Jane's
Christmas Memory

Jane peered out the window at the frosty-gray curtain covering the sky that afternoon as Alice drove up the driveway at the Bellwood's farm. Alice parked the Packard sedan in front of the old white Victorian house, and Jane bounced out of the passenger side as soon as Alice turned off the engine. Jane loved visiting the farm. Rose and Samuel treated her like a grown-up, even though she was twelve years younger than Alice. She had to call most adults Mister or Missus or Miss, but not Rose and Samuel. They'd told her to call them by their first names.

Rose let Jane help her in the kitchen and the garden. She'd won first place for her cherry pie at the county fair, and she was teaching Jane how to make a good crust. Sometimes Samuel let her help with the sheep and the other animals around the farm.

Today, Jane was coming to help them build the stage for the Christmas living Nativity they were going to put on at the farm. It seemed like a lot of work to Jane, but if it went well, they talked about doing it every year. Alice had the afternoon off from Potterston Hospital, so she'd picked up Jane from school and driven out here. It was barely three in the afternoon, but the cloudy sky made it dark enough that Samuel had turned on the barn floodlights. As they walked toward the workers, a snowflake landed on Jane's nose. She loved snow. Snow meant sledding on the hill in back of their home. But these flakes disappeared before they hit the ground.

Lloyd Tynan was helping Samuel cut old boards. He was shorter than Samuel, and older. Not as old as her father, but he had to be over thirty, and that, to Jane, was old. And he kept telling Samuel how to do things, as if Samuel didn't know. Jane thought Samuel knew everything about farming and making things. She remembered visiting the farm when he and Rose first moved in, right after they got married. The place was old and run-down, but Samuel fixed everything. The kitchen had been falling apart. He'd torn out the cabinets and made beautiful oak ones with glass doors that showed off Rose's pretty blue and white dishes.

“Hello, Lloyd, Samuel. Jane and I are reporting for duty. Put us to work,” Alice said.

The men looked up and smiled. “Great!” Samuel said. “You can brush the dirt off those old boards, then we'll have some painting to do.” He looked at Jane for a moment. “You know, you could really help with Caleb if you'd like, so Rose can come out for awhile.” Caleb was the Bellwoods' new baby, whom Jane had seen at church several times. “She wanted to come out, but he's sleeping.”

“Oh yes, I'd love that. Thanks!” Jane ran to the car and got her school pack, then ran into the house. Jane loved babies. They were so cute and squishy. She tapped on the door, then opened it and walked in, knowing it would be all right. She almost let it slam shut, then remembered the baby was sleeping and put out her foot to keep it from banging. It was warm and moist inside, and she could smell the rich, yeasty scent of something good from the kitchen. She tiptoed in that direction and saw Rose by the sink.

“Hi, Rose,” she said in a hushed voice. “I'm here to watch Caleb so you can go outside. Samuel sent me.”

Rose turned, and a full smile broke out on her face. “Jane! I'm glad you could come. And that's sweet of you.” She took off her apron. “Your timing is perfect. I just took bread out of the oven. I bet you're hungry. Would you like a piece?”

“Oh yes. Thank you.”

Steam puffed out as Rose cut a generous slice. She slathered it with fresh churned butter that melted as she spread it and topped it with homemade strawberry jam. She poured a glass of milk to go with the slice and handed them to Jane.

“Caleb is asleep, but he might wake up before too long. There's a diaper and powder on the table. Can you change him all right?”

“Sure. I've done it in the nursery at church.” Jane didn't add that she'd had help. Surely she could handle it.

“All right. Yell for me if you need me.” Rose put a log in the wood stove so Jane wouldn't need to tend it. She put on a coat and stocking hat and went out through the kitchen door.

Jane gobbled down the bread, then pulled a Nancy Drew book out of her backpack and curled up in an overstuffed chair next to Caleb's cradle.

She'd never noticed how a baby could snore. It was not a loud sound like her father made, but a soft, gentle sighing sound. It reminded Jane of their cat when she purred. Contented. A lovely sound. Distracting at first, but sweet.

The story drew Jane in, and the baby's breathing faded until she didn't hear it anymore. Just as Nancy Drew was escaping out a window, Caleb let out a cry. Jane nearly jumped, then laughed at herself. She wasn't used to babies. She set the book down and leaned over the cradle.

“What's the matter, Caleb?”

He blinked and turned his head toward the sound. His little fist jerked in the air. He inhaled a shaky breath, then let out a wail.

“Hey Caleb, don't cry. I'm here.” Jane picked him up and held him against her shoulder, patting him on the back. He let out a big, wet burp.

“Oh my.” Jane grabbed the burp cloth that was draped over the end of the cradle and dabbed at his mouth and her shoulder, then tossed the cloth over her shoulder and tucked it under his chest. “There. That should take care of it,” she said, looking down at the baby. He looked back with big brown eyes like his mother's. Then he smiled. Jane smiled back. “You're such a pretty boy.” His head bobbed like he was agreeing, but Jane knew he was unsteady. After all, he was only three months old.

She laid him on the top of a side dresser that Rose had covered with a blanket to make a changing table. A stack of neatly folded diapers was set on the side. Jane unsnapped the one-piece terry cloth footed pajamas and pulled his little feet out, tickling them and clapping them together to make him laugh. He cooed and let out a gurgling giggle that delighted her. Then his feet and hands started pumping the air and he made little grunting sounds.

“Okay, hold still.” She pulled off the one-piece plastic diaper cover, then undid the large diaper pins. Getting it all off was easy. Getting it back on proved a bit harder. He kept wiggling. She put her fingers between the new diaper and his skin, like Mrs. Simpson had shown her in the church nursery. The pins didn't want to go through and she was afraid to push too hard. She didn't want to poke the baby. She worked the tip of the pin until it finally slid through the multiple layers of diaper. As she leaned over him, concentrating on pulling the diaper tight and sticking the other pin through, Caleb reached up and grabbed her hair.

“Ouch. You're so strong,” she said. Just then the pin pushed through and jabbed her finger. “Ee-ouch!”

At her yell, Caleb's face scrunched up and he started crying. “Oh no, don't cry. It's all right,” she said, but he didn't stop. She finished pinning and pulled her hand out. Her finger had a bright red spot on it. She dabbed it on the outside of the diaper, then hoped Rose wouldn't think it was the baby's blood. She managed to get his rubber pants on and tucked his feet back into his pajamas.

“There, there,” she said, picking him up and lifting him to her shoulder, patting his back. He finally stopped crying.

“Much better.” Jane carried him over to the window, where they could look out. It was darker now, but the light illuminated the workers by the barn. Samuel had built a fire in an old metal barrel. Sparks were dancing in the air. She could hear laughter.

“You want to go see what your mommy and daddy are doing?” Jane asked Caleb. He gurgled. She laughed. “Sure you do. Let's see if we can find you something warm to wrap you up in.”

In the dresser drawer, she found a knitted one-piece suit with a hood and feet and hand covers. She bundled Caleb into it. With the hood up, all she could see was his face. She wrapped him in a blanket and placed him in his buggy, which was parked on the enclosed back porch.

“Okay, let's go see what the big people are doing.” Jane put on her coat and gloves, then pushed the buggy out the door and across the yard.

“Well, look who we have here,” Samuel said. He came over to the buggy and peered in. Caleb started cooing. Samuel brushed off his hands and reached in, pulling his son out and lifting him up to his shoulder. His hands were so big they nearly encompassed the baby. “Hey buddy, did you come to help us build this contraption?” Samuel said in his deep voice. He chuckled when Caleb bobbed his head and drooled all over his father's shoulder.

“I guess he isn't too keen on your idea,” Lloyd said, chuckling.

“Guess not.” Samuel grinned and handed Caleb to Rose, who reached out for him.

“I bet he's hungry. I'll go inside and feed him.”

“I changed him, so he's dry,” Jane said.

“Great. Thank you, Jane.” Rose took Caleb and carried him inside, leaving the buggy outside. Jane was struck by how large he looked on his mother's shoulder. When Samuel held him, he looked tiny. But Rose was petite and Samuel was a giant.

Jane turned to Samuel. “Can I help?”

“We're finishing up for the night. It's getting too dark to work. You can help us move everything into the barn. We'll work again Saturday afternoon.”

“Can we come back, Alice?”

“We'll see. I need to help with the flowers at the chapel. Then if Father doesn't need us, perhaps we can come.”

“Okay.” Jane picked up a board and carried it into the barn and stacked it with the others Lloyd had stashed inside an empty stall. In the next stall, a litter of kittens made tiny mewling sounds. The mama cat was gone. “Can I go see the kittens?” Jane asked.

“Yes. They're two weeks old. Their eyes are just opened. They can't really see, but you can pick them up if you're very gentle,” Samuel said.

“I will be,” Jane said, opening the stall gate and going inside. Five kittens were in a box that was nestled in the hay. Jane picked up a tan and white kitten. Cradling it in the palm of her hand, she held it up close to her face. “Aren't you a cutie. So soft. You remind me of the fur muff that belonged to my grandma. I'm going to call you Muffy.” She nuzzled the tiny kitten. It stared at her. Samuel said it couldn't see her, but it seemed to be looking right into her eyes.

The mama cat jumped into the box and let out a meow, letting Jane know she missed her baby. “Hello, Bella,” Jane said, setting the kitten in the box and scratching the mama's head. She'd spent many afternoons holding and petting the gray and white cat.

Bella blinked her eyes, then started bathing the kitten with her tongue, ignoring Jane.

“Don't feel bad,” Samuel said. “She ignores all of us now that she has babies.”

“Oh, it's all right. I don't blame her.” Jane looked around. Puddin', the black-and-white milk cow, was eating her dinner of hay and grain in one stall. Their yearling donkey was rubbing his head against the rails in another stall. Jane went over and climbed the rail gate and reached to scratch his head. He came over and nearly knocked her off her perch.

Jane laughed. “Whoa. Easy, Pesky. There. Does that feel good?” she asked, rubbing around his ears. He kept pushing against her hands.

Samuel dropped a couple of flakes of hay into his stall. Pesky turned away and started munching the hay.

“Samuel, can I be a shepherd in the nativity?”

“Well..” Samuel leaned on his pitchfork and scratched his chin. “You'd make a good shepherd, but I had something else in mind. Something only you could do.”

Jane's shoulders slumped. She wanted to be with the animals. She was good with them. “Oh.” She peered up at him, her eyes imploring him to change his mind.

“I was hoping you could be the angel who announces the baby Jesus. The angel is going to stand way up in the hayloft, so we need someone agile enough to go up in the barn loft, who isn't afraid of heights, and who can recite the angel's lines. I think you'd be perfect.”

She could see that he thought she'd be pleased by the offer. And most of the girls her age probably would consider it the best part, since you probably got to wear a fancy costume. But it sounded boring to Jane. She would much rather be playing with the animals on the ground.

Still, she couldn't turn down Samuel. He was always so nice to her. And when she thought about it, she couldn't imagine anyone else going up to the loft to be the angel. Alice always compared Jane to a monkey because of her tree-climbing skills. And Jane had to admit, she was pretty agile.

“Sure. I'll be happy to be the angel,” she said, and gave Samuel a smile, although she was not thrilled. An angel. Alice would laugh about that.

Samuel smiled and looked relieved. “Let's go inside and see if Rose has some hot chocolate made.”

“Oh yeah!”

Samuel carried the pitchfork to a peg by the big sliding barn door and hung it up. Jane followed him. They went out and Samuel slid the big door shut. He handled it like it was lightweight, but Jane knew better. It was a huge door with wheels at the top that ran along a rail. Jane could barely make it budge. Once it started rolling, it closed all right, though.

Alice and Lloyd were already in the kitchen sipping big mugs of hot chocolate and eating oatmeal raisin cookies.

“Rose is putting the baby down upstairs,” Alice said. “The cocoa should still be hot.”

Samuel got two mugs and filled one for Jane. He went to the refrigerator and took out a bowl of whipped cream. “You do want cream on yours, don't you?”

“Of course! Thanks.” Jane sat at the table and took a cookie. She took a big sip of the cocoa that Samuel set in front of her. She licked the whipped cream mustache from her upper lip. “Mmm. Good. Guess what, Alice? I'm going to be the angel in the nativity.”

“That's wonderful.” She looked at Samuel, then back at her. “You're perfect for the part.”

“Really? You think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

Jane nodded and took a big sip of her cocoa. If Alice thought she could do it, then it would be all right.

“Ouch!” Jane tried to jerk her head away. That was a mistake. It hurt even worse.

“Sorry. But don't pull.” Alice eased her grip on Jane's hair. “I'm almost finished.” Alice wrapped a rubber band around Jane's pigtail. “There. Do you want ribbons?”

“No. I'm too big for ribbons. And do I have to wear a skirt?”

“Yes. I'm not wild about it either, but Florence—Mrs. Simpson—is very particular.”

Jane scrunched her nose. “Do we have to go? I don't even like to do crafts.”

“She's part of the church. As the pastor's daughters, we have a responsibility to support and encourage all the members.”

“She doesn't–” Jane stopped short, remembering her father's reproach to her the day before when she complained about a teacher. “He that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding” (Proverbs 17:28, kjv). It was a verse their father quoted often. Alice had explained that verse to her many years ago. If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all. Their father would not allow gossip or unkind words. He rarely punished Jane, but his disapproval hurt her far more than if he would send her to her room or make her miss dessert.

“Mrs. Simpson is doing this as a treat for the ladies of the church. And she specifically invited you to attend with me.”

“But you don't do crafts either, Alice.”

“I might make a gift for Aunt Ethel or Louise,” Alice said. “Maybe you can make one too. And I'm sure Florence will serve lots of Christmas cookies. She was busy baking last week.”

Jane sighed. “All right. We don't have to stay very long, do we?”

Alice pulled the brush through Jane's hair. “Not too long. Ready?”

“I guess. What's that?”

Alice had picked up a paper bag. “We're supposed to take craft supplies to share. I had no idea what to take. I ran into Clarissa Cottrell at the General Store. She does lots of crafts, and she helped me pick out some materials. We need to take scissors too.”

“Oh. What can we make with this stuff?” Jane asked, peering into the bag.

“I'm not sure.” Alice started toward the door, gesturing for Jane to follow her. “But Clarissa said she will be there, so she can show us. Put on your coat.”

Jane did as she was told, though she moved slowly.

“Good-bye, Father. We'll be back in time to prepare dinner,” Alice said as they passed their father's study. He was working on his sermon for Sunday.

“Have a nice time,” he said, glancing at them over his glasses.

Jane went into the study and gave him a hug and a kiss. He gave her a hug and a peck on her cheek. Jane adored her quiet, studious father. He never raised his voice at her, even though she knew she was sometimes overly enthusiastic. She'd overheard Florence Simpson tell several ladies at church that someone should tell Rev. Howard that his youngest daughter needed discipline and boundaries. The ladies didn't know she was outside the door, and she'd snuck away.

That conversation had bothered her for days. She never told her sister or her father, but she had avoided Mrs. Simpson and the other ladies after that, afraid she would slip up. She never meant to cause trouble. But sometimes it just happened. The thought of going to the Simpson's house made her nervous. She supposed she'd have to face Mrs. Simpson eventually. She would try to be on her best behavior. After all, as one of the ladies had pointed out, her behavior reflected on her father and his ministry. She did not want to disappoint her father or cause anyone to think less of him because of her.

“Jane.”

Jane heard the loud whisper and looked over at the formal living room of the Simpson home. It was a grand home, larger than the Howard home, which was a substantial Victorian. The Simpsons lived in a brick mansion filled with beautiful paintings in heavy, gilded frames and delicate statues and china. Jane was almost afraid to move because she might accidentally bump into something and break it. Tables were set up in the room and Jane recognized the ladies who were chatting and drinking tea, but no one was looking at her.

“Your coat, please.” Ronald Simpson, Florence's husband, was playing butler for his wife's party. He held a wooden hanger in one hand and reached out for her coat with the other.

“Oh. Thank you.” As she removed her coat and handed it to him, she heard her name again.

“Jane. Over here.”

She turned and smiled with relief when she saw her school friend Doreen waving to her from a table in the parlor across from the living room. At least she wasn't the only girl there. And there was an empty seat next to her.

“Alice, can we go in the parlor?”

Alice looked in that direction. “I told Clarissa—oh, she's in there too. Certainly.” Alice gave Ronald her coat and they went into the parlor. Clarissa Cottrell was at the same table with Doreen and her mother. There were two empty chairs, so Alice sat next to Clarissa, and Jane sat next to her friend Doreen. The tables were neatly covered with butcher paper.

“I was starting to worry,” Doreen whispered, leaning close to Jane. “I only came because I heard you were coming.”

“I was afraid I'd be the only girl here,” Jane whispered back.

“Welcome to my home, ladies,” Florence said from the hallway, facing the living room, then turning to the parlor. “I'm so glad you could come. I've arranged the dining room for all the craft supplies, so if you will bring your offerings, I'll explain more in that room. Leave your scissors and other tools at your place.” She turned and walked down the hall.

They had just sat down, but everyone got up from their seats and followed her down the hall, as instructed. About twenty ladies crowded around the large dining room table. Jane and Doreen were at the back. They stood on tiptoes, trying to see, but they were just too short.

“Come over here, girls,” Rose Bellwood said. She was petite—not much taller than Jane. She stood over on the far end of the room. They made their way to her side, and they could see the foot of the table and Florence, who stood behind it.

Various sizes of bowls for the craft supplies were set out on the table. Alice handed Florence their sack of craft supplies, and Florence poured the glitter into one bowl and the sequins into another, and then set the fabric on one end of the table with the other fabrics. Florence held up a beaded star she'd laid out on the table. “Here is one example of a Christmas craft. There are several other finished crafts here that you can look at too. Copies of the instructions are here.”

She pointed to a stack of papers on the edge of the table. “You can take a plate and put what you need for your craft on it, then take it to your table.”

She turned toward Jane and Doreen. “And girls, please be careful you don't spill anything on the floor. The Oriental carpets are quite expensive.”

Jane blushed, but nodded. She knew those instructions were aimed at her. Why had Alice made her come?

Jane waited until the ladies had taken their supplies. Then she approached the table. Most of the crafts were Christmas tree ornaments. A beaded star, a wreath, and a tree. A decorated canning jar to hold a candle. Braided ribbons made into a cluster of colorful loops. A felt gingerbread man and a snowman. A felt-covered cone ornament decorated with sequins.

Jane couldn't decide. What would Louise like?

“What are you going to make, Jane?” Clarissa Cottrell asked as she picked up a strand of gold ribbon.

Jane liked Clarissa. She was older, like Florence Simpson, but she seemed younger than that. She worked with her mother and father at the Good Apple Bakery. She always talked to Jane and asked her about school, and sometimes she gave Jane an extra cookie.

“I don't know. I want to make something for Louise. She likes old-fashioned things.”

“How about the cone? You could fill it with candy.”

“Maybe.” Jane studied the offerings on the table. “But it looks kind of ordinary.”

“I agree. But you don't have to make it out of felt. You could cut it out of the interfacing Alice brought.”

Jane nodded. So that was what that white stuff Alice brought was.

“That would make it stiff,” Clarissa explained. ”Then you could cover it with pretty fabric.”

“Hmm.” There was red and green material and fabric with poinsettias on it. Then Jane spotted squares of silver satin lamé fabric. “Maybe I could.”

Jane looked over the supplies and spotted a bowl filled with tiny, wispy white feathers. That gave her an idea. She picked up a square of the fabric and a pattern piece for the cone. Clarissa showed her how to pin the pattern onto the heavy interfacing fabric. Jane followed her instructions and cut out a triangle. She would roll it up to make a cone. Then she took a piece of thin green satin ribbon, some sequins, and a pile of the feathers and carried them back to the table.

Doreen was already back in her seat, stringing colored beads onto wire. Jane set her supplies on the table and picked up the glue. Rolling the cut triangular shape into a cone, she overlapped the edges and glued them, then held them in place while the glue dried. Some of the glue dripped onto the butcher paper. Jane wiped it with her finger, then looked for something to clean it off her finger. There was nothing around, so she wiped it on the back of the silver lamé.

When she laid out the fabric and cut it to match the pattern, it got a little of the glue on the front. She dabbed at it, then smeared glue on the back and shaped it over the cone. Then, using the tip of the scissors, she poked a hole on each side of the top and strung the ribbon through for a hanger, tying it together in a bow.

“That's taking shape nicely,” Clarissa said from across the table.

“That's pretty neat,” Doreen said. “Better than my beads, although I like the way they shine in the light.” She held up the ornament she'd shaped into a star.

“That's pretty,” Jane said. She ran a line of glue around the open top of her cone and carefully glued the feathers in place along the rim. Holding it up, eyeing it critically, she could see where dots of glue marred the fabric.

“Does anyone know how to draw one of those curlicues on music?” she asked.

“Do you mean a treble clef?” Doreen's mother asked.

“I think so. Like on piano music.”

“Yes. It looks like a backward S with a line down through it, like this.” She drew it on a napkin and handed it to Jane.

“That's it! Thanks.” Jane sketched one on the side of the cone, then glued sequins along the lines.

“Jane, that's beautiful,” Alice said.

“Do you think so? Do you think Louise will like it?”

“Like it? She'll love it,” Clarissa said. “I didn't know you were so artistic.”

Jane smiled, pleased. It was pretty. Maybe craft parties weren't so bad after all.

“Since you girls are finished, clean up your place and you can get some cookies and punch,” Doreen's mother said.

“All right!” Doreen said.

The girls cleaned up and threw away their scraps, then took their extra supplies back to the dining room. Plates of beautiful cookies and candies and a cut crystal punch bowl were set on the sideboard.

There was a stack of lovely cream-colored dessert plates with gold rims and cut crystal glasses for the punch. Doreen filled a plate with a sample of everything and headed back to their table. Jane remembered Alice's warning not to take everything, but to leave enough for everyone else, so she studied the table, trying to decide which ones to choose. They all looked delicious. She had picked a frosted, decorated sugar cookie and a piece of divinity fudge and was deciding what else to take when she heard Alice in the hallway.

“This was a lovely party, Florence,” she said.

“Thank you. I do love to entertain, you know. And I feel it's my duty to share the blessings Ronald and I have received from the Lord.”

“Yes, that is very generous,” Alice replied.

“I understand Samuel Bellwood has appointed Jane to be the herald angel for the living Nativity,” Florence said. “Is that correct?”

Jane's hand stilled, inches from the petits fours, frozen in place as she listened. Mrs. Simpson never said anything good about her.

“Yes, and she will be a wonderful angel,” Alice said. “We're already trying to figure out a costume for her.”

“Humph. You are optimistic. Mark my words, that girl will find some way to disrupt the nativity.”

“No, Florence.” Jane could hear that Alice was struggling to hide her frustration. “Jane has a sweet nature and a kind heart. She is suited to this part, and she will announce Christ's birth in true angelic fashion.”

Jane let out the breath she'd been holding and hoped Alice was right. She did tend to be exuberant on occasion, as she'd heard her father say. She never meant to create a stir, but it happened. Bless Alice for defending her.

As Jane put a petit four on her plate, Alice and Florence walked into the dining room.

“Hello, dear,” Alice said, giving Florence a frown, then smiling at Jane.

Jane was glad she hadn't piled her plate high. Mrs. Simpson had to know she'd heard them talking. She tried to think of something to say. She smiled. “These cookies are lovely, Mrs. Simpson. You sure are a good cook.”

“Thank you, Jane. Do try a fruit tart.”

“Oh, thank you.” She used the small gold tongs to pick up a tartlet and place it on her plate. She took a glass of punch that had already been poured and returned to the parlor, glad to escape.

As lovely and delicious as the treats looked, Jane had lost her appetite. She ate them because it wasn't polite to leave food on her plate, but all she wanted was to leave.

Alice must have sensed her discomfort. She thanked the Simpsons and said good-bye. In a few moments they were climbing into Alice's old blue and white, two-door Packard.

“I'm so sorry you overheard Mrs. Simpson, Jane. She can be critical, but she means well.”

Jane stared ahead out the window and nodded. “She doesn't like me.”

“Oh, I don't think that's true. You know people are hardest on the ones they love.”

“She doesn't love me. She thinks I'm an embarrassment to Father.” Jane felt tears well up in her eyes. She tried to focus on the houses, decorated with holly and evergreens, as they drove through town. “And sometimes she's right.”

“Oh, honey, you never embarrass Father or me or anyone else. Don't believe that.”

Alice pursed her lips together. She looked angry. At Jane? Or at Mrs. Simpson? Jane didn't know, but she didn't want her sister upset. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to get into trouble.”

Alice looked at Jane and smiled. “Did I ever tell you I was a tomboy too?”

“Louise told me you were, but I can't believe it.”

“Well, I was. And Florence Simpson used to snap at me and tell me to act like a lady. And she's only four years older than I am. Don't take it to heart. She had a strict upbringing, and she can't help it.”

“I don't embarrass you?”

“No. Never.” Alice flipped on her turn signal and slowed at a stop sign. Then she eased the car right onto Chapel Road. “Worry me? Now that's different. When I see you standing on a limb at the top of the maple tree, I can't help but have a bit of concern.”

“Oh.” Jane sighed and relaxed back against the seat. “That's all right, then.”

Alice laughed.

Jane held her arms out to her sides, trying to stand still. Alice worked on one side and Rose worked on the other, pinning the heavy white fabric under her arms and down her sides. She was standing on a stool in the middle of the spare bedroom at the Bellwoods' house.

“This looks like my bedspread, only white instead of pink,” Jane said.

“Hold still so I don't poke you,” Alice said.

“It is, or was, a bedspread,” Rose said. “It was in a trunk in the attic when we moved into the farm. It's chenille. Perfect for an angel's robes. And it will be warm.”

“Oh.” Rose had cut the cloth so that long pieces of fabric hung down from the arms like wings. Jane wanted to move her arms up and down as if she were flying. She resisted, waiting patiently for Alice to finish.

“Will I have wings?”

“Yes. Samuel is making a frame out of wire. I'm not sure how we'll attach them to you, but we'll figure it out,” Rose said.

“Turn around Jane. I need to pin the hem in the back,” Alice said.

Jane turned. She could see baby Caleb lying on a quilt on the floor, his chubby little arms and legs pumping the air. He was cooing and gurgling. Jane laughed. He stopped for a few seconds and seemed to be looking around. Then he started again. She was certain he'd heard her laugh and recognized her. He was so adorable.

“That's good for now. Let's slip it over your head,” Rose said.

Jane reached down and started to pull it off.

“Whoa. Wait,” Alice said. “You'll pull the pins out, or get stuck. Let me help you.”

Rose and Alice carefully pulled the pinned robe over Jane's head and off of her arms.

“You did well, Jane. I know it's hard to stand still for so long. That deserves a cup of tea and a scone. I made some fresh this morning. Let's go in the kitchen.” Rose picked up Caleb and his quilt and went downstairs. She put him in his cradle next to the kitchen table.

Jane sat close to the cradle, where she could see Caleb. When she leaned over the cradle and talked gibberish to him, his face broke into a big, toothless smile and he gurgled a happy sound. She tickled his tummy and he giggled and squealed. Jane loved playing with Caleb and drinking tea in Rose's kitchen. She didn't like standing on a stool, holding still for what seemed like an hour, but this made it all worth it.

“Louie!” Jane ran to the kitchen door and hugged her big sister Louise, who was fifteen years older than she was. Louise lived in Philadelphia with her new husband, and she didn't come home nearly enough for Jane's taste. She had come home for Christmas a week early to help Rose and Samuel with the living Nativity. Louise looked fashionable in a black curly lambs wool coat and matching hat with velvet trim. “I'm so glad you're here early!” Jane took her hand to pull her into the kitchen.

“Hello, Jane. My, you've grown! We're almost eye-to-eye. What have you been eating? Some kind of magic beans?”

Jane stood to her full height and laughed. “No, silly. Father says I've had a growth spurt.”

“Indeed you have,” a deep voice said from the doorway.

“Eliot!” Jane hugged her brother-in-law, though with a bit more restraint. He was a reserved man, and it made her pause to think of him as her brother, since he was so old. Fifteen years older than Louise. To Jane, he seemed almost as old as her father. But he fit with Louise, who was very serious and motherly, and he treated Jane with kindness and affection.

“Hello, Jane. I brought you a present.” He pulled a Hershey bar from his suit pocket.

“Oh, thank you!” With her usual impulsiveness, Jane bounced up and kissed Eliot on the cheek, the way she would her father or Uncle Bob. He blushed.

“Louise, dear, shall I carry our luggage up to your old room?”

“It's all ready for you,” Alice said, coming into the kitchen. She hugged Louise, then Eliot. “Dinner will be in an hour. Go get settled and refreshed.”

“We will, as soon as we greet Father. Is he in his study?”

“Yes. Would you like to take him his tea?”

“I would.” Louise removed her hat and gloves and hung her coat on a hook by the back door.

Jane adored her oldest sister and her husband. They were so sophisticated. Jane supposed that was because they lived in a big city. Eliot was a music professor at a college and Louise played and taught piano. Jane had no desire to learn the piano, but she loved to hear her sister play. Now that they were home, their house would be filled with Christmas music on the old piano in the parlor.

When they came down for dinner, Louise had changed into a more casual wool skirt and sweater. Eliot still wore his wool dress pants with turned-up cuffs, but he'd exchanged his wool blazer for a sweater vest. Jane was secretly glad she lived in Acorn Hill, where she could wear pants, except for school and church. Alice disliked skirts too, so Jane had a champion there.

They ate dinner in the dining room on the heirloom blue and white Wedgwood china that had belonged to their grandmother. They usually ate at the kitchen table on a set of dishes with red and yellow roses, but tonight was a special occasion because Louise and Eliot were there. Alice had cooked pot roast and all the trimmings, one of Jane's favorite meals. Jane had helped peel the potatoes and carrots.

Their father prayed before the meal, thanking God for Eliot and Louise's safe travel and for the bounty of their blessings.

Jane sat patiently while the bowls of food were passed, but inside she was bouncing in her chair. Not for the food. Finally she couldn't stand it.

“Louise, I made your Christmas present,” she announced.

Louise stopped, holding a large spoonful of mashed potatoes in midair. She deposited the food on her plate and handed the serving bowl to her father, then turned her attention to Jane, one eyebrow raised.

“Really? I cannot wait to see it. Will you give me a hint?”

“Oh no. I can't do that. But it's all shiny and it has a surprise in it.”

“Hmm. I can't imagine. Oh dear, and now I must wait to open it.”

“Yes, and no peeking. I wrapped it and hid it in my room.”

Louise's smile held mischief. “Now I am tempted. You can't guard your room all the time.”

“Oh no! Promise you won't go in there,” Jane said, a bit alarmed. She couldn't imagine her big sister tearing her room apart looking for the present, but she had tempted her. She couldn't lock the door. The big skeleton key hanging in the kitchen by the back door opened every lock in the house.

Louise placed a finger on her chin and frowned for a moment. “What if I want to help you clean your room?”

Jane thought for a moment. Having her sister help her clean was tempting. But then she'd have an excuse to go in while Jane was at school. Christmas vacation didn't start for a week. “I can keep it clean by myself,” Jane said, unwilling to take a chance.

“Or I might need to get your dirty clothes for the laundry.”

This was getting serious. “I'll bring my dirty clothes downstairs.”

“Well, then, I suppose I won't have a reason to go in your room. All right. I promise.”

Louise didn't smile. She seemed serious, yet Jane thought she detected a twinkle in her eyes. But she promised, so that was good enough. The surprise was safe until Christmas morning, or maybe Christmas Eve. Jane relaxed and accepted the gravy pitcher that Alice passed to her. She poured hot gravy over everything on her plate—meat, potatoes, cooked carrots, and onions and turnips.

“No wonder you're having a growth spurt,” Louise said, chuckling. “I think I'll call you Sprout. You are sprouting up. Keep it up and you'll be taller than I am.”

“I'd like that,” Jane said, shoveling a spoonful of potato in her mouth. “Then I can have your hand-me-downs.”

Louise laughed. “By that time, my clothes will be out of fashion.”

“Oh. I didn't think of that.”

“Eliot, are you able to stay for a chess match tomorrow? The board is set up in the library,” Father said.

Eliot shook his head. “Much as I would love to, I must return to Philadelphia tomorrow after lunch. I have exams to give before Christmas break. But I'll take a rain check. We'll have time for several matches when I come for Christmas.”

“Eliot, will you be back in time for the living Nativity?” Jane asked. “I'm going to be the angel.”

“That's wonderful,” Louise said.

“And a fine angel you'll be,” her father said.

“Alice and Rose are making my costume. I'm going to have wings and everything.”

“Will you have a halo?” Eliot asked.

“I don't know. Will I, Alice?”

“I believe Samuel is working on that.”

“Neat-o. But Mrs. Simpson thinks I shouldn't be the angel. She thinks I'll ruin the nativity.”

Father frowned. “Don't be concerned about what Mrs. Simpson said, Jane. Sometimes she voices her thoughts out loud. That doesn't mean she is right. I believe you are the perfect person to play the angel. You have enthusiasm and a pure heart. Imagine how excited the angels must have been to announce the news that God's Son was coming to mankind to be born as a human. I can't see anyone else playing that part. Have you learned your lines?”

“Most of them.”

“We'll work on them next week after school,” Louise said. “I'll have plenty of time to help you.”

“That'd be great,” Jane said. Although she wasn't too keen on memorizing lines, she knew she had to learn them. She wanted to prove that Mrs. Simpson and the other ladies were wrong about her, and she wanted to make her father and sisters, and Samuel and Rose, truly proud.

“Yoo-hoo! Anybody here?” Aunt Ethel entered the kitchen the next day after church. Her husband Bob was right behind her carrying a box.

“Aunt Ethel!” Jane rushed forward ahead of Louise and hugged their aunt around her middle, nearly knocking her backward into Uncle Bob.

“Whoa. Hello, Jane.” She hugged her young niece back.

“Where's Francie?”

“Francine had a birthday party to attend and the boys are visiting friends. We dropped them off and thought we'd stop by to see Louise and Eliot.”

“Oh.” Jane looked disappointed. She let go of their aunt and stepped back. Her cousin Francine was her age, the youngest of Aunt Ethel and Uncle Bob's children. Ethel was their father's half-sister. Ethel and Bob lived on a farm outside Acorn Hill. They often stopped to visit when they were in town. Louise and her sisters had spent many wonderful afternoons at the Buckley farm.

“Aunt Ethel. Uncle Bob. So nice to see you,” Louise said, hugging each of them. “We're just about ready for Sunday dinner. Won't you join us?”

“We don't want to put you to any trouble,” Ethel said. “We just wanted to say hi.” She took off her gloves and set her purse on the counter.

“We have plenty of food.”

Ethel looked at Bob. He just smiled. “Sure, we'll be happy to join you,” she said, removing her coat. She was wearing a stylish red and blue paisley, long-sleeved A-line dress, which set off her bouffant carrot-red hair and blue clip-on earrings and matching necklace.

“Eliot and Father are in the living room, if you'd like to join them, Uncle Bob. Dinner won't be ready for a few minutes.”

Bob took Ethel's coat and hung it with his on a hook by the door. Then he left the ladies to go join the men.

Ethel took a seat at the kitchen table, crossed her legs, and straightened her skirt, then looked up at Louise. “So tell me how you've been. You are looking fine. I was surprised when Alice said you were coming this weekend. I didn't expect you for at least another week. Are you staying through Christmas and New Year's?” Ethel finally ran out of questions and stopped, looking at Louise expectantly.

“We're doing fine. I came early to help get ready for Christmas. Eliot has to return to the city this afternoon, but he'll be back when classes let out.”

Alice came into the kitchen from the dining room. “Hello, Aunt Ethel. I heard you were here, so I set places for you at the table. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know. Busy as usual,” she said, waving one hand dismissively. “I was in charge of the Christmas bake sale and Santa's visit at the Grange Hall yesterday. It turned out to be the best Christmas event in many years. They've already asked me to head the event again next year.” She held up her hand as if examining her shiny red fingernails.

“That's wonderful. You're so good at organizing things. And I always loved your Christmas cookies,” Louise said.

“I'll be sure to bake an extra batch to bring for all of you to share. I know it's difficult without your dear mother here to make Christmas special.”

“Yes, it is. That's one reason I wanted to come early. Alice is so busy working, she doesn't have much time. I can help decorate and bake and make sure we celebrate with some of Mother's favorite traditions to make the holidays more memorable.

When Jane arrived home from school Monday afternoon, she found Louise and Father in the living room. Father was on a stepladder, holding a tree, while Louise stood back to make sure it was straight. A long string of Christmas lights was draped over the couch and chairs and across the floor. She had to step over them. There were boxes all over the floor.

“You got a Christmas tree!”

“Yes. Father and I went out to Bellwood Farm and they let us cut one in their woods.”

The tree nearly reached the tall ceiling in the corner of the living room. Their mother's rocking chair had been moved closer to the fireplace to make room for the tree.

“That looks straight. Hold it while I tighten the base,” Louise said. She got down on her hands and knees and reached under the tree. “We'll have to snip off some of these low branches to make room for gifts,” she said. She backed out and stood. “There. Let go and let's see if it holds.”

Father released his grip, but stayed on the ladder to make sure the tree wouldn't tilt or fall. It held in place. “Hand me a string of lights, Louise.”

Louise unplugged one strand from the next and handed it up to her father. He wound it around the tree, looping it over and under branches.

Louise handed a strand to Jane.

“Here, Father. Here's the next one,” Jane said, holding it high.

It took five strands to wrap the entire tree, with its full, thick branches. Father plugged the final strand into the wall socket and the tree burst into color and light.

“It's beautiful!” Jane said, clapping her hands together.

“All right, girls. The rest is up to you.” He put his glasses in his pocket and headed toward the kitchen for his usual cup of tea. Father always had a cup of tea in the late afternoon.

“Oh, good. We get to decorate the tree. Alice and I put out a few decorations, but she's so busy with work, we never finished.” Jane opened a box of shiny red and silver balls.

“Tinsel first,” Louise said, opening a package of the long silver strands. “And spread it evenly. Don't dump it on in clumps.” She draped a bunch of tinsel over Jane's hand.

“Shall I get the top of the tree?” Jane asked.

“If you're careful, so you don't knock the tree over.”

Jane climbed to the third step of the step stool. “I'll be careful,” she said, reaching up to drape several strands over the top branches. She had to stretch to reach around the other side of the tree. She felt a little wobbly, so she straightened to get her balance. “There.” She got down and went to get some more tinsel.

“Yes, that looks nice,” Louise said.

Jane beamed. In past years, she'd tossed the tinsel and, according to Louise, made it messy. It was a pretty mess, though. Alice said so. But Alice wasn't as particular as Louise.

Jane and Louise had just finished putting on the shiny Christmas balls when Alice came in.

“How lovely,” Alice said. “I could see the lights from the street as I drove up. Now the house looks like Christmas.”

“But we have a lot more decorations to put up, don't we Louie.”

“Louise,” her oldest sister corrected. “Yes, Sprout, we do.”

Jane giggled at the nickname Louise had given her. She knew her sister didn't like being called Louie, but she tolerated it from Jane. Jane said it to tease, but she meant it with great affection.

“Come on, Alice. Help us finish.”

“I will. As soon as I put my things away.”

An hour later, Louise arranged the antique papier-mâché nativity set that had come from their mother's side of the family on the fireplace mantel. The figures were beautifully detailed and were painted bright colors, from the Magi to the camels and sheep to the stable. All the figures were there except the baby Jesus in the manger. But Jane knew he wouldn't appear until one of them placed him in the manger Christmas morning. After all, that was the day they would celebrate his birth. “Can I put Jesus in the manger this year?” she asked.

Louise turned to Alice.

“Yes, that would be splendid,” Alice said.

Jane clapped her hands with delight. She loved Christmas more than any other time of year. Maybe even better than her birthday. Maybe.

“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold…”

Louise held up her hand. “Stop there. You have the words memorized, but you need voice inflection. Like when I play a piece on the piano. Some passages are soft and others are loud. Some are fast and some are slow. I interpret the music to make it more dramatic, more intense. You need to do that with your voice. Try it again.”

“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold…” She enunciated each word louder than the one before.

Louise shook her head. “That's not quite what I meant. Think about a song you sing in Sunday School, like ‘Only A Boy Named David.' When you get to the part about the stone in the sling, you almost act it out. When you sing ‘Round and round, and round, and round,' you are whirling your hand above your head like you're winding up a slingshot. Then you let go of the imaginary rock. And when you sing, ‘and the giant came tumbling down,' you do motions like you're falling, and you make your voice louder. You tell the story with your voice and motions. When the angel announced Jesus' birth, it was a world-changing, life-stopping moment. For the shepherds and the wise men and everyone who heard about it, life would never be the same. So imagine how the angel announced it and see if you can convey that with your words.”

“And the angel said unto them…” Jane stood very straight. At that point she threw her arms open wide. “Fear not: for, behold…”

Louise clapped. “Yes, that's much better. Pause for a moment after ‘Fear not.' The sudden appearance of an angel would frighten them. They might even try to run away. Then make your joyous announcement.”

Jane recited the rest of her lines. She only stumbled a couple of times. They were down to three days before the living Nativity, so she had to polish her part. “Can I go play now?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I told Carlene Moss and Fred Humbert I'd meet them at the top of our hill to go sledding.” Carlene and Fred were in her class at school. They all played together a lot when they were younger, though now that they were old, sometimes Fred ignored them at school. But when he was away from his friends, he was still fun to play with. “There's just enough snow.”

“All right, but only for an hour. Alice will be home by then and dinner will be ready.”

“Okay.”

Jane dashed out of the parlor, but heard Louise yell, “Bundle up. It's freezing outside.”

As Jane put on her boots by the back door, she heard the sounds of the piano and stopped to listen. Louise was playing classical Christmas music. Jane was pretty sure it was Handel's Messiah. It was one of Jane's favorites, though she loved the Christmas carols too. But this was so beautiful and dramatic it made her heart ache inside. She remembered Louise playing it at church the year before. At the “Hallelujah Chorus,” the choir sang along with her and everyone had stood until it was finished. Hallelujah! That's how the shepherds and wise men must have felt when they heard the angel announcing Jesus was born. That's how Jane wanted everyone to feel when she played the angel and made the announcement. As Louise said, she needed to be more dramatic. Jane wished she could fly, like an angel. That would be spectacular.

The night of the nativity was cold, but clear. Standing in the farmyard, Jane looked up and saw the Milky Way so bright that the whole sky sparkled like a million crystals. She half expected to see one of the stars turn into an angel.

She and her sisters had arrived early. There were only two other cars parked near the house. Oscar Horn and Lloyd Tynan were inside discussing the garlands that stretched across the downtown streets. Lloyd's father was the mayor and Lloyd volunteered to help with town projects. Oscar said the one in front of City Hall was coming down. Lloyd promised to fix it.

Alice and Louise got busy helping with costumes. They laid out a stack of robes.

“Oscar, Lloyd, here are your costumes,” Louise said.

The men came over and put the long, loose robes that tied at the waist over their clothes. Oscar's was a plain brown. Lloyd's was bright red, with gold stripes. He was one of the three kings. Alice helped tie a white cloth on Oscar's head and wrap a red turban around Lloyd's head.

Rose and Samuel came downstairs in their costumes. As Mary and Joseph, they were dressed in simple long robes and head coverings. Caleb had on a warm, one-piece pajama set that covered his hands and feet. Caleb was going to play Jesus.

Rose laid Caleb in his cradle. “Jane, let's get you dressed in your costume. I have it here. It will fit right over your clothes.”

“Okay.”

“First your wings. The straps go across your chest and waist, then you slip your arms through these holes and I'll tie them in the back.” Rose held up the large butterflylike wings. They were covered in a shiny gossamer white fabric and trimmed in fuzzy white fake fur.

“Wow, those are beautiful!” She slipped her arms through the holes and Rose tied the back.

“Jump up and down and see if the wings are secure,” she said.

Jane spread her arms and bounced up and down and ran around the room like she was flying. The wings bobbled, but stayed in place.

“Cool! Can I have these when we're done?”

“I think we're keeping all the costumes so we can do it again next year.”

“Oh. Oh well. It'll be fun to wear them tonight.”

“First step into the skirt part, then hold out your arms.”

Jane did as requested, and Rose pulled the robe up and slipped the full sleeves over Jane's arms, then pulled the robe to the back to fasten. Long panels of sheer material had been sewn to the top of the robe and hung down like shiny scarves to give the costume an ethereal appearance.

“We had to slit the back so it would go over the wings.” Rose buttoned the back together. The costume covered her from her neck to her feet, so her sweater and the warm white tights that Louise had bought for her wouldn't show.

“Almost finished.” Rose held up a white fuzzy ring about the size of a pie pan. It had two stiff wires that were attached to a smaller wire ring. “This is your halo. I have to bobby pin it to your head, so sit on a chair so I can reach.”

Jane sat on a kitchen chair. Rose fastened it securely to Jane's head with half a dozen bobby pins.

“There. Now shake your head.”

Jane held her head erect and didn't move. “I don't want to knock it off.”

“If it's going to come off, we need to find out now, so we can fix it.”

“Okay.” Jane moved her head from side to side.

“Shake it harder.”

Jane shook her head hard. It wobbled and felt like it was coming off, but it held.

“Good. I'll put in a couple more pins to make sure,” Rose said as she stuck another bobby pin on each side. “You're ready. If you want to see your costume, go upstairs to the bathroom. There's a mirror on the back of the door.

“I will. Thanks, Rose.” Jane hiked up the skirt and dashed upstairs. She went into the bathroom and shut the door, then stared, wide-eyed, at the apparition before her. The robes shimmered from the gossamer overskirt. The wings and halo were glorious. No one would doubt she was an angel tonight.

The living room and kitchen were filled with people in costumes when Jane went downstairs. There were shepherds and wise men and other people in long robes and head coverings. She hardly recognized the men in their fake brown and black and gray beards.

“Look,” Samuel said. “We have a real live angel among us.” He winked at Jane.

“A lovely angel,” Louise said. “I wish I had a camera.”

“I have one,” Lloyd said. He held up a camera and told Jane to smile. She turned sideways so he could see the wings. A bright flash went off, blinding her for a few seconds.

Lloyd took several pictures of the entire group in their costumes. “I wish I could take pictures of the nativity, but I can't carry the camera and the box of gold.”

“Harold Moss said he'd come out and take pictures for the next edition of the Acorn Nutshell,” Samuel said. “And now, friends, it's time to get to our places. People will start arriving soon.”

“Great,” Lloyd said. “Let's go break a leg.”

Jane laughed, but it was more nerves than anything. All of a sudden she had the jitters. She tried to think of her lines, but her mind was blank. She knew her costume looked great, but how would she appear if she stammered or worse? She hoped she would be able to deliver a great performance. She followed the others as everyone trooped outside and across the farmyard to the big red barn.

Jane looked up at the sky and gasped. “Look!” She pointed at a shooting star streaking across the sky over the barn. It only lasted a second, but she heard a couple of “Oohs,” so others saw it too. Maybe it was a sign that everything would go well. She hoped so.

Rose and Samuel had transformed the barn doorway into the city gates of Bethlehem. Jane knew the large rock wall around the doorway was made of burlap stretched over chicken wire, then painted to look like quarried stones, but she couldn't resist touching it. It felt scratchy and gave beneath her touch, but it looked real. The big door was open just wide enough to let people go inside. A few strategically placed heat lamps hanging overhead dimly lighted the barn interior.

“Young lady, you must sign in here and state your name and birth date,” a man said as Jane walked in. Jane knew he was supposed to be a census taker, but a scruffy brown beard hid the gatekeeper's face, so Jane couldn't tell if she knew him.

“But I'm not a young lady. I'm an angel. See my wings?” Jane turned around so he could see her set of wings in their full splendor.

“An angel? Never seen an angel around these parts before. But everyone who comes into Bethlehem has to sign in, so the Governor can charge you taxes.”

Jane giggled and signed her name.

She stepped inside the barn and was transported back two thousand years into Bethlehem on the night Jesus was born. Samuel and Rose and the people from church had transformed the old barn into a different world.

There were booths, just big enough for a person to stand behind, on both sides of the wide barn aisle. Some of the actors in the production were playing the part of the street vendors. The booth next to the census taker's was the baker's. Clarissa Cottrell and her mother were setting up their booth. They had a big basket of fresh warm buns that they'd made down at the Good Apple Bakery, one of Jane's favorite places. At least once a week she stopped at the bakery on her way home from school and bought a cookie or brownie with her allowance.

“You may have one,” Clarissa said, holding out the basket.

“Thank you.” Jane bit into the puffy doughnutlike bun and tasted cinnamon and walnuts and honey. So yummy. She licked her fingers as she came to the Inn, which was made from rough, unpainted boards. It didn't look like a place she would want to stay. Cyril Overstreet, the innkeeper, was standing in the doorway. She barely recognized him in the oversized robe and brown beard. He seemed an odd choice to play the part. He was a quiet, shy man, about her father's age. He played chess with her father regularly, and the two men would sit for hours, not talking, just staring at the chess pieces, then making a move once in a while. But there he was in a bathrobe instead of his usual cardigan sweater. “Move along now,” he told her, but he winked. “The inn is full. No room here.” Next to him, his wife, a short woman with rosy cheeks and a kind smile, offered her a small cup of hot apple cider. Jane started to take it, but she heard Louise calling her.

Jane gave Mrs. Overstreet a wistful smile. She hoped there would be cider left after the nativity. She waved at her sister and moved along, but not too quickly. Next was the stable where Mary and Joseph and Jesus would be stationed. They weren't there yet. The wooden manger, where Caleb would lie, had hay in it. There was a blanket folded up for padding. She hoped the straw wouldn't scratch him, but Rose would make sure he was all right.

Jane glanced around and saw Rose holding Caleb, who was wrapped in a blanket, talking to Alice in the next pen. Alice was in charge of the animals. She had to make sure they didn't spook or bite someone. There was the donkey, the milk cow, and several sheep. Jane looked around for the mama cat and kittens. They didn't seem to be around. Jane wished she was helping with the animals, but she supposed Alice was better suited. When Alice was a teenager, she used to bring home strays and take care of them all the time.

“Jane, you need to get up into the loft before people start arriving. They aren't supposed to see you until you appear,” Louise called, beckoning her from farther down near the end of the barn, by the loft ladder.

“Coming.” As she turned, she nearly tripped on her costume, then picked up the front enough to get it out of the way of her boots. She should have worn her slippers that looked like ballet shoes. Boots didn't look very angelic. She sighed and hurried over to Louise.

“I'm ready,” she said.

Louise straightened Jane's robe and retied the bow at the back. After a brief examination, she nodded her head. “You look very angelic,” she said. “Do you remember your lines? Do you want to go through them again?”

“I know my lines,” Jane said. Louise had made her repeat them over and over since she'd arrived in Acorn Hill the week before. It was annoying because Jane didn't get to see her oldest sister very often once she had married and settled in Philadelphia. Reciting Bible verses wasn't her idea of quality sister-time.

“Good. Now you remember what you're supposed to do? When you hear the narrator say, ‘There was no room for them in the inn,' you step to the edge of the loft and recite your lines. But be very careful, and hang onto that post up there,” she said, pointing to a post. “We don't want you falling out of the loft.”

“Don't worry. I'll be fine.” She supposed Louise wasn't around enough to appreciate her abilities. She could shimmy up a tree faster and higher than any of the boys at school, and she could ride her bike with no hands. She'd climbed on the roof of their carriage house once to retrieve a ball that had gotten stuck. Going up in the barn loft was as safe as going upstairs in their home. She hiked up her robe and climbed the ladder. At the top, she looked down and grinned at her sister, who raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.

Jane had plenty of time before her part. The loft was split into two sections, one on either side of the wide aisle that stretched down the middle of the barn. She walked over to the spot above the stable where she would make her appearance and recite her lines. A single light hung above her so the people below would see her when she appeared. But it wasn't very bright. The cast had run through the whole nativity Thursday evening, and it had gone well. The shepherds and their sheep were across the barn and down toward the front in a pen, waiting for their cue. When she appeared and recited her lines, they would rise up and go down to the stable.

Jane had tried to make her lines sound exciting, but she didn't think she succeeded very well. She was perched so high above everybody, she hoped she could get their attention. Would she be loud enough for all of them to hear her? She needed a bullhorn or a whistle. But angels didn't carry whistles, as far as she knew. And angels wouldn't hang onto a post. An angel would float in the air above the crowd.

Looking around, Jane saw stacks of hay and a pitchfork. She looked up and spotted a rope hanging from the center of the barn ceiling. It looped over to a hook on the wall, where it was held by a big knot. She made her way over and examined the rope. It was thick, like a rope swing. There were two knots where someone could hold on and swing. She wondered if Samuel and Rose had used it to swing or if it had been there before they moved to the farm.

She went back to the edge of the loft and looked across to the other side. It was only about twelve feet away. The loft on the other side of the barn looked the same as the side she was standing on. There were bales of hay, but they were stacked against the back, so there was room to stand on the edge.

Suddenly, Jane had an idea. It was perfect. An angel wouldn't just stand there and hold onto a post. If the angel was truly excited, like Louise said, the angel would show it. Everyone would be so surprised.

Jane kicked off her boots, so it would look like she was in bare feet, although her feet were white from the tights. She heard a commotion, and all the players hurried to their stations.

“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed,” a deep voice boomed out. Jane knew it was Clarissa Cottrell's father, and he was down near the barn entrance, but she couldn't see him. He was reciting the Christmas story right out of the Bible. Jane knew it well, because her father read it out loud every Christmas morning.

“And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city,” he continued. “And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.”

Rose and Samuel walked slowly down the middle of the barn from the front door to the inn. Jane looked around to find Caleb. Louise was holding him down by the stable.

“And so it was,” the announcer continued, “that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.”

Mary and Joseph stopped in front of the inn and the innkeeper turned them away, but the innkeeper's wife led them to the stable.

Mary and Joseph settled in the stable and Louise carried Caleb over and handed him to Rose—er—Mary. Jane could see some of the action right beneath her as she peered down through the slats in the loft floor. She saw the manger and the top of Mary's head covering, where she sat holding the baby Jesus.

Rose placed Caleb in the manger. He was all wrapped up, so only his face was showing. Squinting, Jane could see him. He looked straight up and smiled, as if he could see her way above him. But it was dim and Rose said he still couldn't see clearly. Still, his smile seemed aimed at her. Just for her. She smiled and waved back at him.

At that moment, she realized that was her cue. The baby Jesus was laid in the manger. Without thinking, she rushed over and pulled the thick rope off the hook, grabbed the rope with each hand just above the knots, ran toward the edge and launched herself across the open divide to the other loft. As she swung over, she heard gasps of surprise. Exactly what she intended.

Jane looked down and tried to make out the faces below her, but she was moving so fast they were all a blur. She managed to let go of the rope with her upper hand and to drop onto the loft near the edge. She teetered for a moment, but got her balance. Still hanging onto the rope with one hand so she wouldn't lose it, she turned to face the startled crowd. She saw Harold Moss holding a camera, pointed at her, just as a flash went off. For a second, it blinded her. She blinked a few times, then the crowd reappeared, but she couldn't make out anyone's face. Father was there somewhere. She looked over toward the stable. Her vision cleared. She could make out Samuel and Rose staring up at her. Alice was leaning out from the animal pen, looking up, and Louise was standing next to her. Their mouths were open and their eyes wide as they all stared at her.

“And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid,” the narrator boomed. “And the angel said unto them…”

Jane threw her arms open wide, still holding the rope for her return trip.

“Fear not!” She paused for dramatic effect, just as Louise had coached. “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you. Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”

The shepherds pushed their way through the crowd, leading the sheep by leashes. “Please let us through. We want to find the new baby. Did you see the angel? Have you seen the baby? Excuse us.”

Jane could hear the bleating and baaing as the sheep protested.

“Can I pet him?” some child asked.

“Me too,” another said. Jane knew how they felt. She loved to pet and play with the sheep, when they would let her. But she wasn't finished. She waited until the shepherds made it through the crowd and were standing right beneath her. They looked up, away from her, since she was on the wrong side of the barn. And now the stable wasn't beneath her. It was on the opposite side of the barn, under the other loft, where she was supposed to be standing. The shepherds looked around, then spotted her and turned toward her. Now she had a predicament. She had to get the crowd to turn back around so they could see the baby Jesus. First she had to finish her part.

Taking a deep breath, she shouted, “And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

Everyone was watching her. She reached up and grabbed the rope above the knots, as before.

“Jane, no!” Louise yelled, but it was too late. She kicked off, sailing back toward the other side. But as she swung her legs forward, her feet caught in the hem of her dress. If she let go, she wouldn't be able to land on her feet, and might not even make it into the loft. Jane held on, and the rope swung back away from the other side of the loft, and she swung gently, suspended above the crowd.

Ahs of alarm rose from beneath her. Her feet were at least a yard above the heads of the tallest people in the crowd.

“Hang on, Jane. We'll get you down,” some man shouted.

“I'll get a ladder,” another voice said, and he moved toward the door. She didn't know who it was, but she couldn't hang there. The nativity play wasn't finished. She had to get out of the way, so the play could continue. Besides, she could do this. She'd swung on rope swings before. No problem. So she kicked out with her feet and got to swinging. It took several kicks and swings to get close enough to the loft in back of her to push off. She swung across, then back, then across, gaining momentum.

“Jane, stop. We'll get you down,” someone called out. A woman. Maybe it was Mrs. Overstreet. But she couldn't stop. She was nearly there. Each time she swung, she heard murmurs and words of alarm. She knew she wouldn't drop, but they didn't know how good she was at swinging from trees. A couple more swings, and she could get over to the other loft and out of sight. Then they would be facing the stable.

“Jane, let go. I'll catch you,” a deep male voice said.

Jane recognized her father's voice. Oh no! She would knock him flat if she let go. Her feet were free of the robe now. She swung backward at full speed and bent her knees, ready to connect with the loft edge. When it was just beneath her, she kicked off as hard as she could and sailed toward the other loft.

As she got close, she realized it was higher than the other side. Or the rope was longer. She didn't know what was wrong, but it was above her feet. She swung her feet forward to get on top of it and missed, crashing into the edge with her shin. Her body propelled forward. She reached out and grabbed the upright support and her upper body flopped over the edge. She scrambled to grasp hold on the loft and got her fingers around the edge of a floor plank. Letting go of the rope with her other hand, she grabbed the floor and clung to it, stunned. The breath was knocked out of her, and her legs dangled over the side.

Caleb let out a cry. She must have startled him, poor baby. He stopped for a second, long enough to take in a deep breath, then he began to wail. Jane felt like crying along with him. But at least he had announced his presence and everyone could turn their attention back to him.

Jane had experience getting out of embarrassing situations. She knew she had to move quickly. She wiggled her body and inched up onto the loft. There were gasps beneath her. She heard a rip. Felt sharp pain in her leg. No time to think about that. She scrambled up and out of sight, then lay on the hay-strewn plank floor, trying to catch her breath.

“Jane?” came a voice from below.

“I'm okay,” she said, not at all certain it was the truth, but the show must go on. “Please forget about me.”

There were a few moments of silence, then her father said, “Let's continue.”

“And it came to pass,” the booming voice of the narrator said, “when the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds hastened to Bethlehem and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.”

Saved. Jane rolled over on her back and tried to sit up. It hurt. Everything hurt. Especially her leg. She looked down. Even in the dim light, she could see a long rip in her white tights and blood all over her leg. It stung and ached like the dickens. And she was mortified. She'd ruined the nativity. She'd let down Rose and Samuel and Louise and Alice and Father. She'd wanted so badly to be the best angel ever, but she'd failed. Her wings were all bent up. Her halo was hanging askew. The beautiful gossamer costume was ripped and bloody. Jane pulled herself across the hay to a corner behind a stack of hay bales, where no one could see her.

Curling up in a ball, Jane covered her face with her hands. She could feel the wetness of the tears streaking down her cheeks. Burying her face in her arms, she wept as the nativity continued beneath her. She heard the three kings arriving, asking the way to see the newborn king.

“Jane, where are you, sweetheart?”

It was Father. She didn't want him to see her, but oh, how she wanted to cry on his strong shoulder. She heard him making his way across the loft. Then he was bending over her.

“There you are. Oh, Jane.” She heard his sigh, but wasn't sure if it was resignation at his wayward daughter or relief that she was all right. He dropped down onto his knees beside her.

“Are you all right? Let me see your leg. I know you hit it hard.”

Jane rolled halfway over and tried to stretch out her leg so he could see. He wiped her tears with his handkerchief. Then he looked at her leg.

“It's hard to tell if you broke it, but you have a nasty cut,” he said. He dabbed at it with his handkerchief.

Jane flinched. It hurt so bad.

“It has stopped bleeding, but it will probably start again when we move you. I need to get you down and out of here and take you to the doctor.”

“No, Father, please. I don't want to mess up the nativity any more. I'll stay here until it's finished. I'll be all right.” She tried to smile. She brushed away tears with the back of her hand.

He looked into her face for a moment, then sat down in the hay, his back against the bales. “I'll stay with you.” He gently gathered her in his arms, careful not to hurt her leg.

He was wearing his second-best white shirt and his best wool sweater. Jane was conscious that she was about to ruin his clothes, too, but he held her close, and she couldn't resist. She curled up against him and let her tears flow, choking back sobs so no one else could hear her.

“I'm s-sorry. I ruined everything again. I d-didn't mean to.”

“Sweetheart, you were the most amazing angel I've ever seen.” She looked up at his face, trying to see if he was serious. “Really?”

He smoothed her hair back away from her face. It was sticking to her tears. “Truly. And the nativity is almost over. Then we'll get you out of here.”

“Okay.” Jane closed her eyes. The leg was throbbing hard now. She pressed her lips together and tried to listen to the rest of the nativity.

She must have dozed off. Next thing she knew, Alice was bending over her leg. She pressed her fingers against the bone and Jane cried out. She couldn't help it.

“Sorry,” Alice said. “I've got to see if it's broken.”

She felt up and down the bone just above and below the cut, then pressed right against it with their father's handkerchief. Jane bit her lip so she wouldn't scream.

“I don't think it's broken. We can't do stitches on the shin. The skin is too tight. I can make butterfly bandages. I have my nursing bag in the car. I'll go get it and we'll clean you up.”

“Let's get her down from the loft first,” Father said.

“I think we should get it bandaged first,” Alice said. “Moving her first will start the bleeding again.”

“All right. We'll wait here.”

Alice went back to the ladder and descended. Jane could hear her talking to the others.

“Is she all right?” Jane recognized Rose's voice.

“She has a nasty scrape on her shin, but otherwise, I think she's all right.”

“I told you she would figure out a way to ruin the nativity,” Jane heard, and couldn't mistake the voice of Florence Simpson. As much as she hated it, Mrs. Simpson was right. She had ruined it.

“That's not true,” Samuel's voice said. “Jane was a fine angel. No one will ever forget her announcement.” Jane heard him laugh.

“I suspect it was my fault,” Louise said. “I coached her and told her to create an emotional experience for the audience.”

“She certainly did that,” Rose said. “I think she's a natural actress.”

“She's a natural hoyden,” Florence said.

“Florence, let's get out of here and let these people take care of what they need to do,” Ronald Simpson said.

“I just wanted to help,” she objected.

“Yes, dear.” Their voices were fading. Jane was glad. She felt embarrassed enough without having to face Mrs. Simpson. She didn't want to ever face her again.

“I've got to get my medical bag,” Jane heard Alice say.

“How can I help?” Louise asked.

“I need some clean, damp cloths.”

“We'll use clean burp cloths. I have plenty of them,” Rose said. I'll come with you and take Caleb inside. He's so tired.”

“He was a wonderful baby Jesus,” Louise said.

“He was, wasn't he? And while you get Jane fixed up and bring her down from that loft, I'll make some tea and cocoa. Bring her in the house and she can rest while you all get ready to leave.”

“I'll rig a sling,” Samuel said. “That'll be the best way to get her down without hurting her.”

Alice returned in a few moments and climbed up to the loft. She spread a clean receiving blanket beneath Jane's leg, then cut away the torn white tights.

“This is going to sting, I'm afraid, but I've got to clean it up. Hold still.” She wiped the leg with a damp cloth, then dabbed and wiped the wound with cotton soaked in alcohol.

“Ouch. That hurts,” Jane cried, trying to keep from jerking her leg away.

Alice looked more closely. “It's hard to see in this light, but I think you're full of splinters. I can't get them out now, though. I'll have to do that at home. For now, I'm going to bind this up.”

Alice smeared antibiotic ointment on the cut, then covered it with gauze. She cut butterfly bandages out of tape and stretched six of them across Jane's shin, pulling the skin together. Then she wrapped Jane's lower leg with an Ace bandage.

“There. That should hold it for now.”

Samuel appeared up the ladder with a canvas sling and rope. Jane had seen it before. Samuel used it to hold the sheep when he weighed them.

“Lloyd and Cyril are down below ready to help. We'll lower Jane in the sling.”

Samuel spread the sling on the ground, then Father carefully set Jane in it.

“We're going to tie you in, so you can't fall out,” Samuel said. He threaded rope through rings in the edge of the canvas and pulled it taut, then knotted it.

“Ready?”

Jane nodded.

“Rev. Howard, if you'll take that end of the rope and wrap it around the post once, so you can control it, I'll take this side and we'll lower her down. Just take it slow. We need to be careful not to bump her leg. And Jane, hold on, and no swinging.”

“I won't. I promise.”

“Good. Ready?”

“Ready,” Father responded.

As the sling slowly lowered, Jane could hear two men talking in the stall where Alice had been with the animals.

“Good thing you saw that lamp hit the hay,” one said. “How did it happen?”

“The angel kicked it with her foot when she landed against the loft. It was hanging from a wire hook. It came off and went sailing into a pile of hay. I had my eye on those lamps, since we had so many people in here. I was afraid some kid would bump one, and I'm supersensitive to those lamps since that fire over at the Walden place last week. Burned the barn to the ground. It started from a heat lamp. They run hot and that hay is dry.”

“Well, it was a kid. Jane. I heard about the Walden place. Bad luck. Gotta be so careful.”

“Yeah. Their barn wasn't full of people, though, and that hay was already hot when I got to it.”

“Phew. Then I guess you just saved some lives.”

“Naw. It wasn't anything.”

“Not true. If I haven't told you before, it's great to have you back.”

“Thanks, Mr. Horn.”

“Call me Oscar.”

When she was nearly down, Jane looked over to see Oscar Horn talking to Derek Grollier, who had just returned from the war in Vietnam. From the sounds of their conversation, she nearly had burned the barn down. That was worse than any bump on her leg. Jane felt terrible. All their friends. Baby Caleb and Rose and Samuel and all the people from town and her own family and all the animals. The thought of what could have happened crushed her. Did Samuel and Rose know? Had Samuel and Father overheard? Had Lloyd and Cyril heard the men talking? If not yet, surely they would all find out. She needed to make amends, but she didn't know what to do.

After they set Jane in an overstuffed chair with a footstool to prop up her injured leg, the men went back to the barn to finish their work. Alice took another look at her leg, which had started bleeding again, and Louise helped Rose in the kitchen. Rose brought an ice bag, which Alice placed over the wound on Jane's shin. Louise brought a cup of hot cocoa for Jane, but she couldn't drink it. She couldn't get it past the lump in her throat.

She started to cry.

“Does your leg hurt?” Alice asked.

Jane sniffled and shook her head. “I ruined the angel costume you made,” she said. “It was so beautiful.”

“Don't be upset about the costume. We can always make another one. I'm more concerned about your leg. I think you'll be all right tonight. You could have a hairline fracture, but it doesn't appear to be broken. I'll take you to the hospital tomorrow so you can get an X-ray and have a doctor look at it.”

“I'm all right, Alice. It's just a bruise. You don't need to take me to the hospital. It'll be fine by tomorrow.” Jane didn't know if that was true, but she was determined not to cause any more trouble. Why had she thought she had to fly across the barn?

Rose went upstairs to put Caleb to bed. Father came in. Lloyd and the others had left. Samuel was still in the barn, finishing nightly chores.

“Let's get you home, Jane. I'll carry you to the car,” her father said.

“I can walk, Father.”

“Perhaps you can, but this time, I will carry you.”

Though he spoke with a gentle voice, Jane didn't argue.

Alice helped her put on her coat. Then her father lifted her into his arms. He was tall and strong, but Jane felt silly. She was twelve—too big to be carried. She put her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder. She was so tired and her leg had begun to throb again. She needed to talk to him and to Rose and Samuel and apologize, but it would have to wait. She didn't want to delay too long, or she would lose her courage to face them. Perhaps tomorrow.

The next morning, explaining to the doctor how she had injured her leg embarrassed Jane all over again. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Swinging from that rope up into the loft should have been easy. She had swung from trees, branch to branch, before. She still needed to apologize to Samuel and Rose and Father, and that thought made her stomach ache.

“You are fortunate,” the doctor said after he'd seen the X-ray. “The bone is bruised, but not broken. Your sister has taken good care of you, getting the wound clean and bandaged. I want you to keep the leg raised and keep ice on it for a couple of days, and stay off of it. When you have to move around, use the crutches until the swelling goes down. Walking on it will hurt for a couple of weeks, but you can resume normal activity.”

The doctor wrapped Jane's lower leg, from the ankle up to her knee, with an elasticized bandage. “This will help the blood flow away from the injured site.” He looked at Alice. “Rewrap this every day as needed.”

Alice nodded. Jane knew with Alice taking care of her and Louise at the house, she would not be able to get out and play. She would have preferred a cast. At least then she could collect signatures and draw pictures on it. A bruise wasn't as exciting as a broken leg. Jane knew she was in for a boring time. At least she had one more Nancy Drew book from the library to read. She would have to read slowly.

Jane was sitting in the parlor in an easy chair, her leg propped up on an ottoman and pillows. She loved hearing the fire crackle and pop and the flames dance in the fireplace, but sitting still was harder than she'd expected. She felt like an invalid, and wasn't happy about it. She supposed her confinement was just penance for ruining the living Nativity and nearly burning down the Bellwoods' barn. Guilt was gnawing at her stomach.

Louise had brought a tray with tomato soup and crackers for lunch. She'd tucked a towel under Jane's chin as a bib. She ate, though she wasn't hungry. She had finished and the tray was still on her lap. She wanted to get up and take it back to the kitchen so she could read her book, but she wasn't supposed to get up, and she didn't want to upset her sisters or bring attention to herself. She had caused enough trouble.

Jane heard voices coming from the kitchen. Friends usually parked in back of the house and used the back door.

Louise appeared in the doorway. “Jane, look who's come to see you? Oh, let me get that tray out of here.” She swooped in and lifted the tray and towel. Rose and Samuel Bellwood were right behind her. Samuel was carrying a portable bassinet with a handle. He'd made it out of wood, and Rose had lined it with a pad and quilts. Caleb was sound asleep in it. Samuel set it down between two chairs.

“Have a seat,” Louise said. “I'll put this in the kitchen and make tea.”

Jane heard Louise announce their visitors to their father, who was in his study.

“How are you feeling, Jane?” Rose asked. “We heard the good news that your leg isn't broken. But I'm sure it hurts.”

“It's not too bad,” Jane said, blushing.

Samuel stood when her father entered the room.

“Good afternoon,” Father said. “How nice of you to stop by to cheer up our Jane. It's rather quiet around here. Not much entertainment for an invalid.”

“I don't need to be entertained, Father. But I'm happy to see you,” she said, turning to address their guests. In truth, she had dreaded facing them. Now she must. Especially with Father there.

“I brought some custard for you,” Rose said. “It's rich, with fresh cream and eggs. My mother always made it whenever one of us kids was hurt or sick. I believe it helped us heal faster. In any case, it's a treat. I made enough so you could all have some.”

“Thank you,” Jane said. “I love custard.” Jane smiled to cover up her distress and hoped no one would notice. She didn't deserve Rose's kindness.

Alice and Louise came in carrying the teapot and a tray with cream and sugar and Linzer cookies that Louise had made for Christmas.

Louise gave Jane an odd look when she passed up a cookie and a cup of tea. When everyone was served, Jane cleared her throat.

“I am sorry,” she said, hanging her head and almost hoping no one would hear her.

“What did you say, Jane?” her father asked.

She looked up. They were all staring at her. She cleared her throat again. “I—I…” She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry that I ruined the living Nativity and almost burned down the barn. I wanted to make the angel's part rememberable.”

Rose shook her head side to side, but didn't speak. Samuel leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his large hands fisted against his chin. He didn't frown or smile—just listened. Alice had on her nurse look—concerned and nodding with sympathy. Jane knew that look well. And Louise sat back and listened with one eyebrow raised. No frown. No smile. Nothing to indicate what she was thinking. Jane looked at her father. His head was bent slightly to one side. He was watching her and listening. His expression gave away nothing, but his eyes held kindness, and that was her undoing. A tear leaked out the side of her eye. She rubbed it away with the back of her hand.

“I shouldn't have swung on the rope. But I knew I could do it. I've swung on lots of ropes before. I won't do it again.”

“Jane, you didn't ruin the nativity,” Rose said, reaching her hand out toward Jane. “You made the announcement with clarity and a great deal of enthusiasm. Then you got everyone's attention turned onto the stable, and you disappeared from view. That was the angel's role, and you did it well. Although the flying through the air part was unexpected, it was what an angel would do. I admit I was concerned about you. Your leg hit that beam hard. I could hear it.”

“Apology accepted,” Samuel said. “But you don't need to promise not to swing on ropes again. Although please don't try it without having someone examine the rope.”

“Thank you. I won't,” Jane said. “But I heard that I knocked down a lamp and almost started a fire. If Derek Grollier hadn't seen it fall..” Jane shuddered, thinking what could have happened.

“That was my fault for hanging the lamp so close to the where someone could bump into it. I know better. And I talked to Derek. Thanked him. He'd been looking for work since he got out of the army and came home. I guess word got around about his quick thinking at the barn. This morning the fire chief offered him a job with the fire department and they're going to train him. He said it was odd the way things worked out. He'd been applying for jobs and praying for something to open. He's very excited about getting the job.”

Jane exhaled. “That's good. I'm glad. He's real nice and treats me like I'm his age, although I know he's a lot older than me.”

“Yeah, like almost my age,” Alice said.

“And mine,” Rose said, smiling.

Their smiles lifted some of her guilt, but she glanced at Samuel, and he wasn't smiling.

“Jane, I went into the loft this morning. I hadn't paid attention to that rope before. It was dark in there last night, so you wouldn't have seen, but today the light was streaming in through the cracks in the walls. Where it looped over the roof beam, the rope was rubbing against a big spike. I gave it a little tug and the whole rope came crashing down. Why it didn't break under your weight last night…” He shook his head as if in disbelief. “I don't know. The slightest weight should have snapped it. Doesn't make any sense to me. You could have been—probably should have been seriously hurt. But I thank the Lord you weren't.”

Rose's smile vanished. Her face paled. “Samuel, you didn't tell me.”

“I knew you'd be upset,” he said. “But Jane needs to know how dangerous ropes and barns can be. I'd have had a hard time forgiving myself if something had happened to you.”

Or someday to little Caleb, Jane thought with horror. If she hadn't swung on it, Samuel might not have noticed it until it was too late. She had felt completely secure on the rope, until she couldn't swing hard enough to reach the loft. She had wiggled and tugged, never considering the rope might be old and frayed. She looked to see her father's reaction.

All the color had drained from Father's face. He closed his eyes a moment and sighed. Then he looked at her.

“My dear, impetuous Jane. You have such enthusiasm for life, I have wondered more than once how your guardian angels can keep up with you. Perhaps you weren't the only angel in the loft last night. The Bible says in Psalms 91:11-12, ‘For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.'

“Father, do you really think an angel protected me?” Jane considered it for a moment. She remembered how bright the stars were the night before, making her think of angels. She remembered the shooting star that streaked straight at the barn.

“I don't know, Jane. I can only tell you what the Bible says, and what I see. This isn't the first time you have avoided dire consequences. Last night you were saved from serious injury, and the barn was protected. Someone must have been watching out for us all.” He shook his head. “Do take pity on those poor angels, though.”

“At least they get a few days to rest while you are off your feet,” Louise said.

“I love the thought of angels visiting our barn and protecting us all,” Rose said. “When I think what could have happened…” She shuddered, then looked at Jane and smiled. “But it didn't. I am very thankful for such a wonderful night for our living Nativity. I heard lots of people enjoyed it. And I am going to believe that our living Nativity had a real-live miracle.”

Jane looked around, wondering if an angel was watching now. Father was right. From now on she would be more careful. Angels were mighty powerful, but she didn't have to make them work so hard.