DiGiovanni - Jamaican Me Crazy: a Christmas Escape

2006 by Debbie DiGiovanni

Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com

Ebook edition created 2011

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwisewithout the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

ISBN 978-1-4412-3918-1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

I dedicate this book
to my friends at the Senior Center,
who inspire me.

Contents

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank some special people who have been there for me.

First, to my familyeach and every one of you. Your joy, understanding, and compassion mean everything to me.

Next, to my old friendstoo many to name, but you know who you are. You are never forgotten. We just keep getting better.

Among my old friends, I feel compelled to mention a few, however. Phil Higgins, whose eagle eye has been particularly helpful in my writing. And Mike Faughn, who deserves a dinner in his honor (which I cannot afford at the present time). Mary Johnson, still the same after all these years. And Cathy Claxton, youre an old friend, yet our friendship has been strengthened through a series of life-changing events this past year. You are as true as anyone Ive ever known.

And now to the new additions in my life that deserve mention.

Barb Barnes, my editor and new friend. Your beautiful spirit can be felt across the miles.

Mary Lee Woods, you have been a splendidly loyal friend. And to the rest of you by first name only to shorten it... Amy, you were from Day One a kindred spirit. Nancy and Tonya, you are talented women with the gift of hospitality. Izzy, the instant I met you I knew you were great.

Some other special souls who have impacted my life recently are Mary, Sherrie, Ivy, Diana, Leah, Virginia, Jo, Linda, and Claire.

And last, but definitely not least, is dear, sweet Pauline. Hugs!

Prologue

W ho would have guessed that the ladies dipping their toes in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean on the twenty-fifth of December were the once-predictable ladies of the Lakeside Baptist Christmas Club? Imagine a group of normally sensible, conservative women sporting Sponge Bob T-shirts and orange flip-flops, with their hair braided Jamaican style.

The congregation of Lakeside Baptist Church couldnt envision it. The news of the last-minute getaway was a complete shock. Peggy Wiggins had to play the piano two Sundays in a row, and lets just say the piano is definitely not her calling.

Jennifer Baker didnt know she was going to start a revolution. All she knew was that Christmas was getting to her, and if she didnt do something about it, she was afraid she was going to lose her mind.

If it had been any other day, the truth might not have spilled out so honestly. If Jennifer had spoken to her best friend about her frustrations first, Claire would have reasoned with her. She would have told her life is tough sometimes. And if that didnt help, then Claire would have purchased Jennifers favorite chocolates over the Internet and had them Fed Exd to her doorstep. Jennifer would have munched right through her restlessness.

But Jennifer didnt talk to Claire first. And Claire thanks her for it. All the ladies in the Christmas Club thank Jennifer for convincing them to take up Beckys generous offer. Every time they see her they thank her profusely, do this jig they made up at the beach house, and say, No problem, mon!

This drives the other church ladies mad.

The membership of the Christmas Club has doubled since January. Suddenly all the ladies are feeling charitable. Theyre pulling out their holiday sewing patterns and cookie recipes for next years underprivileged childrens party.

We want to go with you guys next time! they say. The same ones who called them terrible and said they would never do such an unspiritual thing.

There wont be a next time, Jennifer says assuredly. But the women dont understand... it was just one of those onetime things. You had to be there to learn the lesson.

The pastors wife is starting a new Bible study on contentment, and Jennifer and the other bongo beaters are talking about more outreach to the community. Martha is wearing her hair down these days, and Lillian has incorporated an inordinate amount of beach illustrations into her Sunday school lessons. Claire and her husband are planning a Hawaiian cruise; Dawn is perfecting the Tropical Coconut Chicken recipe; and Becky, the only single of the group, is going back to Jamaica in the spring. Jennifer... well, shes looking forward to next Christmas already.

Just to assure you, the husbands and children sustained no permanent damage. In fact, Casey learned to tie her shoes while her mother was gone, and Trevor learned to make scrambled eggs. The husbands learned some valuable lessons.

There were many small miracles that came out of Jennifers dance with Christmas discontent.

T o understand how Jennifer overdosed on Christmas, you have to know about her morning that first week in December. She had just flipped an egg and broken the yolk after a poor nights sleep filled with puzzling dreams. In the dream she could remember, she was lumbering under a load of cumbersome packages, which may have been related to the previous days bad shopping experience.

She was feeling the pressure.

Jennifer noticed her sons gourmet chocolate Christmas calendar lying on the counter. She wondered what beautifully shaped chocolate was behind the cardboard door for December third. She wondered, and then she did an unthinkable thing. She tore it open and stole the chocolate. It was a reindeer, and she bit off his head and then followed it with his brown, milky body.

Jennifer jumped as her fourteen-year-old son walked in the kitchen, his dark hair spiked full of sculpting gel. Trevors big blue eyes widened as they took in her expression and then fell to the skinny box with an upturned flap she was holding. Mom, is that the chocolate calendar you bought me?

With the evidence in handand mouthwhat could she say? She stared at him blankly.

Its okay; you can have it, he insisted.

Im so sorry, Trevor, Ill buy you another one; Ill buy you three.

Trevor smiled. Thats okay, Mom. Im getting sick of chocolate.

Sick of chocolate? Jennifer swallowed the last of the delicacy, thinking it was impossible to ever tire of chocolate.

Theyre serving chocolate pudding for dessert at school, and Im sure therell be even more at todays party.

Party? She slid the calendar back onto the counter.

Yeah. This afternoon.

And Im supposed to bring...

Rice Krispies treats.

She sighed. These parties were getting earlier every year.

At least they packaged Rice Krispies treats now. Would she be a horrible mother to buy packaged goods instead of making them herself?

Oh yeah, Im supposed to bring some canned stuff for the food drive. Trevor walked to the cupboard and swung open the door.

Take the cranberry sauce. I bought too much.

I dont think people eat cranberries after Thanksgiving. Jennifer gazed at her sons tall form, then eyed the canned goods on the shelf. Take the green beans then.