A Riverwalk Christmas: Four-in-One Collection

by Elizabeth Goddard, Martha Rogers, Lynette Sowell

  “It sounds like you’re already on your way to finding something special for Christmas this year.” Marcy glanced down at her watch. “Look at the time. I need to get in there and start rolling silverware before the boss docks my pay.” She gave Gabriela a departing smile and trotted off into the restaurant.

  Marcy had also arrived earlier than usual for her shift. Pop had mentioned he’d be scheduling her for a few extra hours during Christmas, as Marcy needed the extra money. Gabriela sighed. Pop had a giving heart. Which is probably why he’d chosen Miguel as their contractor.

  She closed her eyes. For the past five days, she’d seen Miguel every morning. Today he’d met her at the garage door with her favorite latte. To make up for the mess in the kitchen, he said.

  The day entered its flurry of activity, Gabriela surrendering to the flood of orders and going with the flow. Pop was at her side. On the line, they never talked about anything but the food.

  Maybe she could somehow talk about her menu ideas.

  “Hey, Pop.” She spooned a ladle of molé sauce over a pair of chicken enchiladas.

  “Yeah?” His hands moved as if they had a mind of their own, plating a series of tacos accompanied by beans and rice.

  “I had this idea for a torta.”

  “La Cocina doesn’t do tortas.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we don’t do tortas.”

  “Aw, Pop. Think of it. A bolillo, spread with black bean paste, covered with pork carnita, guacamole, and cheese. Then you grill on both sides.”

  He merely grunted. “Nah.”

  “Pop, we serve tacos.” She nodded at the plate he put on the tray. “Even shrimp tacos, and you hate shrimp.”

  “But everybody likes tacos.”

  “Well, what if we add a torta for a daily special to see how people like it?”

  “It’s too expensive right now. We need to watch our food budget.”

  “Okay.” She bit her lip and kept plating. Maybe she ought to warn Marcy not to offer a special molé verde sample dish, even though Gabriela bought the ingredients with her own money.

  “Chef Gabriela, your mama wants you in the dining room,” Marcy called through the pass-through.

  “Tell her I’ll be right there.” Gabriela slid one more plate onto the counter. “Taco combo, fajitas for two. Table 26.”

  “Go ahead now,” Pop said. “I can do the plates myself for a while.”

  “Okay.” It seems she kept repeating herself to Pop. Keep agreeing, keep her ideas to herself. She washed her hands and left the kitchen.

  A few diners smiled as she passed their tables, the mariachis playing their music at full volume, just like Pop wanted it.

  “M’ija,” Mama said as she reached the table. “Carmen Valdez from church said she wanted to talk to us today about Las Posadas. She sounded like it was pretty important.”

  Carmen was the drama director at their church, and a friend of Mama’s for years.

  “What could Las Posadas have to do with us? Do you think she wants catering for the program tonight? It’s late notice, but we could work something out.”

  “Here she comes.”

  Carmen bustled past Maria, the hostess, and up to their table.

  “Oh, Rita, something terrible has happened.” Carmen slid onto the chair across from Mama. “What’s wrong?”

  “Megan’s got strep throat. She can’t be Mary.” Carmen’s ample frame made the chair groan. “I need a replacement for Mary, and now. Which is why I need your help. Well, not yours, exactly.”

  Mama glanced at Gabriela.

  No, I couldn’t possibly—

  “Gabriela has never had the honor of playing Mary,” Mama began.

  “Now, Mama, I’m sure Mrs. Valdez has someone else in mind. Maybe Nadine could be Mary.” Because Mary was kind and gentle, a forgiving woman. She didn’t blink when her world was upended. Not like Gabriela, that was for sure.

  “Why, if Gabriela played Mary, that would save me a lot of trouble and phone calls.” Carmen assessed her, and this made Gabriela want to sit up straighter.

  “I’m really not Mary material.”

  “Why not?” both older women chorused.

  “You’ll fit the costume.” Carmen nodded. “We need you at the church by six thirty so we can go over how you’re to sit on the donkey.”

  Donkey? That was right. They always used live animals.

  “My Gabriela, as Mary. Nadine was Mary the Christmas she was eighteen, and now you get to be Mary. What an honor.” Mama beamed.

  “I’ll be there early,” Gaby said as she got up to leave. Maria had just seated three tables, one right after the other. Hector and the crew would be in the weeds, and Pop would be hollering if she didn’t get herself to the kitchen.

  Lord, I know You look at the heart. And You already know that I’m no Mary.

  Miguel’s throat tightened as he slipped the thick woven tunic over his T-shirt and basketball shorts. The hair on his legs prickled in the chilly air of the choir room. He felt like he was twelve again, in awe of the chance to play Joseph, before he became old enough to make fun of Goody-Two-shoes guys who went to church and dressed up like Bible characters.

  Megan, the young woman originally set to play Mary, had gotten sick suddenly, but they told him his Mary would be there soon.

  A familiar voice sounded outside the door. “I don’t have to say anything, do I?”

  At the sound of the voice, Miguel definitely didn’t feel twelve anymore, an age when girls were still gross.

  In came Gabriela, his Mary, dressed in a flowing blue robe. With her head-covering and sandals, and natural sun-kissed skin tone, she almost could pass for a young Jewish woman. But her round brown eyes and full cheeks made the similarity end.

  “Hey, Miguel. I didn’t know you were in Las Posadas.” She blinked at him, her cheeks turning red.

  “Matter of fact, I am. So you’re the new Mary.”

  “Yes. It was sort of last minute. Mama and Carmen Valdez voted me in.”

  “So you came here, kicking and screaming.”

  “Not exactly.” She laughed.

  “You’re not into acting or anything.”

  “No, I’d rather be cooking or running things from the sidelines.” Gabriela glanced around the room. “So, Carmen said something about a donkey. Oh, and I’m with Joseph, too.”

  “That would be me. Joseph, I mean.”

  She laughed. “This should be interesting. How are you at handling donkeys?”

  “I can manage. They had some livestock at the New Life Center. I got pretty good with the animals. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” At his words, his throat caught. Talk about mangling things again.

  “No, I’m sure you won’t.” Gabriela looked down at her sandaled feet.

  “Makeup, we need makeup!” Mrs. Valdez bundled into the room. “Mary, why, your cheeks are flaming already. I doubt we’ll need much blusher for you. Must be the handsome man here.”

  Now Miguel felt his own face flame. He dared not look at Gabriela, whose face Mrs. Valdez descended on with a makeup brush and eyeliner.

  Why did he always get reminders of how badly he’d done at protecting people in the past, people like Tommy? He would definitely give Brother Pete a call tonight. How did people do it, rebuilding relationships with people they’d hurt in the past?

  The room soon filled with characters from the town of Bethlehem, fellow church members talking and laughing. One of the wise men was Mr. Top Gun himself, who tried to shoot straight over to Gabriela but was intercepted by Mrs. Valdez.

  “Crowns! We need our wise men to wear crowns. And get the treasure boxes, Steven, will you?” she called over her shoulder as she blocked Top Gun Travis from reaching Gabriela.

  “So,” Miguel ventured, “how was lunch the other day with Top Gun?”

  “Top Gun? Oh, you mean Travis. I didn’t go. I worked the afternoon shift and closed that night.” She shrugged. “He’s a great g
uy, but …” Gabriela gestured, her full sleeves swishing.

  “I see.” Miguel glanced over to see Mrs. Valdez trying to fix a crown to Travis’s head.

  “We should stick together,” Gabriela said. “I know everyone will be coming out before us, but I still get nervous.”

  “Don’t be nervous.” He looked down at her. “Everyone will be looking at the new set. The whole thing’s on rollers so the church can slide it into storage until next year.”

  “Did you build it?” Gabriela’s voice held admiration.

  “I had help.” He hoped he’d didn’t sound too proud of it, but the set was awesome.

  “Oh, but it’s beautiful. And the design is genius.” She touched his arm, and he allowed himself to pat her hand.

  She didn’t pull away.

  Chapter 6

  Gabriela felt like she had cotton in her throat. She’d forgotten how warm and strong Miguel’s hands were. Calloused, too, from hard work. Voices in the room seemed to disappear. One of her friends passed, chatting and waving at her. Her voice sounded dull, as if from a distance or under water.

  I didn’t know you were Mary. How cool is that? Glad you made it into the program this year.

  To which she mumbled something in response, as Miguel kept his hand over hers.

  “Pregnant! You need to be pregnant!” Mrs. Valdez appeared in front of her. “Or at least look pregnant. Stand back, Joseph.”

  Mrs. Valdez held up a baby tummy form.

  “I need to put that on? What happened to a pillow?” Gabriela asked.

  “That’s twentieth-century, m’ija. Lift up your robe. We should have done this earlier, but I forgot the box in the car.”

  Miguel stood off to the side. Gabriela didn’t dare look at him as Mrs. Valdez helped strap the baby tummy over Gabriela’s shirt.

  “There. That happened fast.” Mrs. Valdez started laughing at her own joke as she went off. “Once everyone leaves, you two head to the front hallway to meet up with the animal handler.”

  Gabriela settled her robe over the belly form. Strange, it felt. She wanted to have a lot of kids, one day. Four, at least. That desire had taken a backseat to culinary school, college, and helping with Tommy the past few years, but now shifted to the front. Literally, for tonight. She put her hand down and felt the silicone under the robe. It sure felt real.

  “Let’s go find your ride.” Miguel tugged on her sleeve.

  The rest of the Bethlehem cast drifted from the choir room and through the rear entrance to the sanctuary platform. Gabriela could hear applause rippling outside.

  She let Miguel lead her to the doorway that led to the hallway. Strains of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” filtered under each set of closed sanctuary doors as she passed. Mary. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal to some people, but she’d never acted a part in her life.

  A donkey’s bray made Gabriela pause.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” Miguel took her hand. She clutched it.

  They found the donkey and stood next to the animal, waiting. Mrs. Valdez magically appeared through one of the sanctuary doors. “There you are. Pastor’s reading about the tradition of Las Posadas now. Once he’s done, I’ll send you in to make your journey.”

  “Do I have to actually ride the donkey? I heard that according to some historians, Mary likely walked to Bethlehem.”

  “It’s part of the live Nativity. And here’s your lines.”

  “Lines?” She looked at the piece of paper Mrs. Valdez gave her. Okay, she could read these lines. She hoped.

  “It’s only a few lines,” Mrs. Valdez said. “You can even ad lib when necessary.”

  “Ad lib?”

  Miguel was chuckling as he took the donkey’s reins from the handler. “You’re stressing out over nothing.”

  “Ha.” She’d show him. “How do I get on?”

  The handler put a small stool next to the donkey’s left shoulder. “Just hop up on this, and sit sidesaddle. Your right leg hooks around here, your left foot sticks in this stirrup on the bottom. Peanut will take good care of you.”

  She would have much preferred sitting astride and wrapping her arms around the animal’s neck for dear life.

  “Here we go, Peanut.” Gabriela hauled herself up onto the donkey, which didn’t fall over once she’d settled onto the saddle. She felt tall, as she looked down slightly at Miguel.

  “I won’t let you fall.” He squeezed her hand again.

  “Thanks.” She wrapped one hand around the saddle horn.

  “Don’t worry about the lines. Follow my lead.”

  She could trust him with Las Posadas, but not her whole heart—not just yet.

  The door swung open, and Miguel led Peanut down the aisle. Luminaries flickered along each pew, then across the front of the stage. A guitar softly played “Silent Night” without accompaniment. The lone instrument echoed across the sanctuary filled with nearly five hundred people.

  Five hundred people—all looking at us. Gabriela gripped Peanut’s stubby mane with both hands, crumpling the card with her lines on it. The fake baby tummy made her feel lopsided, as if she were on the verge of toppling off and landing on poor Miguel.

  “Have you any rooms?” Miguel asked at the first door.

  “No, no room,” was the reply, and the door closed.

  Again, the scenario was repeated at the next house.

  “We will find a room, my dear Mary,” Miguel said to her.

  Line—she had a line. She glanced at the tiny card.

  “I know we will, my Joseph. I trust you, and I trust God to take care of us all.” Her face flamed, and her hand shook. She didn’t know if anyone could hear her voice, or her heart galloping away in her chest. If Peanut matched that stride, he’d win the Kentucky Derby. But then, that wasn’t a race for donkeys …

  Her thoughts drifted as Miguel led her to the next house, where again they were turned away. Molé. She had to find a way to convince Pop to let her switch up the menu a little. He hadn’t changed it in years. Maybe she’d follow Hector’s suggestion to introduce molé verde.

  “… isn’t that right, Mary?” Miguel asked.

  She froze and placed her left hand on Miguel’s shoulder as Peanut sidestepped. Miguel slid his arm around her waist and stepped closer.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Peanut’s not going anywhere, either.”

  “Thanks.” She could hardly whisper back. “I messed up my line. Sorry.”

  He released her and looked at the innkeeper. Their last stop. “Yes, I think the stable will be perfect for us.” Then he glanced at Gabriela.

  “Yes, that will do nicely.” She nodded.

  The stage lights went low, and only the luminaries lit the room as the stage shifted. Gabriela sat frozen on Peanut.

  “Don’t leave me.” Not only did the donkey make her nervous, but she also didn’t like sitting on a donkey in the dark, either. She felt six, not twenty-six.

  “I won’t.” Miguel squeezed her hand.

  “Okay, here comes the baby,” a familiar voice said in the dark. Mrs. Valdez.

  Gabriela managed to climb off the donkey and started unfastening the baby tummy from her waist.

  Someone shuffled her and Miguel into the stable backdrop. The straw made her sneeze.

  “Sit, m’ija.” Mrs. Valdez guided her onto a cushioned chair. “You, too, Joseph.”

  Then a soft gurgling sound came closer. “Careful, Gabriela.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “It’s me, Judith Glassberg. I’ve got my little Joshy here, lending him to the play.”

  A warm, soft bundle was placed in Gabriela’s arms.

  “I’ll take good care of him.” Something stirred inside Gabriela when the soft spotlights came on.

  Judith’s little Joshua had blond hair and blue eyes, which made the genetics improbable, but Gabriela didn’t care, and neither did the audience, judging by the soft gasps that came up at the sight of a real baby portraying the Christ Child
in Las Posadas.

  Then Miguel knelt next to them, and brushed her head with his hand, and then touched Joshua’s head. “God has provided for us this warm stable, this place of peace for the birth of the Prince of Peace.”

  She had a line but could barely breathe as she read the cue card taped to the manger. “In His wisdom, the Father has guided us to this moment. The journey has been hard, but we have been in the shadow of His unseen Hand.”

  A tear fell onto the flannel baby blanket. Lord, the journey has been hard. Where are You guiding me this Christmas?

  G’night Miguel. See you later!” a friend called as they pulled out of a parking space.

  Miguel waved. He scanned the cars in the parking lot. Gabriela had remained quiet for the rest of the evening, and had left him at the first opportunity. Something was going on with her.

  He knew that resuming their friendship had been difficult for her. He understood that all too well. But this—this was something else. He stifled a yawn, unlocking his truck.

  A lone figure by the nearest light pole caught his attention. Something about the way the guy leaned on the pole and watched him.

  Then he started strolling in Miguel’s direction. Miguel clenched his keys. Santos. He hadn’t seen this dude in a few years.

  “Hey, Rivera. What’s up?” Santos extended his hand. Miguel shook it.

  “Not much. I’ve been busy, working.”

  “Good for you. I, uh, I’ve got something you might be interested in.”

  “Sorry, I don’t think you do. Not anymore.” Miguel crossed his arms across his chest, his back firmly set against the truck.

  “You sure about that? Listen, I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t need the money.”

  “What do you need? Are you hungry? Do you need food? Where are you living?”

  “I don’t need food. I need the money.” Santos shifted from foot to foot.

  “I can’t just give you money, Santos. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re acting like a rich church boy, Rivera.” Santos took a step closer. His eyes glittered in the lights of the parking lot. “But I know better. I know what’s inside there. You need what I have. And I need the money that you have.”