The Christmas Promise(7)

“I swear something just fell out of the tree and crawled on me,” the woman shrieked. More laughter from the happy family. Chaz turned on the TV to drown them out. Why had he come to this town? Now it seemed like a stupid idea. He was better off working job to job instead of committing to something long-term, especially this close to Christmas, which was a day he endured at best. The couple shoved the tree through their front door to more peals of laughter. He opened another beer and stared at the TV screen. This town was no better than the last, and nothing could make him stay. Unlike his parents, he could never see the rays of hope or sprigs of life clinging to devastation. At least that’s what he thought.





Two



From what we get, we can make a living; what we give, however, makes a life.

—Arthur Ashe



I ran down the stairs pulling a red sweatshirt with a Christmas tree on it over my head. “Hold on! I’m coming!” The phone rang again. I always tried to answer by the third ring before it went to voice mail. “Get out of the way, Whiskers.” The cat jumped from his spot on the bottom step and ran in front of me to the kitchen.

“Miss Glory, they shut off my electricity.” It was Carla Sanchez.

“Why’d they do that?” I asked, catching my breath.

“I was late paying….”

“How late?”

“Just a few days,” Carla said.

“They don’t shut off your electricity if you’re just a few days late. How late?”

“Almost three months. But I got a job now. I’m down at Wilson’s just like you said. They still had the sign in the window when I went down and they hired me just like that.”

“How’s Donovan?” I asked.

“He’s good.”

“What’d he eat for breakfast?” There was silence on the other end. “What’s he going to eat for lunch?” More silence followed. “Let me see what I can do.” I hung up the phone before dialing the number for the church I attended. “Linda, it’s Gloria. Can I talk with Rod?” I joined the church six years ago, shortly after moving to town to be closer to my oldest daughter, who’d had a baby. The church was always the first to help when I needed something for my work, but I was careful not to take advantage of their good graces. I listened to Christmas music until Rod picked up his line. “How are you, Rod?”

“Great,” he said. “What’s happening, Gloria?”

Rod was always willing to listen. “I have a single mom who needs help,” I said. I explained Carla’s circumstances and waited.

“How much is the bill?” Rod asked.

He said he’d have a check made out to the electric company waiting at the church and told me about a car that had been donated to the church. “It came in a few days ago,” he said. “The title work is taken care of and someone is bringing it to you today or tomorrow.” I had been in Rod’s office years earlier when a car had been donated to the church. A family with whom I worked was in dire need, and the church and I struck up a working relationship.

Something caught my eye in the driveway and I pushed back the curtain, clapping. “It’s already here,” I said. “Thanks so much, Rod. Talk to you soon.” I hung up the phone and pressed close to the window. “Well look at that! She’s a beauty.” I bolted for the door and pulled on a pair of knee-length yellow rubber boots with tops that folded down to reveal blue wool inside. One pant leg stayed hoisted above the boot but I didn’t care. “That’s a Chevy, isn’t it? Silver. I’ll call her the Silver Fox.” I swung open the driver’s side door and slid inside, turning the key. The engine grinded and I waited. I turned the key again and the engine wheezed before choking quiet. “I’ll get somebody out here to take a look at you ASAP,” I said, patting the steering wheel.

I hustled back up the porch stairs and picked up the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number for my mechanic. “Jerry? It’s Gloria. Somebody left a Chevy that looks about eight or so years old. Would you have any time to look at it?” I looked out the window and examined the car.

“Midge and I are headed out of town today,” Jerry said. “Her father had a stroke and is in the hospital. I don’t know when we’ll be back, but I can look at it then.”

“I’m so sorry, Jerry. Don’t even think about it.”

I hung up and pulled out the yellow pages, turning to “car repair,” but then I threw the book on the table. “I can’t think about that now.” There just weren’t enough hours in the day. I flew to the garage.