Heart of Joy

by Lisa Swinton

  Joy’s blue sweater made her stand out in the sea of red and green. Another testament to her dislike of the season. However, the hue showcased the blue of her eyes and highlighted her curves. Her skinny jeans tucked into furry boots made her easy on the eyes as well.

  Cason cleared his throat, hoping to clear his head in the process. Right now wasn’t the time to dwell on his attraction to Joy. He’d done plenty of that during his sleepless night as he relived holding Joy while she’d been so vulnerable at the fountain show.

  “Morning,” he said to the women.

  “Morning,” Marcy and Joy said.

  “Afternoon,” Cobalt corrected, checking his watch.

  A woman clapped her hands, and the sea of festival performers quieted.

  “I’m Kara Gray, the head of pediatrics here at Cox Medical Center. On behalf of our department and the children, we’d like to thank you in advance for making so many kids happy. We’ll divide you into groups. Half of you will regale the youth with carols, while the other half wraps the presorted and tagged gifts. Then we’ll swap. Our staff will come around with your assignments. Please ask questions if you’re unsure about anything. We want this to be as smooth a process as possible. Thank you for coming out and serving with us this holiday season.”

  Everyone clapped.

  Once assigned, the Cowboys and Belles headed toward the wrapping tables set up along the far wall of the foyer.

  Joy’s smile faded as she looked at the gift and paper in front of her.

  “What’s wrong?” Cason whispered as the people around them wrapped and remarked about the name and age of the child they were helping.

  She stared at her tightly clasped hands. “I don’t know how to wrap a present. I’ve always been a gift bag type of girl.” She sighed.

  “You’ve never wrapped a present?” Cason tried to check his surprise and failed. “What about birthdays? Did your mama skip those too.” His mind reeled at the idea that she’d never had a birthday present either.

  “I got a present on my birthday each year. Mom would put it in a paper grocery bag with newspaper sticking out of the top.”

  Pure astonishment zipped through him as he processed the difference between his childhood and Joy’s. He placed a hand on her shoulder in an effort to comfort her and give her confidence. “Follow my lead. It’s pretty easy.”

  She nodded and looked furtively around to see if anyone noticed her lack of skill.

  He walked her through the steps of folding and taping the paper around the box, including attaching a self-adhesive bow. Thank goodness she’d received an easy rectangular shape and not a Barbie doll or action figure.

  “That’s it?” Joy put on the tag and examined her work.

  “That’s it. You did great. No one would ever know it’s your first time.” He pulled out his phone. “Let me get a picture.”

  She waved him off. “No, that’s okay.”

  He laid a hand on her arm. “This is an historic moment in your life. You wrapped your first Christmas gift. It must be preserved. Now pose or you’ll be all blurry on social media.”

  She shook her head but held still for the shot.

  Cason uploaded and posted the pic to his social media. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

  They chatted with the other performers while they wrapped gifts. Cason saw Joy’s confidence grow with every completed present.

  “This is a little ridiculous,” she said. “The kids are going to rip the paper off in less than a second. I can see why my mom didn’t bother.”

  “It’s not about that. The wonder is the curiosity about what’s under the paper and the desire to know if the gift is something special they’ve been wanting.”

  “Then I guess there are a lot of disappointed children in the world.” She set her last gift on the stack and then they swapped for visits with the children.

  Cason didn’t have much time to muse over her words as the tension built in Joy’s shoulders with every step they took into the children’s wing. He brushed his hand against hers in case she felt the need to take it for comfort. Satisfaction engulfed him when her hand took his.

  “The last time I was in a hospital was when my mother died,” she murmured so only Cason heard.

  He squeezed her hand. “This must be hard for you. I think you’re very brave to be here.”

  She glanced at him, with unshed tears in her eyes. “Thanks.”

  “You don’t have to sing carols to the kids if you don’t want to.”

  She nodded, the struggle with her conflicting emotions clearly written in her tense body language. “I want to help . . . I just . . .”

  “I get it.”

  Joy flashed him the smallest grateful smile, and that was enough for Cason.

  A volunteer handed them masks. “You’ll need to wear these, even if you don’t feel the slightest bit ill. Maybelle is undergoing chemo, and we need to protect her.”

  “Of course.” Cason donned his mask, and Joy did the same.

  Joy’s eyes zipped around. “The mask won’t scare her?” came her muffled question.

  “No, she’s used to them. You’re going to make her day.” The volunteer ushered them into the room.

  Joy’s grip tightened on Cason’s hand as they approached the bed, where a small girl—who he guessed to be around three—in a crocheted hat lay propped up in a bed. Monitors beeped while she colored. Her tongue stuck out between her lips, signaling her concentration.

  Joy sucked in a sharp breath, and a shudder ran through her. Panic flashed in her eyes.

  Cason gave her an encouraging nod. The scent of antiseptic tingled his nose through the mask.

  The mother tapped Maybelle’s leg. “Sweetie, you have visitors.”

  Maybelle turned her head to look at them. She had one green eye and one blue.

  “Hi, Maybelle. I’m Cason, and this is Joy.”

  “Have you come to sing to me?” She abandoned her crayon, which rolled into the spine of her book.

  “Of course. I’m part of Caldwell’s Cowboys, and Joy sings with the Southern Belles.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Belle is my name.”

  “Do you have a favorite song?” Joy asked.

  Cason breathed a sigh of relief. Joy had made the effort to engage despite her emotional turmoil.

  “Spider,” said Maybelle.

  Cason exchanged a questioning look with Joy, who shook her head, before eying the mother for guidance. She made a hand motion.

  “Oh,” Joy said. “I haven’t done that one in a while. Will you do the motions with me?”

  Maybelle nodded.

  And the two of them sang “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” followed by several more children’s’ favorites. With each song, some of Joy’s tension faded away, and her voice grew stronger.

  “Can you sing Rudolf?” asked Maybelle.

  “Oh, um.” Joy bit her lower lip.

  “Joy gave me the fun of all the Christmas songs,” Cason said.

  Joy flashed him a grateful smile.

  “I’d be pleased to sing Rudolf with you.” He and Maybelle sang together and then added “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

  The brightness in Maybelle’s eyes dimmed as she sank against her pillows, with a yawn.

  Movement by the door caught Cason’s eye. The volunteer waved a gift at him. He took it and handed it to Joy. “You give it to her,” he whispered.

  Joy gave the gift to Maybelle, who rallied, tore off the paper, and gave a happy exclamation. She hugged the pink, stuffed puppy to her face. “Oh, thank you.”

  “What will you name her, sweetie?” The mom picked up the shreds of paper, with a smile.

  Maybelle scrunched up her face. “Joy!” She beamed up at them. “Because of you.” She pointed at Joy. “Thanks for my gift.”

  “Oh, but I—”

  “You’re welcome,” Cason said. “We’d better let you rest. Have a Merry Christmas, Maybelle.”

  “Merry Christmas.” She yawned again a
nd hugged the puppy as her eyelids closed.

  Cason couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard Joy say Merry Christmas as they exited and removed their masks. Cason tossed them in the hall trashcan.

  The smiling volunteer approached. “Thank you for coming today. Maybelle and her family appreciate it. You’ve been a bright spot in what may be her last Christmas. You’re welcome to stay and visit and hand out more gifts or grab a few cookies in the foyer on your way out.” She waited for their response.

  Joy sagged against the wall, and Cason took that as her cue that she was done.

  “We were happy to be of service,” Cason said. “I think we’ll head out.”

  “Of course. I’m always worn out after one of the harder assignments. Thanks again.” She bustled down the hall with her cart of gifts.

  Cason turned his attention to Joy, who had her head tilted up and her eyes closed. “You alright?” He ran his hand down her arm.

  She opened her eyes. “Just need a minute.”

  For the second time in twenty-four hours, Cason pulled Joy close. She leaned in to him, and he noted how well they fit together. He inhaled the scent of her apple shampoo. “You were very brave today. You should be proud.”

  Her head moved against his chest. “I’m ashamed. I’m having a crisis over singing Christmas songs when that little girl in there is probably dying. I feel like the worst human-being in the world.”

  “Hey, now.” He rubbed circles on her back. “It’s not your fault she’s dying. She’s been dealt a hard hand and is making the best of it. Maybe that should be your takeaway, finding the joy even in the dark.”

  She nodded. “You got that from your mom?” The blue of her eyes was broken up by gold and gray flecks.

  He smiled. “My mama’s a wise woman.” Reluctantly he pulled back until all he held was her hand. “And she’d say, ‘It’s time for some well-earned cookies. There’s little in life that chocolate can’t fix.’”

  “I’m willing to bet on that truth. The only way to test that theory is to eat a cookie.”

  “Or two.”

  She grinned, showing even, white teeth. “Or two.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Joy didn’t have butterflies gently fluttering through her stomach—more like angry bees dancing a conga line. She adjusted her Santa hat for the millionth time in the backstage dressing room.

  “Quit fidgeting,” Tatiana said. “You’re making me nervous.” Tatiana never got nervous before performances. She usually got more hyped up.

  “Sorry.”

  Tatiana applied another coat of mascara to her natural and false lashes.

  “Yeah, what gives?” Marcy applied red lipstick.

  Joy shifted from one foot to the other. Tatiana knew from their friendship that Joy typically turned into a hermit in December. She’d urged Joy to “get over it—whatever it is—and join in the holiday spirit.”

  “Does it have anything to do with a certain tall, dark, and hunky cowboy?” Tatiana shot her a sly smile.

  “No.” Her answer came out a little too quickly, and Tatiana raised a brow. Joy took a deep breath. “Cason is great, but I wanted to tell you why I struggle at Christmas time.” After the hospital, Cason had urged Joy to share her pain with her group. He said they could better support her if they understood.

  Her words caught the girls’ attention.

  Joy fingered her shiny black belt with the gold buckle. “My mom and I didn’t celebrate Christmas growing up. No tree. No lights. No gifts.”

  “No.” Tatiana covered her mouth with three fingers. “I knew your childhood was rough in Chicago, but I didn’t know it was that rough.”

  “Hush. Let Joy talk.” Marcy waved an encouraging hand at Joy.

  “It wasn’t that we weren’t church goers. The true meaning of Christmas was instilled in me by my mom. But the hardest things that happened in my life all occurred at Christmas, including my mom being killed by muggers.”

  “Have mercy,” Marcy said.

  Tatiana shot her a ‘shut up’ look.

  Both women took Joy’s hands.

  Joy continued. “That’s why I faded out at rehearsal when we got to the carols. Christmas is a time for pain, not a time for joy, regardless of what my name suggests.” She let out a long exhale. “I wanted you to know. I hope you understand.”

  “I don’t think we could ever understand what you’ve been through,” said Marcy. “But we can be here for you.”

  “Yeah, girl. We got you,” Tatiana said.

  The three women embraced, all wiping at their eyes.

  Tatiana waved at her lashes. “No crying. I’ll have to redo my mascara.”

  “There’s one more thing, and I need your help,” Joy said.

  “Anything,” Marcy checked her makeup in the mirror.

  “I’d like to find a way to turn my aversion to the season around. I’m not sure how to do that. Baby steps for sure. But I hope you’ll help me on my journey to making the season bright.”

  “You want to sing lead on the carols today?” Marcy asked.

  “No, not yet. Maybe by the end of the festival. I think we should stick with the current arrangement. But perhaps you could help me find a present for Cason. He’s been really great about opening my eyes to yuletide cheer, and I’ve never bought a Christmas gift before. Until the service at the hospital, I’d never even wrapped a present.” She blushed at admitting her embarrassing past.

  “So it is about a guy.” Tatiana shook her hips. “I knew it.”

  “Shopping for a guy is tough, period,” Marcy said. “Regardless of the time of year, and you just picked the most challenging season.”

  Tatiana shot a glare at Marcy. “But with our help, you can get him a fantastic present. We won’t let you down.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Time,” an assistant stage manager said after peeking her head around the door.

  After a quick makeup check, the three women left the dressing room. With a lighter step, Joy followed her fellow Belles to the wings.

  A hand caught her elbow. “Hey.” Cason wore faded jeans that fit him well. She followed the buttons up his plaid shirt to his face. Her gaze momentarily stopped on his lips. “You ready for this?” He waved in the general direction of the crowd beyond the lights.

  “Yeah. I think so. Still apprehensive about the carols though.”

  He nodded. “Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither will your love of the season be either. But we’ll get there.” He wrapped his hand around hers and kissed her knuckles. “See you out there.”

  “Have fun playing your banister,” she teased, slipping away from him as the emcee announced the Southern Belles.

  “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked.

  “Not a chance.” She waved and focused on not tripping as she stepped onstage. Warmth, which had nothing to do with the lights, flowed through Joy’s body starting from the point where Cason’s lips had touched her skin. She knew how it felt to be held in his arms, and she got lost in a lightning-fast daydream of what it would be like to have his lips on hers. What would be her body’s response to that kind of physical contact? More importantly, what would her emotional response be?

  With a significant look, Marcy jerked her head toward the microphone.

  Joy snapped to life and, with a hint of practiced Atlanta lilt, said into the microphone, “Welcome friends! We’re the Southern Belles and we’re proud to be part of the Fantasy Music Festival Small Town Christmas.”

  Cheers from the crowd.

  “Thanks for coming out tonight. There are many talented performers and acts to choose from, and we’re grateful you chose us and Caldwell’s Cowboys. Feel free to sing along.”

  Joy let the beat of the music and swing of the guitars pull her in and lift her up as she and Marcy and Tatiana sang. She’d always loved singing, but it wasn’t until she paired up with the other two women that she felt pure joy every time they performed. Their voices blended perfectly
, while each one retained its uniqueness.

  The ingrained choreography took over, and the women belted out their tight harmonies as they swung their hips and pivoted. Tatiana kept time, but somehow her movements always seemed a bit bigger and sharper, probably due to her hip-hop and swing background.

  Marcy’s dancing bespoke grace and fluidity from her ballet years.

  Joy was the only one without any formal dance training, but she had a natural talent, which both impressed and disheartened their choreographer, Bolt. “What you could’ve been,” he’d said with a wistful shake of his head after their first few weeks of rehearsal.

  With their set complete, the Belles left the stage so the Cowboys could take over. The crowd went crazy when the Wyoming men hit the stage in their jeans, boots, plaid shirts, and cowboy hats.

  “Hello, Branson!” Cache yelled into the microphone.

  Joy grabbed a bottle of water and watched from the wings, her eyes constantly drawn back to Cason and the unusual instrument he played as the Cowboys ran through their set.

  All too soon, it was carol time.

  Joy shot a furtive look at her friends, who each gave her a squeeze and a reassuring nod, before they joined the Cowboys on stage. After the microphones were rearranged, the Christmas songs began.

  Joy waited for the familiar pain of loss to accompany the music but was surprised to find that it wasn’t as sharp or slicing. The pain level had lowered, and she was able to give a little more in her vocals than in rehearsal. She turned the sensation over in her mind and puzzled over how and when the shift occurred.

  The answer was right in front of her. Cason. Sharing her burden with him, seeing how Christmas could be through his eyes and experiences had changed her heart. Overwhelming gratitude flowed through her, bringing tears to her eyes.

  Cason flicked a glance at her, causing her heart to skip. His look expressed concern. She smiled, and he relaxed into the music once more but with curiosity in his eyes.

  They’d talk later.