Chapter Two
Scores of shoppers draped with scarves and bags filled the Mall of Nativity. The fresh blanket of snow hadn’t prevented them from coming out on Black Friday to nab the best deals and ring in the official beginning to the Christmas shopping season. Several rushed from store to store, but the majority strolled along, out for the experience, not the sales.
Donovan Byrne sat on a bench with a pen in hand, marking in his notepad. When he wrote his article later this evening, he didn’t want to forget the festive mood in the air, the smell of pecans toasting at the kiosk outside Marcy’s Department Store, or the awestruck face of the six-year-old staring at the animatronic dinosaur outside of Elton’s Electronics.
After resting his weary feet—he’d been out since three this morning when the first store in town opened—he moved to the food court on the opposite end of the mall and stood in line for a lunch of teriyaki shrimp. He’d eat, take several pictures, go home, grab a short nap, then get back to work. His article covering Black Friday forThe Daily Nativityhad to be turned into the editor by seven, but Donovan had to be at church by five to assist with the annual after-Thanksgiving meal.
Every year, he looked forward to this day, even though his work, both career and volunteer, made for long hours. It kept his mind off his empty home—the one that had held such promise when he’d bought it seven years ago. He’d worked full time his entire senior year of college and saved every spare penny from his first two years atThe Daily Nativityin order to have a down payment for a house.
The pride he’d felt on closing day crashed to a halt four years later when Deana left him, taking their one-year-old son with her. Even now, with the benefit of time to clear the fog, he couldn’t detect any hints she’d been unhappy. They’d planned an Alaska cruise for their five-year anniversary and discussed adding another child to their family.
Then, bam! He’d come home one day to silence, and his heart ripped wide open. After a lengthy divorce proceeding that he didn’t want, he’d been relegated to an every-other-weekend dad to Brody, plus one month in the summer.
He loved that kid—a bond that carried him through the hard times. On the most silent nights, he closed his eyes and let the memories of his son’s laughter fill his heart. It kept him going until the next time he would pick Brody up from Deana’s home in Bethesda—the one she shared with her new husband.
His stomach turned sour. Most days, he accepted the broken relationship. Other days, mainly near the holidays, proved his heart still bore wounds. No longer hungry, he carried his tray to the nearest trash receptacle and dumped the remaining food, including the full Coke.
Returning his focus to work, he checked his watch. Fifteen minutes to go until Santa’s grand arrival for the season. Donovan elbowed his way through the multiplying crowds in the food court and strolled to the center of the mall.
Several displays he hadn’t noticed earlier caught his attention. He pulled his camera from its bag and snapped several pictures. Once he finished his article, he’d sort through the shots and choose those which best complemented what he’d written.
A large crowd gathered around the display where a crew had carefully crafted Santa’s Workshop. Eager kids waited in line to meet the man of the hour, while others, cranky and tired, begged with their actions to go home and take a nap.
Donovan sympathized with the parents torn between staying and leaving. Last year, when he’d taken Brody, they finally succeeded in getting a picture on the second attempt. They’d left during the first one when Brody had a meltdown because he’d seen an elf’s ear fall off. No matter what anyone told him, he wouldn’t believe it was only part of a costume. By Sunday afternoon, he’d forgotten about it, and they’d made a detour to the mall before Donovan took him to his mother’s.
The sound of carolers brought a hushed silence over the crowd. Men and women, dressed in forest green and crimson velvet costumes, appeared in the square, followed by costumed snowmen, reindeer, and elves. Directly behind them came Jolly Old Saint Nick, dressed in a bright red, fur-lined suit. The bells on his belt jingled as he waved and greeted his audience with boisterous enthusiasm. Once Santa sat down in the oversized armchair, a large portion of the crowd drifted away, but many remained for their chance to whisper their wish list in his ear.
Donovan captured a few more memories with his camera then left the mall. A blistering wind ripped through his unzipped coat and succeeded in lifting a paper from the inside pocket. Nothing important—a flyer from one of the sales—but he wouldn’t litter by leaving it on the ground. He zipped his coat, adding a small measure of warmth to his body, and bent down to pick up the paper, which had landed under a shrub.
As his fingers gripped the ad, he spotted a glimpse of red and white sticking out from under it. He anxiously yanked away the flyer to confirm his suspicion. When he saw the candy cane with an attached slip of paper, he smiled. He grabbed hold of it and stood to read the message.Wishing you joy this season!
His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t found one of the famous candy cane wishes since two Christmases ago. All last year he’d searched for one to no avail. He’d never forget the first one he found—he’d needed it that first year after Deana left. The divorce hadn’t been finalized yet, and he’d thrown himself into work to avoid the loneliness. It hadn’t worked, not really.
In his darkest moment, he’d wondered how he could go on—desperation weighed down on his shoulders until simply standing demanded all the energy he possessed. Then he’d found it. A nondescript candy cane with a small note that saidYou are not alone. Isaiah 41:10.
He’d looked up the verse from his phone before he’d reached his car.Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with My righteous right hand.That single verse of Scripture had been the beginning of his healing. He was a child of God and never alone.
Anxious to escape the freezing temperature, he tucked this year’s wish and candy cane into the side pocket of his camera bag and hurried to his car.Who’s behind the candy canes? He asked year after year, but no one knew the answer. Not that they’d admit to at least. His journalistic mind wanted to know the person behind the tradition. If he could find out who, he’d have a hit story on his hands.
Five hours later, he’d turned in his article, overslept on his nap, and arrived at the church half an hour later than he’d planned. By the other cars pulling into the lot, it appeared others were arriving late as well. He didn’t see the church bus, which meant it had already left to pick up the tenants of the homeless shelter.
He wrapped the scarf around his neck then jumped out of his blue sedan. The already freezing temperature had dropped lower, dipping into the low twenties with a wind chill in the teens. He hunched his shoulders and held his hat on his head as he ran into the large fellowship hall.
Once he’d hung his coat and hat on the rack along the wall in the foyer, he entered the large room to a flurry of activity. Men carried tables and set them upright and circled them with metal folding chairs. Women followed behind them to decorate the tables as they were ready.
Seeing the preparations already running so far behind filled Donovan with guilt for oversleeping. The meal would start in less than an hour, and a lot of work remained to be done. He caught up with Pastor Jessup who was busy extending the legs of a table. “Where do you need my help?”
Pastor Jessup looked up, a hint of stress tugging at the corners of his eyes. “Can you follow behind us and take over with the chairs? We’ve never run this far behind, but Milo Wilston, who usually comes in the early afternoon to set up, had an accident this morning.”
“Is he okay?” Donovan had a soft spot for the Korean War veteran whose age never slowed him down.
“Other than a fractured wrist, he is fine, but the doctors are keeping him overnight for observation.” One side of the pastor’s mouth curled up into a wry smirk. “I’m sure you can imagine how that went over with him.”
Donovan laughed and helped Pastor Jessup set the table upright. “He’ll give the nurses a run for their money.”
“I plan to stop in and visit with him after tonight’s meal.” Pastor Jessup winked. “Take him a piece of Dottie May’s sheet pan pecan pie.”
“That’s almost worth landing in the hospital for.” His gaze traveled to the three tables lined with desert, and his stomach rumbled. Nativity Community Church counted the best bakers in the county among its members. If there were any leftovers, maybe he’d snatch a piece at the end of the night.
