19

CHRISTMAS ARRIVED before Ella was quite ready for it. Late that morning everyone gathered around the big tree in the family room to exchange gifts. Ella looked around the room, counting faces and loving how each one—including Laura—fit in her heart.

Dad fished packages out one by one, handing them to each recipient, who had to finish opening the package before he’d move on. Ella had found this process torturous when she was a child, but now it felt like tradition and she reveled in it.

After collecting a book about Appalachian quilts from Aunt Sadie, and a cashmere sweater from her parents, Ella accepted her third package. She turned it over and over, looking for a tag.

“That one came special delivery,” Mom said with a mysterious look.

Ella giggled. As if she still believed in Santa Claus. The package was classic Tiffany blue with silky white ribbon. She was astonished that her parents would even think to get her something from Tiffany. Then again, maybe it was just a ploy and she’d find a candy necklace inside. She unwound the ribbon and lifted the lid to find . . . an absolutely lovely cuff bracelet in sterling silver. The piece was made up of a lacy filigree of leaves that left Ella speechless. She looked around the room.

“Who? Is this from you guys? This is too much.” She lifted the cuff out and held it, afraid to actually wear it.

“No, it’s not from anyone here.” Mom had that coy look again. “Someone who thinks you’re very special asked me to tuck it under the tree.”

It hit Ella like snow down the back of her neck. “Mark. This is from Mark.” She stuck it back in the box and replaced the lid, her face stony. “I can’t accept it. I’ll send it back as soon as possible.”

Silence reigned as Mom’s features worked, and everyone else seemed intent on finding something other than Ella and her blue box to look at.

“It’s just a bracelet,” Mom finally said. “A token of esteem from a respectable young man who would like another chance.”

“How do you know that?” Ella demanded. “How do you know anything about him? Can’t you trust that I know what I’m doing when I say I’m not interested in him?”

Mom crossed her arms and looked at the tree. “Henry, hadn’t you better keep the gifts coming?”

Dad cleared his throat and handed a package to Will. “Son, did I ever mention that giving gifts to women is one of the most dangerous activities a man can undertake?”

No one moved for a moment, but then Will cracked a smile. Sadie let go a very unladylike snort.

Mom huffed, then smiled. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I only want what’s best for you.”

Ella sighed and put the box on the floor under her chair. “I know, Mom, but you’ll have to trust me on this one.”

“Ella, your mother knows you’ll never find a man with even half the talent and charm she found in me.” Dad scooped up his fiddle, played a few rousing bars, and shoved a package toward Mom with his foot. “See? It’ll take a dozen silver bracelets to beat that.”

They all laughed and resumed opening gifts. But Ella could feel the bracelet like a time bomb ticking away under her chair. And she couldn’t help wondering what it would take to properly defuse it.

Ella skipped church the Sunday after Christmas. The holidays had been hectic, and since starting work on the crazy quilt with Gran, she’d been having the most marvelous ideas for art quilts. She craved a morning alone to sketch out some pieces and be away from her family for a bit. So while everyone else went off to church, she camped out at the kitchen table at Gran’s house, where the late December sunshine streamed over her paper and colored pencils. She became so absorbed, she hardly noticed the passage of time.

When Gran’s mantel clock—which sat on a side table rather than a mantel—struck noon, Ella felt like she’d been jolted back into the real world. She stretched and rubbed her eyes, admiring the drawings she’d completed. Two were exactly the way she wanted them, while the third still needed work. She debated skipping Sunday dinner with the family. Aunt Sadie would bring her something when she and Gran came home. She looked at the drawing again and decided it might do her good to step away and come back with fresh eyes.

Ella slipped on her jacket and walked to her parents’ house. “How was the service?” she asked, easing into the friendly whirl of activity.

Sudden silence met Ella’s question. Her parents looked uncomfortable. Only Gran would meet her eyes.

“T-t-tell her,” Gran said.

“Tell me what?” asked Ella.

Dad cleared his throat. “Looks like there’s a pretty strong movement to sell the church property to Keith Randolph. I didn’t really think it would happen, but it seems quite a few members are convinced it’s a good idea.”

“What? Sell the church? But . . . but it’s our church.” Ella wasn’t sure what she wanted to say as questions swirled through her brain.

“Yes, but as Steve Simmons pointed out, the church is dying. I guess there was some hope Richard could come in and revive it, but we haven’t really gained any ground since he came.” Dad pulled a chair out from the table and sat, stretching his legs and folding his hands across his belly. Ella had the distinct impression he’d already resigned himself to the inevitable.

“Ella, I know you’re sentimental about the church, but it’s only a building.” Aunt Sadie helped Mom transfer hot dishes to the table. “It could be a good thing. If you build somewhere else with better road access, the congregation might have a chance to grow.”

“But we’d be losing the church our ancestors built,” Ella protested. She glanced at Dad, stunned that he wasn’t more upset. “Right, Dad?”

He shrugged, so Ella turned her attention to Gran. “What do you think?”

Her grandmother sat at the table, the fingers of her left hand tracing the place setting in front of her as though memorizing the silverware. “Luke . . . warm.”

Ella’s mouth dropped open. “Are you saying the church members don’t care enough, don’t have faith enough to keep the church going?”

Gran sighed. “No passion.”

Ella sputtered, at a loss for what to do or say. She braced her hands on the counter and took a deep breath. “I want to save the church.”

Dad glanced up at her. “Do you now? You know some folks are so upset by the way Keith’s come in and taken over, they don’t even want to go up there anymore. It’s not just about the church. Emotions are getting pretty heated. Even if we keep the building, it’s going to take a lot of work to maintain peace between our little country church and that big, expensive preserve next door.”

“Fine. I think it’s worth saving.”

Gran smiled her crooked smile that had become so very dear to Ella. “Why?”

Ella cocked her head. “Why is the church worth saving?” It seemed so obvious. “Because it’s the church our family’s been going to for a century. Because it’s an important part of the history of Wise. Because all of you got married there. Will’s getting married there. Shoot, I’d like to get married there. How can you even ask that question?”

Gran nodded. “God?”

“Well, of course we serve God—it’s the purpose of the church.”

The rest of the family watched Ella and her grandmother as though they were speaking some foreign language. Ella knew she sometimes understood Gran better than they did, but anyone could see what she was saying now—suggesting that the church had outlived its usefulness. She’d rarely been angry at Gran, but at the moment she felt the need to direct anger somewhere.

She took another deep breath and tried not to glare at her grandmother, who might still be recovering from a stroke but who struck Ella as being just as opinionated and sassy as ever. Gran shook her head once and opened her hands as if releasing a balloon into the sky.

Ella opened her mouth to continue her argument when Mom jumped in.

“Enough of this talk.” She set a platter of leftover Christmas ham in the middle of the table. “The sale is far from certain, and we aren’t going to change anything by talking about it now. Let’s have a nice meal and see what happens.”

Dad scooted his chair in and nodded at Ella to take her seat. She did, but found that her appetite had disappeared.

Perla dug into the ham, mashed potatoes, and green beans. She still struggled with her right hand, yet if she moved slowly and focused, she could feed herself well enough. While she hated this crippled feeling, she honestly didn’t miss cooking. It had been such a mixed blessing to her over the years. She was glad to let someone else take over, if only for the time being. If she really wanted to, she felt certain she could learn her way around the kitchen again—given time.

She smiled to herself. The conversation had more or less died once Margaret decreed an end to the talk about the sale of the church. She tended to think this dose of reality and controversy was exactly what the members of Laurel Mountain Church needed. They’d been slumbering for far too long. And Ella had, perhaps, never been truly awake. She only wanted to fight for the church because it was familiar—known. What she needed was to get to know God a whole lot better, then He’d be her rock instead of some rickety old building with gaps in the windows.

“What does Richard have to say about all this?”

Perla sensed Margaret’s silent disapproval of Ella’s question.

“I know you said no more talk, Mom, but I’m curious.”

Henry’s fork clicked against his plate. “I’d say he’ll be satisfied to go along with the majority. He hasn’t been here long enough to be invested in the property, and it would probably be a good thing for him to lead the church into a new building and a new life.”

“Is anyone else in favor of keeping the church?” Ella asked.

Margaret sighed even as Henry spoke again. “Mavis Sanders and a few of her friends seem pretty keen on it. I thought she might whack Steve over the head with her cane this morning.”

Perla could hear the amusement in her son’s voice.

“And Keith definitely wants to buy—”

“Enough.” Margaret slapped her napkin onto the table, cutting Ella off. “Perla, would you like some dessert?”

“Yes, p-p-please.”

This time the sigh came from Ella’s end of the table. “I think I’ll pass, Mom. I’m going to run over and talk to Will. I, uh, need to ask him about the wedding.”

Perla smiled to herself again. Her granddaughter was beginning to come alive and that was a very good thing.

Ella knew her brother had been at church and would likely know more than her parents did about this ridiculous plan to sell their very history off to the highest bidder. Gran’s comments popped into her mind, but she banished them. Of course the church was worth saving, and it was silly to even suggest it wasn’t fulfilling its purpose. What else was a church for?

Bursting through Will’s front door, Ella didn’t consider the possibility that he might not be alone. The house was small—she could see the dining area beyond the living room—and there sat Will deep in conversation with Seth and Keith. She could see their vehicles parked out back of the house now that she was inside.

“Oh.” She skidded to a stop. “I didn’t know you had company.”

Will waved her in. “No problem. We were just discussing land-management practices. Don’t tell Gran we were doing business on a Sunday.”

Ella’s frustration shot up. This wasn’t how she wanted to confront the issue of saving the church, but now that she saw Keith, the anger she’d pushed down earlier returned full force. “You mean the kind of land management that practically rips people’s land away from them?”

Keith stood and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking like a little boy who’d been caught playing in the mud in his Sunday clothes. “Guess you heard the church is looking to sell. I want you to know I didn’t ask for the land—they came to me. I’ll give them a fair price. More than fair. I’ve kind of grown . . . fond of your little congregation.” He rocked back on his heels. “I might even be in a position to help with the founding of a new church. Seems to me like something worth investing in.”

Ella felt like she’d swallowed her tongue. They talked like it was all a done deal. Her eyes darted to Seth, who watched her intently. “What about you? Are you in favor of this?” She didn’t know why she asked Seth. He was less invested in Laurel Mountain than any of them.

Seth looked down as he smoothed his hands over the table in front of him. “I don’t really have a dog in this fight.” He looked back up and seemed to consider her. “Unless . . .”

“Unless what?” Ella demanded.

“No, I guess there’s no unless. I’m just here to look out for the land and the wildlife.”

Ella felt tears pool and fought them back. No one was on her side. No one cared like she did. Maybe not even Dad or Gran. Certainly not Seth who she’d thought really liked her. The church was nothing more than wood and glass to them. And maybe she didn’t much matter to them, either. Apparently fretting over what everyone else thought didn’t mean they’d do the same for her.

Keith lifted a hand as if to reach out to her. Ella sniffed and turned back toward the door. “Well then, I guess we don’t have anything to discuss after all. You boys have a nice afternoon.”

She slammed the door on her way out.

Perla heard someone sling the door open so that it cracked against the wall. She flinched and looked to Sadie on the far side of the quilt frame. They’d been sewing since coming home from dinner, and Perla had been trying to figure out how to take a break without making Sadie think she was still frail. Never mind that she was; if she tried hard enough to hide the truth she might fool the others. She might even fool herself.

“Mother, why don’t you go lie down? I have a feeling that might be Ella expressing her frustration over the church property.”

Perla nodded and gave her best imitation of a bright smile, but rather than lie down, she simply moved to her favorite armchair and let her head rest against its high back. She wanted to hear what Ella had to say. Sadie clucked at her but didn’t say anything more.

“No one cares that some big, fancy corporation is coming in and changing things. Or if they do care, they’re not doing anything about it. And some people”—Ella’s brow lowered as she crossed her arms—“are consorting with the enemy.”

Sadie clucked again, and Perla was glad it was directed at someone else for a change. “You’re getting awfully worked up about something you can’t change.”

“Can’t I?” Ella’s chin went up, her eyes flashing fire. “Maybe I’ll have to see about taking legal action.”

Perla felt her eyebrows go up, one not as high as the other. This was a new twist.

“I feel confident a big, fancy corporation as you call it has been very careful to follow the letter of the law,” Sadie said. “And at any rate, it’s not likely you’d find a lawyer in Wise who’d even look at the situation.”

Ella paced, then turned and planted her hands on her hips. “It just so happens I know a lawyer back in Craggy Mount. He worked for a chief judge of the Virginia Court of Appeals. I’d say he might have some connections. He’d know what strings to pull.”

Perla thought Ella looked a bit pale as she dropped into a chair at the quilt frame and fiddled with a pair of scissors.

“Are you talking about Mark? Your old boyfriend? I thought you wanted to be rid of him.”

Ella blew out a breath. “I’m not talking about dating him. I’m talking about getting some legal advice. I need to return that bracelet anyway.”

Sadie snorted. “Seems to me a piece of jewelry would be the lesser of those two evils.”

Ella shot her aunt an annoyed look. “I haven’t said I’d definitely call him. I’m just thinking through my options.”

She looked at Gran as though asking for her opinion. And oh, did Perla have an opinion. No building, no bit of property was worth playing with fire. She focused, trying to think how she could get a few words out to get her meaning across. Then Ella looked away and shook her head.

“Gran, you look worn out. Maybe you’d better lie down.”

Perla wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she nodded and let Ella help her up so she could make her way to her room. She gave Ella an it’ll-be-all-right look that she would surely understand and eased her bedroom door shut behind her. Sadie was already turning away and gesturing for Ella to move back into the kitchen, probably to sit at the table. That’s where so many of life’s problems were hashed out.

Perla leaned against her door, summoning the strength to remove her shoes and lie down. She slid into a wooden chair next to the door and bent forward to ease off her left shoe—it was always easier to do. As she straightened, she realized she could still hear the voices of her daughter and granddaughter and paused to see if she could make out what it was they were saying.

“The church is the least of our problems.” Sadie sounded angry. Perla furrowed her brow. What did she mean by that?

“I hardly think it’s the least,” Ella said. “That church is part of your past, too.”

“Yes, but I’m far more concerned about my future. My mother—your grandmother—is not getting any better. It’s been months and she can still barely complete a sentence, much less a thought.” Perla heard a pause and a heavy exhalation. “I simply cannot take the spring semester off. It would be the end of my career. There’s no way around it, Mother will have to go to a rehabilitation center.”

“You can’t.” Now Ella sounded upset, and Perla was right there with her. “I’ll take care of Gran. I can stay as long as I need to and I’m really good with her. Mom and Dad will help too, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s already been decided. Your father and I will take her tomorrow.”

Perla heard Ella begin to speak, but Sadie plowed ahead in what was probably meant to be a whisper but rose along with her emotion. “The doctors said most of the recovery would come in the first few months. After that it’s an uphill battle. It’s been four months and her language ability hasn’t improved since those initial gains. I’m beginning to doubt she’ll ever recover sufficiently to carry on a normal conversation. This is for her own good, and if she does work hard she can certainly come home again. That should provide incentive for her.”

“But she’ll hate it.” Ella sounded defeated.

“I’m not pleased with the situation, but I’ve learned you don’t always get what you want in this life. Mother’s ability to communicate is severely compromised, and Henry and I believe this is her best hope.”

Ella spoke again, but Perla didn’t listen anymore. She pressed her hands to her ears and stumbled to her bed to fall into it, right shoe still on her foot. They didn’t think she’d get better. The fear she’d been fighting reared up and overwhelmed her. It was hopeless. She’d known it all along, but now she had confirmation. She would never be able to tell her story.