Tales from Grace Chapel Inn Read online

  Christmas Traditions at Grace Chapel Inn

  Tales from Grace Chapel Inn

  Christmas Traditions at Grace Chapel Inn

  SUNNI JEFFERS

  PAM HANSON & BARBARA ANDREWS

  Christmas Traditions at Grace Chapel Inn

  ISBN-10: 0-8249-3179-3

  ISBN-13: 978-0-8249-3179-7

  Published by Guideposts

  16 East 34th Street

  New York, New York 10016

  Guideposts.org

  Copyright © 2012 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  Distributed by Ideals Publications, a Guideposts company

  2630 Elm Hill Pike, Suite 100

  Nashville, TN 37214

  Guideposts, Ideals and Tales from Grace Chapel Inn are registered trademarks of Guideposts.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  “Jane's Christmas Memory” was written by Sunni Jeffers.

  “Louise's Christmas Memory” and “Alice's Christmas Memory” were written by Pam Hanson and Barbara Andrews.

  All Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version.

  Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of

  Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Christmas traditions at Grace Chapel Inn.

  p. cm. – (Tales from Grace Chapel Inn)

  Summary: A collection of three novellas celebrating the beauty of Christmas at Grace Chapel Inn.

  ISBN 978-0-8249-3179-7(pbk.)

  1. Christmas stories, American. 2. Christian fiction, American. I. Guideposts

  Associates.

  PS648.C43C478 2012

  813'.6–dc23

  2012018415

  Cover by Deborah Chabrian

  Design by Marisa Jackson

  Typeset by Aptara, Inc.

  Printed and bound in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Jane Howard hummed quietly as she descended the stairs from the third-floor hallway, dimly lit by Victorian wall sconces.

  De-dum, de-dum, de-dum, de-dum, on Christmas day, on Christmas day, de-dum, de-dum, de-dum, de-dum,on Christmas day in the morning. She'd pulled her long hair into a ponytail and it bounced against her neck. The fresh, pungent scent of the pine boughs and bayberry draped on the banisters took her back to her childhood, when, as the youngest in the family, she'd crept down the same stairs. Always the first one up on Christmas Day, she would tiptoe to the living room and plug in the Christmas lights, then sit on the floor and gaze at the presents beneath the gaily decorated tree, barely able to contain her excitement.

  Christmas was her favorite holiday, when cherished traditions from generations past came alive. Jane loved Christmas even more now that she and her sisters had all moved back home to their family's lovely old Victorian house that they had converted to a bed-and-breakfast called Grace Chapel Inn. They rarely booked guests over Christmas, preferring to celebrate with family and closest friends, and today it would be just Jane and her sisters, plus her niece Cynthia. And, of course, Aunt Ethel, who lived in the carriage house next door.

  Family traditions were especially important to Jane because she'd missed so many family connections growing up. Their mother had died when Jane was born and her grandparents had all passed away, so the memories her sisters had shared helped Jane to visualize the attachments she'd missed.

  Being first up was part of Jane's normal routine. As a professional chef, she was in charge of breakfasts for the inn, and she started preparations early. Besides, Jane bubbled with energy and a joy for life. She naturally rose early so she wouldn't miss anything.

  She peeked into the living room. The room was dark except for the electric candles in the windows, which they always left glowing on Christmas Eve night. She turned on the lights for the Christmas tree in the corner. It sprang to life with sparkling red, green, blue, yellow and white lights. Much better. The stockings hanging on the mantel were filled to overflowing. They were hung in a row by seniority: Aunt Ethel, Louise, Alice, Jane, and Louise's daughter Cynthia.

  Jane glanced up on the mantel, where their grandmother's nativity set held center stage. The lovely hand-painted papier-mâché figures were still bright and intact. She looked more closely. The baby Jesus was in the manger. Odd. They always waited until everyone was present to put Jesus there. They would read the nativity story out of the Bible, as their father, the pastor of Grace Chapel, had done. Then one of them would place the baby in the nativity scene. One of her sisters must have gotten up in the middle of the night and completed the nativity.

  Shrugging, Jane knelt and started a fire in the fireplace. When it caught, she closed the glass doors. She heard a noise and turned around. Wendell, their gray and black tabby cat, was curled up on his favorite cushioned footstool. He stretched out one white paw and opened one eye to gaze at her.

  “Good morning, Wendell. Did you keep watch for Santa last night?” She scratched his head, then headed for the kitchen. He followed, looking for his breakfast.

  After she fed the cat, she ground the coffee beans, then started the machine. It dripped and hissed. She turned on the oven, then took a glass casserole dish out of the refrigerator and set it aside to bring it up to room temperature.

  She put on a Christmas apron that had been a gift from Louise, pushed the sleeves of her T-shirt up to her elbows, then got out her mother's well-worn recipe book and turned to the Monkey Bread. They were a favorite for special occasions, and a must for Christmas breakfast. She set out flour, sugar, butter, and all theingredients she needed to start a batter for biscuits. She began humming again, thinking of sleigh bells and glistening snow. Jane rarely sang. She had not inherited her sister Louise's musical talents or her father's clear deep voice, but she loved music and dared to hum when no one was around. The kitchen was her domain, and the sounds of cooking masked her feeble vocal attempts. In her mind, the songs she hummed were lovely. Besides, no one else was awake or could hear her fromthe upper floors. Kneading dough and humming just seemed to go together.

  Louise dried and combed out her short, silvery hair, slipped her glasses and chain over her head to drape around her neck, and put on a soft green merino wool cardigan sweater. In her calf-length gray wool skirt, she was ready for the day. With a spring in her step, she went downstairs. Christmas morning festivities awaited.

  The Christmas tree lights were on and a fire danced in the fireplace, warming the room and spreading its cheer. Louise looked out the window. A light dusting of new snow covered the ground. Picture perfect for Christmas Day. She added a log to the fire. As she closed the glass doors and straightened, she noticed the nativity on the mantel. With a twinge of disappointment, she saw the baby Jesus in the manger. Jane must have forgotten to wait until they were all gathered together, as they'd done since they were children. Oh well. It was Christmas morning. She supposed it was all right.

  She went down the hall to the kitchen. She heard Jane humming off-key, which grated on Louise's trained ear, but she understood her sister's desire to sing. Music filled the soul. Mentally blocking the sound, she pulled the kitchen door open. Delightful smells burst through the doorway. Cinnamon. Fresh coffee. Vanilla, butter and sugar.

  “Yum. It smells divine in here,” Louise said. Jane jerked her head around and grinne
d. The humming stopped.

  Jane was in her element. Flour covered the butcher-block countertop and the black-and-white checkerboard floor tiles where she was working. “Good morning. Merry Christmas!”

  “Merry Christmas to you too, my dear. Do you need someone to sample something?”

  Jane laughed. “Breakfast is a ways out, but I made cherry and almond scone nuggets as appetizers. And the coffee is ready.”

  “Wonderful. How can I help you?”

  “I haven't set the table yet.”

  “I'll be delighted to do that. But first I'll have some coffee and scones.”

  “Are we the only ones up?” Jane asked.

  “I heard Alice moving around when I passed her door. I don't expect Cynthia to come down until later. She's been working so hard to be able to take this week off, poor darling. She even brought work with her.”

  “If she isn't down for breakfast, I'll take a tray up to her, but she must come down to open stockings and presents.”

  Louise chuckled. “I've never known her to be late for that. When she was little, she would come stand at the foot of our bed until either Eliot or I woke up. Then she'd drag us to the living room to start the day.”

  Jane laughed. “I don't recall ever standing by Father's bed to wake him up, but I got mighty impatient waiting for everyone to come downstairs. I still feel like that little girl sometimes.”

  “You still look like that little girl sometimes. Like now, with syrup on your chin. Have you been licking the bowl?”

  “No. I wouldn't do that.”

  Louise had to laugh at Jane's indignation, which made Jane wave a wooden spoon at her. Jane might be impulsive, and she retained wonderful childlike qualities and youthful cheerfulness, but she was the epitome of professionalism in her kitchen. Licking the bowl was not acceptable in a commercial kitchen.

  “Perhaps I'd better see to that table now,” Louise said, ducking her head in mock shame and pushing through the swinging door to the dining room.

  The Christmas tree lights formed a halo around Louise as she stood staring at the tree, her back to the doorway. When Jane entered the living room, Louise turned around and smiled. “I was just looking at all our ornaments. So many years of memories here.”

  “Good morning. Merry Christmas!” Alice said, peeking into the room from the doorway. She had on a navy blue pantsuit. Her short, reddish-brown hair had been combed in a neat bob. “Let me get my tea, and I'll join you.” She disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

  Jane set her coffee cup on a crocheted doily on the table next to her chair. Alice returned and sat in the rocking chair by the fire. Jane could smell the cinnamon in her special Christmas blend tea. The soft lights bathed the tree ornaments and garlands and the beautiful old decorations in a glow that turned the living room into a magical place. Aunt Ethel and Cynthia would join them soon, but for this moment, the three sisters were together sharing a special time.

  Louise walked over and picked up the large brown leather-bound Howard family Bible that had resided on a table in the corner of the living room since Aunt Ethel had given it to the sisters. Though it was only used on special occasions like Christmas morning and Easter, Jane knew the pages that chronicled their family history. On a gold-gilt page with Victorian angels guarding the corners, all of the family births and deaths were listed in the beautiful, flowing script that characterized the lovely penmanship of past generations. Each name had a Bible verse next to it. Jane had added a page with the Berry family history in flowing calligraphy script to match the other entries. The final entry was the date of their father's death.

  Louise settled on the couch, put on her glasses, and opened the Bible to the book of Luke. She began reading the familiar words their father had read out loud every Christmas morning.

  “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were–”

  “I can do this part,” Jane said. Closing her eyes, she recited, “‘And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not, for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'”

  “I remember when you first recited that,” Alice said. “What were you, about twelve?”

  “At the Bellwood's living Nativity at the farm,” Louise said.

  “Yes. And I was the angel,” Jane said.

  “If I remember right, that was the first year Rose and Samuel had the living Nativity out at the farm,” Alice said.

  “You're correct,” Louise said. “They moved there when they got married. And Rose had just had Caleb. He was baby Jesus. That was why I came home to Acorn Hill early, to help Rose so she could be Mary and stay with Caleb all evening in case he needed her.”

  “He was such a darling baby,” Jane said. “Rose let me take care of him while they were building the sets for the nativity. I could really make him giggle.”

  “I remember that,” Alice said. “I wasn't sure about leaving you alone with Caleb. I remember when you'd help in the chapel nursery. You'd carry him around and wouldn't put him down. And with your creativity, who knew what you'd do alone with him.”

  Louise laughed. “Creativity? That's a nice way to put it.”

  Jane sniffed. “As I recall, the worst I did was bundle him up and bring him outside—in his buggy—so he could see what everyone was doing.”

  “So you wouldn't have to miss the action,” Alice said.

  Jane grinned. “That too. You were having all the fun, pounding nails and painting.”

  “And freezing our hands off,” Alice said.

  “I love that they are still doing the live nativity at the farm all these years later,” Jane said. “It's the perfect setting, and now their grandchildren are playing parts in it. What a wonderful tradition to pass on to their family and the town. I'm glad I got to play a small part in it.”

  Alice chuckled. “Yes. A part no one will ever forget.”

  “Alice! I thought I made a fine angel.”

  “Fine, and then some,” Louise said. “What's the expression Cynthia used the other day? ‘Crash-landed and went up in flames?'”

  Jane laughed. “I think you mean crashed and burned. And I did not burn.”

  “But it was a near thing,” Alice said. “Scared me half to death.”

  “I haven't thought of that in years. I didn't want to be an angel, you know. That was Samuel's idea. I wanted to be a shepherd.”

  “You would have been riding the sheep to see Jesus, not leading them.” Alice laughed.

  Louise chuckled. “You were quite the tomboy back then.”

  “I was trying to make it authentic. After all, the Scripture says, ‘And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.' They wouldn't have been afraid or surprised if I'd just stood in the loft like you wanted me to. I mean, just imagine if you were outside at night and suddenly an angel appeared in the sky in front of you.”

  Louise's smile disa
ppeared. “I would be terrified. Awestruck.”

  “I think so too,” Alice said.

  “As I recall, I was pretty terrified by your angel, Jane,” Louise said. “My first gray hair appeared that year.”

  “No way,” Jane said. “You were only twenty-seven. I do see in hindsight that it could have been a disaster, but everything turned out fine. And I had the best of intentions. I wanted to make an impression, so people would understand the shepherds' surprise. And I wanted to make you and Father proud.”

  Jane's

  Christmas Memory

  Jane peered out the window at the frosty-gray curtain covering the sky that afternoon as Alice drove up the driveway at the Bellwood's farm. Alice parked the Packard sedan in front of the old white Victorian house, and Jane bounced out of the passenger side as soon as Alice turned off the engine. Jane loved visiting the farm. Rose and Samuel treated her like a grown-up, even though she was twelve years younger than Alice. She had to call most adults Mister or Missus or Miss, but not Rose and Samuel. They'd told her to call them by their first names.

  Rose let Jane help her in the kitchen and the garden. She'd won first place for her cherry pie at the county fair, and she was teaching Jane how to make a good crust. Sometimes Samuel let her help with the sheep and the other animals around the farm.

  Today, Jane was coming to help them build the stage for the Christmas living Nativity they were going to put on at the farm. It seemed like a lot of work to Jane, but if it went well, they talked about doing it every year. Alice had the afternoon off from Potterston Hospital, so she'd picked up Jane from school and driven out here. It was barely three in the afternoon, but the cloudy sky made it dark enough that Samuel had turned on the barn floodlights. As they walked toward the workers, a snowflake landed on Jane's nose. She loved snow. Snow meant sledding on the hill in back of their home. But these flakes disappeared before they hit the ground.

  Lloyd Tynan was helping Samuel cut old boards. He was shorter than Samuel, and older. Not as old as her father, but he had to be over thirty, and that, to Jane, was old. And he kept telling Samuel how to do things, as if Samuel didn't know. Jane thought Samuel knew everything about farming and making things. She remembered visiting the farm when he and Rose first moved in, right after they got married. The place was old and run-down, but Samuel fixed everything. The kitchen had been falling apart. He'd torn out the cabinets and made beautiful oak ones with glass doors that showed off Rose's pretty blue and white dishes.