The Secret Christmas Child

by Lee Tobin McClain

  * * *

  Two days later, right after Sunday services, Reese wiped his brow in the overly heated meeting room just off the fellowship hall. The presentation to the church board and a small audience from the congregation wasn’t going especially well, but it wasn’t going badly.

  Reese felt like he had some impressive charts and statistics, but members of the board kept looking out the window at the flurries that had started to fall. A lot of them were nervous drivers and didn’t like to drive in any kind of bad weather, even in broad daylight.

  Ideally, they’d agree to fund his program for the next year and hurry home to Sunday dinner. He answered a couple of questions and then looked to the chairperson, hoping to get a quick vote.

  And then Santiago Romano stood, leaning on his cane, dark eyes challenging. “When you proposed this program, I didn’t think it would be for that kind of kids,” Mr. Romano said. “I was picturing more of a friendly day camp for kids whose parents have to work while they’re on school break.”

  “That’s what it is.” Reese tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, because he knew exactly what Mr. Romano meant. But he wasn’t going to say it himself. If the man wanted to show his snobbery, the words needed to come out of his own mouth. “The kids in the program, for the most part, have parents who are working, some of them two jobs. The Rescue Haven program has been giving them something constructive to do after school since September, and now, that support is continuing through the Christmas vacation.”

  “But these are kids in trouble,” Mr. Romano said stubbornly. “Kids who may get into more trouble when they’re all together in a gang, at loose ends all day.”

  “The point is, they won’t be at loose ends if you continue to fund the program,” Reese said. “They’re working with dogs other people have abandoned, helping to train and rehabilitate them. And doing sports, and games, and having meals together.” Reese hesitated, not wanting to call the older man out, but he needed to speak up for his boys. “Rather than calling them kids in trouble, I prefer to call them kids at risk.”

  “Are we a church who won’t take risks?” Nana’s best friend, Bernadette Williams, was the oldest member of the board, though only by a year or two. “Risks are how great things get accomplished. I like what Reese is doing. These young people need something to bring out the best in them. Reese knows about that, and he’ll do a good job with it.”

  “Hear, hear,” came a voice from the small audience. It sounded like Nana, but Reese couldn’t see her.

  If Nana was here, did that mean Gabby was, as well?

  Reese scanned the room. Board members sat at a large conference table, and interested members of the congregation occupied several rows of chairs at the back of the room.

  He hoped some of the other board members would speak up in support, but they were silent.

  Reese knew why. They respected Bernadette’s opinions, but Mr. Romano’s money funded so many of the church’s outreaches that everyone was hesitant to offend him.

  Time to bring out the big guns. “I have here a copy of the church’s mission,” Reese said, pulling it up on his smartphone. “To spread the gospel of Jesus, through actions as much as through words, with a special mission for the poor.” He looked up and focused on Bernadette’s smiling face. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I’d like to respectfully request continuation of funding for the next calendar year.”

  Mr. Romano must have heard the murmurs of approval throughout the room, because he switched tactics. “I wasn’t expecting the program to be right next door to me,” he said. “You have those kids on the edge of town, close to some of our bigger homes, where stealing is a big temptation. Don’t they pose a danger to the community?”

  “They’re well supervised, and we haven’t had any problems with the after-school program.” Thus far, the kids had limited their bad behavior to arguing with each other. Well, and nearly coming to blows, but there was no need to mention that. “As for the property, I did a lot of due diligence,” Reese went on. “I leased the best property I could find, for the best price. I want to be a good steward of the donors’ resources.”

  “Yeah, well, that property has always been an eyesore.” Mr. Romano’s grumble was quiet, but Reese heard it and winced inwardly. He hated to see the old man reduced to insults.

  “Permission to speak?” The clear voice from the audience belonged to Nana. So she was here. There was some shifting around as Gabby helped her to stand and walk out to a small podium set up in the aisle between the rows of chairs.

  Reese’s heart gave a great thump. He hadn’t seen Gabby at church, and now the sight of her in a green sweater, denim skirt and high boots went directly to his heart.

  Reese’s neck heated. He wanted to impress her—still, which was ridiculous—and he wasn’t looking exactly stellar right now.

  Not that that mattered. Not at all. He wasn’t trying to build a relationship with Gabby; it would never work, and besides that, he wasn’t even interested. She’d dumped him before and she’d do it again.

  “I believe there’s something in the Bible that talks about not building up mansions on earth,” Nana said. “If I don’t want to spend money making my house a showpiece, I have my reasons for it. I donate to the church’s outreach programs. And while I can’t donate as much cash as some—” she eyed Santiago Romano “—I do what I can. Including giving this program an excellent deal on rental of the barn and fields.”

  “There’s no Bible verse about not building mansions, Estelle,” Mr. Romano said, a smile in his voice.

  “I can quote it.” Nana glared at him. “‘Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal.’ Matthew six, verses nineteen and twenty.”

  “There’s more to that passage,” Mr. Romano sputtered.

  “Yes, there is.” Nana was still standing, and now she pointed a bony finger at Mr. Romano. “It has to do with laying up treasures in heaven, which is what this young man—” she nodded at Reese “—is trying to do.”

  Mr. Romano still looked ready to argue. He opened his mouth.

  “And what’s more,” Nana said, cutting him off, “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. That’s in the book of Matthew, sir, said by our Lord Himself. Even you can’t argue with Jesus.”

  Reese could barely stifle a laugh at how thoroughly Nana had shut down Mr. Romano.

  Gabby put an arm around Nana and encouraged her back into her seat as murmurs went through the crowd. Some were amused, because the feud between Mr. Romano and Nana went back years. Some sounded more disapproving; a board member behind Reese was speaking, and Reese overheard the words inappropriate and not the right place.

  Bernadette cleared her throat and stood, and the room quieted down. “I do have a concern, Reese,” she said. “Do you have enough help to run this Christmas-break program, given that your main assistant had to leave unexpectedly?”

  “I’m in the process of hiring a new assistant,” Reese said.

  “Tammy?” Bernadette’s voice held the faintest tinge of skepticism. Around the room, people were looking at one another, and Reese knew why. Tammy’s heart was in the right place, but she didn’t have a reputation for being focused and responsible.

  “No,” Reese said before the murmurs could rise louder. “The candidate I’m working with has most of a degree in education and a lot of good ideas.”

  “May I ask who it is? Someone from Bethlehem Springs?” Bernadette was still standing.

  While Reese was glad she had taken charge of the discussion, getting Mr. Romano off center stage, he knew how insistent Bernadette could be when it was a question of doing the right thing. “It’s Gabby Hanks,” he said.

  A murmur rose in the room. Reese looked around, wondering what it was abo
ut.

  But Bernadette gave a nod, put her hands on her hips and looked around the room until the murmuring stopped. “I suggest we see what Reese can do. If he manages the children well through this break, then we’ll know the program can be expanded, and we’ll have a better basis to fund it through the next year.”

  “But how will we know if he manages it well?” the board’s accountant, Mike Watson, asked. “What criteria are we using? How will we assess the outcomes?”

  Bernadette opened her mouth to speak, but there was another flurry back in Nana’s part of the room, and then Gabby stood. Her cheeks were pink, her mouth determined. “How about if we have the kids and animals do some kind of a performance for the church? A Christmas performance?”

  “What’s your vision, Gabby?” Bernadette asked. “How would that help us assess the results?”

  Reese didn’t know how he’d lost control of this discussion, but he needed to take it back. He opened his mouth to speak.

  Gabby gave him a look, and because of their history together, he read it instantly. I’ve got this, relax, she seemed to say with her eyes. “If the boys are able to work together toward a productive goal that entertains the community, that’ll show that they can work toward other productive goals,” she said. “And by attending and supporting the performance, the church members can show that they understand our mission.” She looked pointedly at Santiago Romano as she said it.

  Reese hid a small smile. Despite the fact that this was likely to be a disaster, he admired Gabby’s spunk.

  Gabby glanced at Reese, then went on. “The Sunday before Christmas, or the early Christmas Eve service, might be good times to give the pastor and choirs a break. But we could do it on a weeknight instead. Whatever would help out the church.”

  Mr. Romano started to laugh. “Boy, if you can pull that off with those kids, you’ll be doing something very surprising.”

  “Christmas is the season of wonderful surprises,” Gabby said gently.

  “That it is,” Bernadette said. “If we can all agree to this proposal, we can get on the road and home to our families. I’d suggest Tuesday evening, the twenty-third, which gives you just over a week. All in favor?”

  Thank you, Bernadette. Everyone wanted to get home. There was a chorus of ayes, and just a couple of nays, one belonging to Mr. Romano. No surprise there.

  As people hurried to gather their coats and hats, Reese blew out a breath. Thanks to Gabby, he now had a clear-cut goal. With a breathtakingly short time line.

  He had to make this program a success. With his disability, he couldn’t do what he’d always planned to do, carpentry. And he seriously doubted that he could form a family; even before he’d become disabled, he’d never been especially smooth with women. The one woman he’d fallen in love with—Gabby—had dumped him.

  If he could make a go of this program, he could have a different kind of a family, and meaning in his life.

  Few people gathered around the coffeepot afterward, but Gabby was among them, and he tapped her on the shoulder and gestured her off to the side. “You’ve set us up to do something difficult,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. It just came to me.”

  She looked so penitent that he felt bad. “I’m not upset about it. It’s a good idea,” he said, and when her face brightened, his heart lifted, too. He needed to get himself under control. They were working together and that was it. “It’s definitely going to be a challenge, and we need to get started right away. Can you meet me this afternoon so we can start to figure out how we’re going to make it work?”

  She glanced at Nana, still seated. “I think I can,” she said.

  That made Reese realize that he hadn’t seen young Jacob at the church service. He wondered how things were going in the household.

  Still, it was Gabby who had brought up this possibility, and Reese knew next to nothing about putting on a show. “I really need you to step up and help with it,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’ll do my best,” she said, her voice subdued.

  So now, rather than his usual quiet Sunday afternoon avoiding his aunt and uncle’s family gathering, Reese was going to be working with the very pretty lady who’d already broken his heart once.

  He just had to make sure he didn’t let her do it again.

  Chapter Three

  “I’m so glad Cleo’s Crafts and Café is still here.” Gabby sipped peppermint hot chocolate and looked around the cozy place. Steam blurred the windows, making the café its own little world. There were only about ten tables. Up front, a pastry case held Cleo’s famous concoctions, heavily leaning toward Christmas items at this time of year: chocolate pinwheel cookies and gingerbread boys and chocolate-pecan chess pie.

  Reese looked around, too. “You haven’t been gone that long, have you?” He sipped his own flavored coffee. “I’m surprised you’re surprised.”

  “It seems like forever ago.” Then she flushed, because she wasn’t referring to the last time she’d been home; she was referring to their high school years, when they’d been falling in love.

  “It’s different because we’re different,” he said. Maybe he didn’t know it, but his hand went to his arm. Today, he was wearing a prosthetic, obvious because of the pincerlike hook in place of his right hand.

  Curiosity won out over decorum. “Why do you wear a prosthetic some days and not others?”

  “Getting used to it. It’s a process.” He leveled a steady gaze at her. “You seem different from when we were kids, too.”

  I’m different because I’m a mom. “We should figure out the show,” she said briskly, trying to get back to business. And avoid telling him about Izzy. Which shouldn’t be a big deal, but she hated the thought of his questions. Despite all her counseling, she still felt a heated rush of shame at the idea of talking about it. “I feel bad to have volunteered you for something you don’t want to do, but I think it’ll be great.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “Tell me what you were thinking. I don’t exactly have a vision.”

  She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Tell me about your boys. Ages, abilities, things like that.”

  He nodded, sipping coffee. “Like I mentioned to Jacob, they’re eleven to fifteen. But skewed toward the younger side. I think we have...three each of eleven-and twelve-year-olds. Two thirteen-year-olds, and one each of fourteen and fifteen. Two fifteen-year-olds if Jacob joins.”

  She nodded, making notes. “And how do the dogs fit in?” She’d seen them when she’d been in the barn before: the one Doberman that seemed to roam around, a row of kennels in the back of the barn and an open yard area separate from where the boys gathered in the front.

  “In a way, the dogs are similar to the boys,” he said wryly. “Most have behavior problems and that’s why they were surrendered.”

  “All breeds?”

  He nodded. “But I try to make it so there’s one dog per boy. Their job is to train that one dog.”

  She put down her pen. “Uh-oh. Will Jacob mess that up? Can he get a dog this late in the game?”

  “There are always dogs that need help,” he said. “See, the overall vision is...” He trailed off, looking just a little shy.

  “Tell me.” She set her cup down and leaned forward a little. Reese had always been a dreamer, the rare kind who could put his dreams into action. When she’d been falling in love with him in high school, his dreams had been of beautiful cabinets and chairs and tables he could make. He’d looked at a piece of wood, even scrap wood, and seen all its possibilities.

  “Well. I got into training dogs, a little, in rehab.” He made a disparaging gesture toward his prosthetic. “They had therapy dogs, and I kind of bonded with one of them who was about to flunk out. Got him over his fear of prosthetics, actually. Showed a talent, so they gave me a couple other troubled dogs to train.”

  “That’s
cool, but how’d you learn to do it? I mean, your aunt and uncle had Fifi, but...”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fifi. May she rest in peace after eighteen years of giving everyone nothing but trouble.”

  “She wasn’t exactly trained, it’s true.” Gabby chuckled. “She did have a lot of cute outfits, though.”

  “Don’t remind me. But you know...” He trailed off, looking thoughtful. “I’d guess that, now, with what I’ve learned, I could actually train Fifi.”

  She was fascinated, because he’d taken on the same dreamy-yet-passionate look he’d had when she’d known him years ago. “How did you learn what you know?”

  “Online videos. Books. After I got better, they let me take a couple of dogs through agility training.”

  “All this was through the VA?”

  He nodded. “Because while I thought I was rehabilitating dogs, I was actually getting rehabilitated myself.” He sipped coffee. “So when I came home, and there was no possibility of carpentry, there was a need for someone to take over a grant-funded after-school program for at-risk boys. I added the element of dog training, and...Rescue Haven was born.”

  “I have a feeling there was more to it.” But she admired his sense of industry, going directly into another line of work. “Reese, can I ask...why’d you come back to Bethlehem Springs?”

  He looked out the window. The street was busy with people: couples strolling, families with kids, Christmas shoppers overloaded with bags. “My aunt and uncle needed me.”

  “But they always—” She broke off. “I’m impressed that you did that for them, is all.”

  “Because they favored Brock? Didn’t really want to take me in? I know,” he said. “But when he passed, they were devastated. Aunt Catherine, especially. My uncle came to visit me at the VA hospital and asked me to come back for at least a year, just to try to pull her out of her slump.”

  She stared at him, remembering the cold, snobbish woman who’d rarely had a kind word for anyone. “You did that for her.”