2
Tires crunched on driveway gravel. Pepper secured a garland of green and silver in the corner over the doorway between living-to-bedroom. She peeked out the window, recognized Foxx, and unlocked the door. He stood from the passenger side with a covered container, which he balanced in one hand, and then reached to grab a sack off the seat.
He lifted his hands one at a time. “Hey, I brought you the best lasagna around as a welcome to the town. Eat it now or later. But I’ve had lunch and wouldn’t mind sharing dessert.”
She found no words, but stepped aside so he could enter.
“Wow. Uh. Christmas in October?” He stopped in the middle of the empty living area.
It could look worse, but the room was furniture bare. Only a wooden chest for a coffee table, an oak rocker holding a red and green throw and a Christmas pillow sparkling with “Silent Night” woven in golden thread. Various Christmas items covered most of the dividing island.
“My house. My decorations. Never had Christmas as a kid. I always said I’d have trimmings year-round if I ever owned my own home.” Why did she feel an explanation was needed? Suddenly self-conscious, Pepper didn’t know what to say or where to look. Her home, and her Christmas in October, were none of his business.
“Seriously?” A crinkled frown replaced his smile. “No Christmas as a kid?”
She gave a lopsided shrug. “I don’t know you well enough to answer the reasons behind those kinds of questions. But, no. Never a tree or Christmas celebration that I remember.”
“Wow.”
Pepper bit her cheek to keep from laughing, though it was a delicate subject.
He shook his head and scanned the green and red once more. “I’d scratch my head, but my hands are full.”
“Oh. I apologize. Thank you. Uh. I’ve eaten, so the covered dish can go in the fridge.” Her hand was filled with white and red geometric-shaped dangling baubles that made them both laugh. “Let me put these down first.” She drew the looped strings off her fingers and piled the items on the wood chest.
“Allow me.” Foxx was careful not to dislodge the plastic lid from the plate as he held onto the small sack with his other hand, and carried it to the fridge.
“I approve of your bright and sunny kitchen.” He pulled two pint-size containers of ice cream from the paper sack. “Knew a kid who lived here years ago. I remember wild floral wallpaper. Spoons?”
She pulled open a drawer and handed him one.
“Since I don’t know you, I have a vanilla and one with chocolate chunks. Preference?”
“Chocolate chunks. My mouth is already watering.” Ice cream would go on her next grocery list.
He slid his gaze around the open space, and then motioned for her to sit in the breakfast nook.
“You know I have a sister. I haven’t seen my parents since I was seventeen. What about the rest of your family?”
“I also have a sister. Kitten is ten years younger.”
She swallowed a huge bite of cold delight that zinged right to her brain. At least the chocolate was a tiny rather than big chunk. “Kitten? As in a fox and kits?”
“Heard it all. Mostly that my last name should be den because an underground burrow is where foxes live.”
“Well, I like the ring of Foxx and Kitt. Believe me, we’ve heard remarks about our names as well. Such as, salt is pink but no one had ever heard of pink pepper.” She took a small bite, let the creamy vanilla and chocolate melt on her tongue. “What about your parents?”
“My mom, Goldie, uh, left when I was quite young.” He swallowed. Shuffled his feet. Was there more to his story? “My Dad’s name was Judson, people called him Judd. Mom thought it clever for us to have the double consonants in our names. Anyway, Dad died with mesothelioma not too long ago. He gave me his house here in town, and I’m still cleaning it out. Kitt will be coming soon to finish with the paperwork and his private stuff. Some weeks are so busy at work that I don’t get much else done.”
“Plus, you’re keeping a couple donkeys company.”
He nodded, offered a half smile. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me why you never had Christmas. The world has made it profitable.”
Some people probably thought that. And a good thing, because she was on the lookout for any ornaments and decorations at a fraction of what they originally cost.
They paid attention to savoring the cold deliciousness and didn’t talk much more.
Foxx licked his spoon and stuffed the lid into the cardboard container. “Next time I treat you with chocolate, I’ll get caramel for myself.” He took his waste to the open container near the sink and touched a cardinal-shaped liquid soap dispenser. He tapped the tuft on its head. “But it makes me sad that there’s more emphasis on buying and gifting and Santa than the real meaning of Christmas.”
She took his statement as a question. “The baby Jesus.”
“Right.” He leaned against the counter with ankles and arms crossed. “I don’t see a manger or nativity scene amongst all your do-dads.”
A nativity must be biblical characters. “For now, there isn’t enough room to display what I want to. I keep checking antique shops for a complete set of figurines but I’m always reminded they aren’t all there. A shepherd or sheep or king or even the baby. Pieces are often missing.”
One of the corners in the living area would be perfect for a curio cabinet. She had saved almost enough money to purchase a selected oak piece in one of her favorite thrift stores. But a couch and dining table came first. Pepper had worked every Christmas for double pay from age fifteen to twenty, at grocery or gas stations. She’d still do it if her current employer was open holidays.
Now Christmas could surround her all year round, with or without furniture. Maybe someday she’d shop in regular stores rather than junk shops. But people threw away perfect goods. For her gain.
It took an extra push to secure the lid on her ice cream container. “I’m not used to eating a whole pint, so I’ll save this for later. Thank you.”
As the freezer door sealed, it dawned on Pepper that she was relaxed. Odd, and uncharacteristic not to be nervous over the anomaly of a man in her private space. There was just something about Foxx that was unobtrusive, though right now he crowded her kitchen, where they leaned against the counter. She was genuinely curious about how normal families functioned, but was not comfortable barraging him with questions. It was bad enough that he’d badgered her.
That must be the way people got to know others, by asking questions. Her work line was so noisy at the motorcycle plant, even with ear protection, that her ears still hummed during breaks from the raucous. Others talked all they wanted, but it took no effort on her part to tune them out.
Was it questions and answers that developed into friendships? She’d never had one. Only Pink for conversation. Their parents sure hadn’t conversed with them, but bossed them around and drilled into them not to trust anyone. Especially the government.
Foxx straightened, gave his endearing heh-huh chuckle. “I’d best be off. If you don’t have a church home, I’d be glad to take you with me next week.”
A church home? What was that? Pepper barely noted buildings with steeples as she drove by. They were just landmarks to her. Maybe going to church was something normal families did?
~*~
Foxx had been interrupted by thoughts of Pepper for a whole week. He’d seen her drive by at the same time each afternoon except Thursday, while he was still in Lincoln. She hadn’t been at the donkey pen when he showed up, probably due to their schedules.
He ran a finger over his parents’ wedding picture, and set it back on the mantle. Pepper’s question of his parents drew thoughts and feelings he wanted to ignore. Especially remembering Mom and the guilt that followed. But here in Dad’s house, it was harder than ever to keep too busy to think about the fact he was an orphan now. Could grown men even be considered orphans?
He stared at the image of his mother. The loss of Goldie Haven had created a huge void in his childish heart that he’d carried into manhood. She had done him a gigantic disservice by telling him she didn’t want to live because of him—and never sharing a reason.
What had he done to her? The mystery remained.
Months before Mom died, she’d refused to look him in the eye. If he got too close, she flinched away before he touched her. He wondered far too long if her death was somehow his fault. Mom never told him why she’d treated him in such a way. The shame and anger grew foggy over time. At around twenty-one, ten years ago already, he thought he’d put it behind him.
Then he became a workaholic. Always found something to keep him busy.
But guilt rose its ugly head every so often, mostly when he wasn’t working. That’s why he loved his job, where concentrating on details and tools occupied his mind. Let those fix-it tasks pile up, he thrived on busyness. A problem task had taken him to the day before, but not this Sunday.
No more sad reminiscing. He pulled his focus from his mother. Fred was supposed to be home late tonight, so Foxx was responsible to feed the donkeys twice more. He raced out of the house to his bicycle and pedaled onto the street. The dawn was rosy colored. Laughter broke out on his ride to the donkeys’ enclosure. There was no way to describe the little ones’ brays. Rather than a familiar hee-haw from a regular donkey, these two minis squeaked on the inhale. A distinct foghorn sound roared from their mouths on the exhale.
Why were they making such a racket?
The answer for all the excitement scuttled across her backyard and up to the fence, where Rex and Rhoda waited for Pepper. Had they called her out of her home?
Rhoda was a female true to form. Her bray more feminine, lighter than Rex’s. They were both humorous. She made half the noise Rex poured forth.
Why wasn’t Pepper laughing? Her beautiful smile greeted him, though. “I can’t figure out what they sound like. A cross between a pig’s grunt and a rooster crowing?”
“I don’t know how to describe it either. But I’ve never heard that sound from Rex before. I think you’ve won his heart.”
At that instant, Rex let loose again, eyes on Pepper the whole while he wheezed in and croaked out.
She laughed, a sound as musical as twittering birds.
“If it’s a quiet day, the whole town can hear these two. I guess God’s the only One who knows those donkey sounds. After all, He made them.” Foxx swirled a hunk of Rhoda’s mane. “I’m thinking Rex has taken to you, and this is his special greeting just for you.”
“I have no idea what to say to that. I’ve never had a pet. These two are warm and loving. They’re funny. And they make me feel good. What a way to meet the day.”
“Come on, let’s feed them. Hope that quiets them down, but they’ve probably awakened the whole town by now.”
He taught her how to section off a square of prairie hay from the rectangular bale. She only put two thirds of the piece in the feeder, held out an offering in each hand. Pepper gave a rusty sounding chuckle in response to the donkeys’ acceptance. Their gentle lips must have tickled her fingers.
Foxx grabbed a shovel and cleared manure from the lean-to. Then he ran over and joined the mêlée. He coaxed the donkeys to run and play tag with him. Pepper got in on the fun, and the four were soon panting from their rambunctious romp.
Pepper flattened a hand on her heaving chest. “I worked up a thirst. Join me?”
“Woman after my heart.”
They said good-bye to the animals and didn’t say much as he wheeled his bike to her side door, where their relaxed pace came to a halt.
“Any special plans for the rest of your Saturday?” He studied her practiced motions as she set out glasses and filled them with orange juice. “Would you like me to stop by Sunday and pick you up for worship with me?”
Pepper scrunched up her face, stared out the window. “I don’t know. I’ve never been.” She secured the stovepipe hat lid on a snowman cookie jar and then turned with a drink offering. She spoke to his chest. “You’ve mentioned God a couple times. I didn’t grow up knowing anything about Him.”
He swung his free hand in a semicircle. “You surely realize God sent His Son Jesus as a Christmas gift to all mankind.”
She shrugged in response and shot him a sideways glance. “Do I have to wear anything special?”
Yes! He mentally shot a fist in the air.