Tales from Grace Chapel Inn Page 5

  “An angel? Never seen an angel around these parts before. But everyone who comes into Bethlehem has to sign in, so the Governor can charge you taxes.”

  Jane giggled and signed her name.

  She stepped inside the barn and was transported back two thousand years into Bethlehem on the night Jesus was born. Samuel and Rose and the people from church had transformed the old barn into a different world.

  There were booths, just big enough for a person to stand behind, on both sides of the wide barn aisle. Some of the actors in the production were playing the part of the street vendors. The booth next to the census taker's was the baker's. Clarissa Cottrell and her mother were setting up their booth. They had a big basket of fresh warm buns that they'd made down at the Good Apple Bakery, one of Jane's favorite places. At least once a week she stopped at the bakery on her way home from school and bought a cookie or brownie with her allowance.

  “You may have one,” Clarissa said, holding out the basket.

  “Thank you.” Jane bit into the puffy doughnutlike bun and tasted cinnamon and walnuts and honey. So yummy. She licked her fingers as she came to the Inn, which was made from rough, unpainted boards. It didn't look like a place she would want to stay. Cyril Overstreet, the innkeeper, was standing in the doorway. She barely recognized him in the oversized robe and brown beard. He seemed an odd choice to play the part. He was a quiet, shy man, about her father's age. He played chess with her father regularly, and the two men would sit for hours, not talking, just staring at the chess pieces, then making a move once in a while. But there he was in a bathrobe instead of his usual cardigan sweater. “Move along now,” he told her, but he winked. “The inn is full. No room here.” Next to him, his wife, a short woman with rosy cheeks and a kind smile, offered her a small cup of hot apple cider. Jane started to take it, but she heard Louise calling her.

  Jane gave Mrs. Overstreet a wistful smile. She hoped there would be cider left after the nativity. She waved at her sister and moved along, but not too quickly. Next was the stable where Mary and Joseph and Jesus would be stationed. They weren't there yet. The wooden manger, where Caleb would lie, had hay in it. There was a blanket folded up for padding. She hoped the straw wouldn't scratch him, but Rose would make sure he was all right.

  Jane glanced around and saw Rose holding Caleb, who was wrapped in a blanket, talking to Alice in the next pen. Alice was in charge of the animals. She had to make sure they didn't spook or bite someone. There was the donkey, the milk cow, and several sheep. Jane looked around for the mama cat and kittens. They didn't seem to be around. Jane wished she was helping with the animals, but she supposed Alice was better suited. When Alice was a teenager, she used to bring home strays and take care of them all the time.

  “Jane, you need to get up into the loft before people start arriving. They aren't supposed to see you until you appear,” Louise called, beckoning her from farther down near the end of the barn, by the loft ladder.

  “Coming.” As she turned, she nearly tripped on her costume, then picked up the front enough to get it out of the way of her boots. She should have worn her slippers that looked like ballet shoes. Boots didn't look very angelic. She sighed and hurried over to Louise.

  “I'm ready,” she said.

  Louise straightened Jane's robe and retied the bow at the back. After a brief examination, she nodded her head. “You look very angelic,” she said. “Do you remember your lines? Do you want to go through them again?”

  “I know my lines,” Jane said. Louise had made her repeat them over and over since she'd arrived in Acorn Hill the week before. It was annoying because Jane didn't get to see her oldest sister very often once she had married and settled in Philadelphia. Reciting Bible verses wasn't her idea of quality sister-time.

  “Good. Now you remember what you're supposed to do? When you hear the narrator say, ‘There was no room for them in the inn,' you step to the edge of the loft and recite your lines. But be very careful, and hang onto that post up there,” she said, pointing to a post. “We don't want you falling out of the loft.”

  “Don't worry. I'll be fine.” She supposed Louise wasn't around enough to appreciate her abilities. She could shimmy up a tree faster and higher than any of the boys at school, and she could ride her bike with no hands. She'd climbed on the roof of their carriage house once to retrieve a ball that had gotten stuck. Going up in the barn loft was as safe as going upstairs in their home. She hiked up her robe and climbed the ladder. At the top, she looked down and grinned at her sister, who raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.

  Jane had plenty of time before her part. The loft was split into two sections, one on either side of the wide aisle that stretched down the middle of the barn. She walked over to the spot above the stable where she would make her appearance and recite her lines. A single light hung above her so the people below would see her when she appeared. But it wasn't very bright. The cast had run through the whole nativity Thursday evening, and it had gone well. The shepherds and their sheep were across the barn and down toward the front in a pen, waiting for their cue. When she appeared and recited her lines, they would rise up and go down to the stable.

  Jane had tried to make her lines sound exciting, but she didn't think she succeeded very well. She was perched so high above everybody, she hoped she could get their attention. Would she be loud enough for all of them to hear her? She needed a bullhorn or a whistle. But angels didn't carry whistles, as far as she knew. And angels wouldn't hang onto a post. An angel would float in the air above the crowd.

  Looking around, Jane saw stacks of hay and a pitchfork. She looked up and spotted a rope hanging from the center of the barn ceiling. It looped over to a hook on the wall, where it was held by a big knot. She made her way over and examined the rope. It was thick, like a rope swing. There were two knots where someone could hold on and swing. She wondered if Samuel and Rose had used it to swing or if it had been there before they moved to the farm.

  She went back to the edge of the loft and looked across to the other side. It was only about twelve feet away. The loft on the other side of the barn looked the same as the side she was standing on. There were bales of hay, but they were stacked against the back, so there was room to stand on the edge.

  Suddenly, Jane had an idea. It was perfect. An angel wouldn't just stand there and hold onto a post. If the angel was truly excited, like Louise said, the angel would show it. Everyone would be so surprised.

  Jane kicked off her boots, so it would look like she was in bare feet, although her feet were white from the tights. She heard a commotion, and all the players hurried to their stations.

  “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed,” a deep voice boomed out. Jane knew it was Clarissa Cottrell's father, and he was down near the barn entrance, but she couldn't see him. He was reciting the Christmas story right out of the Bible. Jane knew it well, because her father read it out loud every Christmas morning.

  “And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city,” he continued. “And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.”

  Rose and Samuel walked slowly down the middle of the barn from the front door to the inn. Jane looked around to find Caleb. Louise was holding him down by the stable.

  “And so it was,” the announcer continued, “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.”

  Mary and Joseph stopped in front of the inn and the innkeeper turned them away, but the innkeeper's wife led them to the stable.

  Mary and Joseph settled in the stable and Louise carried Caleb over and handed him to Rose—er—Mary
. Jane could see some of the action right beneath her as she peered down through the slats in the loft floor. She saw the manger and the top of Mary's head covering, where she sat holding the baby Jesus.

  Rose placed Caleb in the manger. He was all wrapped up, so only his face was showing. Squinting, Jane could see him. He looked straight up and smiled, as if he could see her way above him. But it was dim and Rose said he still couldn't see clearly. Still, his smile seemed aimed at her. Just for her. She smiled and waved back at him.

  At that moment, she realized that was her cue. The baby Jesus was laid in the manger. Without thinking, she rushed over and pulled the thick rope off the hook, grabbed the rope with each hand just above the knots, ran toward the edge and launched herself across the open divide to the other loft. As she swung over, she heard gasps of surprise. Exactly what she intended.

  Jane looked down and tried to make out the faces below her, but she was moving so fast they were all a blur. She managed to let go of the rope with her upper hand and to drop onto the loft near the edge. She teetered for a moment, but got her balance. Still hanging onto the rope with one hand so she wouldn't lose it, she turned to face the startled crowd. She saw Harold Moss holding a camera, pointed at her, just as a flash went off. For a second, it blinded her. She blinked a few times, then the crowd reappeared, but she couldn't make out anyone's face. Father was there somewhere. She looked over toward the stable. Her vision cleared. She could make out Samuel and Rose staring up at her. Alice was leaning out from the animal pen, looking up, and Louise was standing next to her. Their mouths were open and their eyes wide as they all stared at her.

  “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,” the narrator boomed. “And the angel said unto them…”

  Jane threw her arms open wide, still holding the rope for her return trip.

  “Fear not!” She paused for dramatic effect, just as Louise had coached. “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.”

  The shepherds pushed their way through the crowd, leading the sheep by leashes. “Please let us through. We want to find the new baby. Did you see the angel? Have you seen the baby? Excuse us.”

  Jane could hear the bleating and baaing as the sheep protested.

  “Can I pet him?” some child asked.

  “Me too,” another said. Jane knew how they felt. She loved to pet and play with the sheep, when they would let her. But she wasn't finished. She waited until the shepherds made it through the crowd and were standing right beneath her. They looked up, away from her, since she was on the wrong side of the barn. And now the stable wasn't beneath her. It was on the opposite side of the barn, under the other loft, where she was supposed to be standing. The shepherds looked around, then spotted her and turned toward her. Now she had a predicament. She had to get the crowd to turn back around so they could see the baby Jesus. First she had to finish her part.

  Taking a deep breath, she shouted, “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.”

  Everyone was watching her. She reached up and grabbed the rope above the knots, as before.

  “Jane, no!” Louise yelled, but it was too late. She kicked off, sailing back toward the other side. But as she swung her legs forward, her feet caught in the hem of her dress. If she let go, she wouldn't be able to land on her feet, and might not even make it into the loft. Jane held on, and the rope swung back away from the other side of the loft, and she swung gently, suspended above the crowd.

  Ahs of alarm rose from beneath her. Her feet were at least a yard above the heads of the tallest people in the crowd.

  “Hang on, Jane. We'll get you down,” some man shouted.

  “I'll get a ladder,” another voice said, and he moved toward the door. She didn't know who it was, but she couldn't hang there. The nativity play wasn't finished. She had to get out of the way, so the play could continue. Besides, she could do this. She'd swung on rope swings before. No problem. So she kicked out with her feet and got to swinging. It took several kicks and swings to get close enough to the loft in back of her to push off. She swung across, then back, then across, gaining momentum.

  “Jane, stop. We'll get you down,” someone called out. A woman. Maybe it was Mrs. Overstreet. But she couldn't stop. She was nearly there. Each time she swung, she heard murmurs and words of alarm. She knew she wouldn't drop, but they didn't know how good she was at swinging from trees. A couple more swings, and she could get over to the other loft and out of sight. Then they would be facing the stable.

  “Jane, let go. I'll catch you,” a deep male voice said.

  Jane recognized her father's voice. Oh no! She would knock him flat if she let go. Her feet were free of the robe now. She swung backward at full speed and bent her knees, ready to connect with the loft edge. When it was just beneath her, she kicked off as hard as she could and sailed toward the other loft.

  As she got close, she realized it was higher than the other side. Or the rope was longer. She didn't know what was wrong, but it was above her feet. She swung her feet forward to get on top of it and missed, crashing into the edge with her shin. Her body propelled forward. She reached out and grabbed the upright support and her upper body flopped over the edge. She scrambled to grasp hold on the loft and got her fingers around the edge of a floor plank. Letting go of the rope with her other hand, she grabbed the floor and clung to it, stunned. The breath was knocked out of her, and her legs dangled over the side.

  Caleb let out a cry. She must have startled him, poor baby. He stopped for a second, long enough to take in a deep breath, then he began to wail. Jane felt like crying along with him. But at least he had announced his presence and everyone could turn their attention back to him.

  Jane had experience getting out of embarrassing situations. She knew she had to move quickly. She wiggled her body and inched up onto the loft. There were gasps beneath her. She heard a rip. Felt sharp pain in her leg. No time to think about that. She scrambled up and out of sight, then lay on the hay-strewn plank floor, trying to catch her breath.

  “Jane?” came a voice from below.

  “I'm okay,” she said, not at all certain it was the truth, but the show must go on. “Please forget about me.”

  There were a few moments of silence, then her father said, “Let's continue.”

  “And it came to pass,” the booming voice of the narrator said, “when the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds hastened to Bethlehem and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.”

  Saved. Jane rolled over on her back and tried to sit up. It hurt. Everything hurt. Especially her leg. She looked down. Even in the dim light, she could see a long rip in her white tights and blood all over her leg. It stung and ached like the dickens. And she was mortified. She'd ruined the nativity. She'd let down Rose and Samuel and Louise and Alice and Father. She'd wanted so badly to be the best angel ever, but she'd failed. Her wings were all bent up. Her halo was hanging askew. The beautiful gossamer costume was ripped and bloody. Jane pulled herself across the hay to a corner behind a stack of hay bales, where no one could see her.

  Curling up in a ball, Jane covered her face with her hands. She could feel the wetness of the tears streaking down her cheeks. Burying her face in her arms, she wept as the nativity continued beneath her. She heard the three kings arriving, asking the way to see the newborn king.

  “Jane, where are you, sweetheart?”

  It was Father. She didn't want him to see her, but oh, how she wanted to cry on his strong shoulder. She heard him making his way across the loft. Then he was bending over her.

  “There you are. Oh, Jane.” She
heard his sigh, but wasn't sure if it was resignation at his wayward daughter or relief that she was all right. He dropped down onto his knees beside her.

  “Are you all right? Let me see your leg. I know you hit it hard.”

  Jane rolled halfway over and tried to stretch out her leg so he could see. He wiped her tears with his handkerchief. Then he looked at her leg.

  “It's hard to tell if you broke it, but you have a nasty cut,” he said. He dabbed at it with his handkerchief.

  Jane flinched. It hurt so bad.

  “It has stopped bleeding, but it will probably start again when we move you. I need to get you down and out of here and take you to the doctor.”

  “No, Father, please. I don't want to mess up the nativity any more. I'll stay here until it's finished. I'll be all right.” She tried to smile. She brushed away tears with the back of her hand.

  He looked into her face for a moment, then sat down in the hay, his back against the bales. “I'll stay with you.” He gently gathered her in his arms, careful not to hurt her leg.

  He was wearing his second-best white shirt and his best wool sweater. Jane was conscious that she was about to ruin his clothes, too, but he held her close, and she couldn't resist. She curled up against him and let her tears flow, choking back sobs so no one else could hear her.

  “I'm s-sorry. I ruined everything again. I d-didn't mean to.”

  “Sweetheart, you were the most amazing angel I've ever seen.” She looked up at his face, trying to see if he was serious. “Really?”

  He smoothed her hair back away from her face. It was sticking to her tears. “Truly. And the nativity is almost over. Then we'll get you out of here.”

  “Okay.” Jane closed her eyes. The leg was throbbing hard now. She pressed her lips together and tried to listen to the rest of the nativity.

  She must have dozed off. Next thing she knew, Alice was bending over her leg. She pressed her fingers against the bone and Jane cried out. She couldn't help it.

  “Sorry,” Alice said. “I've got to see if it's broken.”