by Lois Richer
Kris’s mother began to play a battered piano, choosing old familiar carols. The haunting notes lent a soothing atmosphere to the room, and voices dropped to a whisper. A young girl washing dishes in the kitchen began to sing along. Others soon joined her.
Of course they sang about love, the kind of love that had nothing to do with rights or deserving. The kind of love that was exemplified by the greatest gift of all.
And all Wade wanted to do was leave.
“Is everything okay?” Connie slid into the seat next to his, a slight frown marring the perfection of her pretty face.
“Did you find out what you need to?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“All I could, for now.” She kept studying him, unnerving him with that steady scrutiny that asked questions Wade didn’t want to answer.
“Then let’s go. After all, we don’t want Silver to stay up too late.” It was a cop out, and Wade knew she knew it.
Connie simply rose and waited while he moved toward Silver.
“Time to go, kiddo.”
“Okay. This is Kris. That’s his mom playing the piano,” Silver explained. “Isn’t she pretty?”
“Very.” He glanced at the woman and frowned. At this angle she looked oddly familiar. “What’s your mom’s name, son?”
The kid looked as if he’d like to tell Wade that he wasn’t his son. But he restrained the urge and muttered, “Klara.”
“Klara Kramer?” Wade asked in surprise.
“Kramer was my grandparents’ name,” the boy said.
“They died.”
“My grandpa died, too,” Silver said. “But it was before I was borned.” She tilted her head up to look at Wade.
“Kris’s dad died. His mom hasn’t got a job. They come here lots so she can find one.”
Silver babbled away, but Wade lost the rest of what she said. Klara Kramer was a well-known draftswoman. Or she had been.
“Wade?” Connie touched his arm. “Is anything wrong?”
“No.” Wade took one last look at the woman at the piano. An idea began taking shape in his brain.
“Daddy?” Silver tugged on his arm.
“We should go now, Silver.” He’d have to think about this later. “You better say goodbye.”
“Okay. But can we come again, Daddy?”
“We’ll see,” he said, employing the age-old noncommittal response his own father had often used on him.
“Kris was telling me about his school. It sounds so fun.” Silver bid the boy a sweet goodbye then skipped between him and Connie toward the door. “I can hardly wait to go to real school.”
Once in the car, Connie made sure Silver was buckled in. She would have sat in the back beside her, but Silver insisted she wanted Connie to sit in the front seat.
“In case I get tired,” she said.
Surprised, Wade checked his rearview mirror. Silver admitting to tiredness? Not hardly. But she was happily humming to herself, glancing from left to right as if checking the view, so he let it go. Anyway, he wanted to find out what Connie had learned about her father. It seemed important to know how her search was going, though Wade didn’t understand why that should matter to him.
But he didn’t press her because one, it was none of his business, and two, he wasn’t sure if Silver should hear it or not. So instead, he answered Connie’s questions about the festival of lights.
“A Tucson resident named CB Richards was the founder of Winterhaven Water and Development Company. He visited Beverly Hills in the 1930s, and after seeing their light displays, he wanted to create the same at home. He purchased the first set of lights in 1949 and donated them to the community. After that, he bought allepo pines from a local nursery that was going out of business and had them planted at regular intervals where he also had electrical connections hooked up.”
“Quite a farsighted thinker,” Connie murmured.
“Oh, yes. He personally judged the first festival contests where the winner was awarded one hundred dollars,” Wade explained, dredging up details his father had told him. He’d almost forgotten his father’s love of this festival. “Years later, after Richards moved to San Diego, he continued to visit Winterhaven for the festival. The contest has run every year, except for once in the 1970s during an energy crisis when residents voted to stay dark.”
“Is there an admission fee?” she wondered.
“No. You’re supposed to bring nonperishable food or donations, which go to the local food bank.” Wade pointed.
“See the food bank volunteers stationed at the entrances? They collect donations.”
“I’m not carrying much cash,” Connie murmured, pulling her wallet from her purse. “But I do want to contribute.”
“I have some stuff Cora sent along,” Wade told her, but Connie insisted on handing the volunteer money while he and Silver toted their gifts of food to the huge box wrapped with a red bow.
“Thank you and enjoy,” the volunteers said.
“It’s massive,” Connie whispered peering out the windshield. “Look at those houses!”
“Stop, Daddy. I want to see.”
“We’re going to see it all, Silver, after I park. This isn’t a drive-thru night, so we can’t go in the car. We’ll take a carriage instead. This spot looks good.” He parked and shut off the engine. “We’ll wait over there for our ride to come.”
Wade locked the car then retrieved the blanket he’d stowed in the trunk.
“In case it gets cool,” he told Connie.
“Wow, you really think ahead.” She grinned.
Wade shrugged.
“I always carry it. Everyone thinks of the desert as hot. And it is, in the summer. But the nights can get really cool, especially in winter.” He motioned. “Hence the fire.”
He led them to a group of people sitting on hay bales around a campfire. Some chattered, and some were silently staring into the flames. In the background, a group sang carols. Wade heard the clop of horses’ hooves approaching and pointed them out to Silver.
“Are those our horsies, Daddy?” She squeezed his hand tight, her excitement palpable.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see if they have room.”
“You shouldn’t have waited for me,” Connie said, her forehead pleated in a frown. “I delayed you.”
“It’s no big deal. We’ll take whatever transport is available. Sunday night is popular, but we’re early in the season.”
“Couldn’t we walk?” Connie asked, darting a glance at the glittering arrays twinkling ahead.
“Yes, there are many people who walk it. You might want to do that another night,” Wade said, inclining his head toward Silver.
Connie nodded her understanding.
As it happened, the hayride wagons bulged with kids’ groups who’d reserved them. But Wade saw a carriage standing empty, off to one side.
“Stay here,” he told Connie. “I’ll be right back.”
The driver’s clients were over half an hour late, so he readily agreed to Wade’s terms and pulled his horses into the lineup.
“This one’s ours,” Wade said, smiling as Silver’s eyes swelled.
“Your horses are lovely,” Connie said. She patted the neck of the nearest animal and whispered something. It whinnied and threw back its head. “What a pretty girl,” she murmured as she brushed its nose.
Wade felt Silver’s hand creep into his and squeeze very tight.
“Don’t be afraid,” he told her as he lifted her into his arms.
“Mistletoe and Holly are special horses,” the driver told her as he dismounted. “They love showing off our fancy lights. They especially love little girls.” He pulled an apple out of his carriage. “Would you like to feed them, missy?”
“Horses eat apples?” Silver asked, her voice shocked.
“They love them. Here.” He placed the apple in her hand. Quick as a flash, the horse nearest her leaned over and carefully plucked the apple from her hand. After thoroughly chewing it,
he bent and rubbed his ear against Silver’s shoulder.
“He touched me,” the little girl squealed in delight. Very slowly, with great precision, she reached out and touched a finger to the horse’s nose. “Which one is he?”
“She. That’s Holly. She can sneak a carrot out of your pocket if you’re not looking.” The driver gave her another apple for Mistletoe.
As Wade walked around to the other side, still holding Silver, he caught Connie studying them. For a moment, he thought he saw a tear glimmer on the end of her lashes but decided it was the light when Silver begged him to let her down. When she’d fed the other horse her apple, they all climbed aboard the carriage, Silver seated between him and Connie, wiggling constantly to see everything.
They’d only progressed about two blocks when the driver stopped and turned around.
“Would the little girl like to sit up here and help me drive the horses?”
“I don’t think—” Wade began as fear gripped his throat.
Silver drowned him out.
“Please, Daddy? Please can I? I’ll be very good. I won’t scare them or anything.”
“There’s a seat ’specially made for kids up here,” the driver told them. “It has a seat belt with a special locking mechanism so kids can’t wiggle out. It’s very safe.”
Silver kept begging. Even Connie added her encouragement. But Wade couldn’t get rid of his dread. What if something happened? What if the carriage tipped or the horses stumbled? He glanced at Connie. She shifted Silver so she could lean near him.
“Sometimes you just have to let go and trust God to take care of the thing you love most,” she whispered.
Trust God?
He’d trusted God—and his father and Danny had died.
He’d trusted God with Bella and—
“Please, Daddy?” Silver’s pink nose was an inch from his. Then she pressed her soft, sweet lips against his cheek.
“Please?”
Wade squeezed his eyes closed, sucked in a breath of courage and sighed.
“Let me see that seat,” he said.
A short while later, they were again clopping down the street. Silver sat still as a mouse in her seat in front, her eyes huge as she divided her attention between the lights and the horses. Wade sat forward in his seat. Though no one could tell, he had a firm hold on Silver’s sweater.
Correction—Connie could tell. But there was understanding in her gray eyes when she smiled at him. As if she knew how very afraid he was of losing the last thing he had left, the thing that gave his world meaning, the child he would one day lose.
“She’s fine, Wade. Silver’s perfectly fine.” Connie’s sotto-voiced words carried on the night zephyr and somehow helped him relax. “’For I, the Lord your God, will hold your right hand, saying unto you, Fear not, I will help you.’” She smiled. “That’s Isaiah 41:13, my foster mother’s favorite verse. You might want to look it up.”
He decided he might just do that, if it would help him gain the assurance that Connie had.
“This house is my special favorite,” the driver said, turning so they could all hear him. “It seems the most Christmassy to me.”
Wade agreed.
The perfectly lit scene showcased a figure—a father beside his fireplace, a child on his knee as he read from a big book while the flames flickered merrily beside him. Words were spelled out on the lawn.
Be not afraid. I bring you good tidings of great joy.
An angel hovered over the scene.
“An angel, Daddy. Just like I’m going to be.”
Not yet, God, Wade’s heart begged. Not for a long, long time. I promise I’ll do the right thing for Silver. I’ll give her up. Only don’t let her be hurt.
The rest of the ride through Winterhaven seemed long to Wade. He was glad when they returned home, glad when he finally hugged Silver good-night, glad when she left with Connie and he was alone.
Then and only then did he retreat to his study. He pulled out his Bible and found the words Connie had quoted. Fear not, I will help you.
He was going to need help, because tonight had finally hammered home the truth. It was time to stop pretending he was a father and make things right for Silver.
He flicked on his computer to begin the search for his daughter’s real family.
Chapter Six
The telephone call Connie had just received about her father made no sense. He couldn’t be dead.
But she had no time to mull it over. With Silver’s party in full swing, it took every ounce of Connie’s ingenuity to keep the children busy and involved, especially since Wade had not yet appeared.
“He’s probably too busy with a new girlfriend to bother with Silver,” Amanda offered in a snarky tone as she popped one of the balloons Connie had painstakingly hung around the newly refurbished fort.
“He wasn’t too busy to get this fort fixed up,” Connie replied and then wished she hadn’t stooped to arguing with Wade’s stepmother.
“Of course he did. Covering his liabilities,” Amanda sneered. She shrugged. “He’s got to protect himself.”
The wail of a child who’d just skinned his knee cut across her words. Connie’s frustration peaked.
“Amanda, can’t you, just once, say something nice about the man?”
“He isn’t here.” Amanda pouted. “I think that’s nice.”
“Not what I meant and you know it.” Now a second child was wailing. “Is it possible that you could be a help today instead of a hindrance?” Connie demanded, exasperated by the woman’s negativity. Without waiting for an answer, she hurried away to soothe and treat the wounded limb.
Even with Hornby, Cora and cranky Amanda’s help, Connie had her hands full with the party. Not the least because of Silver’s constant question.
“Is Daddy here yet?”
Every time Silver received a negative answer, her face dropped a little more. It became harder to engage her in any activity. When tears appeared, Connie’s tolerance for the absentee father evaporated.
“Okay, children. It’s time for our lunch. Everyone look for your name at the table.” While they raced around, Connie grabbed the phone, hid behind a shrub and dialed Wade’s office. “I need to speak to him immediately,” she told his secretary.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Abbot is unavailable—”
“Make him available,” Connie said. “This is urgent.”
“Just a moment.”
Seconds later, Wade’s voice came on the line.
“Yes, Connie?”
“There’s a little girl here whom you promised would see you at her party,” she snapped. “It’s half over, and she’s still waiting.”
“I’m very busy—” he began.
Too irritated for caution, Connie spoke from her heart.
“You’re too chicken,” she said bitterly. “I should have known you’d wimp out on your daughter. It’s getting easier, isn’t it? Because you’ve done it for so long. Forget it.” She hung up on Wade’s silence.
“Was that Daddy?” Silver asked, hope barely sparking in her sad blue eyes.
“Yes, it was. He’s trying to get here, sweetheart.” Which was true, Connie reasoned. Wade was fighting an internal battle to rid himself of his fears and embrace Silver. And she was probably out of a job. “Let’s eat our hot dogs.”
Connie left the other adults in charge while she quickly hid the treasure hunt items. As she did, she prayed nonstop that Wade would show up before she had to start the game, because when it was finished, the kids would go home.
“Okay, it’s time for our Christmas birthday cake,” she said when the hot dog stack had diminished to almost nothing.
“It’s not my birthday,” Silver said, blinking her surprise.
“No. Christmas is Jesus’ birthday. So I thought we should have a cake.” Connie motioned to Cora who emerged proudly bearing a beautifully iced cake with red and green candles burning around a baby lying in a manger. In the corner of the cake, an ang
el hovered.
“An angel, just like I’m going to be,” Silver breathed.
Each child stared in wonder as Cora set the huge cake on the table. Minutes later, they eagerly joined in singing “Happy Birthday.” Everyone blew on the candles. Then Cora cut the cake, Hornby handed it around and the adults watched it being devoured. After sticky fingers had been washed, Wade was still not present.
She could delay no longer. Connie explained the rules of the treasure hunt.
“Okay, there are four leaders. Cora, Hornby, Amanda and—”
“And me,” said a low voice behind her.
Thank You, God.
“Daddy!” Silver raced up to him and squeezed his legs. Then she turned to a little boy named Reggie, who’d been bugging her all afternoon. “See, I do so have a daddy,” she said.
Wade’s face offered visible proof of how deeply those words affected him. Connie tried to express her appreciation with her eyes but remained silent. While Wade worked at disguising his emotions, she explained to the children how the game would work.
“Everything you need is in the yard,” she said. “You don’t have to look inside the house at all. But you do have to work as teams. Your leader will give you a clue. When you find the answer, you all bring it back and put it in your bucket. Then your leader will tell you the next clue. Okay?”
There were many questions, of course, but eventually Wade drew names and the children were divided into their teams. Connie sent each leader to one corner of the yard. Then the fun began. Silver and Reggie, who’d been her nemesis, were both on Wade’s team, which meant Wade spent several moments settling arguments between them. Finally they reached a compromise, Connie blew the whistle and the game began. The children dashed about the yard, laughing, cheering and generally causing mayhem.
“This is what was so important for me to attend?” Wade grumbled when Connie paused to check his team’s efforts.
“This is what it’s all about,” she told him with a grin.
“Besides, you promised Silver you’d be here.”
“I was coming,” he claimed, but he quickly gave up that argument when she simply stared at him.
