses, so the reason for the season was still honored.”

His father nodded slowly. Jahleel was kind of surprised he didn’t object further.

“What about a Secret Santa exchange?” Ms. Barbara Ann asked.

His father sneered. “Santa? Barbara Ann, you know how I feel about that.”

“Yes, but the children love it. It doesn’t have to detract from the Lord.”

“Y’all need to stop lying to them.” An air of disgust flew from his dad’s lips.

“Calm down, dear,” his mom whispered. “You promised.”

Promised what? Jahleel watched as the others threw out suggestions left and right. He studied his father, noting the harsh lines etched in his forehead and the parenthetical ones surrounding his nose and mouth. However, the old man’s frown made the most impact. Obadiah Walker detested change. Making ornaments sounded harmless, but it just might make the ol’ man break out in hives. Still, his father remained quiet. Was that what he’d promised his mom?

Something May said started Jahleel’s wheels turning. “What about a ball?”

“A ball?” His mom’s mouth parted, excitement warring for attention with her blue eye shadow.

“A ball?” Bebe’s pert mouth twisted. “What about the children?”

“A family ball. You could have a photo booth and everything. Surely those with kids would love the opportunity to memorialize it,” Jay said, then waited for their opinions.

Shock flashed in Bebe’s green eyes. Then ... was that admiration? His pulse picked up speed.

“Absolutely not.” His father slapped his hand on the oak table. “This is to revere the Lord, not dance the night away with booze.”

“Obadiah, really!” His mother shook her head. “Jahleel didn’t say anything about alcohol.”

“I didn’t, and there’s nothing wrong with dancing.”

“There’s no place to host it.” His father folded his arms across his chest.

“Rent out the town hall,” May suggested. “We already have a decorating committee. They can make sure the town hall is up to par. Of course, the ball would come after your sermon.”

No way would his father skip an opportunity to lecture.

“It’s too excessive.” His father shook his head. “That would cost a lot of money.”

Like that was really the source of his objection. “I’ll foot the bill.” Jahleel stilled. Had he just said that aloud?

Everyone’s head swung toward him like something from the movies. If there had been music, he was sure it would’ve lurched to a stop.

“What?” He shrugged.

“You’d foot the bill?” Bebe asked.

“Sure.”

“The people of His House aren’t a charity case.” His father’s bark rattled his ears. “We can contribute.”

“You know what, that’s a good idea.” Jahleel looked at his father, stretching his mouth upward in a false smile. He’d never let the old man know his digs hit their mark. “We could make it a charity ball. I’ll foot the bill for renting the town hall and anything else that needs purchasing, while the attendees can contribute an offering to go to a local charity of your choice.”

“Oh! What about an angel tree?” Bebe looked around the table.

“That’s a great idea,” his mom said. “However, I’m sure those in need will need their gifts before Christmas. Maybe we make that separate from the ball.”

Nods around the table met her comment.

“All in favor of a ball?” his mom asked.

Hands shot up around the room along with cautious glances toward his father. And it hit Jahleel. He wasn’t the only one who disagreed with the Reverend’s antics. Yet they all stayed and hung around him. Why?

Where else would they go when there’s only two places of worship in town and the other is a Catholic church? Or maybe there was something more Jahleel was missing. Perhaps if he stuck around for the holidays, he’d figure it out.