by Mary Manners
But the child had one simple request—to be an angel in the pageant. What would it hurt to indulge her?
Oh, why did life have to be so complicated?
Quinn set the mug on the coffee table, reached for the phone, and dialed.
“Hello?” Mama Cantori’s voice was raspy with sleep. Quinn frowned. She’d lost track of the time, and it was late.
“Mama, I’m so sorry for waking you.”
“Is everything OK? Is it Linsey?”
“She’s fine, Mama. She’s sleeping. Jason wore her out playing in the snow.”
“Jason?”
“Yes. He came for dinner and then…” she paused. “Never mind about that, Mama. What time does service start tomorrow…for Landers Hollow Community Church?”
“Ten-thirty.” Mama perked right up. “Are you thinking about coming?”
“Yes, sort of.” Quinn sighed. “I suppose it’s time.”
“Oh, Quinn, of course it’s time. This is wonderful news!” Excitement laced her voice. “My prayers are answered. Lorenzo and I will pick you up; you and Linsey will ride with us.”
“I don’t want to trouble you further, Mama.”
“Trouble me? Bite your tongue, young lady. To drive you is a blessing.”
“Yes, Mama.” Quinn frowned. Of course, she should have known Mama Cantori would make a big deal out of things. A new road…another unexpected detour. There was no turning back now. “We’ll be ready. See you in the morning.”
6
“Mr. Jason!”
Jason turned toward the voice and saw Linsey scampering down the hall, her hand clasped firmly in Quinn’s. He was glad they couldn’t hear his sharp intake of breath or feel the way his pulse kicked into overdrive as his gaze drank in Quinn’s sassy mahogany hair, clipped at the side with silver, heart-shaped pendant. Her rich, dark eyes looked just a bit apprehensive and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. Her hands trembled as she loosened the hunter-green scarf around her neck.
“Mr. Jason, we’re here.” Linsey’s sweet voice mirrored his excitement.
“I see that.” He offered Linsey a high five as the shock wore off. What had transpired during the past twelve hours to coax Quinn through the church doors? “Good job. And who’s that in your arms?”
“Ginny, my doll. She likes to go to church.”
“Well, she’s in for a treat, then.” He slipped to one knee as Linsey handed him the doll for closer inspection. “We have a children’s service here, with lots of singing and art projects, too. Would you like to take Ginny?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your mom can come check it out, as well.” He smiled at Quinn. “Mrs. Hollister—she’s the teacher for your class—will be starting soon. Maybe you’d like to meet her, Quinn?”
“Yes, I would.” She peeled off her mittens as she fell into step beside him. They started down the hall while Mama and Lorenzo headed toward the sanctuary.
“You take your time, dear,” Mama smiled. “We’ll save you a seat.”
Quinn nodded, then double-stepped to keep up with Jason. He rounded a corner, and the hallway brightened with colorful murals painted the length of the walls. Overhead lights made the walk cheerful, and children’s laughter mingled with music as they neared a classroom.
“Here you go.” Jason paused at the doorway. “Mrs. Hollister?”
The woman with salt and pepper gray hair, smoothed into a neat bun, glanced up with smiling eyes. “Hello, there.”
Linsey skipped into the room. “I’m Linsey and this is Ginny.”
“Well, good morning Linsey and Ginny. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Mrs. Hollister and over there, by the bookshelf with the other children, is my helper, Nancy.” She bent to greet the child. “Would you like to join us? We were just about to read a story and then sing some songs.”
“Oh, yes!” Linsey glanced back to wave at Quinn. “Can I stay?”
“Yes, you may.” Quinn nodded. “I’ll see you in a little while. Be good.”
“I will, Mom.”
They turned from the room. “She’ll be fine. Mrs. Hollister has been teaching forever.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Come on.”
Though Jason tried his best to make small talk, Quinn barely said a word as they made their way back down the hall to the sanctuary. Jason sensed the tension as she settled into a seat between him and Mrs. Cantori. Her shoulders were stiff, her face grim as if attending a trial instead of a celebration of God’s grace.
“I promise we don’t bite,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. “The first time back is always the hardest.”
“How do you know?”
He gulped. That was a story for another day. “Just breathe.”
“I’m trying.” She glanced at him, her dimples popping as a slight smile took the place of the frown. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing a very good job, am I? I’m not sure why I thought this was a good idea.”
Jason closed his eyes. Lord, take away the doubt. Surround Quinn with the peace only You can give. Help me to make her feel welcome here.
“I have to talk to you.” Quinn’s voice sliced through the prayer.
“Now?”
“No. After the service. Do you have time?”
“I’ll make time.”
“Shh!” Mrs. Cantori silenced them like children. The sharp word was punctuated by a dark glance. Jason closed his eyes once more.
Lord, let me be the friend Quinn needs. Show me what I should do.
Music filled the sanctuary, drawing Jason’s focus to worship and drowning out all other thought. He lifted his voice in harmony with Quinn’s and soon it felt as if they’d joined voices for an eternity. Quinn’s hand relaxed in his, and Jason sensed the tension fleeing from her.
Thank you, Lord. You truly are a miracle-worker.
****
“Are you sure you want me to help you with the pageant?” Quinn asked as she stirred sugar into her coffee. They sat across from each other in a booth at the diner. The after-church crowd had thinned and Christmas music crooned softly from the stereo speakers overhead. Mama Cantori had offered to take Linsey home for a nap so Quinn and Jason could discuss the children’s musical. “You hardly know me. I could be a nutcase.”
“If you are, then you’re my kind of nutcase.” Jason took a bite of his burger. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t sure.”
Quinn speared a cherry tomato with her fork and dipped it in ranch dressing. “Don’t you have to get approval from a church board or something first?”
“Sure. But that’s not a problem. It can be done tomorrow with just a few phone calls.” He grinned. “Lorenzo Cantori’s head of the board. He can vouch for you, I’m sure.”
“Well, that’s one road block breached.” She slipped the tomato into her mouth.
Jason reached for his glass of soda. “Are there others?”
“That depends on you.” Quinn took a bite of her breadstick.
“I’m not following.”
“People might ask about Linsey’s father.”
“And?”
“It’s complicated.”
“And?”
She wasn’t sure why she told him. She’d never told anyone except God. But the words gushed out. “I was scared, Jason, and I was young and stupid. He didn’t want Linsey. When I told him I was pregnant, he was just getting ready to move and start a new job.
He held up a hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Quinn. It doesn’t matter now.”
“I’m not worthy to lead anything in a church…or even to help lead anything.” She shook her head. “I don’t belong there, Jason.”
“You’re wrong, Quinn.” He reached for her hand and squeezed gently. “You’re just the person who needs to be there.”
“Because I’m a sinner.”
“We’re all sinners, because we’re human.”
“But I’m at the head of the class…in a very bad way.”
“T
hat’s your opinion.”
“And yours?”
“You’re not the only one who’s made mistakes and suffered regret as a result of them.” His gaze narrowed, spearing hers. “I’m divorced.”
The words startled the tears away. Who wouldn’t want him? She lowered her voice. “I can’t imagine…you’re so kindhearted.”
“Being kindhearted wasn’t enough.” He pushed his plate aside and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Don’t you think I carry a boxcar full of remorse, too?”
“But, if it wasn’t your fault—”
“There’s no such thing as being blameless, Quinn. A relationship is a two-way street—two people to succeed and two to fail.” He grimaced. “Me…well, I failed miserably. So, you see, everyone has their own set of heartaches to live with. Though you may feel like it, you’re not on an island. And you don’t have to be alone with your hurt.”
She sighed. “It’s hard to argue with that.”
“I harbored my fair share of doubt and missed more than a few Sundays while I slogged through the legal mess and heartbreak of my divorce. So, I know what it’s like to return to the fold repentant and fearful of ridicule and judgment. But one thing I’ve learned is that my fear was unfounded. There’s no disgrace in admitting your shortcomings and moving forward. God is waiting for you to hand them all to Him, Quinn. He’s got a plan for you.”
“You’re right.” She sipped her cooling coffee, eying him over the rim of the cup. Outside the window beyond, snow fell in plump, sloppy flakes once again. “My question is…does that plan include a Christmas pageant?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“When do rehearsals start?”
“How does tomorrow, six o’clock, sound?”
“Wonderful.” She drained her coffee cup. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just your imagination and a bushelful of patience.” He winked playfully. “If it’s OK, I’ll stop by your house a little early and we can go over the script together and make a list of materials we’ll need for the scenery and the props. Then we can all—you, Linsey, and I—ride over to the church together.”
“Why don’t you just come for dinner?” Quinn chased a cherry tomato around her salad bowl. “Linsey would be thrilled.”
She was surprised to find she liked the idea, as well. The way her pulse quickened, coupled with a little flip in her belly, told the story.
“OK.” Jason nodded. “But only if you let me bring the meal this time.”
“I can agree to that.”
“What do you like?”
“I’m not picky, but for Linsey it’s pasta—you can’t go wrong with pasta.”
“Pasta it is, then.” He nodded. “We can’t let our star angel go to rehearsal hungry.”
“So you know…Linsey wants to be an angel?”
“She put her order in early, and it’s already been approved. She wants to be an angel, so an angel she’ll be. Who am I to deny a little girl’s wish?”
“Will she get to sing, too?”
“Of course.” He nodded. “There’s plenty of that to go around, as well.”
7
“We’ll need several yards of fabric for the costumes.” Quinn skimmed the Christmas playbook as she nibbled a bite of spaghetti. Dinner with Jason was becoming an event she looked forward to. Tonight he wore a navy polo shirt that brought out the blue of his eyes. It was hard to focus on determining the materials needed for props. She drew a deep breath and struggled to continue. “And white sheets will do for the clouds.”
“We’re developing quite a list.” Jason lowered his fork and added both items to a slip of paper.
She wondered if his pulse stuttered when he was this close to her, the way hers seemed to do every time he was around.
“We’ll ask for donations,” he said.
“Add glitter spray and wire to form several sets of wings, as well.”
Jason released the pen and glanced up. “Can’t we just buy wings?”
“What?” Quinn groaned inside. She’d lost her focus again. “I’m sorry, I missed that.”
“The wings…” Jason gave her a curious look. “Can’t we just buy them?”
“Why buy them when it’s less expensive to make them on our own?” Quinn reached for her iced tea. Cubes clinked against the glass as she drew a quick sip. Her throat was parched; her hands trembled. “And it’s a lot more fun.”
“I’m sure it is.” Jason buttered a crescent roll and then tore off a hunk. “But do we have the time?”
“I’ll help, Mom,” Linsey chimed in, pushing her empty plate back. “I can make wings.”
“Yes, we’ll need your help, and the help of the other children, too.” Quinn paused for a moment, scanning the playbook once again. “Perhaps I can speak with Mrs. Hollister and we can make the wings next Sunday during the craft time of the children’s class.”
“That’s a good idea.” Jason added a note to his list. “I’ll help, too.”
“You can spray the glitter.” Linsey’s blue eyes rounded. “That’s the fun part.”
“That’s very generous of you.” Jason tweaked her nose. “We can do it together.”
“Finish your milk,” Quinn urged Linsey, thankful for the distraction. “And wipe your mouth. You have spaghetti sauce on your chin.”
“I like this spaghetti. It’s good, Mom.”
“Tell Mr. Jason thank you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jason.” She scrubbed her chin with a napkin. “Mama Cantori said I can help make the cookies for the reception after the pageant, too.” Linsey shifted in the chair, tucking her feet beneath her as she wiggled onto her knees. “We’re going to use cookie cutters and lots of sprinkles.”
“That sounds delicious.” Jason reached for a second crescent roll. “Will you make angels and wreaths?”
“Yes.” Linsey’s head bobbed. “And trumpets and Christmas trees.”
“And will you save some for me?”
“Sure.”
“Here.” Quinn handed her daughter a sheet of paper and a box of crayons. She was struck by the thought of how empty her life would be without Linsey. “Draw all the cookie designs for us while Mr. Jason and I finish making our list.”
“OK, Mom.”
Linsey hummed while she worked and Quinn struggled to keep her emotions in check as she and Jason finished their meal, adding items to the list between bites. Her insides were jumbled by so many changes, and she was drawn to Jason in a way she had no idea how to handle. The feeling took her by surprise, like an unexpected wildfire.
She sat back in the chair and drew a deep breath. The aroma of garlic mingled with tomato sauce and coffee that sputtered and spat as it brewed. In the oven, an apple pie warmed. The knot in her belly loosened. The small house sure smelled like Christmas.
Pine lingered from the modest tree she’d placed in the living room. It had yet to be decorated. Maybe she and Linsey would tackle that task tomorrow—if Quinn could untangle the strands of lights she’d packed away last season.
“Mr. Jason, are you good with knots?” Linsey asked, as if reading Quinn’s mind.
“Why? Are your shoe laces stuck?” He glanced down and frowned when he saw the snow boots on her feet.
“Uh uh. It’s the Christmas tree. Mama can’t fix the lights ’cause they’re all tangled.”
“I can take a look.” He was already pushing his chair back.
Quinn interrupted. “But it’s getting late, and the pie and coffee…”
“It’s the Christmas season, Quinn.” Jason tilted his head, grinning at her. “Some things are more important than pie and coffee.”
“I suppose.” Quinn glanced at her watch. “I’ll clean up in here if you two want to have a look at the lights. But if we don’t leave soon the kids will beat us to the church.”
“I’ll show you where the lights are, Mr. Jason.” Linsey tugged on his arm. “C’mon.”
“Grab your dish and set it by the sink
first, sweetie.” He stood and began to help Quinn clear the table. “We can’t leave your mom with such a mess.”
“It’s OK.” Quinn switched off the oven and removed the pie. She set it on the counter to cool, filling the room with the sweet scent of cinnamon. “I’ll tackle the dishes while you tackle the lights, and we’ll meet in the middle.”
****
“Over here.” Linsey grasped Jason’s hand and tugged him toward the living room. At the doorway she paused, her eyes filled with wonder as she drank in the tree. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Sure is.” The tree was a bit lopsided and slightly bare around the middle, but it did hold a certain charm. “Did you choose it?”
“Uh huh.” She nodded vigorously, her copper curls bouncing. “Mom helped.”
“I like it.” He squeezed her hand and then stepped over to adjust the tree in the stand until it was no longer leaning. “You did a good job, sweetie.”
“Mom says it’ll look better with the ornaments, but I think it’s pretty already.”
“I’d have to agree.” He knelt to check the basin for water, nodding with satisfaction. Quinn must have just filled it; the water crested the top. “Show me the lights, Lin.”
“Here.” Linsey plopped a plastic bag into his hands. “Mom said gremlins must have played with them after she packed them away and got them all tangled. Has that ever happened to you?”
“Sure.” Jason laughed. “A time or two.”
“Were you able to fix it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you fix ours, too?”
“I’ll certainly try.” He pulled the tangled mess from the bag. “But it’s going to be a challenge. Wow.”
“Pretty bad, huh?” Her tiny nose scrunched and she scratched her freckled cheek. “Can I help?”
“Sure. Hold this end and stand right there.” He handed her the pronged end of one strand and began to slowly unravel the knot. “Gremlins, for sure.”
“Just like Mom said.”
From the kitchen, Jason heard the sound of running water as Quinn filled the sink basin. She hummed as she worked—a snappy Christmas tune. He imagined her hands dipped in sudsy water, wisps of hair skimming her slight shoulders. She looked good in a pair of faded jeans.
