Christmas in Bethel

Chapter Eight

The good news is that everyone loves him. I suppose, in a way, that’s the bad news as well.

Beth Stilton’s Diary

I woke the next morning like it was Christmas. At least Christmas for a normal childhood. I rolled over and checked the clock. It was a quarter to seven. The Today show began at seven. I turned on the television set, sound turned up loud, then made myself a coffee. At eight thirty, just before going to a commercial break, they showed a picture of Lee’s book and announced that he would be on the next segment:

“He’s one of America’s most popular authors. His new book has reviewers raving and his fans’ hearts palpitating. Join us in the next segment with J. D. Harper. We’ll be right back.”

The show returned from the break with a quick zoom-in on Lee and two of the hosts, the three of them sitting on tall stools. Lee was wearing a loose-fitting silver Armani suit with a black turtleneck. He looked like a movie star. It was surreal seeing this man I’d spent alone time with on display for millions.

He handled himself well, professional and charming, which likely wasn’t difficult considering how fawning the two female hosts were. They treated him like Brad Pitt meets Ernest Hemingway, and one of them was shamelessly flirting. I was uncomfortable, a feeling that, when I homed in on it, I recognized as jealousy.

As soon as the segment ended, I immediately began getting congratulatory texts from the women in the book club. It was the first time I’d received that kind of attention from the club. Maybe from any group. The truth was, they weren’t the texts I wanted. I kept hoping I’d hear from him. I think I was hoping for a little validation that he hadn’t already forgotten me.

The text never came.

After watching that segment, the reality that he was way out of my league couldn’t have been starker. I had to accept the likely fact that he probably had, to borrow an old nautical reference, a woman in every port.

Truthfully, despite the obvious pain of jealousy, worse things could happen. The short time we spent together was easily the highlight of my year—a rare day of sunshine in a very long season of overcast weather.

The problem was, I might have been one of many to him, but he was the only man I had remotely let into my life for years. And he wasn’t one I could likely forget.

Except for two telemarketers, my phone was quiet the rest of the day. Finally, I turned it off and went to bed. “So it goes.”