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“Now what on earth would I have to cry about, darlin’? It’s the onions, that’s all.” She used the blade of her knife to scrape them from the cutting board into the roasting pan, popped on the lid, and slid it into the oven to cook slowly. Then she went to the sink and washed her hands.
“You sure?” Selene asked.
“Sure I’m sure.” Vidalia turned around to face her youngest daughter, and found herself lost in Selene’s mysterious, pale blue eyes. “I don’t suppose you’re coming to church with me this morning,” she asked to change the subject.
“Nope, not today. I celebrated the winter solstice last night, a couple of nights early, with some friends. It was more spiritual to me outside under the stars than church will ever be. It snowed, you know.”
“I know! I saw it too. And I have to say, daughter, I agree with you there. It was truly magical, wasn’t it?”
Selene frowned at her. “Now what were you doing up at three a.m., Mom?”
Vidalia shrugged and smiled mysteriously. “If you’re not going to church, what are you doing here so early?”
“We thought we’d start putting up the Christmas lights on the house for you. You’re late getting them out this year, and I can’t stand looking at this place unlit this close to the holiday.”
“We?” Vidalia asked.
Selene nodded. “Cory’s outside unloading the ladder and tools.”
“You’re a good girl, Selene. To tell you the truth, I was hoping one of you would offer.”
“You should’ve just asked.”
She shrugged. “So, as long as you’re here, will you keep an eye on my pot roast?”
“Sure thing, as long as you can tell me precisely what time to turn it off.”
“I set a timer.”
Selene smiled. “Go on to church. We’ll have your halls decked in no time.”
“Thank you, sweetie. And happy Winter Solstice.”
Selene nodded. “Thank you.”
“What’s important to my girls is important to me.” Vidalia took off her apron and headed out, sad that none of the snow from the night before had stuck. She’d forgot it was the twentieth already. Only two more nights until The Long Branch’s grand opening. And only four more until Christmas Eve.
Where had the time gone?
* * *
The Reverend Jackson’s sermon was about redemption. The son of God paying the price of our sins so we would never have to suffer death. It was a rouser, and one he repeated every year at Christmas and Easter, with minor tweaks.
Vidalia hung back afterward, chatting with her neighbors and friends, and wishing them happy holidays, until the last of them had left, and she stood there in the open, welcoming doors of the little country church all alone with the minister.
“I can see something’s on your mind. You were preoccupied throughout my entire sermon,” he said when the building was empty.
“Nonsense, I heard every single word.”
He lifted his bushy, gray eyebrows as if he didn’t quite believe that, but graciously didn’t say so out loud. “Shall we go back inside for this, Vidalia?”
“I think we probably should, Reverend Jackson.”
She went fist. He closed the red double doors and followed her down the aisle, around the pulpit, and through a small door into his little office in the back. Once there, he waved her into a chair while he poured coffee from a fairly fresh pot and handed her a cup. “It’s decaf. At our age–”
“Speak for yourself,” she said.
He sent her a wink. But his smile died as he settled into his chair behind the desk. “I can see you’ve got something on your mind, Vidalia.”
