Christmas Trinkets Read online

  “You’ll see action come Sunday morning. Pastor Gregg has quite the following. Then again, they know he’s on vacation. And if you pay attention, traffic buzzes through here around commute time, but maybe you’ve been busy with the dogs. Or writing, I understand.”

  “Can’t say I’ve paid attention. Lincoln traffic is background white noise to me.”

  “Well. I need to see to that waiting customer. Pleasure to meet you, Kameron Kohl. Maybe we’ll have you over for dinner while you’re here. Have a godly day, Hayley.”

  She waited to get him coffee until he’d settled and opened the laptop, and then she approached. “Do you always do that ritual to get you in the right frame of mind, your zone, or whatever?”

  He watched her pour the coffee, but didn’t answer.

  “You do that breathing thing with your eyes closed. Are you praying? Then the shoulder thing.”

  “I guess you could call it a ritual to relax my extremities. I need to concentrate on breathing and physical calming to try to shut out the world for the mental part.”

  She giggled. “A world in which I’m an obvious intruder.”

  “No.” Kameron bit his lip. “It’s fine. You make great coffee.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come about writing books?” It took all she had not to laugh, but he glowered so much he’d be offended if she let loose. “Yesterday you seemed lost to the real world.”

  He shrugged. “I guess I’ve always wanted to tell stories. I was never much into sports. Nor talking much.”

  “You also chew on your knuckle. Does that help give you just the right word or something?”

  “Oh, that’s an old habit. Better than chewing my nails.” He slanted her a look. “You could write, the way you pick up on details.”

  “That’s what girls do. Notice things.” What was he thinking as he stared at her necklace? “Speaking of which, does your writing interfere with your dating life? Sorry, that was way too personal.”

  “No problem. Girls have kind of ignored me most of my life. The clincher came in middle school. A time when pretty girls smiled at other boys, or were all caught up in talking about their clothes, hair, skin products. Or other boys.” He tasted his coffee, but didn’t set down the mug.

  “Did you have anyone to talk to when you were going through those feelings as a kid? If I were to guess, you now pour those emotions into your characters.”

  Kameron met her gaze, looked away. “You get right to it, don’t you?”

  “Because I can relate. I had my own issues. You were blessed with a man of God to turn to.”

  “Gregg and Teresa tried their best, but they stumbled over the right words. Unless they came from the Bible.” He drum rolled his fingers on the table. “I was a voracious reader. My friends leaped off the pages of the books, real to me. Eventually, I didn’t care what any of the school kids thought of me because I pretended to be the hero kid who had all the wild adventures. Those storybook friends acted out all my fantasies. I didn’t have to converse with them, only live their lives through imagination.”

  “Sounds lonely.”

  “Suppose you could look at it that way. I became courageous through those made-up adventures. Books taught me about life. Anything I was curious about, I’d find an answer for.”

  “I still prefer a library over the Internet.”

  “I hear you. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to make up a scenario where fearless kids become role-model characters for real life. You know, so book lovers understand those middle-school feelings aren’t unique to them.”

  “That’s admirable. All kids have those same emotions and struggles along the growing-up road.”

  He nodded, drained his cup, and placed his hands on the laptop.

  “I can take a hint. Whenever you’re ready, I’d like to hear where your adventurous, creative mind has gone regarding the secret of the photos in my locket. Maybe one of your grandparents and one of mine were high school lovers and their story needs to be found out. Who knows? We could be long lost, distant cousins.”

  4

  Long lost, distant cousins.

  Kameron zeroed in on Hayley’s retreating back. Her long, golden ponytail swayed against her back with each motion of her hips. The possibility they could be related tapped at a corner of his mind. Forget it for the time being.

  His fingers flew against the keys, inserting the thread of lost brothers into his current story. It was the perfect opportunity to pour some of his own background into a thirteen-year-old boy on the page of his imagination.

  Abandonment colored his whole life. Growing up with a pastor in the house, attending church every Sunday, twice, and Wednesdays. He knew in his head that he should acknowledge God and believe what he’d been taught. But how could God love him? The notion never reached his heart. All his life anger had driven him. How could a loving God let him go through life never knowing his parents, never feeling worth more than being left on the church doorstep, thrown out like garbage never to be seen or touched again by his mother?

  Look at all the distrust, the unrest, the evil in the world. It was easy to put that in his stories. A loving God wouldn’t let it all happen. There was way too much heartache and pain, injustice on earth, which made it easy to keep God out of his books.

  “I know all about that. How it feels.”

  At the sound of Hayley’s voice, Kameron jerked and hit his knee against the table leg.

  “Sorry for reading over your shoulder. You express yourself so well. I didn’t mean to speak out loud. Refill?”

  Man, woman, and child. Hayley Wolfe needed to get a life and leave him alone.

  She carried on. “It truly is amazing that your little infant body lived through that. God wanted you to live. I hope to hear all about it sometime. It’s also way cool that you can use that in your story.”

  He’d often wondered how or why, since he was born in the winter, he hadn’t frozen to death or died of hypothermia.

  His knuckle jabbed between his teeth as though it had a mind of its own. Calm. Pull it together. No reason to take it out on her. He extracted the finger. “Don’t you know anything about writing? Sometimes we cannot be interrupted. You pulled me right out of that character’s head.”

  “No. I’ve never been around a writer who needed to be left alone.” She sounded a bit lost. As alone as he’d always felt.

  “Go ahead and say what you need to. Yeah. Coffee’d be good. Thanks.”

  The woman actually had the gall to pull up a chair.

  “Until I was a young teen I had dreamed of a father who tucked me in at night. Since I was five and moved here to Edgewood, I’ve never had a real father. Mom refused to talk about him. Claimed the less I knew the better off I was and we had a new life, a new home here. We only needed one another. I learned it was easy to express how I felt to God. After all, He made me. He made you. Maybe a troubled teenager had kept her pregnancy hidden and was scared to death of the adult in her life. You lived, Kameron. Just look at the gift God has given you. A sheltered childhood, and now life as an author.”

  He’d considered everything she mentioned. “Have you ever tried to write? Sounds like a story to me.”

  “God gave us emotions. I love reading the Psalms where David poured out his anguish to God. Now I’m finished.” She touched his hand where it lay on the cold marble between them.

  He scowled at her on purpose, to scare her off. “You don’t really have to spout Bible speak to me. I grew up in a pastor’s house, remember? Even if he didn’t adopt me, he did what he called his spiritual duty as the man of the house.”

  She ignored his protest. “Turning to the Bible is part of who I am. As I said, David took his pain to God. God turned David’s pain to praise and peace. I want that for you, too, Kam.”

  What he wouldn’t give to have a peaceful heart. His past had been full of admitted anger over never having parents. Oh, Pastor Gregg tried, but it was his sister Teresa who actually ad
opted the infant.

  The infant. He still had that detached attitude. The adults loved him, but he hadn’t allowed them into his heart. Now someone else knocked at his heart. Hayley Wolfe.

  “Your brilliant mind is swirling, isn’t it? I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Grump. You can get your own coffee. Have at it.”

  “I need some fresh air now. I lost the flow, and it’s useless to sit here. Can’t force it if there’s no ‘it’ to force.” How did married writers get the job done?

  He’d never lived with a roommate to eliminate interruptions, or shared another’s life. He’d always had time, never been backed into a corner where he had to force the writing to meet a deadline. Never dated on the rare occasion when he could have. What did he know of love? His example had been a spinster woman who found love after he’d moved out of the house.

  Gregg remained single. He was married to his changing congregations. He found love in the Bible he buried himself in. Anytime either Gregg or Teresa tried to express love toward Kameron, he’d shut himself off. He wasn’t worth the effort.

  

  Hayley rearranged the candy on the shelves in the vault, thanks to a family of five who had done damage to the fill line in several glass jars. Kameron had yet to return. He’d come back because he left his laptop.

  She glanced out the window, but nothing moved at the moment. Not so within her soul. An unnamed stirring rustled through her, as though something long asleep now awakened. Her world had expanded beyond herself and the usual activities of her day. She wanted to explore Kameron’s thoughts, have him open up to the love of the Lord so he had more in his life than the darkness he wrote about.

  How to reach him? Why should she even care? She wasn’t looking for a relationship, a man in her life, or even love. What was this craziness then, this all-consuming interference of Kameron Kohl in whatever she did? Surprisingly, he’d taken up residence in her head.

  Blindsided. She’d been blindsided by a dark, Heathcliff-type of man who wrote fantasy instead of gothic romance. Maybe his last name should be Bear. She burst out laughing as she secured the lid on the tote of bagged candy and stepped from the vault. A scan of the street beyond the window revealed nothing but a passing car. She returned the candy to the storage shelf off the hall as the man on her mind came through the door.

  “Hey. Ran the dogs on the trail, and the brisk air made us all feel better.”

  She greeted him with a smile. “I’m sorry I chased you off.”

  “It’s fine. I’m used to being alone, is all. Those dogs won’t leave me alone at the house. I’m comfortable here at your shop full of old stuff. Your coffee is great. You don’t play your Christmas music loud enough to rattle the windows.” His face relaxed somewhat, not nearly enough to form a smile. “We just need to get along in each other’s space.”

  “Sounds like a grand plan. Hope you like black walnut. I’ve been saving a piece of fudge for you.”

  At times he seemed painfully shy, lacking in social skills. Sunlight struck his lovely, expressive eyes, and accented the long dark lashes. Her world tilted. All awareness centered on Kameron.

  Listen to your heart. Don’t let an opportunity for love pass you by.

  “I’ve looked at tons of online pictures for anything that resembled the jewelry like ours. My eyes crossed over all the catchy hooks, clasps, closures, boxes, rings, toggles, lockets, and necklaces.” She coughed. “Has Pastor Gregg checked in with you so you can ask him about it?”

  “Nope. He said when he left that he probably wouldn’t contact me until right before he comes home.” Kameron shifted away from her to pour himself coffee. “You must think we’re closer than we are. He’s like an uncle.”

  “I’ll get your fudge. I still don’t understand why you won’t give him a call.”

  “If I call him, he’ll think there’s an emergency.”

  “You aren’t curious enough to consider our jewelry link urgent?”

  5

  Three vehicles were parked out front as Kameron approached Auntie’s Antiquities later than normal the next morning. He’d awakened with an odd sense of expectation. His face in the mirror even lacked its usual tension. Measuring out dog kibble, it hit him. One-on-one verbal exchanges with Hayley stimulated him.

  It had been a long, long time since he’d looked forward to talking with anyone, let alone a woman of similar age. Her influence caused him to create a new lost child in his story. A girl.

  Inside, the narrow space was crowded. Hayley acknowledged him with one of her heart-reaching smiles.

  Ross nodded toward him with a half-grin.

  An elderly woman sat at what Kameron now considered his marble-topped table. She stared down at an open book, her mouth bulging, lips painted in chocolate.

  A couple discussed whether or not a cup and saucer matched others in “Mom’s” kitchen. For some unknown reason, their interaction called for him to inconspicuously eavesdrop. He didn’t want to stare, but they seemed so comfortable with one another.

  Ross approached with the tiny white folded sack of fudge for Bette Jean.

  When had Kameron become so familiar with the habits of these people?

  “Morning. How’s the writing coming along?”

  “Delayed. Had to clean up a dog mess.”

  “That’s life. Glad to see you. My sweetheart wants to know if you have any special dietary needs and if tomorrow would work to come over for supper.”

  “I eat anything. Sure. Tha—”

  “My teeth!” The woman at his table shakily stood to slide aside her purse, pushed the closed book to the edge of the table, and looked under a plastic sack. “My teeth are gone.”

  Hayley scurried to her side in an instant. “We’ll find them. Why aren’t they in your mouth?”

  “Your heavenly fudge would have stuck like anything.”

  He turned from the chocolate mouth.

  “I took out my teeth and set them on my napkin. Where’s the napkin?”

  If he were a laughing man, Kameron would be roaring.

  A college-age woman in a gray knit cap sauntered over to join the melee at his table. “Ma’am, I picked a napkin off the floor and put it in the waste basket. Let’s see if your teeth are there.”

  Kameron held an instant-long eye contact with the man who’d been discussing dishes. He’d clamped down on the inside of his cheek. His gaze now skittered all over the shop, never landing on the excited woman.

  This was way too good to miss. He had to hand it to Hayley for not showing a hint of humor. The glint in her eye gave away how funny she found the whole scenario.

  Since Kameron still wore his gloves, and was closest to the waste container, he slithered between a gold aluminum tree and antique riding horse to retrieve the only wadded napkin in the basket. Sure enough, it secreted the missing dentures.

  Hayley mouthed a thank you to Kameron, and then turned her attention to the woman. “Let me show you to the rest room. There’s a small table and paper cups if you need one. Go ahead and take your time. I’m so glad it ended well. Please let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

  The silver-haired woman shook her bent head, hooked her elbow through her purse strap and the sack handles, and clutched the napkin holding her teeth.

  Silence followed her exit.

  “Poor thing.” Hayley moved the cookbook from the table to a shelf. “She has to be embarrassed. That was kind of you, Kameron. Thank you for jumping in. Everything all right? You came in later than usual. So did Ross.”

  How did women say so much in such a short amount of time?

  “Had a mess to clean up. Summer can run all over the house without disturbing a thing. Winter is another story. I don’t know that much about dogs. Maybe he’s angry I’m in charge or I’m not paying him enough attention. Who knows?” He set his bag on the table and took off his gloves.

  “What happened?”

  He finished removing his coat. “The goofy dog chewed the crate blanket i
nto shreds. The crate itself is mangled where the rod fits at the bottom so it won’t lock in place now. The crazy dog wasn’t even locked inside. Gregg will not be happy.”

  She laughed. For some reason he felt it inside as much as it reached his ears. “Let’s hope Winter sleeps the next time you’re gone. Let me get your coffee.”

  “That husky is way too smart for such a wish. I’ll pour my own, thanks. You have someone at the counter.”

  He savored the aroma as well as the taste of the caramel-scented brew. Hayley chatted and smiled and glanced at him often while she attended to the couple and the other woman.

  The elderly lady stealthily slipped behind Hayley and through the door without meeting anyone’s gaze.

  For the first time ever, he was tempted to live in the moment instead of his make-believe world. Work called. Back at the marble-topped table, the fanciful words still haunted. He booted up. Live in the moment. He shook his head, sat, and stared at the few lines on the page. Nothing came.

  Resigned to not write until later, he did a quick search of the word “hope,” wherever that notion came from. No doubt Gregg had written sermons to cover the subject, but for now Kameron’s laptop held most of what he needed. The commentary claimed hope as a powerful concept.

  Sure, if you can dig deep and find hope. How does good come out of despair?

  The verse quoted on screen came from Psalm 130:7-8. “Israel, put your hope in the LORD, for with the LORD is unfailing love and with him is is full redemption. He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.”

  Hayley approached and read over his shoulder, “And faith means we’re putting our hope in something bigger than ourselves.” She jigged away, bopping to an inner cadence. “I’m a daughter of the King, not meant for the mundane. I’m meant to thrive.”

  Kameron’s mind blanked. He shut down.

  And bolted.

  

  The next morning before daylight Hayley waited by the window. At first sight of Kameron and the dogs, she hustled out to meet them.

  Winter set a brisk pace, and they jogged in silence for a quarter mile until the dogs stopped to sniff deer tracks.