An old, familiar ache tried to work its way into Sarah’s chest.
She sure wished she could make Gregory see what his job was doing to his son, Hunter. Surely if he saw the effect, he would quit. Why waste time working for gifts that would mean nothing to the boy after the first five minutes? What was truly important was time with family. Because it could be taken away at any moment.
She looked at her calendar and counted dated blocks. Twelve days until Christmas Eve and their pageant.
Twelve days…An idea began to blossom.
She took a deep breath as she envisioned those empty blocks on her calendar and began to brainstorm ideas. But could she pull it off? It would take a lot of strength to spend that kind of time around Gregory.
Strength she might not have right now.
Gregory’s son’s sad, angry face flashed through her mind.
Yes, she had to do it. For Hunter.
MISSY TIPPENS
Born and raised in Kentucky, Missy met her very own hero when she headed off to grad school in Atlanta, Georgia. She promptly fell in love and hasn’t left Georgia since. She and her pastor husband have been married twenty-plus years now, and have been blessed with three wonderful children and an assortment of pets. Nowadays, in addition to her writing, she teaches as an adjunct instructor at a local technical college.
Missy is thankful to God that she’s been called to write stories of love and faith. After ten years of pursuing her dream of being published, she made her first sale of a full-length novel to the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line. She still pinches herself to see if it really happened!
Missy would love to hear from readers through her Web site, www.missytippens.com, or by e-mail at [email protected]. For those with no Internet access, you can reach her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
A Forever Christmas
Missy Tippens
For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so
great is His love for those who fear Him. As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.
— Psalms 103:11–12
To my sister, Mindy Conley Winningham,
for forgiving all the mean big-sister things I did throughout our childhood and for being my friend anyway.
To God, for giving me the stories and for allowing me
a career doing something I love so much.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Michael House, Robyn Fogarty and Debra Marvin for research assistance.
I’m grateful to Margaret Daley and Camy Tang for your help and support.
A big thank-you to the members of the Faith, Hope, and Love Chapter for sharing your knowledge when I have questions.
I love and appreciate my sisters in Christ from the F.A.I.T.H. blog and the Seekerville blog. You make me look forward to getting online each and every day.
Maureen Hardegree, grammar queen, thank you for always answering your phone!
A special thank-you to Emily Rodmell for always going above and beyond in helping me make the book the best it can be.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
S arah Radcliffe forced one foot in front of the other, up the front steps of her parents’ church—her childhood church home—with her insides churning. She’d come as a favor for her friend, Donna Rae Durante. And though it wasn’t time for a worship service, she really didn’t want to go inside. She’d been angry with God for weeks. Hadn’t been able to bring herself to even enter a church building.
Which was sad, because normally, walking inside gave comfort—a feeling of warmth, of peace. All of which she really needed at the moment.
But instead, the pervasive grayness wrapped around her as she took the last step leading to the church door. The cold December wind gusted as she flung it open. A cacophony assaulted her ears, reminding her of the school hallways at the end of the day. She entered the sanctuary, and saw kids swarming all over the place, yelling and laughing.
All except for a little boy over to the side, taking it all in. Her heart immediately hurt.
The boy’s straight, dark hair reminded her of her former student, Peter, but she closed off the line of thought before it got out of hand.
“Oh, Sarah, I’m so glad you came!” Donna Rae hollered from where she sat on the front pew.
Sarah waved and proceeded down the center aisle. A carrot-topped little boy zoomed across and almost tripped her.
“Sowwy,” he called, then continued on his race.
Donna Rae stood and hugged her. “You’re such a lifesaver.”
“It’s great to see you, Donna Rae.” She glanced down at her friend’s very pregnant belly. “You look fantastic. As usual.”
Donna Rae rubbed her protruding abdomen, and worry furrowed her brow. “I’m feeling pretty good, too. But I’m swelling, and the doctor is worried about my blood pressure. Didn’t have any trouble on the first four kids.”
“I’m sorry. Anything I can do to help?”
She cackled. “Oh, boy, is there. That’s why I asked you to meet me here.”
From the looks of things—boxes of costumes lying off to the sides of the church and pieces of the set for their annual Christmas pageant—she suspected Donna Rae was fishing for volunteers to help with the play. “Uh-oh. I’m afraid I’m going to regret my offer.”
“Come over here. I need to stay off my feet.” She grabbed Sarah’s hand and pulled her down on the pew beside her. “As you can tell, I’m the director of the pageant this year. And I’m finding out just how much Lindsay Jones Wellington always did around this place.”
“Mother told me she got married and moved to Boston.”
“Yes.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “She and Bill held hands around The Forever Tree, you know.”
How could she forget the local legend that said a couple who holds hands around the tree would have forever love? “Yes, I’d heard that.” Sarah’s breathing stuttered as she remembered the time she’d held hands around the tree. With Gregory Jones.
I’ll love you forever, no matter what happens, he’d said to her as they circled the huge pecan tree in the park in downtown Magnolia, Georgia. She’d been so young. So trusting.
So naive.