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Her calendar was a brain dump minefield. Appointment stickers overlapped and sharpies covered them, only Kat deciphered the insanity. Even her mind rebelled against the cluttered days and events to come. The first official Christmas Pageant meeting had plagued her waking hours for weeks. After the craft store debacle, the whole thing sprouted darkening undertones. She almost heard the warnings of a nefarious pipe organ every time she thought about Christmas.
“Sam, Jess, where are you guys?” Keys in hand, she stalked up and down the stairs hunting her reluctant children.
The garage door peeked open, revealing a sheepish Sam. “Mom, you already sent us to the car.”
“Did you grab your backpacks?” Down she fell, pivoting on her injury without thought, and crashing onto the couch. Sam rushed to his mother. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Just a ding dong. Let’s go.”
Fifteen minutes early, Kat waited outside the fellowship hall. Bailey Family Fellowship Christian Church was never desperate for activities or club meeting.
The B.F.F. quilting club tucked away their thread and hoops. It would be a while before they exited the room. Kat’s nervous shifting drew Sister Jacqui’s attention. Jacqui was the head of the Quilting Club, the Caring Crocheter’s club, and the Muffins for the New Mother’s Ministry. Jacqui handed off a square to her partner in crime, Sister Rene, and hustled in Kat’s direction.
“Uh, oh. She’s not wearing her happy face.” Kat jumped. Her own anxiousness distracting her, she had not heard Flora’s approach.
“Definitely not.”
The double doors pushed open propelling Sister Jacqui into her prey. “Have you been taking fabric from the craft closet?”
Way to sugarcoat it. Kat admired Sister Jacqui’s directness, she despised small talk. The handicrafter’s frankness was legend throughout Pottersville. It was a wonder to witness but not a thrill to receive.
“No. You left donations on the stage. Just as we agreed.”
“Thanks for them.” Always trying to diffuse any negativity before a situation arose; Flora interjected with a smile which both women ignored.
“Well, I don’t know.” Sister Jacqui tapped her foot near Kat’s healing toes. “We’re missing two quilts. Finished ones at that.”
“Have you checked with the Compassion Crew? Deacon Andrew and Aimee were looking for blankets for the youth mission.”
Jacqui waved an arthritic hand at the suggestion. “I already gave them theirs. We’re a week away from the Senior Center Christmas. There are ten new residents. We need ten new quilts. There are only 8 in the closet.”
“I know nothing about that. I keep our families away from any of the other rooms as best as I can. And I only take what you’ve given me.” The foot-tapping intensified. “I realize they’re a lot of work. But couldn’t you just replace the missing ones? What are you working on right now?”
The sound oozing from the seamstress’ mouth concerned her listeners. Was the woman choking or just that disgusted with Kat’s suggestion? It was impossible to tell.
“We don’t just piece together our quilts! We plan them for each individual. We pray over them, and each woman contributes her particular skills on each finished product. These quilts we’re working on now are for spring. They do not have the appropriate color schemes nor batting for winter months.”
“I haven’t seen any wayward quilts. What do they look like? Just in case I stumble upon one.”
“Mr. Patterson’s is mainly green. With a flying geese pattern.”
“There are geese on his quilt?”
“Don’t be stupid. Flying geese is the pattern in which the fabrics are blocked. The main color theme is green. The prints are buck silhouettes and pine trees. Mrs. Brewster’s quilt is pale pinks and blues with a crossword puzzle fabric.”
“I’ll do what I can. I’m busy myself. But I’ll keep on watch.” Sister Jacqui sniffed, smiled, and sauntered toward her awaiting club members, leaving the doors to the fellowship hall swinging in her wake.
“Prayer time, and then we go inside.” Flora clapped and guided all five children into the nearest Sunday school room.
✽✽✽
Lydia set out to answer a random inner nudging. She needed to check on her favorite student before leaving the country. Seeing Ivy would set her mind at ease and allow her to travel without worry hovering over her heart.
Once at the run-down house, Lydia rang the bell, knocked on the screen, and peeked through the window. There was no sign of Ivy Hooper. Even Ivy’s little pink car was absent from the street.
Crumpled beer cans littered the porch swing. An eerie sense of worry hollowed her stomach. The sensation amplified when she spotted a midnight blue Honda patrolling the block. She waited through five rotations, heartbeat increasing with each pass. Though she was running late for the pageant panel, she couldn’t make her body move from the porch.
However, on the sixth turn, Lydia saw the driver slow, in front of Ivy’s house. When he hit the corner, she launched off the steps, jetted to her car and raced as quickly as possible to the highway. Paranoia knotted at her shoulders as she drove like a crazed teenager back to her sleepy hometown.
✽✽✽
Christmas pageant discussions were docile, but there had been years where they had instigated near uprisings. They kept children out of the planning and political side of Christmas. Kat wished the same was true for her.
When Pastor Dean asked for volunteers, three Sundays in a row, with no responses, Kat decided to step in. Thad disagreed with the choice but only halfheartedly.
“What would Christmas in Honey Pot be without a Pageant?” He pondered aloud one night as the couple snuggled on the couch to enjoy a police drama. Kat had boosted herself up on dark chocolate and Christmas cheer before walking into Pastor Dean’s office.
“It’s a huge undertaking,” He stated, guiding Kat to a comfy leather chair. “It’s not one that will be easy nor will it be easy on family life. It fills up the calendar the instant the season starts.”
“We homeschool. We work around crazy scheduling every day.”
Pastor Dean’s eyes were kind with a questioning and half-hidden sadness. Kat now understood the reason behind such emotions. “I’m aware you homeschool. A lot of our members do. What I’m suggesting is you take the next few days and consider it. Christmas is a season for family and reflection. I strongly believe a couple should undertake this task. One without school-age children.”
Challenge accepted. Kat heard her heart rebel but disregarded it. She was not only going to sign up for this mission, she would crush it!
“Not to worry. We’re good.”
“It’s not just our congregation involved. Many of the Church of Christ members attend and take part. Several school children from Bailey Elementary want to join the fun. You have to schedule around all the other seasonal Honey Pot activities.” Kat realized all these facts. She’d lived here for years. Her family helped with the pageant for the last three.
She scoffed at her naivety as she stood before the pageant committee. Discussions covering costuming, the history of Christmas, instrumental music, raged, and subsided. It was time to announce the stars of the play. Mary and Joseph. These customarily went to the planner’s children. Kat had the qualifying genders in her household. However, only one of them did not suffer from extreme stage fright. That left Mary, the coveted role. Out of hospitality and community, Kat set herself the goal of encouraging a girl from the Church of Christ to be Mary.
The girls lined up awaiting approval and hoping to make the cut. Flora watched, attentive to Kat’s distress. Each girl received a number, and each girl took turns explaining why she wanted the role.
Kat had taken Lydia’s advice and assigned the judging to a panel. Hobo Joe, Pastor Dean, Preacher Steve, from the C. O. C, Principal Diane from Bailey El, and Lydia who was late, made up the panel. Waiting for tardy Lydia, the girls all under the age of 11 shifted on their toes and whined in turn. One red-haired girl erupted into tears and exited the line in a whirlwind of arm flailing and sobs.
Flora tamed the rest of the crowd by handing out completed practice schedules and appropriate costuming. “Shouldn’t there be more angels?” One mother interjected. “I mean ten? It’s supposed to be a throng of angels rejoicing. Not a handful of angels.”
Angel roles went to the shy and the young. Most angels were freshly potty trained, and only half of them ever made it all the way down the aisle to stand before the shepherds. Kat felt Flora’s wince as her glance flickered her direction.
“Well, we only have ten costumes.”
“Make more. There are a lot of families with preschoolers. They all deserve to take part.”
“Fabric costs money. Costumes take time.” A tumble of boxes behind the baptismal overshadowed Flora’s soft-spoken consolation.
“What was that?” Lydia asked as she slid into her seat beside Pastor Dean. Her errand had drained her and made her jumpy.
Kat’s wicked stink eye at her tardiness calmed Lydia instead of shaming her. Stop with the drama. She chided herself and recalibrated her focus.
“The craft closet needs organizing.” Flora laughed, from across the room, then continued consoling the complaining mother.
“Can’t they wear bathrobes?” Kat cringed at the mother’s snarky suggestion.
✽✽✽
She recognized his gaze on her neck. The darkened theater wasn’t dark enough for her to hide inside. Her feet wouldn’t keep still. They twitched and shook, aching to run, but they had no place to go. She inched lower into her seat. A movie was such a good idea. Ivy purchased her matinee ticket and soaked in the theater’s warmth during the first feature. Halfway through the third showing, she noticed the lurker.
Investigating the theater, Ivy counted fifteen other patrons. Everyone was under 18 and either consumed with the plot or flirting with their date. None of them would be of any help. The crowd wasn’t large enough to blend into. Ivy felt the man behind her move up a section. Her stomach lurched as she swallowed a scream. Her nails clawed into the padded armrests.
A heated breath brushed her neck. She froze.
“Hey,” a voice whispered as someone slid into the seat beside her. Ivy shot from her place. Still two rows behind her, the stranger skulked. Everyone in the room stared at her.
“Sit down,” Emily Prior held her index finger to her lips. She smiled at her friend. Ivy settled back into her seat. Emily wrapped her arms around Ivy, hugging her.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I spotted you from the back and thought you’d like company.” A whoosh of relief in the form of an exaggerated exhale shoved itself from Ivy’s mouth. She fought the urge to toss herself in her friend’s lap and cry. Her wariness was making her friend nervous. She forced a smile and hugged the girl back.
“I’d love company.” Having a friend so close, soothed Ivy. She relaxed and rubbed her rumbling stomach. Emily shared her Milk Duds and soda. Ivy gratefully savored them, almost able to forget her troubles. Too soon, the comfort ended with the film, and Emily left with her ride.
Though she couldn’t see him, Ivy knew the watcher was still close by. She walked out with a group of teens and hurried to her car. The dark parking lot thinned as vehicles retreated to Main Street. Ivy turned the key to the V.W. with only noise and grinding in response. Snow drifted onto the car’s hood. Ivy shivered and pulled her jacket tighter across her chest. She turned the key again. Nothing. Ivy observed the last patron drive away as a shadow slithered across her windshield.
✽✽✽
It took two hours for Hannah Carson to be appointed the new Mary. The committee agreed instrumental music during the play would be fine, but there would be only Acappella during the singing of hymns. Communion would be offered in the prayer room for all those who wanted to partake but not forced upon those it may offend.
The same routine, cemented and agreed upon, making each party happy to take part without defying their personal beliefs. Molly’s Farm would donate ten bales of hay and the use of two sheep and one miniature horse, instead of a donkey. The only change was a minor one. Fifteen bath robed angels would grace the pageant, much to Kat’s torment. Her quilting cotton robes would wait for another year.
She locked up the church and sat in her minivan. Her children rode home with Thaddeus. He refused to allow the Christmas pageant to take over family life.
Kat was not as focused. Not even December yet, and she had ditched her children twice to work on the play. Her foot pounded. She popped some ibuprofen, followed by a shot of stale, cold coffee. Pain meds of any kind made her loopy, but she would be home long before these took effect. The roads were dark and wet.
Pulling away from the church building, she noted a light on the upper floor twinkling. She must have left a light on. Before she turned her car around the light shut off. Pastor Dean’s working late again.