Their Christmas Prayer. Myra Johnson
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she muttered, her gaze shooting daggers at Shaun’s rapidly retreating back. Oh, well, he probably had a dozen reasons why he didn’t like that one, either.
Then why hadn’t he said something the other day when they were first paring down their list?
Her glance fell upon a nearby display of baked goods, where a tin of chocolate-frosted brownies sprinkled with walnuts caught her eye. Unable to resist, she hurried to stow her tablet and dispose of her trash, then took the brownies to the deli cashier. Five minutes later, she sat in her car with the open container on her lap. She was just about frustrated enough to eat the whole batch.
Sanity prevailed, however, and she stopped at two. After finding a used tissue to wipe crumbs and frosting off her lips and fingers, she decided some retail therapy was in order. Maybe not as good for her wallet but much better for the waistline. She headed downtown and parked at one end of Main Street across from the town square.
Two ladies’ boutiques, a card shop and the drugstore later, she now owned a new pair of silver hoop earrings and two bottles of nail polish. The next shop, WE Design, boasted a window display of handmade baskets amid autumn leaves and colorful gourds. While Brooke gnawed her lower lip and wondered if Shaun’s sister had made these baskets, an auburn-haired woman juggling an art portfolio and a huge cardboard box stumbled toward the entrance.
“Let me get the door for you,” Brooke offered, recognizing Erin Dearborn from the Sunday school class. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
“Thank you!” Sparkling blue eyes peeked over the top of the box. “It’s not as heavy as it looks, just bulky.”
As Brooke held the door, the petite woman edged through. A glimpse inside the crate revealed several different-sized baskets. “You’re Shaun O’Grady’s sister, aren’t you?”
“Yes, and you’re Brooke from the chamber. Hi, nice to see you again.”
A million questions racing through her head, Brooke followed Erin inside. Maybe Shaun’s sister could give her a little more insight into what made the guy tick.
Behind the counter, a buxom woman in a full, flowing skirt was completing a phone call. She stepped around to relieve Erin of the box. “Mrs. Yates just called to reschedule her living-room consultation for Monday morning. Said she forgot about the church seniors trip to Kerrville today.”
Church seniors trip—must be the same one Brooke’s dad had signed up for. Seemed his social life was going gangbusters since they moved to Juniper Bluff.
Erin set down her portfolio. “Oh, good. That gives me more time to fine-tune my presentation.” She turned to Brooke with a smile. “Let me introduce Wanda Flynn, the other half of WE Design.”
Wanda offered her hand. “Redecorating is our specialty. Is there a project we can help you with?”
“Actually, I was hoping Erin could spare a few minutes. I’m Brooke Willoughby. Shaun and I—”
“Yes, the church committee. I’m so glad you two are working together.” Erin leaned closer, her tone becoming secretive. “He’d never admit it, but he really needs this.”
Maybe so, but Brooke didn’t need the man’s uncompromising attitude. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
Ten minutes later, they sat across from each other at Diana’s Donuts. Brooke had wisely left her remaining brownies in the car, but control had gone out the window since lunch, and she couldn’t resist a caramel latte with whipped cream. Watching Erin sip Earl Grey with nothing but a dash of honey, Brooke suffered a twinge of guilt but quickly brushed it aside. She had more pressing matters on her mind than counting calories.
“I assume you want to talk about my brother,” Erin said with a guarded smile.
“I’m just trying to understand him.” Brooke dabbed whipped cream from her lips. “We met over lunch to discuss this outreach project but couldn’t agree on anything.”
“I guess it’s pretty obvious Shaun is an idealist, especially when it comes to making people’s lives better.”
“Which I’m sure served him well on the mission field. But this is small-town Juniper Bluff, and we’re just one teensy church committee.” Brooke’s frustration boiled over again. “Just. That’s the exact word he used. He said just doesn’t cut it for him.”
“Sounds like Shaun. He’s never done anything halfway. Kent, my fiancé, even jokes about how hard Shaun works at the ranch.”
Another sip of the caramel latte left a cloying taste in Brooke’s mouth. She set the mug aside and folded her hands. “So how do I work with him without losing my mind? I don’t want to disappoint the service committee, but if he isn’t willing to bend a little, this project is dead in the water.”
“I wish I had answers for you.” Sighing, Erin rested her forearms on the table. “When Shaun came home from the mission field at the end of the summer, he was a real mess—angry, discouraged, totally burned out. That’s why our brother Greg brought him to Juniper Bluff. We’re hoping his time here will give him some perspective and help him figure out where God wants him.”
So he was merely biding his time, hoping for an answer to drop out of the sky? Typically preferring action over indecisiveness, Brooke wasn’t sure she could relate. She raised her hands in surrender and leaned back in her chair. “Okay, I’ll try to keep an open mind. But Christmas isn’t that far away, and we need to agree on a plan sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll try talking to him, too. Just be patient. If you’re willing to give his ideas a chance, I know this will all work out for the best.” With a quick glance at the time, Erin drained the last of her tea. “I should get back to the shop, but I’m glad we had a chance to talk, and I hope we’ll become good friends.”
“I’d like that.” Brooke stood to share a parting hug with Erin. “And thanks for giving me some insight into Shaun.”
“I promise, once you get to know him, you’ll see what a great guy he is.”
Brooke could only nod and hope Erin was right. Much as she respected and admired Shaun for his missionary service, and even though she did find his quirky sense of humor appealing, she had no intention of allowing his personal issues to sabotage the Christmas outreach.
Completing his final pass with the riding lawn mower, Shaun shut off the blades and steered the mower toward the garage. The combined smells of cut grass and gasoline filled his nostrils, but nothing stunk so bad as the way he’d handled things earlier with Brooke.
Years ago, his favorite seminary professor had cautioned him about his idealism. “Not everything is black-and-white, Shaun. Demanding perfection from yourself or any other human being—at least in this life—will only bring disappointment.”
He was sure enough disappointed in himself, and he owed Brooke an apology. He wouldn’t blame her if she’d already phoned Emily Ingram to plead for someone else to partner with for the Christmas service project. Maybe he should have simply gone along with one of the plans Brooke had presented. The three possibilities they’d initially agreed to consider weren’t inherently bad, but after he’d had time to mull them over for a few days, he hadn’t been able to reconcile how limited they were. He wanted to do more.
He needed to do more, or a month or a year or a decade from now, none of it would matter.
Shoulders sagging, he trudged out of the garage and gazed up through the live oak branches toward a cloudless autumn sky. “I get it, Lord. I’m pushing too hard again.”
He’d back off, and he’d ask Brooke’s forgiveness and hope she’d give him another chance. He tugged his phone from his back pocket and started to call her but then decided she deserved the courtesy of a face-to-face apology. Maybe he could snag a few