The Wicked and the Wondrous

by Christine Feehan

  Dillon laced his fingers through Jessica’s as he sat in the large armchair and pulled her beside him. Tara and Trevor immediately found a place on the floor close to their father and Jessica. Robert reached behind the chair where he was sitting and casually pulled out an acoustic guitar. Dillon’s oldest, not expensive, but one he had carried with him for years. Robert handed it across the floor to Trevor who held it out to his father.

  “Play for us tonight, Dad,” Trevor said.

  Jessica could feel Dillon stiffen beside her. He shook his head, took the guitar out of his son’s hand and tried to give it to Jessica. “You play. I don’t play anymore.”

  “Yes, you do,” Jessica said, ignoring the instrument, “you just don’t play for large crowds. We’re family. All of us here together tonight. We’re you’re family, Dillon, and it’s okay to be imperfect. Just play, don’t be great, just play for us.”

  Dillon looked into her eyes. Green eyes. Guileless. Sincere. He glanced at the others watching him while he made his decision. The lights flickered and shimmied, winking at him as if in encouragement. He didn’t have to do it all himself, he didn’t have to be perfect. Sometimes people did get second chances. With a small sigh, he capitulated, bringing the guitar to him, cradling it in his arms like a lost lover. His longtime companion. His childhood friend when he was lonely. A small smile curved his mouth as he felt the familiar texture, the grain of the wood, the wide neck.

  His fingers found the strings; his ear listened to the sound. He made the adjustments automatically, without thinking. He lived and breathed music: the notes that took on a life in his head. He still had that, a gift beyond comparison. He had his voice. It spilled out of him, his signature, a blend of edgy smoke and husky blues. He sang of hope and joy, love found, and families together. While he sang, his fingers found the familiar chords, moved over the strings with a remembered love. He didn’t have the dexterity to play the fast riffs and the intricate melodies he often heard in his mind and composed, but he could do this, play for his family, and take pleasure in the gift of love.

  They sang with him, all those he loved. Jessica’s voice blended with his, in a perfect melding. Brenda was slightly out of tune, but he loved her all the more for it. Tara’s voice held promise and Trevor’s held enthusiasm. The pleasure of sitting in his home, surrounded by his family on Christmas Eve, was incomparable. His miracle.

  A slight noise at the window distracted Jessica from the music and she frowned, looking beyond the glass pane to the darkened, wild storm. There was a small fluttering of white that settled on the outside windowsill. A storm-tossed bird, perhaps lost in the dark of night and the violence of the squall.

  “There’s a bird at the window,” Jessica said softly, afraid if she spoke too loudly the white dove would vanish before anyone else saw it. She made her way with caution across the room while the others stayed motionless. “Birds aren’t out at this time of night. Did it fly into the window?”

  The bird looked bedraggled—a wet, unhappy, shivering dove. Jessica carefully opened the window, crooning to the creature, not wanting to frighten it away. To her astonishment, it waited calmly on the windowsill while she struggled to push one side of the window out against the fierce wind. Almost at once, the bird hopped onto her arm. She could feel it shaking, and immediately cupped its body in the warmth of her palms. It was carrying something in its beak. She could just make out the glint of gold between her hands. There was something else: a band on its leg. Jessica felt it drop into her palm as the bird rose, flapped its wings, and launched itself into the air. It flew around the room. As the bird passed over the twins, it opened its beak and dropped something between the twins. The bird made another fast circuit of the room while the lights played over its white feathers in a prism of colors that was mesmerizing and beautiful. The dove flew out the window, back into the night, winging its way toward some other shelter.

  “What is it, Tara?” Trevor leaned in close as his sister lifted a gold chain for all of them to see. “It’s a locket.” It was small, heart-shaped, and intricately etched on the outside.

  “I think it’s real gold,” Trevor said, lifting it up to peer at it more closely.

  “Is it for me? Did someone get this for me? Where did this come from?” Tara looked around the room at the band members who had fallen silent as she held up the necklace. “Who gave it to me?”

  Dillon leaned forward to get a closer look. Brenda’s hand went to her throat in a curiously vulnerable gesture. Her gaze met Dillon’s across the small space and she quickly shook her head. “I didn’t, Dillon, I swear I didn’t.”

  “It opens, doesn’t it?” Trevor wrapped his arm around his sister’s shoulder and peered at the delicate locket. “What’s inside?”

  Tara pressed the tiny catch and the locket popped open. There were two smiling faces, a two-year-old girl and an identical two-year-old boy. Both children were smiling. Their black, wavy hair framing their faces.

  “Dad?” Tara looked at her father. “It’s us, isn’t it?”

  Dillon nodded solemnly. “Your mother never took that necklace off. I didn’t even know the pictures were inside of it.”

  Tara turned to Jessica, an awkward, uncertain expression on her young face. She didn’t know what to think or feel about such a gift. Everyone was stunned, and had shocked looks on their faces. She didn’t know whether to hug the locket to her, or to throw it away and cry a river of tears.

  Jessica immediately hugged her. “What a beautiful gift. It is a day of miracles. Every child should know their mother wanted and loved them. I remember how precious that locket was to your mother. She wore it always, even when she had much more expensive jewelry. I think the necklace is proof of what she felt for you, even when she was too ill to show you.”

  Brenda caught Jessica’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Vivian always wore it, Tara—I teased her about her preferring it to diamonds. She said she had her reasons.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “I know why now. I would never have taken it off either.”

  Tara kissed her aunt. “I’m glad you’re here, Aunt Brenda,” she confided. “I love you.” She handed her the necklace. “Will you put it on me?”

  Brenda nodded, her heart overflowing. “Absolutely I will.”

  “It was for both of us, Trev,” Tara said. “She loved both of us after all. We’ll share it.” She leaned over to kiss her brother on the cheek.

  Jessica settled in Dillon’s lap, waited until the others were crowded around the twins, and she slowly opened her hand to show him what lay in her palm. The small ring was a mother’s ring with two identical birthstones in it. They looked from the ring to one another without speaking.

  Jessica closed her fingers around the precious gift the dove had left behind. It was better than diamonds. The most important gift ever given. Dillon’s scarred fingers settled over hers, guarding the treasure, holding it close to their hearts. Trevor and Tara were theirs. They had their Christmas miracle and it was exactly what they needed.