Melody Carlson - Christmas at Harringtons

C hristmas
at H arringtons

MELODY CARLSON

2010 by Melody Carlson

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

E-book edition created 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means for example, electronic, photocopy, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

ISBN 978-1-4412-1358-7

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

Material in chapter 13 taken from Twas the Night: The Nativity Story by Melody Carlson, copyright 2004 by B&H Publishing Group, Nashville, Tennessee. Used by permission.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Contents

The slate-colored sky matched Lenas spirits as she sprinted toward the bus stop. Dont be late, Mrs. Stanfield had warned earlier. The bus leaves promptly at 5:15 and there wont be another until tomorrow morning.

Lena hadnt planned to be late. But with two hours to spare, she had ducked into the public library to use the restroom and escape the elements, then found a comfy easy chair. While reading a recipe for cranberry cake in the December issue of Better Homes and Gardens, Lena had dozed off, lulled by the warmth, the flickering fluorescent lights, and the sweet, musty smell of books. If not for the librarians nudge, since the library closed at six, Lena would probably still be sleeping.

Instead, she was running down the sidewalk with the icy wind in her face and her purple parka flapping wildly behind her like a parachute. She waved her arms, calling frantically to the bus driver. Wait! Please, wait!

You were cutting that mighty close, he told her as he opened the door for her. Hurry up, lady, Ive got a schedule to keep.

Thanks, she gasped breathlessly as she handed him her wrinkled ticket. I really appreciate

Grab a seat now. He jerked his thumb backward.

As the bus lurched forward, Lena found an empty pair of seats near the back and quickly ducked in. Scooting next to the window, she clutched her handbag in her lap with trembling hands. That had been close. But shed made it.

Her stomach rumbled as the bus left the lights of Indianapolis behind. Shed been lucky to snag two seats together. Maybe she could use the space to lie down and really sleep. Except that she was wide awake now. As if on high alert, she watched the bus zip out into the freeway traffic. They were moving so fast that Lena felt dizzy. Was the driver speeding, or was this just one more thing shed forgotten during her eight years in prison?

Lena tried to peer out the window, but due to the darkness outside and the reading light from the passenger in front of her, all she could see was her own dismal reflection. Pasty round face, weary blue eyes, and dishwater blonde hair in need of attention. She looked away and swallowed hard. Self-pity was something shed learned to suppress while incarcerated. It served no purpose and could even make an inmate appear weak. And weakness, shed learned early, was preyed upon. No, shed quickly decided, bitter was better. And perhaps it would be better here on the outside as well.

You dont want to return to your hometown? Mrs. Stanfield, a volunteer social worker, had asked Lena last week. The older woman had been helping make arrangements for Lenas release. Getting out eighteen months early for good behavior had been a bit of a surprise to Lena, although she knew the womens correctional facility was getting crowded, and a number of inmates some with crimes much more serious than hers had been paroled. Plus, with Christmas less than four weeks away, perhaps a spirit of goodwill had warmed the hearts of the parole board. Whatever the case, suddenly it was time for Lena to reenter the world at large.

I want a fresh start in a new town, Lena had firmly told the volunteer. Somewhere far away from Willow Creek... somewhere outside of Indiana.

Mrs. Stanfield frowned. But we have a much better success rate for parolees who return to their hometowns and families its like a built-in support group.

Not for me, Lena said. My parents both passed away while I was in here. Theres nothing for me back in Willow Creek. She didnt add that she suspected her parents illnesses and subsequent deaths, within a year of each other, were partially due to the stress and shame shed thrust into their otherwise calm and slightly boring lives. They hadnt lasted long enough to hear the truth. Not that theyd been listening not to Lena anyway.

So where do you want to go? Mrs. Stanfield asked with concerned eyes.

To be honest, I dont really care, Lena admitted.

The social worker shook her head as she studied the paperwork in front of her. I see here that youre only forty-three. She said this as if forty-three were young. And you seem intelligent and well-spoken... and is it true that you were a pastors wife? She looked up with raised brows.

Lena sighed, averting her eyes until her gaze landed on a faded poster about STDs that was hanging lopsided on the bulletin board behind Mrs. Stanfield. The headline read, What You Dont Know Could Hurt You. Well, that seemed true enough.

Mrs. Stanfield cleared her throat. Lena?

Yes?

I was just saying, how about if I put a release package together for you?

A release package?

Yes. I can choose what I think would be a suitable town for you, make your living arrangements, set up some temporary employment, get your transportation worked out. Would that be acceptable?

Lena slowly nodded. I would really appreciate that.

Mrs. Stanfield smiled as she closed the folder. Then well do our best and trust God with the rest. Right?

Right. Lena forced a smile, but as she thanked the woman, her voice sounded flat and lifeless to her own ears. When she returned to her cell, she decided not to think about her upcoming release anymore. It wasnt that she wanted to remain in prison. But at the same time, she couldnt imagine life beyond prison. In fact, she couldnt imagine life at all.

Today, when the head matron had handed Lena a rumpled grocery sack of used clothing which included this ugly purple parka with a broken zipper, a pair of black polyester pants, and a red acrylic turtleneck sweater Lena had wondered if shed been naive to allow someone else, even a kindly older lady, to make arrangements for her fate and future.

Now, as the bus sped north into what seemed the heart of this winter storm, Lena clutched the worn handles of the secondhand bag and wondered about the release package tucked inside. Was she a fool to have trusted Mrs. Stanfield? But then, navet had once been Lenas trademark. Even when her own trustfulness betrayed her and naive innocence deceived her, she still hadnt grasped the magnitude of her own gullibility.

Her stomach growled again, almost as if scolding her for oversleeping in the library. Of course, her laziness had cost her dinner her just deserts reminded her of her fathers discipline when she broke his unbendable rules. He would scowl and remind her that a rod is reserved for the backs of fools.