Sarah ignored the beauty of the enormous snowflakes falling outside. All she saw was the ugliness of the bare floor where a Christmas tree should be. “Still no money for presents,” she said, mumbling to herself while searching for her keys. “Looks like Santa won’t be coming this year.”
No matter how she worked the math, the results came out the same. There wasn’t any money to buy presents. How would she explain to the twins that Santa had passed them by? She didn’t want to think about it, but she had no choice. Time was running out.
Sarah grabbed her ten-year-old coat and her purse. “Come on girls, or I’ll be late for work. Let’s get this show on the road.”
The twins bounded down the stairs. Their happy voices brightened the darkness of her mood. How could she stay depressed when she was blessed with such delightful children?
The swish-swish of the wipers brushing the snowflakes off the windshield added a beat to the girls’
giggling and reminded her how fortunate she was to have them. After fifteen years of marriage, she and her husband, John, were ecstatic when she discovered she was expecting.
The pregnancy hadn’t been easy. She fought nausea while being a secretary in the mornings and a waitress in the afternoons and evenings. Their insurance lapsed when John was laid off. If he hadn’t found a part-time job with the post office, she didn’t know what they would have done. They could barely make ends meet.
When the doctor put her to bed for the next three months, she tossed and turned with worry. How would they pay the bills? Worse yet, what if she lost the babies?
Amazingly, she carried the babies to term. They were perfect. They came home together, so filled with joy and anticipation, their lack of money didn’t matter.
When she turned the corner toward the sitter’s house, the snow came down heavier, making it hard to see the road and reminding her how difficult the last three years had been. With twice as many mouths to feed and diapers and baby clothes that were quickly outgrown, the bills kept piling up. Why was she complaining? No, it wasn’t that. She wasn’t complaining. The girls were wonderful, and they deserved a happy Christmas even if they couldn’t have a tree.
The snowy roads made the drive to work take twice too long. She ran into the café, out of breath. “Sorry I’m late.” She hung her coat on the wooden rack in the corner.
“Not to worry,” Rudy said. “It’s pretty slow with the snow and all.”
She liked Rudy. He was flexible and easy to work for. Besides she could drop the girls at the sitter’s on the way.
Business wasn’t just slow. It was nearly non-existent. After each customer left, she counted her tips, hoping for enough to buy the two dolls at Blair’s Department Store. Santa had promised the girls, and she couldn’t bear the thought of breaking their hearts. By seven-thirty, she had collected only ten dollars—about half enough to pay for one doll. “Looks like Christmas will be even slimmer than I thought,” she said to the tip money as she returned it to her pocket.
The wind blew the door open, and a snow-dusted customer came in, tall and thin with wavy brown hair. He pressed his weight against the door to close it after a flurry of snow and dried leaves blew in. Dressed only in a light windbreaker, he had to be a stranger to these parts, yet something about him seemed familiar. Maybe it was his manner, the way he brushed his hair from his eyes and carefully placed the windbreaker on the rack in the corner.
He plopped himself in the corner booth. “I’ll take a cup of coffee and some pecan pie.”
“Coming right up.” While getting his order, she never took her eyes off him. There was something she couldn’t put her finger on. He was about the age her brother, Tommy, would have been if he hadn’t been killed by a sniper in Vietnam.
As she served the pie, she asked where he was headed. He was warm and friendly, and they struck up a conversation. He was on his way to visit his aunt in Sioux City, Idaho, but the snowstorm had made driving impossible.
“The motel has no vacancies,” the stranger said. “I’ll just wait out the storm here in the café if that’s okay.”
“The Café closes at ten o’clock,” she said, “but I might have a better idea. Let me make a quick phone call.” She returned after a few minutes. “I talked to my husband, John.” She topped his coffee with a fresh brew. “He said he’d be mighty pleased if you’d stay in our guest room over the garage. It’s a cold night and too treacherous to drive. My name’s Sarah. We’ve used our garage a time or two as overflow, when the motel’s full. John used to keep his tools there, but he had to pawn them. It’s small but clean.”
“That’d be great.” He smiled. “I sure could use a warm bed. I’ve been driving twenty-six hours straight. And by the way, my name’s Sam. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Hang around for a while.” She headed back to mop the kitchen floor. “You can follow me home when my shift’s over. I have just one stop on the way.”
At ten o’clock, Sarah waved to Rudy and locked the door on her way out. Sam followed her to Blair’s, a block away, and went inside. They were the only customers. Just for a moment, she wishfully fingered a wool coat on her way to the children’s department. Forcing her eyes away from the doll department, she opted for a plastic table with two chairs for the girls. This would have to do. The price was right, marked down to ten dollars. Her tip money was just enough.
At the cash register, Sam looked impatient. “Could you give me your address? I need to get gas, so I can just meet you there.”