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A Kiss Under the Mistletoe

By June Foster

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Chapter One


Sacramento Christian Fellowship – Sacramento, California
Carson Shumate lifted his hand to get the teens' attentions. "All right, people. Listen up. Good job with the toy collection last weekend." He took a breath. "The items are still in boxes and stacked around the room. Pick a toy and take it to the gift-wrapping table."
The burly kid with scruffy hair around his ears stood near the back of the classroom. He stumbled over the chair next to him then raised his hand. "Pastor Carson, can I do something else? I'm not good with wrapping presents."
A few snickers echoed in the room.
Carson pointed to the large collection of gift bags. "All you have to do is pick up a toy, place it in the bag, and tie it off. I know you can do it." Carson nodded to the table with wrapping paper and tape. "Hey, guys. Any toys in boxes, you can use the wrapping paper."
Within five minutes, the sound of scissors snipping, paper ripping, and teenage chatter told him the kids were working. Carson threw his shoulders back and lifted his chin. The youth toy drive had been successful, so many church members donating new and gently used items. A lot of needy kids in the impoverished neighborhood nearby would have a better Christmas.
Mr. Dankworth, the church elder overseeing Carson's internship, clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You know, my grandson, Julius, has difficulty with coordination. I think you could've handled his request differently."
Carson took a few steps backward as blood pounded in his temples. He gave himself a mental kick in the pants. Why had he allowed the man to strike fear in his heart? "What would you suggest? I want Julius to feel a part of the group."
Mr. Dankworth huffed. "I don't know. You're the youth pastor-in-training. You figure it out."
Carson turned his head so the man wouldn't see his scowl. But the guy was his supervisor, and he could affect the results of Carson's internship, which, in turn, would determine if he received his master's in theology. He walked toward Julius who was sliding a stuffed bear in a bag. "Good job, buddy."
Julius smiled. "Thanks, Pastor Carson. This isn't too hard."
Carson patted the boy's shoulder and headed toward the back of the room where two girls created huge bows out of long rolls of ribbon. He laughed. "You ladies will have to show me how you make them. Great job."
They smiled then looked at the ribbon again.
Carson faced the front of the room, gazed toward the ceiling, then whispered. "Thank You, Lord, for allowing me to serve these young folks." His degree loomed three years in the future, but he need not try to rush it. He had a lot to learn.
A loud thud yanked Carson's attention to the entrance. The door slammed, and someone stumbled in from the hall.
"Oh, no." Carson groaned. He recognized the denim jacket. The same one Colin wore yesterday when he arrived at Carson's apartment. His brother's low-slung ball cap hid most of his face.
Carson's pulse raced. The sooner he got Colin out of here, the better.
Kids stopped wrapping and stared. A hush circulated over the room.
"Excuse me." Mr. Dankworth sputtered. "What are you doing here?"
Carson grabbed Colin's arm and coaxed him toward the hall.
Colin jerked away. "Hey. Your stupid fridge is empty." He wobbled a few steps. "Where'm I 'posed to get somethin' to eat?"
Mr. Dankworth peered at Colin and then to Carson. "Is he… he looks a lot like—"
Carson shoved his brother out of the room. "Excuse me. I'll deal with him." Outside the building, sweat broke out on Carson's forehead though the December day was chilly. He gripped Colin's arm hard and moved him to the sidewalk in front of the church. Surely, he could make it to the apartment a block away.
Last week, Colin had phoned. He needed a break from his job. "The senior physical therapist is driving me crazy," he’d complained. "Besides, I've heard downtown Sacramento is hopping at night."
Allowing his brother to visit for a weekend getaway had obviously been a huge mistake.
Carson never expected Colin to come to the church since he'd been snoring away when Carson left the apartment this morning.
He brushed his hand through his hair. Who knew what his sibling would do next? "Look, man, I'll be there in a couple of hours with takeout. I promise. See if you can forgo the booze for a while." He patted Colin’s shoulder. "Go on to the apartment."
Colin moseyed down the sidewalk in the direction of the small space Carson called home until he would finish his internship and earn his degree in theology. Ha. He thought he'd finished with the academic scene when he earned his computer science degree, but God had other plans.
Carson's heart tugged at him. He loved his brother, not this behavior. Thankfully, Colin hadn't always acted like this. When sober, he was a nice guy. As children, they'd spent many an hour playing in the woods and later studying together.
Carson sighed. "But by the grace of God go I." He wasn't sure when the drinking started or what had happened, but he prayed daily for his brother and wouldn't stop.
He pushed through the outside door into the hall and walked to the fellowship room. The kids would have questions. For that matter, what would Mr. Dankworth say?
Inside, most of the young people were still wrapping gifts, a large stack of presents growing in the back of the room. "Sorry, guys. Thanks for continuing to work."
After five minutes, Mr. Dankworth motioned him outside the door. His brows formed a V as he squinted at Carson.
Carson gripped both fists into tight balls, dreading what came next.
"Shumate, I was ready to call the police if the idiot hadn't seemed to know you. He looked a lot like you, too."
Carson gulped. He couldn't lie. "Yeah, I know him—"
"Well, I'm surprised you have friends whose standards have sunk to that level. I suggest you not associate with his type."
Carson peered at the man. Dankworth’s face was set like granite, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring.
Carson vetoed the question he almost asked. Do you not have anyone in your family who's strayed from the Lord?
"In fact, I would hesitate to support your participation in any internship or recommend you to any hiring board if I thought you associated with those kinds of people."
Those kinds of people? Pity filled Carson. Didn't Mr. Dankworth know—there was no difference in him and all those kinds of people? Carson picked up a pair of scissors Julius had dropped onto the floor and replaced it on the table. What would his supervisor say if he knew Colin was his brother?  

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