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

by Linda Goodnight

Cassie laughed and stuck out her tongue. “Not a chance. Just go. Make both of you happy.”

  But Lana didn’t. The community center grew more crowded by the moment and her line was long and getting longer. Bluegrass music shifted to country and she found herself humming to the familiar tunes as she dipped the steaming beans. No one seemed to mind that their server was one of those Ross girls.

  After a while, the band took a break and Miss Evelyn made announcements, reminding everyone to sign up for the silent auction. A man Lana didn’t recognize moved close to the stage and handed Miss Evelyn a note. She read it silently and then stuck the paper in her pocket. Then she completed her announcements and left the stage with her usual bustling energy. Lana didn’t see her again until she appeared at the concession.

  “Lana, honey, we need to talk.” Miss Evelyn motioned to a bald man in the line. “Cecil, take Lana’s spot for a few minutes, will you? As a favor to me? Come see me on Monday for a slice of hot apple pie. On the house.”

  Cecil looked a little surprised but good-naturedly did as she requested. That was the power of Evelyn Parsons.

  Lana was surprised, too. What could Miss Evelyn possibly want to say that couldn’t wait?

  She followed the bustling, curly haired dynamo to a quiet corner—the quietest place they could find in the jam-packed building.

  “Is something wrong?” Lana glanced around for Sydney. Spotting her with a friend, she relaxed.

  Miss Evelyn pulled a rumpled piece of paper from her skirt pocket. “A man has offered a large sum of money to Charlie’s fund.”

  “That’s fantastic!”

  “I thought so, too. All he wants in exchange is to hear you sing.”

  Lana blinked. Her brain went numb. “What?”

  “He requested this specific song.” Evelyn pushed the paper into Lana’s hands. “Do you know it?”

  With trembling fingers, Lana smoothed the note and read the song title. In a shocked whisper, she said, “Yes, I do. I wrote this song.”

  “Well, how about that!” Miss Evelyn exclaimed, clearly more pleased than Lana. “This could not be more perfect. The town can enjoy your fabulous gift and Charlie’s fund gets a fat boost.”

  “No, I can’t, Miss Evelyn, I can’t. Don’t ask me to sing. I’ll do anything else, but not that.”

  The older woman took both of Lana’s hands in hers, crumpling the paper between them. “Lana, I’ve known you since you were a sad little girl trying to deal with that troubled mother of yours. Every time you came into the Iron Horse with your sister, I’d think, ‘That child is special.’”

  “You were always kind to us.” Emotion pushed up inside Lana’s chest. Evelyn and Digger had let the twins hang out at the Iron Horse many days when going home was too hard. Free food and a kind word had made a difference. “I remember when you tried to help Mama.”

  “Actually I was trying to help you girls. Your mama didn’t want help. Called me an old biddy and told me to mind my own business.” Miss Evelyn chuckled as if the insult was funny. “But you girls—well, I regret not doing more. I knew things were bad after your daddy left and Patricia was so bitter.”

  “Daddy couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “He shouldn’t have left you girls to deal with her. Looking back I think she might have been sick. But that didn’t help you and Tess. You had it rough, but look at you now. Doing great, raising that precious Sydney. And writing songs like this. God gave you a magnificent gift.”

  Lana shook her head. “Not so magnificent, Miss Evelyn. I can’t sing in public anymore.”

  “Not even for a sick child?” The disappointment on Evelyn’s face hurt. “Why, honey?”

  Lana wanted to sing, but she couldn’t. She’d freeze up and fall apart. She’d make a fool of herself.

  “Something happened. I had to stop.” Evelyn’s questioning eyes bore into her until she finally whispered, “I gave my life to Christ. I stopped drinking.”

  “That’s a good thing, Lana, but I don’t see what it has to do with singing that song.” She dropped her hold on Lana’s hands and tapped the paper.

  Quietly, painfully, Lana told her. Hiding the truth had already cost her one friend. “A bottle of gin was my courage. I can’t go on stage without it.”

  Evelyn’s eyes searched hers, piercing as if she could see inside. She took Lana’s face between her soft, lotion-scented hands and leaned close. “Lana, honey. Don’t you know who you are?”

  Lana shook her head. Of course, she knew. She was one of those awful Ross girls. She was a loser, a failure.

  But Miss Evelyn held her in a fast grip, forcing her to listen. “You are a child of the Most High God. You can do anything He says you can do. God is your strength. You don’t need gin or anything else.” Evelyn pointed toward Charlie. “But that little boy over there in the wheelchair needs something and you can help him get it.”

  All she had to do was go on stage and fall apart in front of the entire town. If she wasn’t already the least liked person in Whisper Falls, she would be then.

  But there was Charlie, Davis’s nephew.

  Torn, struggling, longing to help but afraid, Lana looked again at the sheet of paper. As she read the song title, Lana was suddenly aware of a startling fact. She’d never submitted that song anywhere. “How does this man know me? Where did he get this?”

  Miss Evelyn looked baffled. “He didn’t say. I suppose wherever songwriters send their music to be published.”

  “I didn’t. No one has a copy of this except—” Davis. A shock ran through her like electricity. Davis didn’t have this kind of money. “Is Davis Turner the donor?”

  “Davis? No. The man’s name is on the back. Perry Grider.”

  Lana turned the paper over and read the dark scrawl. Who was this guy? “I don’t know him.”

  “Neither do I, but he had cash in hand, Lana. This is for real.”

  Cash in hand. A large donation for Charlie’s fund. All in exchange for a three-minute song.

  “Let me think a minute, okay?” Think and pray and throw up a while.

  “Don’t take too long. We got a live one. We don’t want him to get away.” Evelyn chortled at her own joke before growing serious again. “Remember, honey, your gift is your music. God gave you that. If your gift can help someone, He expects you to use it. He’ll carry you through. Remember who you are.”

  Already starting to hyperventilate, Lana nodded numbly. “Okay. Okay.”

  Then she rushed to the restroom and locked herself inside a stall. This was crazy. Weird and incomprehensible. A thousand thoughts ran through her head. Fear of getting on that stage. Evelyn’s strange comments. Charlie’s need for surgery. Curiosity about the stranger. Who was he and why would he pay to hear her sing her own song?

  She closed her eyes tight. She couldn’t get on that stage.

  What if it was Sydney? The thought flashed through her head like a Las Vegas marquee. What if her precious girl needed an expensive operation?

  She took a deep, shaky breath and prayed. Miss Evelyn’s words came back to her. Don’t you know who you are? You’re not Lana Ross, the drunk party girl. You’re Lana Ross, child of the Most High, cleansed by a sacrifice far greater than singing in front of hundreds of people.

  Her strength was in God. Not a bottle of gin. Her gift was her music. A God gift. Hadn’t Davis said the same thing? If she could use her gift to help a child, shouldn’t she try?

  So what if she failed? She’d been humiliated before. She had to make the effort.

  Knees shaking, she straightened her shoulders and headed out of the restroom and across the floor. She passed Davis and Jenny and Chuck and with more courage than she thought she had, she stopped to say hello to Charlie whose sick, little-boy smile encouraged her to keep going. He reminded her so much of Nathan.

  Davis’s gaze snagged hers, and he started to say something. She touched his arm and went on. Her heart hammered louder than the drums.

  When she approached the
stage Miss Evelyn saw her and lifted her eyebrows in question.

  “I need to borrow a guitar.” Jitters raced up her spine and quivered in her voice.

  Evelyn did a mini fist pump. “That’s our girl. I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”

  Don’t be so sure. I still might run like a rabbit on amphetamines.

  Fighting down the butterflies, swallowing the threat of sickness, Lana moved to the edge of the stage while Miss Evelyn approached the microphone. The band stopped playing. The noise in the building continued, the voices and the shuffling feet. Doors opened, paper crinkled.

  Help me, Lord Jesus. I can’t do this by myself. I don’t know if I can do it at all. I am Your child. I am Your child.

  She’d no more than whispered the prayer than she spotted Davis, slowly pushing Charlie’s wheelchair closer to the stage. His eyes were on her, questioning, though she didn’t know the reason.

  She looked at the little boy in the chair, focused on him instead of the violent shaking inside. “Not for me. For Charlie.”

  She heard Miss Evelyn’s voice making the announcement, but her ears roared so loud she comprehended nothing other than her name. A gasp rose from the audience and then applause. All eyes, not just Davis’s, were on her.

  A band member held out an electric acoustic.

  What if she bolted? What if she couldn’t do this? What if she failed?

  The old need for a drink roared in, vicious and clawing. One drink. Just one to stop the shakes. To loosen up the dry vocal cords.

  Don’t you know who you are?

  Lana gripped the neck of the guitar and nodded her thanks. Slipping the strap over her shoulder felt natural, second nature. She tested the strings, found them well-tuned, though her fingers felt numb and cold.

  Throat drier than Arizona, breath short, she stepped to the mike. She cleared her throat, buying time, wondering if her heart was going to fly out of her chest or if her knees would buckle.

  The audience waited, quieter now.

  She strummed the strings, found the melody in her head and began to fingerpick the intro. She played it once, twice, praying the words would come.

  The wild urge to run made her legs wobbly.

  Her eyes found Charlie and the man behind him. Davis smiled at her. Like a drowning soul, she clung to the life raft in his eyes. He gave one encouraging nod and mouthed something.

  What did he say? She frowned at him in question, aware that her fingers were moving and the audience waited in expectation.

  As his mouth moved again, Davis tapped a fist over his heart, and then he pointed at Lana with a nod.

  And Lana began to sing.

  * * *

  Goose bumps raced up and down Davis’s spine. He recognized that song. His song. The one she’d given him. The one he’d— Unfettered delight exploded in his chest. He jerked his head right and left, quickly scanning the packed crowd for Joshua Kendle. Did he know? Was he here?

  “On wings of the wind, through clouds and the rain, your love carries me, carries me.”

  The lyrics drew him back to Lana. The other would take care of itself. For now, he wanted nothing more than to watch a miracle unfold.

  She was as pale as a sheet, but the rough honey vocals were perfection. Like a tile mosaic of intricate design, emotion flowed from her lips and fingers. At first her eyes were closed but she’d opened them and found him. He held on, willing her to stand strong. She could do this. He knew she could.

  He saw her knees shake, her fingers tremble and once in a while her lips quivered. He knew how scared she was. But while her body quaked, beauty and emotion flowed from her throat.

  “You got this,” he murmured, encouraging her in every way possible from ten feet away. “I’m sorry. Thank you. You’re awesome.”

  He muttered a litany of apologies and random thoughts, more grateful than he could ever say for her sacrifice.

  Miss Evelyn’s announcement had nearly taken him to his knees. Even Jenny had begun to weep. Though Lana had not sung in public for a long time, someone was donating to Charlie’s fund in exchange for a song. So she had agreed.

  He knew the fear that haunted her. He knew how hard this was. She was terrified and yet, she had agreed for Charlie. His nephew. For the child of a woman who’d given her nothing but grief.

  Why had he been such a coldhearted, selfish idiot? Lana would always put a child’s needs before her own. Sydney’s and now Charlie’s.

  Suddenly he understood what Austin had been trying to tell him. Lana’s mistakes, like his and everyone else’s, had been nailed to a cross. The moment she accepted Him, she was free of her past. She might still be working through some areas, trying to find her way, but who wasn’t?

  She was a good and decent person. And he loved her. He’d been miserable without her. He’d known all along she made him better, that she was the missing piece of his life, but he had allowed pride and opinion to rob them both.

  She had every reason not to forgive him, but he prayed she would.

  As Lana kicked into the final chorus, Davis turned to Jenny. “She did this for Charlie. Lana has paralyzing stage fright but she went up there for your son.”

  Tears gathered in his sister’s eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you were wrong. I was, too. I love her, Jenny, and I’m going to tell her even if she kicks me to the curb.” Leaving his weeping sister, he excused his way through the crowd that now pressed against the stage. He approached the steps at one end, counting on her to exit the direction she’d entered.

  The song ended and the building erupted in applause and cheers. Lana remained at the microphone, guitar against her body, with a bewildered expression as if she couldn’t believe the applause was for her. Someone whistled a loud whoot. On the opposite side of the stage, Miss Evelyn practically levitated with excitement.

  Davis started up the steps, not wanting to steal Lana’s moment but eager to hold her in his arms, to apologize. If she’d let him.

  Then Lana smiled—a wide, relieved smile—handed the guitar to its owner and took a quick bow. As she turned to exit the stage she saw him and froze.

  Davis paused, adrenaline jacked, feeling a bit trembly himself. “You were phenomenal.”

  She took a step toward him. “I was scared to death.”

  “That’s what made it phenomenal. You were afraid, but you sang. For Charlie.”

  She took another step. And then another.

  The crowd of people faded into the background. Sound ceased. Davis saw and heard nothing but the special woman he’d almost thrown away.

  “I’ve been an idiot,” he said. “Forgive me? Please forgive me.”

  She didn’t hesitate. Faster than he could breathe, Lana was in his embrace.

  “I was wrong not to tell you,” she said. “You had every right to despise me. I’ve made too many mistakes.”

  He stroked her soft hair. “Shh. Shh. I don’t despise you. I never could. You’re amazing. I was the one out of line.”

  The calloused tips of her fingers rubbed lovingly across his jaw. “I missed you so much.”

  “I was such a jerk. You should make this harder on me. Make me grovel.” He looped a lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop myself from coming to your house?”

  “Me, too. I’d look out the window and see you or the kids coming or going and I wanted to run to you.”

  “Can we start fresh? Start new? Try again?”

  “Are you sure you can forget what I’ve done and where I’ve been? I don’t want to hold you back or make you or the kids ashamed to know me.”

  “You could never do that. I’m proud of you, Lana. Proud.” He cupped her face, more grateful than he could ever express. She’d forgiven him. Just like that. “Can you forget the ugly things I said?”

  “I already have.”

  “There we are then. Forgotten. Forgiven.” Whom the Son has set free is free indeed. Austin Blackwell was a wise man. “L
ana Ross,” he said. “You are an amazing, gifted child of God, a loving mother, a good friend, the woman who holds my heart. I want you in my life. Say you want me, too.”

  “Oh, I do. So much.” Lana pressed her cheek against Davis’s chest. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

  He cupped the back of her head, aware of her warm breath seeping through his shirt. “If you are, don’t wake up. I like it here.”

  “Daddy?” a small voice said.

  Davis let his head drop against her hair. “Uh-oh. The dream is over.”

  Lana laughed softly and took a step away. Her absence left a cold spot. He caught her hand and tugged her back, sliding a possessive arm around her. No matter what anyone thought or said, he wasn’t letting go this time. Let the whole world know for all he cared.

  “Daddy.” Nathan squinted up at them, expression intense. “Does this mean you and Lana are in love again?”

  The adults exchanged looks. What Davis saw in Lana’s eyes was all the answer he needed.

  “Yes, son. I think it does.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Christmas Bazaar was in a word, bizarre. Good bizarre.

  Too astonished and happy to do anything but grin, Lana held Davis’s hand in a near death grip as they walked through the exhibits in search of the man who’d paid such a high price for a song. Her knees still shook but for a different reason now. It was as if the earth had moved and the world had suddenly righted itself. A world that had never made sense finally did.

  Love was a powerful thing. She prayed with all her heart that this would last. That Davis wouldn’t change his mind again and that she would have the courage to keep believing.

  In front of them, Sydney, Paige and Nathan hopped and giggled and whirled in circles like wind-up Christmas toys, making a path through the well-wishers. With each step, someone stopped her to compliment her music, to ask when she would sing again, to invite her to events.

  The terror had come, but she’d won. She and God. With the help of a very special man.

  “I didn’t fall down,” she whispered as they walked past a display of wood-carved clocks.

  Davis smiled his thousand-watt smile. “I would never let you fall.”