A Child's Christmas Boxed Set: Sugarplum HomecomingThe Christmas ChildA Season For Grace

by Linda Goodnight

  But the parallels haunted him just the same.

  “Almost done, Davey,” Sophie said. She stood on the other side of Davey’s head, smoothing the fine, pale hair from his brow. “You’re such a brave boy. I’m proud of you.”

  When the trauma and tears passed and Davey was being wheeled away, Sophie accompanied the gurney down the hallway, murmuring her motherly endearments while holding Davey’s pale hand until the very last moment. The sight chipped a piece off Kade’s composure.

  “We’re doing the right thing,” he told her when she returned, her smoky eyes glistening with tears.

  “I know,” she said. “But he doesn’t.”

  Kade pulled her against his chest to both give and take comfort. After a bit, regrettably, she drew back and sniffled.

  “Where’s your Suzy Snowflake smile?” he teased gently.

  Her lips wobbled upward in effort. He was tempted to kiss her then and there.

  “Come on, I’ll buy you some coffee,” he said. “If you promise not to do the yogurt trick.”

  That was enough to bring a real smile. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re succeeding.”

  Funny how happy that made him.

  One cup turned to two and, just when he was ready to beg a nurse for a glass of milk or a spoon of antacid to toss on the volcano, a door swung open and the doctor appeared.

  Sophie grabbed for Kade’s hand. Like any parents of a sick child—even though they weren’t—they eagerly awaited the verdict.

  After a quick introduction, Dr. Swimmer said, “Well, folks, I have good news. Great news, actually. Davey’s muteness is caused by a posterior glottic web.”

  “I’ve never heard of that,” Sophie said.

  “It’s very rare, rarer still not to be diagnosed before this age, though I’ve read his records and understand the unusual circumstances.”

  “What is it? Can you repair it? Will he ever speak?”

  The doctor smiled at Sophie’s gush of questions. “A glottic web, in his case, is congenital. He was born with a webbing of fibrous tissue in his larynx, or voice box. His is so severe that the vocal cords are impeded. So he can’t speak. Usually a child with this condition has breathing difficulties, too.”

  “He snores like a hog,” Kade said.

  The doctor inclined his head, smiling slightly. “I’m not surprised. His snoring is probably a stridor coming through the constricted tissues.”

  Medical jargon was lost on Kade. All he wanted to know was “Can you fix him?”

  “We can.”

  A delighted gasp escaped Sophie. “That’s wonderful news.”

  “I agree.” The doctor fiddled with the flat surgical mask still tied around his neck. “But there’s one problem. This isn’t usually something I discuss with patients, but it’s Christmas and Davey is a special case.”

  “Yes, he is,” Sophie said. “Very special.”

  “Davey is not in any distress, so the surgery to repair his glottis web is elective. I’m willing to reduce my fee, but there are still hospital costs to consider, and according to his records Davey has no insurance and no family.”

  Kade got the message. “How expensive is this procedure?”

  The surgeon gave them an estimate that sent Mt. Vesuvius into eruption stage.

  Kade tightened his hands into fists.

  Money stood between Davey and his voice.

  * * *

  Sophie was never short on hope. Kade may act as if the end had come, but she refused to believe it.

  “We will not give up,” she told him later that evening when they were alone at her house, Davey safely sleeping off his trying day under the careful watch of Ida June. “We can’t.”

  They were seated in her living room, a domino game spread on the coffee table. The smell of hot buttered popcorn filled the house and warmed them.

  Kade clicked a blank-four onto the board. No points. “Got a wad of money in your Christmas stocking?”

  “Maybe.” When he lifted one eyebrow, she played a two-six. “Ten points.” She marked a giant X on the score sheet under her name. “My class will donate our cookie money.”

  Kade studied the board and his dominoes, finger and thumb stroking his bottom lip. “Noble, but nowhere near enough.”

  She knew he’d say that. She’d thought the same at first mention of the expense involved. But if she lived her faith, and she certainly tried to, she had to believe that nothing was impossible with God. “We’ll make more. I also plan to hassle social services.”

  “Christmas is nearly over.” With a sly grin, he plopped down a domino and cried, “Give me fifteen, Miss B.”

  “Cops are so sneaky,” she said mildly, marking his score. “You distracted me.”

  “Narc’s are the worst.” He leaned across the table and kissed her. “Now we’re even. I’m distracted, too.”

  Sophie’s lips tingled. She touched them. “Double distracted.”

  “What say we go for triple?” He leaned forward as if to kiss her again. She poked a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

  “Foiled.” He leaned back, smiling broadly, something he did more and more. When they’d first met, she’d wondered about his dark, broody personality, his lack of joy. Now she saw beneath, through the darkness to the incredible, sensitive man. The cynicism was a protective shell covering a tender heart. Sophie still wondered what he needed protecting from. Certainly not from her, and he’d opened his heart to Davey.

  The thought of Davey brought her back to the problem of money. “People eat cookies year-round. If we have to we can bake and sell until the money is raised for Davey’s surgery, no matter how long it takes.” She slapped down a domino, her mind far from the game. “I believe in miracles, Kade, and Davey needs one. He deserves to have a voice like anyone else, the sooner the better. Why not wish for a Christmas miracle?”

  “You’re something, Sophie,” Kade said, thrilling her to the bones. “I almost believe you’ll make it happen.”

  And then he slapped down a domino, chuckled madly and said, “Twenty points.”

  * * *

  The conversation with Kade played in Sophie’s head days later when a sad Davey sat at the round table in the back of her classroom listlessly drawing red circles on green construction paper.

  He had these moments often since the funeral, a sad, cold, painfully short event. Howard Prichard had enlisted the services of a grief counselor but without a voice, Davey could only express his hurt with gestures and pictures.

  The other students rallied around, trying to cheer the usually happy boy. Bless his precious soul, he tried, but his heart wasn’t in playing. He was sad and hurt and orphaned. More than ever, Sophie prayed for God to give him a miracle. She prayed about a family, too, wondering as she had a dozen times if she should adopt him. She was thinking about it, long and hard.

  Yesterday, she’d discussed the possibility with Dad. True to form, he’d supported her all the way. Still, parenting required more than giving a child clothes, food and a house to live in. A boy needed a father, too, especially a boy like Davey who’d never had one.

  She typed in the final edit of a note to parents. The back of her shoulders ached with unusual tension. As much as she loved Christmas, the last days of school before Christmas break were one of a teacher’s greatest challenges. Kids, wired up with too much candy and the excitement of presents, vibrated the building with their energy. Add the concerns over Davey and she was tense.

  She was glad when her charges headed to the gym for P.E. During this, her prep hour, she printed the note. In it, she’d explained Davey’s situation and hoped to gain support for an ongoing cookie project.

  Her students had wholeheartedly voted to donate the money to fund Davey’s surgery. No surprise there. The trouble was, the budget was still several thousand dollars short. They had to make more.

  She clicked her instant message, the principal’s preferred method of interschool communication, and typed, Are you ava
ilable for conference?

  I have a few minutes. Come to my office, Biff typed in return.

  Sophie rubbed the back of her head where a painful pulse throbbed. She didn’t love the idea of discussing an ongoing cookie project with Biff. He’d been prickly since the encounter with Kade over the wassail bowl, but his approval was essential.

  The bells on her doorknob jingled as she hurried out and down the hall. For once she didn’t stop to admire the silver-and-green garland looped across the hall or the cotton-ball Santas decorating the walls.

  She strode into Biff’s office and told him her plans.

  “I sent you an email this morning, Sophie. Didn’t you get it?”

  She blinked. His wasn’t the response she’d hoped for. “I haven’t had time to check. What was it about?”

  “We’ve decided to discontinue the fifth-grade fundraiser after today.” His gaze held hers, firm and unyielding.

  Sophie’s heart sank into her empty stomach. The pulse in the back of her head thudded louder. “Won’t you at least let me explain why we should continue?”

  “This shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering the conversations we’ve had on the topic. The project is discontinued, Sophie, and this subject is closed.” He scribbled something on a pad of paper. Sophie had the insane desire to yank the pen from his fingers and bop him with it. “Furthermore, this is the last day you can tutor Davey Stephens in your class. He is not a fifth grader, nor are you a special-needs teacher. Mrs. Jacobs in the resource room will take over from here.”

  The words were a slap in the face. He was intentionally trying to upset her. “Why are you doing this? You know I’m a good teacher and my students perform well academically. Having Davey in our classroom has never interfered with that. On the contrary, my students have learned a great deal from the situation. You also know how important that little boy is to me. He just buried his mother!”

  Biff flinched but did not relent. “I must do what’s best for the students of Redemption Elementary.”

  “We’re in total agreement on that. What we don’t agree on is the method. Isn’t there something I can do to change your mind? At least about the project?”

  His nostrils flared. Whatever she’d done infuriated him. But what? Why wouldn’t he tell her? Surely, surely, his actions today were not personal. Were they?

  With a flash of intuition, she asked, “Is this about my relationship with Kade?”

  A vein flexed in his neck. He leveled her with a glare. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a school to run.”

  He swiveled away to the computer at his side, leaving her staring at the side of his head in disbelief.

  Whatever his reasons, Biff had just taken away her favorite project. With it went the money needed to give Davey a voice.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He had to cheer them up.

  The thought was laughable to Kade, a man whose dark, depressed moods had given him an ulcer and sent him to a shrink.

  But this afternoon, he felt like Mr. Happy Face compared to Davey and Sophie. As she did every day, Sophie brought Davey home from school. Unlike normal days, she rang the doorbell and when Kade had answered, his heart thumping happy thoughts at seeing her, she’d barely said a word.

  He’d never seen Sophie down. It scared him. What would the world do without Sophie’s sunshine? What would he do without it?

  “Talk to me,” he said, snagging her coat-encased arm when she started to turn away and head for her car. “What’s going on?”

  He sounded like his psychiatrist.

  She pivoted back toward him and without a word, walked into his arms.

  Endorphins flooded his brain. He could handle this.

  He stroked her silky hair, let himself have the pleasure of a deep inhale of coconut-scented Sophie and warmed her with his body. Okay, and he might have kissed the side of her head. And maybe her ear.

  She shivered. He drew her into the narrow entry and kicked the door closed, still holding her. A man would be crazier than he already was to let go now.

  From the corner of his eye, he spotted Davey and Sheba flopped on Ida June’s braided rug. They weren’t wrestling. Davey wasn’t giggling. Sheba’s gaze looked soulful.

  “Tell me who to beat up,” he murmured. “Resolve my anger issues for a good cause.”

  She lightened some and sighed. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  “Love to. Say the word.”

  “Maybe later.”

  Her response tickled him. “There’s always hope.”

  “That’s the problem. There isn’t anymore.”

  The statement, especially coming from her, bewildered him. The trickle of fear pushed at his nerve endings. If Sophie lost hope, they were doomed. He was doomed. “What are you saying?”

  She told him. Old stuff-shirt Gruber had put an end to her hopes of raising Davey’s surgical fee through the school.

  “Why?” he asked.

  She shrugged, pulling back from him. Much as he wanted her in his arms, he also wanted to see her face. That beautiful, sweet, loving face.

  “Why doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “Matters to me.”

  “I don’t know what to do now.” She gnawed her bottom lip. Such a waste of lips, he thought and touched his to the spot. Her lips curled upward and the relief that slammed him was like a tidal wave. He’d made Sophie smile.

  “I’ll kiss you forever if you’ll be happy. Or I’ll beat up Gruber. Either works for me.”

  The smile widened. “Silly.”

  Feeling better, though he’d accomplished nothing but a smile, he took her hand and tugged her toward the kitchen. “Stay,” he said simply. “We’ll figure this out.”

  Her answer was to sit down at the metal table. “There has to be a way.”

  He winked. “That’s my girl. Miss Suzy Snowflake does not let bad news stop her.”

  He poured them each a glass of orange juice and left a third in the fridge for Davey.

  “Doesn’t the acid bother you?” she asked.

  “Seeing you upset bothers me more.” He took a sip, waiting for the burn. “Know what I think?”

  “Most of the time, no.” Lips curving over the edge of the glass, she sipped her juice.

  “Forget old Biff,” he said, suddenly struck with zeal and maybe a little revenge on the stuffy principal. “We’ll continue the cookie project outside of school, only on a grander scale.” He didn’t know where the idea came from, but he ran with it. “Involve your church, the town, your friends.”

  “Kade!” Sophie sat up straighter. “That’s a fabulous idea. This town knows how to work together. We do it all the time. I’m so used to doing this project on my own, I couldn’t think outside the box.”

  His whole life was outside the box. “Put ads in the paper, posters up, send out eblasts.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. I have an idea, too.” She bounced up and down, nearly levitating with excitement. “A cookie walk.”

  “Sounds perfect.” He was clueless. “What is it?”

  “We’ll enlist the aid of everyone who’s willing to bake cookies. Then instead of door-to-door selling the way we did at school, we’ll ask the church to let us use the fellowship hall for a cookie walk. Customers will come to us. We’ll set up tables, provide boxes and let customers choose their own cookies. Then we weigh the boxes and charge by the pound or the dozen or whatever.”

  Kade raised his hand in a high five. Her skin met his in a quick slap.

  “We’re going to get that Christmas miracle, Kade,” she said with excitement. “I just know it.”

  He wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into, but he’d succeeded in giving Sophie hope. And he felt like a million bucks.

  * * *

  Three days before Christmas, they were on a roll. Sophie had faith they could reach their goal during the holidays when people were more apt to give and more likely to need lots of cookies. If they didn’t, she wouldn’t b
e upset. They’d just keep trying. What she loved was that Kade had come up with the idea. Kade had told her to never give up.

  That afternoon, she and Kade took Davey to the mall to shop for gifts, sat him on Santa’s lap even though he might be too old and paid too much money for a photo taken by a teenage girl in an elf costume. Kade grumbled about commercialism and ordered extras.

  If she’d not been in love with Kade before, she was now. From the moment they’d formulated the plan, he’d shifted into high gear. Ads appeared in papers, the fellowship hall was booked and cookie bakers signed up for shifts to create mouthwatering delights.

  Davey, who’d been told that he could have a voice, was suddenly himself again and excited to the point of drawing pictures of a blond boy with music flowing from his mouth. Kade was teaching him a simple song on the guitar, and the notion of a singing Davey clutched at Sophie’s heart.

  Hope was everywhere. Especially inside Sophie B.

  * * *

  Two days before Christmas, a coffee klatch of sassy seniors crowded into Ida June’s kitchen to teach the youngsters a thing or two about cookie creation. Three ladies argued over recipes for the world’s finest raspberry thumbs while doting on Davey and bossing Kade around. The males, badly outnumbered, sneaked freshly baked samples and grinned when a gnarly finger was shaken in their faces.

  “You have green frosting on your chin,” Kade said, pointing to Davey. The boy smiled, teeth as green as grass.

  “He’s eating up all the profits,” Ida June said and shoved another cookie at him. “Gluttonous child.”

  Sophie traded laughing glances with Kade. Excited about the fundraiser, about Christmas, about the services at church, about the scary joy of falling in love, tonight she was excited about something else, too.

  “You also have frosting on your chin,” Kade said to her. “Red.”

  She swiped futilely at her face. “Where?”

  He moved closer, eyes dancing with mischief. “Looks delicious. Shall I?”

  “Kade,” she warned, sidestepping. As much as she enjoyed flirting and teasing with Kade, she didn’t want to give the sassy seniors anything to talk about.

  “Oh, Sophie, quit playing hard to get.” Ida June flapped her oven glove. “The two of you go somewhere else to play kissy kissy. This kitchen is too small for courtin’ lovers.”