Prayers of a Stranger: A Christmas Story Page 7

  No one had been more surprised than Chris himself when he had stood up and respectfully told them that this was the time for decisive action. There were a number of issues that required their attention. Worrying about things they could not control helped no one. The company’s employees were counting on them for leadership. Which, with all due respect, he had not heard much of since entering the room. Then he had left. And driven home. And given thanks along the way. Which was astonishing, really, since he had probably just signed his own dismissal notice.

  “No,” Chris said. “I really don’t want to talk about it at all.”

  “Fine by me.” Frank laid the two strip steaks on the grill. “Medium rare okay with you?”

  “That would be great.”

  “I’ve been sitting here thinking about my sister.”

  “This is the sister you and Emily came down to look after when she got sick?”

  “I only had the one.” Frank poked the steaks with a long fork. “Elaine was one special lady. My mom and dad worked all the time, so she basically raised me. She was nine years older. Looked after me and the house both. She never married.”

  “She taught high school, is that right?”

  “For a while, then she went back for her master’s in education. Ended up principal of the Melbourne Beach high school. Kids loved her. Filled the church for her funeral.” He turned the steaks over. “Lucy was her favorite. Almost like the child she never had.”

  Chris sat up straighter. Waiting. Ready.

  “The way Elaine used to go on about Melbourne Beach, we thought she was nuts. Well, not nuts, I guess. But she loved it so much we figured she’d grown blind to the downside. We liked it well enough when we came for visits. But it was only when we came down to care for her that we saw she’d been right all along. Just like Elaine, looking after us to the very end.”

  Chris watched him bring out a salad bowl from the kitchen. “Can I help?”

  “You stay right there.” Frank returned for cutlery and plates and napkins, then used a glove to bring out two baked potatoes, which he cut lengthwise, coated with butter, and set on the grill beside the steaks. “Lucy was the child we had after losing our little one. You heard about that?”

  “Amanda told me. I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t know what Emily would have done if Lucy hadn’t come along. She was the perfect baby. Nothing can make up for losing a child, but Lucy filled our hearts, I’ll tell you that much. She gave the days meaning.” Frank laid the meat and the baked potatoes on the plates, set them on the table, seated himself, and offered grace. “Dig in.”

  Chris ate with gusto, giving Frank time to make peace with his memories. It was only after they had cleaned up and were seated back at the table, watching the night capture the back garden, that he finally said, “I went to Orlando today. I had a meeting with some lawyers.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “About like I expected.” Chris took a hard breath. Now that the time had come, he wondered whether he had made a terrible mistake, doing this without first asking permission. “After that, I went down to Kissimmee. I know some people at the church where Lucy serves.”

  The crickets filled the void until Frank asked, “You saw her?”

  “I did, Frank.”

  “You talked?”

  “For over an hour.” Chris glanced over and saw how Frank’s shoulders and neck were bunched and knotted, like a boxer waiting for the next unseen blow.

  Frank’s voice was so tight his throat rattled. “Tell me.”

  Chris was still on his first cup of coffee when Frank called. “You having another breakfast at the church today?”

  “Every Tuesday and Wednesday.”

  “Mind if I come along?”

  “Of course not, Frank. You’d be welcome.” Chris hung up with the question still unanswered. As in, why Frank had not said anything about this the previous evening. Why he waited until six in the morning. But Chris saw no need to ask anything. Not while the dawn was flavored by the conversation he’d had with Amanda. About her visit to a wall.

  Of course he’d heard about the Wailing Wall. He’d seen photographs of the dark-suited, bearded men standing and praying before the ancient edifice. What astounded him was how Amanda had spoken about her visit there with Emily. She had not so much related their experience as sung the words. He’d listened to her describe the old Israeli woman and prayers they had written on slips of paper and stuck into cracks in the wall. But what he had fastened upon was the joy in his wife’s voice. Something absent for so long he had almost forgotten how it sounded. Which was both beautiful and sad. Because if there had been any one way to describe his wife in their early years, it had been joyous.

  Which was why Chris wound up speaking as he did at the breakfast.

  Their church had been built back in the sixties, when water views were still something people thought they would always enjoy. Like most structures dating from that era, the church placed a road between itself and the waterfront, so the city was responsible for upkeep after the hurricanes tore through. The buildings were low and stucco and connected by lawns and covered walks. The cafeteria itself needed updating, as did most of the other facilities. But out the rear windows, beyond the palms and oleander, sparkled the pristine blue of the Inland Waterway. Birds flocked to the sheltered cove just beyond the church’s fishing dock. The air through the open windows was sweet and filled with the songs only heard in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

  What made this morning special was the appearance of Kent Avery. Over the four years the men had been meeting, quite a number of Avery employees had joined the group, but Chris could not have said whether his boss even knew about these meetings. But there he was, seated at a table with a group of shop workers, who seemed as surprised as Chris to see the company president there. Chris could not hear their words, but he could see the way conversation started and ran around the table, with Kent listening attentively and nodding to each person in turn.

  At their own table things were a bit different. Frank brooded in silence, eating nothing and cradling a cup of coffee he did not touch. Chris was not sorry when the meal was done and it was time to say his few words.

  It was not until he was standing at the podium and midway through their prayer requests that he decided to talk about Amanda. “Most of you know about our having lost a baby this time last year. She was stillborn, which in some people’s eyes means the child was never really ours. And that’s true enough, in the sense that we never fed her or cared for her or heard her cry in the night. But she was ours just the same. My wife and I lost our little girl, and we have spent the past year grieving.

  “Some of you met Frank, my neighbor and friend, here yesterday. Wave your hand, Frank. Last week his wife and mine went off to Israel together. At the time I thought it was a good idea without really understanding why. It was when we were talking on the phone that I understood.

  “We’re all going through tough times. Many of us are facing some really hard choices, at work and in our private lives. But the thought I want to share with you this morning is this: there are more important things than our jobs, or troubles, or even our homes and providing for our families. There are eternal things, the matters of heaven. And the purest and most powerful way this presents itself here on earth is in love. The love we share with our families. The love we show to the family of believers. This morning I want you to think about one person who needs your love, who needs you to be there for them in a way that maybe you haven’t. Maybe you have forgotten something, or neglected a duty, or been blind to a need or an opportunity. This person may have forgiven you the neglect, because they know what you’re facing. But Jesus urges us to turn away from fear and pain and frustration, and toward love. I believe he wants us to repair our love, or strengthen our love. I’m encouraging you this morning to think of one simple act that represents your heart for a new hope . . .”

  Chris stopped, defeated by his inability to expre
ss what was on his heart. “Someone want to lead us in prayer? . . . Okay, great.”

  He bowed his head with the others, his face flaming with the ham-handed way he felt he’d spoken. He rarely talked to the group off the cuff, and usually felt afterward that he hadn’t communicated well. He suspected that his discomfort today was at least partly due to Kent’s unexpected presence, which only made his shame the greater. Especially when he lifted his head at the end of his prayer and found his boss sitting there, staring blankly into the distance.

  When the group broke up, Chris watched as both Frank and the company’s president started toward him. He thought several others also were aimed his way, but as soon as they saw Kent heading over, they veered away. When Frank saw that Kent was going to reach Chris first, he frowned and backed up, clearly irritated that he had to wait.

  If Kent Avery noticed how most of the people in the room were watching them, he gave no sign. “We need to have a word.”

  Here it comes, Chris thought. “Sure thing.”

  “Do you want to wait until we get back to the company?”

  “Here is fine.” Chris settled into the chair he had just vacated and asked, “What can I do for you?”

  As if he didn’t know.

  Kent settled across from him, laced his fingers together on the table, and said to his hands, “I’m tired, Chris.”

  The words were so far from what he had expected to hear, Chris could only think to say, “Excuse me?”

  “Tired. Worn out. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in . . . I don’t even know. Too long. I’m sixty-seven years old, and I’m tired.”

  Chris felt as though his mind was suddenly caught on an overtight leash. It skittered in one direction, turned, and ran off in another. He couldn’t tell what was happening. Kent’s refusal to meet his gaze only made it worse. Maybe the president was trying to cushion the news that the board was going to fire him. Maybe the man had decided to close the company, fold up his tent, and leave. Or maybe they were going with the Brazilian’s offer after all, or were going directly to them with a chance to be bought out, or . . .

  “Four generations,” Kent said, still talking to the table by his hands. The bald spot at the crown of his head caught the overhead lights. “You know about my son.”

  Chris nodded. Kent’s only child had never shown any interest in the company, other than spending his inheritance as fast as he could get his hands on it. Chris realized Kent could not see his motion, but just then he could not find any words.

  “You won’t remember this. But you’d been with the company about four weeks when your boss, old Larry Frame, had you deliver the presentation on our newest client.”

  I remember, Chris wanted to say. Because he did. Vividly. But he remained silent.

  “I watched this kid get up there and wow the management team with his enthusiasm. I saw the delight you had in being where you were. I heard you talk about our company, our clients, our future. And I wished . . .”

  “You can go ahead and say it,” Chris managed to say. He did not recognize his own voice.

  “What?”

  “I shouldn’t have spoken yesterday like I did. The board wants my head.”

  Kent cocked his head to one side. “You think I came here this morning to fire you?”

  “I probably deserve it. But they needed to hear it, Kent. The company needs the board to lead.”

  “No, Chris. I’m sorry. But you’re wrong.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “They need you to lead them.”

  He felt hammered back in his seat. He knew he was gaping at his boss and couldn’t stop.

  “Oh, I’ll grant you a couple of the older fellows in there didn’t take kindly to your opinions. But most of them felt exactly as I did. Which was, I was right to suggest the change. And you were the right one to lead us forward.”

  “What change is this, Kent?”

  “Two months ago I knew I wasn’t up to finding a way free of this mess. I don’t know if anyone is, I’ll tell you that up front. You might be out of a job before you can settle into your new office.” He stared into the distance. “Nine weeks ago I had a serious attack of chest pain. I was rushed to the ER, they ran the tests, told me I’d had a bad case of gastritis, possibly was starting on an ulcer. But before I heard the diagnosis, the only regret I felt was over not having spent more time with my wife.”

  Chris nodded. He knew that sentiment all too well.

  “Basically what I felt most was relief. That the stress and strain were over. That I could lay down this burden for good.”

  “I understand,” Chris murmured. And he did.

  “So I want you to take over.” Kent leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “I’m sure of one thing. If anyone is capable of building a future for Avery Electronics, it’s you.”

  “Kent, I don’t know what to say. This was the last thing I expected.”

  “I got to tell you, it’s good to be able to hand somebody a reason to be happy for a change.” He settled back and looked around the room. “I never had much time for God and such. My grandfather was a rigid old hidebound Methodist, and my father rebelled with every ounce of his being. I guess I just followed in his footsteps. You never met my dad, did you?”

  “No.” His voice sounded distant, like he was listening to another man speak. “He passed the year before I joined the company.”

  “I thought the world of my old man. It’s shamed me no end, not being able to carry on, make him proud.”

  “You haven’t let anyone down, Kent. Not me, not your dad, and not a single person who works here. You’re the finest boss I could ever imagine having.”

  Kent continued to scan the empty cafeteria. “I got to tell you, I was moved by what you said. And by the way people responded.” He rapped his knuckles on the table, almost as though he wanted to cut off that topic before it could go any further. “I’ll stay on as CEO. But as of this moment, you’re president of Avery. Now I want you to skip out, lie low, give the company time for the news to filter through. Don’t show your face around the plant until next Tuesday. We’ll have a formal announcement. Then I’ll walk you through the books, get you ready for the quarterly meeting with the outside auditors on Wednesday afternoon.”

  “Kent, thank you, really . . .” Chris swallowed hard. “I’ll give it my best.”

  Kent rose to his feet. “You always have.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Chris walked out of the church at a steady pace. He knew because he could see his reflection in the glass wall overlooking the parking area and the oleander border and the shimmering water. But inside he was nothing but a balloon, bounding down the hall on an unseen string, striking the walls and ceiling and floors. Not so much giddy as disconnected. He saw Frank standing outside by his car, kicking at a pebble and talking on the phone. Chris knew he had to go speak with his friend, and he suspected whatever was said would bring him back to earth. Back to the problems and the reality of everything this day held. Pity the lightheaded moment could not have lasted a bit longer.

  The sun was December mild, a brilliant light scattered by the morning haze. The church’s Christmas decorations glittered and spun in the breeze. Chris heard someone call his name and he waved in response. Just another friend from church, whose day was not overwhelmed by the most unexpected of news. Him. Chris Vance. President of Avery Electronics. It was an aspiration he had never dared dream.

  Frank continued to kick at pebbles on the asphalt as Chris approached. “I need to know what you think I should do about Lucy.”

  Chris did not speak. He took a long breath. Savoring the moment just a bit longer.

  Frank took his silence as reluctance to talk and said, “I spent all night thinking about what you told me. And you were right to go, because I know now I couldn’t have handled it. And I believe what you said. At least, I believe that’s what you saw. But I just don’t . . .”

  Chris looked at the man. He knew what Amand
a said about him. How Frank Wright had the biggest smile and the most brilliant hello of all the hospital volunteers. How he offered a concerned word to all the frightened arrivals. How he made them feel welcome. How he promised them that inside were healing and hope and the best that modern medicine could offer. Chris felt as though the morning light illuminated the moment in a way that only his heart could see. “You’re worried about how Emily is going to respond.”

  “I’m worried about us,” Frank agreed to the pavement at his feet. “The worst arguments we ever had were over Lucy. We’ve been so happy here. I don’t want to lose that.”

  “I called Amanda after I got back from Kissimmee. She put me on the speaker. Emily listened in.”

  Frank kicked harder. “And?”

  “She’s worried about you. All her concern is over how you’re going to manage this.”

  Frank released a breath so big his entire body deflated. “I don’t deserve her.”

  “I feel the exact same way about Amanda.”

  “Will you tell me what you think I should do?”

  “Yes.” Chris thought about Lucy. A hard-edged woman, but sober. And alert. And doing some amazing work with some kids for whom she was the only hope. “I think God is calling you to make a trip to Kissimmee.”

  Frank had gone so still he appeared to have stopped breathing. When Chris finished speaking, he remained like that, frozen in the morning light. A cardinal shouted a greeting. Frank jerked slightly, as though the song had shaken him awake. “I need to go see her.”

  “I think so.”

  “I should do this before Emily gets back.”