Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014 Read online

  Eleanor tried to pull away but, although the woman’s grasp on her arm was light, found it impossible. “Help me? Help me do what? You must not have done your homework, or you’d know I’m a self-made woman,” she boasted, feeling quite proud of her accomplishments. “I don’t need your help.”

  Faith gave her a kindly smile. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. You must accept my help. It’s your destiny.”

  Again Eleanor tried to pull away, but the woman held on fast. “This is a dream, right? Any moment I’ll wake up and—”

  “Call it a dream if you like.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Eleanor cocked her head to one side and asked, “Is this some kind of trick? Some ploy by my competitors to discredit me? Make me look like a fool? Who sent you here anyway?”

  “We’re almost there.”

  Eleanor turned her head from side to side, taking in their surroundings. Something about the place seemed familiar. Had she been here before?

  “Do you remember your childhood, Eleanor?”

  “My childhood? Of course I do. Why do you ask?”

  Gesturing with one long sweep of her hand, Faith motioned toward the area in front of them, and the whole place became illuminated.

  Eleanor’s eyes rounded with surprise as she stared at the scene playing out before her. There was a small but immaculately painted house set in a yard filled with flowers, and on the front porch in an old rocking chair was a woman peeling apples. A young boy sat on the porch step playing with a scruffy-looking little dog.

  Eleanor gasped and pointed toward the boy. “That’s Bobby!”

  “Yes, that’s your friend Bobby, and look at that little girl with the sad face standing on the steps of that dilapidated old house trailer next door. Her father just whipped her with his belt.”

  Her eyes filling with tears, Eleanor murmured in a shaky voice, “That little girl is me. I accidentally knocked over his can of beer.”

  ❧

  “Go invite Eleanor over for supper, dear,” the woman on the porch told the boy as he tossed a ball into the yard and his puppy ran after it. “Tell her I’m making apple pies from those beautiful red apples you two picked this morning!”

  Bobby warily approached the trash-laden yard around the old mobile home as if he feared Eleanor’s father would come bursting out the front door at any minute. “Hi, El.”

  Sniffing and rubbing at her eyes, little Eleanor managed a slight smile. “Hi.”

  “Are you hurting?”

  “Uh-huh. A little bit.”

  Bobby frowned. “You’re lying, El. I can tell. You hurt really bad.” Reaching out, he touched a purple bruise on her arm. “Did he do that, too?”

  She nodded. “He got really mad yesterday when I tried to keep him from being mean to my sister.”

  “Your mom didn’t help you?”

  “No, ’cause she knew he’d hit her, too. Sometimes she’s almost as mean as he is.” Eleanor sat down on the step and motioned Bobby to sit down beside her. “It’s okay. He’s gone.”

  “Why doesn’t your mom call the police? It’s not right for him to be so mean to your family.”

  “ ’Cause she’s afraid.” Eleanor scowled as she rubbed at her arm. “He says if she ever lets anyone know that he beats us, he won’t bring his ’ployment check home, and we won’t have a place to live and food to eat.”

  Bobby shyly slipped his arm about her shoulders and gave her a smile. “That’s not fair. Mamas and daddies are supposed to take care of their families, like my mama and daddy do.”

  “I wish my mama was like your mama.” Eleanor’s face brightened. “Did your mama like the apples we picked for her this morning?”

  “Yeah, she wants you to come over to our house for supper. Do you think your mother will let you come?”

  Eleanor shrugged her frail shoulders. “She doesn’t care what I do. She doesn’t love me like your mama loves you.”

  “You shouldn’t say that, El. All mamas love their kids.”

  She gave her head a vigorous shake. “No, they don’t, Bobby.”

  He seemed puzzled by her words. “My mama said I was a gift from God.”

  “Mine doesn’t think I’m a gift from God. Sometimes she says she wishes I was never born.”

  ❧

  Her eyes fixed on the scene, Eleanor stared at the pair. “That’s exactly what my mother said. She told me that many times. She and my dad got married because she was expecting me. I was always a burden to them. They never really loved me—not like Bobby’s parents loved him. Most of the time I think they hated me.”

  “Is that why you’re so bitter, Eleanor?” Faith prodded gently. “Is that why you never trust anyone? Why you’ve always looked out for yourself, with little or no concern for those around you?”

  Eleanor glared at her. “Is that what you think? That I’m self-centered? That I don’t care for others?”

  “Do you—care for others?”

  “Of course I do!” she answered indignantly, offended by Faith’s inference.

  “Can you give me an example of how you care for others?”

  “I—I. . .” To Eleanor’s surprise, she had a hard time coming up with an answer that seemed plausible. “I just presented a sizable check to the local children’s hospital.”

  “Because you needed a tax deduction and the press conference you called to make the announcement made you look good in the eyes of the public?”

  Eleanor planted her hands on her hips, her chin jutting out. “Whether you think so or not, it was a very generous gesture. I didn’t have to give them that money!”

  “What other things have you done that would show you care for someone besides yourself?”

  Now she was on the spot. “I sent flowers to my secretary when she had her hernia operation.” Truth be told, Bob had ordered the flowers and sent them in her name.

  “Did you go to the hospital to see her? Tell her how much you appreciated what she does for you?”

  “No.” Eleanor turned her head away, unable to bear the accusing look in Faith’s eyes.

  “Face it, Eleanor. You’ve thought of no one but yourself since you became an adult.”

  “That’s not true! I took care of my husband until he died. God rest his soul.”

  “You took care of him, or he took care of you?”

  “It—it was a mutual arrangement.”

  “Finding a nurse who could stay at your home and attend to him around the clock? Is that the way you took care of him?”

  “He wanted me to be at the store. Everett was more concerned about making sure Scrooge’s was operating correctly than he was about having me sit by his bedside. Besides, he was on pain medication most of the time and wouldn’t have even known I was there.”

  “But you did spend time with him those last few months, didn’t you?”

  “As much as I could.”

  “What about Robert Rachette? He’s been your lifelong friend and stood by you when others wanted nothing to do with you. Have you ever done anything for him?”

  “Of course, I have.”

  “Oh? What?”

  “I—I gave him a wonderful promotion two years ago.”

  “Did he deserve that promotion?”

  Eleanor registered a faint smile. “Yes, he’s a marvelous worker.”

  “Then why did you wait so long to give him that promotion?”

  Eleanor felt uneasy with the way the conversation was going. “It was a bottom line thing. Just like every other department at Scrooge’s, the accounting department has to stay within the projected budget. Before that time, there wasn’t room in the budget to give Bob that promotion and the pay raise that went with it.”

  “Are you saying you couldn’t have cut some of the fluff from Scrooge’s budget to give a hardworking, valuable employee the position and raise he deserved?”

  “It’s obvious you know nothing about business,” Eleanor told the woman in a tone that let her know she was upset by her words. “Eve
ry successful business has to operate within its budget.”

  Faith leaned toward her, her pale blue eyes almost reproachful. “As I recall, when you fired your former head accountant his salary was considerably more than what you are paying Robert right now. Why didn’t you start Robert out at what that man was making? Surely the former head accountant’s salary was budgeted.”

  Feeling as though she was getting the third degree and backed into a corner, Eleanor felt a flush rise to her cheeks. “I’m not sure any of this is your business, and how do you know what I pay my employees?”

  “I know everything about you, Eleanor Scrooge.” With that, Faith turned back to the scene they’d been watching.

  ❧

  “I’m glad you’re attending Sunday school and church with us now, Eleanor.” Mrs. Rachette reached out and pushed a dark, curly wisp from little Eleanor’s forehead. “You look so pretty in that dress I made for you. You’re a beautiful child, and you have such beautiful hair.”

  Eleanor smiled up at the lovely woman. “My mama hates my hair. She says it’s too thick and too hard to brush. She says she’s gonna cut it off real short.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t hate your hair, Eleanor,” Mrs. Rachette said kindly. “Perhaps she thinks cutting it would make it easier to care for.”

  “El’s mama is mean,” Bobby inserted as Mr. Rachette turned their car into their driveway. “Almost as mean as her father.”

  Mr. Rachette gave his son a frown. “Bobby, you shouldn’t say such things!”

  “Well, she is!”

  Eleanor nodded her head in agreement. “She is, Mr. Rachette. All she cares about are her soap operas and her beer. Someday, when I get old enough to get me a job, I’m going to run away from home and never come back. My parents don’t love me. No one loves me!”

  “You shouldn’t even think such a thing, Eleanor!” Mrs. Rachette grabbed on to her and drew her close, hugging her to her bosom.

  “Mr. Rachette and I love you. Bobby loves you. And I know God loves you. It says so in His Word.”

  Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears. “If God loves me, why would He let my father beat me and my mother hate me?”

  After a few minutes of silence, Mrs. Rachette bent and kissed Eleanor on the forehead. “I don’t pretend to know the answer, sweet child, but one thing I do know. God loves you, and so do we. You’ll always be welcome in our home.”

  ❧

  As she and Faith watched, Eleanor’s heart was deeply touched by Mrs. Rachette’s words and she began to weep openly. “Oh, Faith, I remember that day as if it were yesterday. Mrs. Rachette was the first person to tell me she loved me. I remember wanting to throw my arms around her neck and never let go. She and Mr. Rachette were such lovely people, always so kind and understanding, and Bobby was just like them. I thought he was the luckiest boy in the world.”

  “He saved your life, didn’t he?”

  Eleanor nodded, remembering that horrible day she ventured out onto the frozen pond despite Bobby’s warning. “I could have died that day. So could Bobby.”

  “He came after you with no thought of his own safety.”

  “I know. If that ice had broken any more than what it did—”

  “If it would have broken, perhaps you wouldn’t be standing here now. You might not have lived to marry Everett Scrooge, and you probably wouldn’t be CEO of Scrooge’s and living in that fine house of yours. It seems you owe a great deal to little Robert Rachette.”

  Feeling an unexpected pang of guilt, Eleanor lowered her head, avoiding the woman’s eyes. “I—I guess I do.”

  “Do you remember the best Christmas you ever had?”

  Once again, Eleanor’s eyes misted over. “Oh, yes. It was the year Mrs. Rachette talked my mother into letting me spend Christmas Eve at Bobby’s house. I’ll never forget it.”

  ❧

  Mrs. Rachette threw the door open wide. “Come on in, Eleanor. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Young Eleanor stepped inside. The room was a fairyland of wonder, with its tall Christmas tree filled with hundreds of merrily twinkling lights casting colorful dancing shadows on the wall. “It’s—it’s beautiful!”

  Taking her hand, Mrs. Rachette led her to the tree where the two of them stood gazing at the beautiful, illuminated star topping the uppermost branch. “I’m glad you like it. I love Christmas.”

  “Have a candy cane cookie. I helped make them.” Bobby held out a tray laden with dozens of decorated Christmas cookies.

  Each was so enticing Eleanor had a hard time making up her mind.

  “You can have two if you want,” Bobby said, his boyish smile widening.

  Eleanor chose a red and white candy cane cookie and one shaped like a Christmas tree with green icing and sugar sparkles.

  “Don’t you two fill up on cookies,” Mrs. Rachette warned them with a smile. “I’ve fixed Bobby’s favorite. Meat loaf with lots of mashed potatoes and gravy.”

  “No one makes mashed potatoes like you, Mrs. Rachette.”

  “Would you like to thank the Lord for our food, Bobby?” Mr. Rachette asked once the four of them had gathered around the table and he’d lit the big red candle in the center.

  Eleanor fingered the exquisite poinsettia tablecloth with matching napkins.

  Bobby nodded and bowed his head. “Lord, thank You for the food my mama made for us. Thank You for my daddy who goes to work every day to make money to buy our food. Thank You for our house.”

  Little Eleanor opened one eye a slit and peered at the family. Each one had their head bowed and their eyes closed.

  “Thank You for Jesus who was borned on Christmas and died on the cross to save us from our sins, and thank You for letting El have dinner with us. Amen.”

  Eleanor sat quietly, eyeing each person as the meat loaf platter and the rest of the goodies Mrs. Rachette had prepared were passed from person to person.

  “Would you like whipped cream on your pumpkin pie?” Mrs. Rachette asked Eleanor, holding out a plate with a large piece of pie on it when they’d finished their meal.

  “It’s good,” Bobby told her, his eyes sparkling as he waited his turn. “You’ll like it.”

  Eleanor smiled expectantly at Bobby then at his mother. “Yes, thank you, I would like whipped cream on my pie.”

  “That was the best pie ever,” she said after she’d eaten every crumb.

  “It’s time to read the Christmas story.” Mr. Rachette pushed his chair away from the table. “Let’s all gather around the Christmas tree.”

  After following the Rachette family into the living room, she seated herself next to Bobby on the floor near the towering tree. Mr. Rachette motioned his wife to sit down beside him then picked up the big family Bible from the table, opened it, and spread it in his lap.

  Eleanor couldn’t keep her eyes off the enormous Bible.

  “Can anyone tell me where to find the Christmas story?”

  Bobby quickly raised his hand. “I know! In the second chapter of Luke!”

  Eleanor looked at Bobby in surprise.

  “That’s right,” his father said proudly.

  “Though many may deny it, the Christmas story is a true story,” Mrs. Rachette added, giving Eleanor and her son a tender smile. “God did send His only Son to earth that we might have eternal life. I hope you both will listen as Bobby’s father reads the Holy Scriptures.”

  “I’m sure they will, dear.” Mr. Rachette adjusted his glasses and began to read.

  Eleanor listened with rapt attention. No one in her family had ever read the Bible to her. In fact, they didn’t even have a Bible at her house.

  “That old innkeeper was a bad man,” Bobby complained, wrinkling up his nose. “Mary and Joseph needed a place to rest. He could have let them come into his own house.”

  “That would have been nice of him, but perhaps he had a big family and didn’t have room for them. He was nice enough to offer them space in the stable,” his mother reminded him.

&nb
sp; “At least they had shelter,” Mr. Rachette added. “It was all a part of God’s master plan. Our Lord was born the child of a King. The last place the cruel leaders of that day expected a king to be born was in a stable.”

  Bobby leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I think it’s really neat the way God sent a star to lead the wise men.”

  With a laugh, Mr. Rachette held up a hand toward his son. “You’re getting ahead of the story, Bobby.”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened. “God really sent a star?”

  Mrs. Rachette gave her arm a loving pat. “Yes, He did, honey. Listen to Mr. Rachette, and you’ll hear all about it.”

  “You’re right, sweetheart. The Christmas story is a true story. We must never forget that.” After slipping his glasses back on, Bobby’s father began to read. “ ‘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; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) 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.’ ”

  “That meant it was time for the baby Jesus to be born,” Mrs. Rachette inserted with a smile toward the children.

  Mr. Rachette nodded. “That’s true, and they didn’t have any relatives to stay with. Do you know where they stayed while they were in Bethlehem?”

  Bobby’s hand shot up. “I know! They had to stay in a stable with the animals!”

  “That’s right, Bobby. Let’s read on.” His father lifted the big Bible. “ ‘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 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 Saviour, 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.’ ”