A Cup of Christmas Kindness by LoRee Peery

 

Blurb: Violet Steele returns to her parents’ home in small-town Nebraska to pay off school loans. But her first social activity is the celebration of life for a woman she’d dreamt would someday be her mother-in-law.

Heath Banfield is haunted by memories of Violet leaving him in their youth. He ended up with a woman who never wanted motherhood, and he’s become bitter and hard when it comes to love and trust. Now he’s dealing with his mother’s death. In her absence, he needs an after-school caregiver for his daughter. When Violet offers to tend for the eight-year-old, he’s not sure he can handle her act of kindness.

Violet is still in love with Heath, and helping him through his grief and caring for his delightful daughter is a welcome opportunity. But Heath is wary, and she’ll have to muster every ounce of kindness she has.

Will Violet’s deliberate holiday deeds lead to romance, or will Heath’s hurt deepen his bitterness?

Excerpt:

The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.” ~ Jeremiah 31:3

 

Heath had experienced various events in his life, but never imagined waiting in Cornhusker Community Church for his mother’s celebration of life. The atmosphere was pleasant on this Saturday afternoon, yet somber tears hid behind smiles.

Family was supposed to gather in a side room, but no way could he sit in one spot. He gave his dad’s shoulder a reassuring pat and sauntered into the open reception area. Drafty. Every time the door opened, December made its presence known.

He wandered the open common area. Six-foot tall Christmas trees grouped in twos and threes decorated in white and gold stood at main entrances, including the large auditorium for worship services. Tall groupings of peeling barked birch tree trunks held sentry at the entrance to other rooms, with green pine boughs accented with red bows to bring in the holiday theme.

Weird, what entered his mind. How different the building was compared to the little clapboard country church they’d attended when he was a kid. There was probably a name for a metal building faced with a brick front, but he couldn’t bring it to mind.

How did a grown man deal with such grief? Or be stronger for his young daughter. She was all that mattered in the long run.

The line at the reception table continued to grow. The sight of Mom’s scattered fairy figurines threatened to unhinge the hold he had on his emotions. Heath tore away his gaze, scanned above the heads of the gathering throng, rather than crash into the sympathy expressed from individual eyes.

How would he ever make it through the day?

A sudden jolt against his leg jarred his straying thoughts. He smiled and patted the golden curls bouncing down the girl’s back. He crouched to Charlotte’s level and faced his daughter.

“Daddy, Pastor said it’s time. We can go in and sit.”

If it weren’t for Charlotte, he’d be the loneliest man alive. She’d ground him in the coming days, and he prayed for strength to hide his grief. He took her hand and stood. Lord, help me. I don’t know what to do.

Heath found his seat next to the aisle and scanned the stage. Why did people still send flowers? Too much eucalyptus. He’d never breathe in the cloying scent again without thinking of this day. Dad would need help deciding what to do with all the arrangements.

Pastor Linton took the stage and turned on his mic. He gazed over the gathering, landed his focus on Heath and his dad. “It’s good to see all of you here today as we honor the life of a dear friend, wife, mother, and grandmother who represented the woman described in Proverbs thirty-one. Kimberly Banfield will be missed. Before we hear shared memories and I tell you about her life, I want to read at Kimberly’s request, her favorite Bible verse.”

Heath gritted his teeth to hold back the tears as Pastor lifted Mom’s worn leather Bible and shuffled the pages to the back of the Book.

“Colossians 3:12 reads ‘Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.’ Kimberly lived by those words, as her family and Christian friends can attest to. And now, please join in as we sing her chosen hymns.”

Dad’s shoulders shook. He lowered his head as musicians with banjo and guitar took the stage.

Heath threw his arm around Dad and bowed his own head. He only heard the echo of his mother’s sweet voice as the lyrics to “Sweet By and By” filled the chapel.

The song was interminable.

He had to pull it together. Per her request, Mom had given him something to read on this day, and requested him not to mourn.

Which was exactly what he did…mourn.

Dad squeezed Heath’s leg.

Heath covered Dad’s hand.

They sucked in breath at the same time and raised their heads in sync, gathering renewed purpose from one another.

He could do this. Only with Your help, Lord. I haven’t needed You so much since Violet left for California. Help me keep it together, for Dad and Charlotte. I can’t do it without You.

His mind went numb. He’d helped write the obituary, the accolades to Mom, and listened as her life was eulogized.

The sound of his name jerked his head upright. Pastor Linton stood on the side steps in front of him, mic extended.

Heath swallowed. He moved as stiff as a robot. Somehow, he accepted the mic and found his spot in front of the lectern. See-through plastic. Could all those people in front of him detect the way his knees quaked?

He blinked, reached for the paper in his inside pocket, and lowered his attention to unfold the notes.

Time stopped. Air blew down from the exposed vents above him. Someone coughed and made him jump.

Fear not. I am with you.

He raised his gaze straight forward. And his tongue swelled enough to choke him. Tears that clogged the back of his throat gave way to dryness. His mouth turned to thick cotton at sight of his first and only real love.

Violet Steele sat in the third row directly in front of him. Her blonde hair was shorter, which emphasized those beautiful angelic, yet trusting eyes that stared up at him. Memory of the last time he’d seen her drove a stake into his heart. Since then, miles and separate life chapters had kept them apart. She’d chosen a new life without him.

What was she doing back at a time like this?

He’d eventually found a life that left him in a world of hurt, except for Charlotte. Divorce and financial hits dimmed in the light of gaining his daughter.

A cough registered his drawn-out hesitation.

Violet and he had been neighbors, then best friends. Shared their first kiss. He thought she was his future. But she went after a new life, and fell from grace according to her parents. She looked anything but fallen as she stared up at him.

Another cough. Stirrings of clothing or feet against the floor from various seats penetrated his brain fog.

How many seconds had elapsed? Too many.

He glanced down and refolded the paper. “Whoever thought it a good idea for a wonderful woman’s son to stand in front of you all and try to say something worthwhile? I’m not worthy. Thank you all for coming. I know many of you didn’t know my mother, who threw kindness around like confetti. You’re here to support me or my father, or because you’re on the food service committee.”

Quiet laughter drew his stiff smile. “I think the important things have already been said. We’ve seen the pictures overhead, heard her favorite verse and Mom’s desire, in her own words, to see everyone present today with her in heaven at some point. We’ve sung her favorite hymns. If you knew her, you’ve either given her a fairy figurine, or she’s gifted you with one of her favorites. If you don’t have one already, I know my mother would be pleased for you to take a fairy figurine off the reception table in the foyer. Thank you for your support.”

He handed off the mic to the pastor and prayed his choked grunt of grief hadn’t resounded as an amplified growl throughout the room. Heath resumed his seat.

Shortly, it registered that those around him had come to their feet. No ushers. Attendees shuffled toward the back of the chapel, a funny name since there wasn’t even a cross or an altar. Only a scattering of floral arrangements along the edge of a raised dais.

“I’m thirsty, Daddy.”

He shook his head in a vain attempt for clarity, and squeezed Charlotte’s hand.

Halfway down the aisle between the rows of folding chairs, he heard his name. He turned and met Violet’s gaze.

Moisture skimmed the surface of her eyes. The corner of her mouth twitched in the familiar tell that she wanted to smile but knew it would be out of place. The soft touch of her hand on his arm branded him through the fabric of his jacket. “I don’t know what to say. Your mom was a special woman.”

He fought his own tears. Glanced over her shoulder, made sense of nothing, and brought his gaze back to hers. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“I’ve been here about a month.”

The angle of her haircut emphasized her beauty. She lit up the place like a golden halo around the sun on an otherwise cloudy day. “Nice short hair. Everybody looks the same these days, with bouncy hair down their backs or in ponytails.”

What a stupid thing to say. Why couldn’t he just thank her for being here?

The way her cheekbones rounded above the sweet smile she flashed took him back in time. She’d given him countless such smiles that spoke volumes about her caring heart. The bright light of her gorgeous sage eyes once threatened to steal the oxygen he drew in.

He forced himself to lower his gaze. That didn’t help. He inhaled her snickerdoodle scent. One thing for sure. He couldn’t deal with Violet Steele at the moment. But his daughter could.

“You’re pretty. I’m Charlotte. And I’m seven and three quarters. What’s your name?”

Violet dropped the foot she’d scrubbed against the opposite calf. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m Violet. I knew your grandmother a long time ago. She was a special lady.”

“I know. But she’ll always be in my heart. Grampa says I can have all her fairies. Hi, Mr. David and Ms. Cynthia.”

Heath acknowledged Violet’s parents, his old neighbors, with a subdued nod.

Violet’s mom spoke to Charlotte. “She knew you’d take good care of them. I gave her a fairy once upon a time.”

“Do you tell stories too? Gramma loved fairy stories and I love trees.” She looked up at Heath. “Right now, I’m thirsty.”

He muttered a thank-you, nodded again at David Steele, and then turned to follow the pull on his hand. Condolences and well wishes escorted them along the way to the drink table.

Muted conversation murmured around him. Heath remained in a bubble. Dad’s and Charlotte’s voices had been the only ones to penetrate through the fog of the last few days. Until Violet filled his vision again. She stood near the last row of chairs with a hand on her seated father’s shoulder.

As though she sensed his attention, she performed a one-eighty his direction that made her filmy floral kimono twirl as she lifted her cup of coffee in acknowledgement. What timing, that she should return to Ceresco, Nebraska, and find him at his weakest point.

Except for the day she’d left him.

 

Buy Links: Pelican https://tinyurl.com/y5gm4ym2

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Cup-Christmas-Kindness-Holiday-Extravaganza-ebook/dp/B08KSGZKG7/ref

Bio: Nebraska country girl LoRee Peery writes fiction that hopefully appeals to adult readers who enjoy stories written from a Christian perspective, focusing on the romance. These include novels and novellas for women and men in the Contemporary, Romance, Historical, Time Travel, and Mystery/Suspense categories. She writes of redeeming grace with a sense of place. Her Frivolities Series and the book based on her father’s unsolved homicide, Touches of Time, are available on Amazon. She is who she is by the grace of God: Christian, country girl, wife, mother, grandmother and great-, sister, friend, and author. Connect with LoRee: www.loreepeery.com

https://twitter.com/LoreePeery

https://www.facebook.com/LoReePeery

Find her publications at Pelican http://tinyurl.com/kwz9enk

And Amazon https://www.amazon.com/LoRee-Peery/e/B004UAGL2W/ref

Questions:

1.      Why this book? What inspired you to write it?

We live on an acreage. While still at home, one of my girls insisted a recipe had to be followed to the letter, the other made do and used (still does) her imagination. I improvise, make a list, and wait. For some odd reason borrowing a cup of sugar came to mind as a possibility for a story.

 

2.      What is your favourite Christmas carol/song and why?

I love “Joy to the World,” probably because it’s happy. But the lyrics refer to the return of Christ. My childhood minister chose that vocation over opera. He sang “O Holy Night” at the close of our church program on Christmas Eve. My currant pastor’s favorite song is “Down from His Glory.” I’m liking that more and more.

 

3.      What is the best Christmas present you ever received and who was it from?

Not one thing came to mind. For many years, family is my best gift.