Mac barreled down the pike in his car, taking turns too fast and downshifting the car so hard it shuddered. He slammed the coupe through its gears, not caring what road he took or where it led him. The stereo was up so loud it thumped in his chest. Taking his anger out on the road ahead of him, he drove recklessly, half hoping someone would pull him over and arrest him like the jerk he was. It wasn’t until he missed a turn and sent the car skidding into a gravel-spitting spin that he pulled his temper back into check. He sat there, turned the wrong way of a deserted intersection, panting from the effort of holding the car through its spin, and let his head fall sharply against the steering wheel. It had all gone horribly wrong. Somewhere in the beginning of this mess he’d had good intentions. He’d run for mayor not only to push Middleburg toward its future, but to make up for his past. To prove to himself—and, he now realized, to Howard—that he wasn’t that angry teenager anymore.
But he was.
Everything had been lost in the never-ending sin of his short temper. Even the morning after the steeple fell, he’d never felt so utterly worthless. He banged the stereo knob with the heel of his hand, silencing the music to hear the echo of his own misery. He’d been so full of pride. So convinced of his ability to make the world a better place. And now look at you. At what you’ve done. Lord, I wouldn’t be half surprised if You washed Your hands of me right this minute.
His cell phone rang. He ignored it.
It rang again. On the third time, he fished it out of his coat pocket to see Gil Sorrent’s name on the screen. Here we go.
Gil didn’t bother with a greeting. “Where are you?” He knew. Mac could hear it in his voice.
Mac didn’t even know. He looked up, squinting at the route signs. “About a dozen miles out of town, I suppose.”
“Did you do it?” There was no need for any clarification of details. Mac knew exactly what Gil was asking and why.
“Yes.” Mac wiped one hand down his face and groaned. “I’ve messed this up something fierce. I don’t know what to do.”
“Come to the farm.”
Gil was right. The office was no place to go now. “Sure, in twenty minutes, tops. But I think I’d better drive a little slower than I have been.” In some sick desire to feel as bad as possible, he asked, “Who knows?”
“By the time you get here, probably everyone. Howard ain’t much for being subtle when he’s mad.”
Mary’s imagined lynch mob had come to life. Her overblown fear about people’s conceptions of her Bippo Bear involvement would get mixed in with their justified anger over his secret, and the whole thing would get tumbled together in a Christmas nightmare. “Mary…”
“Emily’s on the phone with Dinah now, sending her up to Mary’s apartment to stay with her until we all figure out what to do next.”
What to do next? That didn’t really need a lot of planning. Mac had to stand and face the music, that’s what happened next. There was an odd, almost hysterical freedom to having the whole process ripped from his hands. Mac was smart enough to realize he had very little control over how things played out from here. It could be everything from a touching reconciliation to a lawsuit to being run out of town—Mac resigned himself to whatever God handed him as a consequence for his actions.
Mary, however, was another story. She’d brought none of this on herself. She was working through a highly emotional issue in the best way she knew how. God was clearly at work within her, and he’d made it all worse instead of offering the help he’d intended. Faith was still a new underpinning for her life—it had caught some tender part of him to watch her reliance on God grow. He’d barely realized how much he’d come to care for her.
That is, of course, until he hurt her in the worst possible way. He’d always been able to smooth over his outbursts with a clever remark, a funny story, or even a prank to bring people back onto common ground. A hundred clever comebacks would never save him from this betrayal. He’d known that God had trusted him with the precious secret of Mary’s situation. Known the delicate nature of her new faith and her new place in this community. And he’d done it terrible harm.
The fact that Howard goaded him into it wasn’t even close to an excuse.
Mac wasn’t surprised to see Pastor Dave’s car in the drive in front of Gil’s house. Nor was he surprised to see the look of supreme disappointment on Gil’s face when he opened the door. Gil said nothing, just nodded and ushered Mac into the huge den. Before its massive fireplace, Mac remembered, was where Homestretch Farm conducted all of its most serious business. Well, thought Mac, this qualifies.
Pastor Dave looked tired. “This isn’t fair to you,” Mac offered as he took one of the large leather chairs that circled the hearth. “I’m sorry.”
Pastor Dave took off his glasses and ran a hand across his eyes. “I’d much rather have heard this from you.” Mac could only imagine Howard’s rendition. He started to give his version of the story, then thought better of it. Whatever evils Howard had ascribed to him, he probably deserved them.
“I had planned to tell you…next.” It sounded so weak, even if it was true. “I thought Howard needed to hear it first. It was his car that was damaged, after all. It was a terrible decision to keep this to myself all these years.”
Emily entered the room, carrying mugs of coffee for the group. “Why now? What made you bring this up two days before Christmas?”
“It was Mary, actually.”
Gil looked up as he took a mug from Emily. “Mary?”
“She was so terrified about what you all would think of her when you knew about the Bippo Bears. The secret was making her crazy. At first I just wanted to help, to let her know everyone has things they hope no one finds out. Then I realized I wasn’t much better. It was like God used her as a mirror to hold up against my own secret—if that makes any sense. I thought if she could see me survive mine, she’d know she’d survive hers.”
“What’s Mary got to do with Bippo Bears?”
Mac was not going to open his mouth. He was not going to heap more onto his whopping pile of betrayal, useless as it was now. He looked at Pastor Dave, silently asking him how much should be said.
“Mary’s job before she came to Middleburg was with an advertising agency. Mary is the person who wrote the Bippo Bear jingle. She feels personally responsible for all this nonsense going on over these bears. And she’s pretty sure you all won’t think too highly of her when you find out.”
Gil and Emily exchanged surprised glances. News of Mary’s supposed “sins” hadn’t reached them yet evidently. “That silly Bippo Bear song? The one in the commercials? That’s Mary’s?” Emily asked, taking a mug for herself and sinking into a chair.
“It’s a dumb song and I’m sick of it, but how is it her fault?” Gil inquired.
“Her job,” Mac explained, “was to write a song kids could sing to their parents that would get stuck in their heads. To create that kind of ‘I want it’ fever so parents would do whatever it took to get their kids a Bippo Bear for Christmas.”
“It worked,” Gil replied. “I hate that song and I don’t even have kids.” He paused a moment before adding, “yet.”
Emily looked between Mac and Pastor Dave. “He knows. Actually, except for Dinah, we’re the only four who do. Oh, and Mary—I told her when she cast me as Mary.”
“Her boss basically charged her with writing a song that would incite parents to riot,” Pastor Dave described before taking a sip of his coffee. “She did her job. Actually, it’s part of why she left advertising altogether. Once she came to faith, that sort of thing stuck in her craw. I admire her—she took a big risk to act on her convictions.”
One I failed to take for years. Mac chided himself silently. “She’s miserable. She saw the way we’ve been trashing the Bippo Bear people—come on, everyone’s been harping on them, even me. I mean, I paid big bucks for one of those things for my nephew and I told folks I was steamed they were in such short supply. You couldn’t find one anywhere, and that made them easy scalping. And then when the fights were shown on television, what was she supposed to think? That we’d all compliment her on a job well done?”
“She’s supposed to think that we’re smart grown-ups who know the difference between an advertising campaign and a toddler tantrum.” Emily replied sharply. “I’m embarrassed. Do we come off that judgmental? Does she really think we’d hang her over Bippo Bears?”
“Maybe not hang her,” Pastor Dave clarified, “just fire her off the church staff. And, I’m afraid, she’s not too far off the mark. Howard ain’t exactly a bundle of mercy at the moment.”
“Why on earth did you tell Howard about Mary and the Bippo Bears?” Emily asked, making Mac feel even lower than he already did.
“I wasn’t supposed to. Howard just…was Howard.” Mac relayed the whole argument, how Howard called him a coward, a “poor reflection of the community’s fine character” that should “never be allowed to run for office,” which goaded Mac into a few choice remarks about Middleburg’s character, which led to how they’d made Mary afraid for her secret, and so on. “He pushed my buttons and I got stupid,” he said as he concluded his account of their argument and how Mary walked in at the worst possible moment. “I ought to know better than to let Howard get to me like that. I hurt her and I have no excuse for what I did.”
“Howard,” Pastor Dave said while he sighed, “feels the church had a right to know before we hired her. He feels betrayed, and worries all this bear ridiculousness will reflect badly on the church.”
“I’ll tell you what will reflect badly on MCC,” Emily replied. “If we treat her like some kind of criminal just because she used to do what she used to do—that’ll reflect badly on the church. I can’t believe people think like that!”
“I can,” Gil admitted sadly. “I overheard folks in Deacon’s Grill the other day. People are steamed about all the press these bears are getting. They keep running ads even though no one’s got any more to sell. Can’t say I haven’t thought the same thing, but I wouldn’t take it out on Mary personally.”
“She doesn’t know that,” Mac revealed. “She has no way of knowing that.”
“I think,” offered Pastor Dave gently, “that we’re getting off the topic of what to do about you, Mac. You’ve got a serious issue on your hands. If anything, you may be a blessing to Mary, taking the focus off her.” Mac hadn’t thought about it that way, but it didn’t help much.
“Stuffed animals aren’t exactly the same level of seriousness as deliberate vandalism to a church,” Pastor Dave continued. “And a car.”
“Howard’s car,” Gil reminded the room, although Mac surely didn’t need reminding. “He could press charges, I suppose, but I would think the statute of limitations has run out by now.”
“Are you ready, Mac, to stand up and deal with this?” Pastor Dave asked Mac with seriousness in his eyes. “To everyone? Tonight?”
“I have to. I don’t really see how this can wait until after Christmas.” This’ll go down as my worst Christmas ever, Mac thought to himself. “We need to deal with this now. Tonight’s a good as any, although I think it’ll blow any chance of rehearsal clear out the window.”
“Well, then,” Pastor Dave continued, standing up, “I think it’s time for God to show up in big and mighty ways.” He set down his mug with a nod of thanks to Emily and reached for his coat. “I think it’s high time I go check on Mary.”
“Tell her I’m sorry,” Mac relayed, catching the pastor’s elbow.
“I think you ought to do that yourself. You two have a fair amount to work out before either one of you come to rehearsal, I’d say.” Dave checked his watch. “It’s two now, so why don’t I tell Mary you’ll come by at around four?”
Mac nodded, just as his cell phone went off. “I have a feeling that’s Ma,” he guessed, reaching into his pocket. It was. These days, the only thing that could outpace his car was the speed of small-town gossip. “I’d better get over there.” He extended a grim hand to Gil. “Start praying. I think God’s about to take me down a peg—or six.” He leaned down and gave petite Emily a peck on the cheek. “Congratulations,” he spoke softly. “I haven’t had a chance to say that yet. I’ll try to straighten out my act by the time the little fella gets here. If you’ll still have me.” It stuck in his throat with an unexpected lump.
“Nonsense,” Gil objected, leveling a serious look right in Mac’s eyes. “God’s just gettin’ started on you—I expect big things on the other end of this mess.”
“See you tonight,” Emily vowed, squeezing Mac’s hand. “We’ll be there. Promise.”
“Mary, talk to me. We’ve got to talk about this.” Mac had been outside her door for ten minutes now. A more mature woman, someone with years of solid faith under her belt, might have been able to open up that door to the man who’d betrayed her worst secret, but Mary was not there yet. She looked at her dining room table, where the envelope from her parents’ house lay open. Thornton had sent hard copies of four different e-mails. Four different media outlets asking for interviews with “the creator of the Bippo Bear jingle.” He’d mailed them, along with a Christmas bonus and a personal note asking for her return to Maxwell Advertising, to her in care of her parents even though she knew he now had her Middleburg address. It was a masterful manipulation—wrapped in loyal employer language that would coddle her parents, but letting her know he could go public at any moment. Mary knew the only reason he hadn’t was that the mystery somehow served his purpose. The duplicity of it all made it worse than the outright blackmail she’d suspected from him.
Which made Mac just like Thornton. She’d allowed herself to believe she could expect loyalty from Mac, and instead he’d done the one thing he knew would hurt her most. No, she couldn’t open the door and face that man. He’d hurt her worse than anything Howard could have said, because she’d allowed herself to care about Mac. She looked at the paper with the circle diagram as it sat next to Thornton’s clever note, remembering the tenderness of Mac’s voice as he said, “Right underneath you, same as always,” and she wanted to crumple the thing and send it into the fireplace to burn. “Go away,” she said to the door with as much strength as she could muster, then she walked into her living room and turned up the stereo loud enough to drown out any persuasion he might try next.