Reading Online Novel

By Proxy(81)



“There’s someone out there for you, Paul.”

“I wish she was you.”

“She’s not.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.”

“If I’d…” He looked at her, his big, blue eyes serious and pleading. “If I’d spoken up sooner, if I’d asked you to take a walk with me some Sunday evening after supper and held your hand and told you how I felt, if I hadn’t waited so long…Would it have made a difference?”

She reached across the table and touched his hand gently, overcome by the wistful yearning in his voice. She shook her head. “No, Paul. It wouldn’t have.”

He withdrew his hand from hers on the excuse of adjusting his glasses. “Well, I guess we’ll never know, Jen.”

“I know. I promise you’ll know someday too. We’re too much alike, Paul. You need someone to challenge you, too. That wouldn’t have been me. I promise I wouldn’t have made you happy, and I care about you too much to let something like that happen.”

He cocked his head to the side like a Lindstrom and smiled at her, and she saw the littlest bit of hope in the smile. That’s when she knew he would be all right. She didn’t know why, but she was confident a man as good as Paul had a great love in store for him, and she smiled back at him, knowing she would have her treasured friend back again one day.

Treasured friend. Something in those words jarred something in the back of her mind. Treasured. Treasure. Something her mother used to say. Suddenly she remembered and blurted it out. “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

“Where’d that come from?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s something my Mamma used to say.” She smiled at him with confidence and joy. “Sam’s my treasure. My heart’s in Chicago. As soon as Christmas is over, I’m going to go find it.”

***

The Christmas pageant wasn’t perfect, but no Christmas pageant is ever perfect. The baby Jesus—Martha Johnson, one year old—cried bitterly at the affront of being held by the strange fifteen-year-old girl portraying Mary. Mrs. Johnson ended up sitting on a stool between Mary and Joseph, rocking the cradle for a pacified Martha, who sucked on her bottle and gazed lovingly at her mama. A couple of the doves of peace got into a shoving match, which ended in Dove A falling into the Angel of the Lord, who lost her halo and ended up singing “The Glory of the Lord” with a sad, bent wing. Otherwise, not bad. Not bad at all.

Jenny had chuckled from the first pew where she was directing the children and prompting their lines. Her heart was lighter since her conversation with Paul, but she knew she still needed to talk to her Pappa about her decision to head to Chicago, and she didn’t know how he would react to the news. Aside from the fact he might object to Jenny “chasing” a man, she was sure he wouldn’t approve of the sheer distance.

After church, Lars brought the Christmas tree to her Pappa’s house and they decorated it, sipping Glögg and snacking on Swedish candies and cookies. Dinner would come later.

Once the tree was up and trimmed, Erik turned on a Christmas movie and the boys settled in front of the TV. Jenny’s father grabbed his pipe and headed out to the front porch swing. Jenny gulped. Now or never. She gathered her sweater and followed him out the door.

“Can I sit with you, Pappa?”

“It’s cold, Jenny-girl.”

“I don’t mind.” She pulled her sweater around herself and sat beside his reassuring warmth. “Why do you still smoke outside?”

“Your Mamma thought it was a disgraceful habit.” He said this with her familiar inflection. “Men will have their vices, Jen.”

Jenny smiled. “They will, Pappa.”

Her father puffed and rings of sweet-smelling tobacco smoke rose into the air, over the banister of the porch, floating away to the mountains that existed in the darkness beyond. “You got something on your mind, min dotter?”

“I do.”

“You been sad lately, Jen. I been waiting for you to talk to me.”

“Ah, Pappa. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re my youngest child. My only girl. You don’t bother me. Why you been sad? The fella from Chicago?” She turned in surprise to look at his face. “You think an old man doesn’t notice when his daughter falls in love?”

She gasped, eyes widening. “W-what? H-how did you know?”

“Well, I meet him in the church, and I see your eyes, Jenny-girl. I see your eyes when he says him intentions is pure. I see you glowing.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”