Bring Me Home for Christmas

mom. I told her I’d just be coming home for Christmas dinner—and to pack up my apartment.”
    Denny was frozen. He had a spoonful of stew halfway to his mouth and he dropped it.
    She hooked her gaze into his and said, “I hope you can get your job back with Jilly Farms, because I made a commitment.”
    “You told your mother this?” he asked.
    “Yes,” she said. She lifted her chin and a tear slid down her cheek. “She said you better be very nice to me.”
    He smiled and, cradling her jaw in his hand, he kissed the corner of her mouth. Then the other corner. And then he said, “Okay.”

    There was a dress rehearsal for the pageant at noon on Christmas Eve and when the kids saw Becca crutch her way into the church, they all squealed and broke ranks to run to her. When she told them she was going home to San Diego to pack up her things and come back as their full-time teacher, cheers and tears surrounded her. Megan Thickson clung to her and wouldn’t let go.
    “This is the best Christmas ever,” she said.
    The pageant began at 7:00 p.m. sharp. The church was completely full. The entire Sheridan clan from out of town attended. Jillian and her sister and the Riordan clan were there. Everyone Becca had ever met and many she hadn’t—a real community affair.
    Becca’s role was behind the scenes, telling Mary and Joseph when to walk down the aisle toward the manger at the apex of the church. Then she pushed off the wise men one at a time and finally the shepherds. Ellie Kincaid directed the angels from the door that led to the church office and their voices were never more angelic. Christopher read the story of the birth of Christ and finally the congregation joined the angels in singing a couple of carols.
    Then the lights in the church came up and many congratulations were exchanged before the entire gathering moved to the church basement, where cookies, coffee and punch were waiting. Becca received what seemed like a hundred hugs and offers of help in setting up a school. There were dozens of congratulations to the announcement that Denny and Becca would marry, hopefully in summer.
    Then Preacher cut his way through the crowd. He was wearing his jacket and carrying a box. “This came to the bar right before the pageant started,” he said. “It was expressed—and it’s addressed to you, Becca.”
    “What in the world,” she said, taking the box. “It’s from my mother!”
    She put the box on a nearby table and opened it. She peeled back the tissue paper to reveal the beautiful crewel tree skirt her great-grandmother had made, that had been passed down to her mother along with so many other precious decorations. There was a note on top in her mother’s hand.
    Time to start your own traditions.
    Love, Mom

    ***

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