Buddy tucked his hands behind his back and beamed at the dangling vehicle. “Pretty,” he said to Mandy.
“It’s a dumb old car.” She wrinkled her nose at him.
“No dumb.”
“Be nice, Mandy. You have a special angel, and your brother has a special car. It works.”
She huffed a sigh. “Daddy, is Mama coming home for Christmas? We should find her a special ornament, too. And one for you and Henry.”
Dan’s throat constricted. Sadie mentioned that Juanita had requested a later judicial appearance on Dixie’s behalf, citing counseling and the appearance of change, but how much could he trust that she was putting in any effort?
He touched the bun on top of Mandy’s head. Fran’s doing, or maybe Ava’s, for the dance practice. “I’m not sure, baby.”
Come to Jesus, they’d said. He’ll make all things new. He’ll give you peace and joy in the dark times. What they hadn’t told him was how dark the darkness would get. How long it would last. How much pain it would cause.
Mandy twirled away from under his hand on her head in some sort of pirouette.
Was a breakthrough truly coming? He prayed it for Dixie constantly, because it seemed only she could bring dawn into his own life.
It wasn’t true. In his head, he knew it was Jesus’ job, not Dixie’s.
Mandy struck an arabesque, and Dan recognized the opening measures of Angels We Have Heard on High from the speakers. He held Henry close and listened to the words. Truly listened.
Angels we have heard on high sweetly singing o’er the plains, and the mountains in reply, echoing their joyous strains.
Then the triumphant: Gloria in excelsis Deo!
Didn’t this all happen at night, too? He remembered the night Henry was born. Dixie had been in labor almost two whole days, and it had seemed like it would never end. Had it been the same for Jesus’ mother, Mary?
Shepherds, why this jubilee? Why your joyous strains prolong? What the gladsome tidings be which inspire your heavenly song? Come to Bethlehem and see Him Whose birth the angels sing; come, adore on bended knee, Christ the Lord, the newborn King.
That long night had ended with the birth of the Savior. Lately, Dan had been so caught up in the issues of every day that he’d missed the wonder of the upcoming Christmas season. Missed remembering that Jesus had come to bring light out of darkness.
Mandy danced to the end of the carol, quite majestically for a little kid, if a dad could be so proud. Buddy lay on his back under the tree, looking up at his car. And little Henry snuggled against Dan’s shoulder, fingering the frayed neck of his daddy’s T-shirt.
How could he have almost let this opportunity slip by without making sure his kids knew that Christmas was more than Santa, trees, and glitter?
He cleared his throat. “Hey, guys. Let’s sit down in front of the tree. I want to tell you a story.”
And tomorrow, he needed to go buy a nativity set from somewhere, something unbreakable, so the kids could see a representation of the Christmas story.
16
Dixie slipped into the darkened church at seven-fifteen, hoping she wasn’t so late she’d miss seeing Mandy’s dance. She’d planned to stand just inside the door, but there was plenty of room in the back pew, so why not have a seat? She’d be less conspicuous, and she’d done her best to camouflage herself anyway with a long dark coat and a black beanie over her tucked-up hair.
If someone recognized her, so what? It was a public service, Juanita had said. Anyone could go. She’d just make sure to slip out before Dan or the kids could see her. All she needed was a glimpse.
The first carol had been sung, and the two-and-three-year-olds made their way onto the stage. They lisped along to Away in a Manger. Dixie couldn’t help smiling at their antics, some of the little ones so bashful as to be in tears, while others shouted and jumped off the platform in the middle of the song.
Then came the fours and fives. Dixie’s heart clenched at the sight of Buddy’s soft blond curls as her little boy, her middle child, stood with his group, cupping his ear along with the others as they sang Do You Hear What I Hear? By the movement of his lips, he appeared to be a few words behind the other kids, but hey, he was trying. He remained focused on the adult leader crouching below the stage. Dixie’s mama heart filled.
The leader — Ava Santoro — distributed small drums to the children. Uh oh. But the strains of Little Drummer Boy came through the speakers as the kids pounded uncertain rhythms.
Before she knew it, Buddy’s class was finished. Dixie strained to see where her little boy would find a seat. She made out Dan’s dark blond head off on the far side, leaning toward Buddy.
Dixie wanted to be beside them, to feel Dan’s arm around her shoulders, to kiss Buddy’s curls and tell him he did a good job, to revel in her baby reaching for her with both hands outstretched. How could she have thrown all that away?
A stir of air caught her attention as someone settled into the end of the row beside her. Dixie stiffened, glancing at the newcomer from beneath lowered lashes. Basil Santoro? She hadn’t been this close to him since the night he’d run the police roadblock with her in the car and received a DUI, complete with jail time, for his efforts.
“Hey, Dixie.” His elbow caught her arm, his voice low. “Long time no see... and in church, no less.”
She edged away, trying for a little space between them, but now she was crowding the old man on the other side. “Same to you, in church,” she whispered back.
Basil shrugged, poking his chin toward the front. “My nephews are up there. Promised my brother Marco I’d come. Besides, there’s usually a great feed downstairs afterward, all kinds of cookies and squares. A single guy has to take free food where he can get it.”
Yeah, no Christmas cookies for her. If she could escape this building with no one the wiser — besides Basil, apparently — she’d do it. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”
He chuckled softly. “Still running and hiding, huh, Dix?”
She glowered at him in the dim light. “Aren’t you?” Their brief liaison of eighteen months back hadn’t all been her, that was for sure. He’d been a very willing participant.
“Dunno. My nonna and God have eyes everywhere, seems like.”
What was that supposed to mean? But a shuffle from the stage caught her attention. A couple in long robes approached a door in the set. “May we get a room?” asked a young boy’s voice.
The kid behind the door shook his head — or hers — it was hard to tell with the weird head covering. “There’s no room.” The door began to close then he peeked back out. “Sorry.”
“But my wife is going to have her baby any time!”
“There’s a stable over there, if you want. It’s the best I can do.” This time the door closed firmly. The spotlight on the door dimmed while the one across the stage brightened on a crude framework around cardboard animals overlooking a wooden manger.
The couple trudged toward it. Upon arrival, the girl tugged a doll out from under her top, wrapped it in a long strip of cloth, and laid it in the feeding box. Then both of them knelt beside it, staring.
Dixie shifted. She’d heard of the nativity story, of course. But, somehow on this December evening, it seemed closer than before. Maybe it was the fact that her own children weren’t beside her. Maybe it was the dejected slump of the young couple’s shoulders as they crossed the stage. Maybe it was the darkness and the background music and the hallowed hush in the auditorium.
Whatever it was, Dixie leaned forward slightly, watching with rapt attention. She heard the scrape as the inn door was dragged off stage, caught a glimpse of the swishing curtain. Then the spotlight brightened again on several kids kneeling beside cardboard sheep cutouts. One boy winced and held up his arm to block the light. Dixie pushed back a chuckle.
A third spotlight shone on a boy in the center of the stage, near the front. He pushed glasses up his nose, picked up a microphone, and began to sing. �
�‘It came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old, from angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold; “Peace on the earth, good will to men, from Heav’n’s all-gracious King.” The world in solemn stillness lay, to hear the angels sing.’”
The child couldn’t be more than ten or eleven, but his voice rang with clear conviction.
Behind him, all the lights came up just enough for Dixie to see half a dozen little kids wearing white robes, angel wings, and halos, begin to dance, Mandy the smallest one. Dixie held her breath as her daughter twirled and leaped in formation with the others while the boy’s voice soared.
“‘Still through the cloven skies they come with peaceful wings unfurled, and still their heav’nly music floats o’er all the weary world...’”
The words sank into Dixie’s heart. They spoke of suffering, of life’s crushing loads, of heavy toil, but they also spoke of a love-song brought by the angels.
“‘Look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing. Oh, rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing!’”
Basil’s elbow broke her reverie. “Kid’s got a good voice, doesn’t he?”
She blinked. “He’s amazing.”
“Sam Diaz. Although I’m not sure if his stepdad adopted him yet, in which case he’d be Sam Sheridan.”
Sheridan. Weren’t they Dan’s neighbors, just down the block and around the corner? They’d once been her neighbors, too, before she blew everything.
Sam exited the stage as a chorus began singing Angels We Have Heard on High. This was the dance Mandy’d been so excited about a few weeks ago. And rightly so. The little girl did just as good as the biggest angel, and better than most. Not that Dixie was adding up points. Except she was.
She’d wanted to dance as a kid. Mom had rolled her eyes, and that had been the end of it. Dixie’d been no more accommodating with Mandy. But Dan? He’d find a way to make the little girl’s dreams come true, because Dan was a good guy like that.
Why again had Dixie kept telling him no when he asked her to marry him? Why did she feel the need to keep the upper hand? Because it had done her no good. He’d called her bluff and filed for permanent solo custody in an effort to cut her right out of the equation.
She couldn’t blame him. She’d been an idiot... and now it was too late. Or was it?
“You did amazing, Mandy-girl. Good job!” Dan gave the little girl a high five and watched the beam spread across her face. Then she looked around the sanctuary as though seeking someone specific.
I know what you’re thinking, baby.
Mandy sighed, her delight dimmer. She turned back to Buddy and hugged him. “You sang good.”
Buddy pushed away from his sister. “Sam better.”
Linnea patted Buddy’s shoulder. “Sam’s a lot bigger than you, and I know he takes voice lessons. When you’re his age, you could sing as good as him, too, if you practice. Like an angel.”
He shrugged her hand away, a scowl settling on his little face.
Linnea caught Dan’s eye, but he shook his head. How was he supposed to know what was going on in the kids’ heads? Sure, they noticed all the families together in the audience, with the moms taking pride in their kids’ performances. He couldn’t keep them away from other families to protect their tender hearts. It wouldn’t work, anyway.
Logan leaned around Linnea. “Shall we go downstairs and get some of those amazing cookies? You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen the Christmas concert spread down there. Why do you think we came home from Seattle for Christmas?”
“Mr. Tony made struffoli,” Mandy informed Logan. “They’re super yummy. He let me try one.”
“Handy having a live-in cook?” Logan’s eyes danced as he looked at Dan.
“Sure is. Takes the strain off of early morning plowing, too, but there hasn’t been a ton of snow yet this winter.”
Linnea rested her hand on Dan’s arm. “I’m glad you found a solution that works.”
“For this winter, anyway. He’ll be opening up Antonio’s later in spring and finding his own place. Meanwhile, though, he’s been a godsend.”
His sister laughed. “Jasmine told me her parents were quite put out that Marietta managed to get out of Tony living with her.”
Dan found the Santoro matriarch across the space. Marietta bossed several small kids, shooing them toward the basement stairs. “She seems to be doing all right. And she was right — I needed Tony around more than she did.”
Logan took the older two by the hand and merged with the people exiting the sanctuary. Linnea reached for Henry, but the toddler burrowed deeper against Dan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Mom and Dad didn’t come tonight,” she said, dropping her hands.
“Yeah, me, too. I’m sorry she let him bully her out of coming. I know she wanted to, but you know Dad.”
His sister grimaced. “All too well. We’ll just have to keep praying for them and for our esteemed brother.”
“Yeah.”
She glanced around as though gauging where the kids were. “And... Dixie. How are things?”
Linnea and Logan had arrived from Edmonds last night for their winter college break. They’d been busy with finals, and his sister hadn’t called as often as usual in the past few weeks.
Dan jiggled Henry gently, but the little guy seemed asleep. “Radio silence, but I hear she’s getting some counseling from Juanita Ramirez.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah. It is.” Too bad he didn’t know what to do with the information. Sadie had approved the delay of the custody interview on Dan’s behalf, so there was that. But what did it all really mean? No clue.
He stepped into the aisle behind his sister, and they worked their way into the church basement with a hundred or more others.
“She was here! I saw her,” Fran said from behind Dan somewhere. “Back row.”
Up ahead, he saw Logan loading a plate while two small kids pointed at goodies from the decorated tables.
“All I saw in the back row was Basil,” countered Ava’s voice.
“He’s home for Christmas? I guess Aunt Grace will be happy to have all her chicks in the nest.”
“I guess so.” Ava heaved a sigh.
Dan didn’t know why he was paying attention to the Santoro cousins’ gossip. It wasn’t like Basil’s whereabouts were any of his business. If Dixie had run off to Seattle after Thanksgiving, maybe things would be different, but she hadn’t. She’d stayed in the same city as her children. As Dan.
“Where did he disappear to, then? You’d think he’d want Nonna to note his presence in church.”
Ava laughed. “No one thinks like Basil, and you know it. Especially if he was in church with her.”
Who’d they seen with their cousin? Dan turned and caught sight of the two women not far away. Fran’s hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes grew wide.
Dan’s stomach soured. That could only mean one thing. Dixie had been here... with Basil. Sure, she’d known better than to approach him or the kids with the temporary injunction in place, but she hadn’t been smart enough to come alone.
Dixie was his. Basil had no right to horn in. Dixie had no right to look elsewhere. Were the legal proceedings Dan had started only enabling her to rid herself of three little burdens — and one big one — so she could be free as a bird? Had she been seeing Basil all this time, making trips to Seattle, or him coming here?
How could she?
“Dan? You okay?” His sister’s hand touched his arm.
He shook his head and turned away, breaking eye contact with Fran. “No. Not really. Henry’s asleep, and he weighs twice what you’d think. I need to get him home to bed.” He started to fake a yawn, but it turned into the real thing. “We’re supposed to get some snow overnight, so I might need to get up early to plow.”
“Do you want us to bring the other kids by in a bit? They’re just getting started.”
Logan steered Mandy and Buddy to a table whe
re a bunch of men sat. Jacob, Nathan, Peter, and others Logan knew. They were Dan’s friends, too, from prayer breakfast. These guys could talk until daybreak if left to their own devices.
Dan shook his head. “I’ll give the kids a few minutes, but they’ll come home with me. They’re my responsibility, not yours.”
And, apparently, not Dixie’s, either.
17
Dixie toyed with the straps of her handbag and watched Basil settle in across the booth at Morley’s Café. He’d come. She hadn’t been sure he would and hadn’t dared stick around long enough to be certain.
On the other hand, hadn’t he lost his license? “How come you’re driving, anyway? I thought your driver’s license was revoked for two years.”
He skewered her with narrowed dark eyes. “There are ways around that.”
“Don’t tell me you drove all this way illegally!”
“Dix, you’re the last person to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong.”
The waitress came, bored, popping her gum.
“Plum cheesecake and chamomile tea,” Dixie ordered.
Basil shook his head before ordering huckleberry cheesecake with black coffee.
She looked down. Her fingers snapped and unsnapped her purse, nervous as all get out. Why? This was just Basil.
“I’ve got an ignition interlock device, okay? It’s perfectly legal for me to drive with that stupid thing.” His elbows hit the table as he leaned closer. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what it is.”
Dixie tilted her chin. “I wasn’t born yesterday.” And she hung around with far too many people who’d sported a DUI or two.
“So, you really broke it off with Ranta? Didn’t see that coming.”
“He became a Christian—”
“Of course.” Basil snapped his fingers as he leaned back. “That would do it. Now he’s too good for you, right? Just like all the other holier-than-thou people we both know.”
Dancing at Daybreak Page 12