Angel Song (6 page)

“Here.” Linsey plopped a plastic bag into his hands. “Mom said gremlins must have played with them after she packed them away and got them all tangled. Has that ever happened to you?”

“Sure.” Jason laughed. “A time or two.”

“Were you able to fix it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you fix ours, too?”

“I’ll certainly try.” He pulled the tangled mess from the bag. “But it’s going to be a challenge. Wow.”

“Pretty bad, huh?” Her tiny nose scrunched and she scratched her freckled cheek. “Can I help?”

“Sure. Hold this end and stand right there.” He handed her the pronged end of one strand and began to slowly unravel the knot. “Gremlins, for sure.”

“Just like Mom said.”

From the kitchen, Jason heard the sound of running water as Quinn filled the sink basin. She hummed as she worked—a snappy Christmas tune. He imagined her hands dipped in sudsy water, wisps of hair skimming her slight shoulders. She looked good in a pair of faded jeans.

“You’re getting it, Mr. Jason!” Linsey’s voice drew him back. “Look!”

The last of the tangle loosened and he stepped over to an outlet. Soon, colorful lights shimmered across the room. When they began to blink in unison, Linsey hopped up and down, clapping.

“We did it. Good job, Linsey.” Jason stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled a hurrah. “Do you want to help me string them on the tree?”

“Yeah!”

“I’ll show you how.” He looped the strand around the top section of the tree and let her finish along the bottom. When the lights were set, they both stepped back to admire their handiwork.

The tree was transformed.

Quinn stepped into the doorway. “It’s beautiful.” She leaned against the door jamb, a dish towel in her hands. The red-velvet shimmer in her eyes matched the glow of the lights.

“Mr. Jason fixed it!” Linsey rushed over to hug Quinn. “Can we decorate it, Mom?”

“Not tonight. But it
does
need the star before we leave.”

“That’s the most important part,” Jason agreed. “Can you find it, Linsey?”

She scrambled into a plastic crate, and Jason knew the moment she found what she was looking for by the squeal that shook the walls. She rushed back to his side, her eyes huge and round as she clutched the star, embellished with lights and small specks of silver tinsel.

“Lift me up, Mr. Jason.” She tugged on the hem of his shirt. “Please.”

Jason gathered her in as a lump lodged in his throat. Was this what Christmas was supposed to be…family, lights, and laughter mixed with a hearty helping of good food and wishes?

“Higher, Mr. Jason.” Linsey wiggled and stretched. “I can almost reach.”

He boosted her higher as Quinn looked on. Whenever he was near her, his pulse revved. He wondered if she felt the same longing for him that he was beginning to feel for her…to share such a precious holiday—the love and joy—with each other.

“That’s perfect, honey.” Quinn’s voice was raspy, and she swiped a fingertip beneath each eye. Her tears left a trail of moisture that glistened in the light. “We have to go now.”

Linsey twisted ’round to look at her. “But the ornaments—”

“Will have to wait until tomorrow.” Quinn shook her head. “Hop down now and get your coat on.”

“I guess you’ll just have to come back tomorrow to help us, Mr. Jason.” Linsey patted his cheek as he set her feet gently back on the floor.

“I can do that.” The child had him all choked up.

“Is it OK. Mom?”

“Yes, honey.” Quinn smiled, though tears snaked down both cheeks. “That sounds perfect.”

8

“This is becoming a habit.” Jason shoveled a spoonful of apple pie into his mouth and then washed it down with a gulp of coffee.

“Is that a bad thing?” Quinn’s burnished eyes narrowed with worry.

“Not at all.” He smiled to reassure her. “I like spending time here.”

He liked it a lot, actually. And he’d done it so much lately that a night without it seemed empty.

“I like it, too.”

“I’ve never done it.”

“What?” Her eyes widened to cute little
oh’s
.

He laughed. “I’ve never decorated a tree with a child. It’s…fun.”

“And messy,” Quinn added, nodding. “Pure chaos.”

“Like I said…it’s fun.”

“We stayed under our quota of broken ornaments tonight, though.” She sipped her coffee, her eyes peeking at him over the rim of the cup. “Only two. I think that’s a record—for the good, of course.”

“You have quite a sense of humor.” Jason finished off his pie and drained his coffee cup. “I like it.”

She locked gazes with him, smirking. “Some people call me a smart aleck.”

“You’re that, too.” He pushed his plate back and wiped crumbs from his mouth. The sweet taste of cinnamon mingled on his lips. “But I find it endearing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s so…you.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

“Oh, believe me, it is.” He leaned in and skimmed a knuckle across Quinn’s cheek as lowered his voice. In the living room, Linsey snuggled in the warm glow of the Christmas tree, watching a movie. “Quinn, you’re the first woman—the
only
woman—I’ve wanted to kiss since…”

“Oh!” A hint of shock laced her voice. She shifted in her seat. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing, either, Jason.”

“Why not?”

“I told you…my life is full of detours. I don’t know what’s going to happen today, let alone tomorrow.”

“Do any of us really know what’s planned?” He took her hand. “Sometimes detours can turn out to be a good thing.”

“Not in my experience.”

“You don’t feel that way about Linsey, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“But you didn’t plan for her.”

“No, I didn’t. But I wouldn’t change a thing, Jason. Truly.”

“So, sometimes detours can be turned into blessings, right?”

“How can I argue with that?” She crumpled her napkin and tossed it onto her empty plate. “You seem so sure…”

“I’m not sure, but I’ve learned to trust a Higher Power. He gives me the courage to live and the hope to laugh even though sometimes—most of the time—life’s a mystery that I just don’t understand.”

“So, why complicate things further?”

“Because I feel something for you—something that grows stronger with each passing day. But after what happened before…well, you’re not the only one who questions their heart.”

She leaned toward him and took his hand. Her delicate fingers twined with his. “What happened, Jason, with your…wife?”

His response was simple and to the point. “I failed her.”

“How?”

“I couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted most.”

“What was that?”

“A child.”

The room fell silent, as if all of the air was sucked out. When Quinn spoke again, her voice was laden with concern. “Oh, Jason…”

“It was the mumps, when I was fourteen,” he continued, his voice strained. “The doctors said there was a chance, but who thinks of that kind of thing when they’re only fourteen? I never imagined—I just didn’t know until it was too late.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t blame her. She had a dream of having a family, and I couldn’t give her that.”

“What about adoption?”

“She didn’t hang around long enough to discuss it.”

“That’s…I’m just so sorry.” Quinn leaned closer and squeezed his hand. “Do you want children?”

“What does it matter?”

“It’s just a question.”

His eyes searched hers. He wondered what she was thinking. “Yes, of course I’d like to have children. Spending time with you and Linsey has made me realize just how much I’m missing.” His gut tied in knots. “But it’s impossible now.”

****

Quinn tucked her feet beneath her as she settled on the couch. The warm glow of the Christmas lights brought Jason to mind. She wondered what he was doing, only two doors down. His windows were dark—maybe he’d gone to bed.

Her heart ached for him, and she struggled to wrap her mind around the paradox—one man who desperately wanted a child couldn’t have one, while another man blessed with the same gift had no desire to receive it. Where was the fairness in that?

“Mom, I can’t sleep.” Linsey padded into the room, her flannel nightgown billowing around her tiny, bare feet.

“Bad dream?”

“I don’t remember.” She rubbed her sleepy eyes. “I just woke up.”

“Come here.” Quinn gathered her daughter into her lap and covered them both with a faded quilt that was draped over the arm of the couch. “Maybe the wind woke you.”

“Is it snowing again?”

“Yes.”

“Does it always snow so much here?”

“No. It’s usually pretty warm in December in East Tennessee. But this year is a fluke.”

“What’s a fluke?”

“Something out of the ordinary.”

“Like finding a good luck penny when you’re walkin’ down the street?”

“Exactly.”

“Mama Cantori keeps a jar of pennies. She lets me play with them sometimes. She calls them her blessing pennies.” Linsey tilted her head to gaze up at Quinn. “She said the day you came to live with her was the best blessing of her life.”

“Is that so?” Quinn’s voice caught.

“Yeah.” Linsey’s head bobbed. “Why, Mom? Why did you come to live with her? What happened to your mommy and daddy?”

“I don’t know for sure. I was just a baby when I last saw them.”

“Do you ever wonder?”

“I used to, but Mama Cantori loved me so much that after a while, it squeezed out all the wondering.”

“And Mr. Cantori, too?”

“Yes. He loves me and he loves you, too.”

“What happened to my daddy?”

“He’s in heaven, honey. He died when you were very young.”

“Do you think he knows me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Mr. Jason’s nice, Mom.” Linsey closed her eyes, and for a moment Quinn thought the child had fallen back to sleep. But then her soft, sleepy voice drifted. “He’d be a good daddy.”

“I…” Quinn struggled to find the words as she gathered the child closer. “Yes, honey, I think he would.”

9

“Be careful on that ladder.” Jason said as he passed by, carrying a lamb for the manger scene. “Would you like me to hang that?”

“I’ve got it.” Quinn tacked the airbrushed sheet to the corner of the wall of the fellowship hall. The effect, when it was stuffed with foam and draped, was a billowy cloud—just as she’d planned. “Can you smooth it out a bit and tack that lower edge?”

“Sure.” Jason set down the sheep and brushed a hand over the crisp fabric. Then he used a tiny nail to tack the hem. “Better?”

“Tons.” Quinn stepped down and turned to survey her work. “It’ll do, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s great.” He stood beside her, reaching for her hand. “The pageant’s turning out better than I imagined. The parents are going to love it.”

“Parents love anything their kids star in.”

“Maybe so, but this year just seems more special.”

“I feel it, too.” The room was filled with props the parents had helped provide, and they’d been more than generous in welcoming Quinn, as well. They’d gone out of their way to make her feel at home, and she was thankful for that. But Quinn was sure that wasn’t what Jason meant. It had more to do with the two of them…with the feelings that were beginning to blossom like the crimson leaves on the poinsettia plants that filled the sanctuary. “Christmas is always special, but this year...”

“It’s you…us.” Jason gathered her close.

Quinn relaxed against him, breathing in the clean scent of his aftershave that mingled with glitter paint and glue. Spending so many hours working on the pageant had brought them much closer. Quinn discussed things with him that she’d never breached with anyone else—even Mama.

“It just makes everything better, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Speaking of special…” He twined a strand of her hair around his finger. “Did you find that doll that Linsey keeps talking about?”

“Tammy Teardrops—the one that cries for you to feed her?”

“That’s the one.”

“I’ve tried. Apparently, the toy’s on every little girl’s wish-list, though. It’s sold out wherever I go.”

“I’ll help you look,” Jason offered, brushing her forehead with a kiss. “There must be one somewhere.”

“I hope so.” Quinn sighed, wishing he’d capture her lips, as well. They had yet to share a real kiss, and she wondered if one would ever come. “Or I’ll have a lot of explaining to do come Christmas morning.”

“It’ll work out.” Jason squeezed her shoulder and stepped back, releasing her. “You’ll see.”

“I hope so.” Quinn turned and began to cap an assortment of spray paint cans. “Right now I’m too tired to think about it.”

“It
is
getting late.” Jason switched off the overhead lights. A soft glow came from the hallway. “And you’ve been up since dawn to work the breakfast shift. We can finish this tomorrow.”

“But we have our first dress rehearsal tomorrow, and there are still costumes to prepare.”

“I’ll pick you up from work, and we can ride over early before rehearsal starts. I’ll help you sew.”

Quinn giggled. “Now, that’s a vision.”

“What, you think I can’t sew?”

“Sorry. It’s just, your hands are so big and the needle so…delicate.”

His gaze captured hers. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I can be gentle when the need arises.”

She knew he could. She’d felt it in his touch—when he held her hand and stroked tears from her cheek. “You’re right.”

“So we’ll come early?”

“But Linsey—”

“Mrs. Cantori can drop her off when the rehearsal begins. She’s providing tomorrow’s snack for the children, so she’ll have to come by any way.”

“Right again. Good thinking.” Quinn surveyed a table full of costumes. Each still had to be sorted and matched with a child. “It will give us time to finish the costumes—and the props.”

“It’s settled, then.” He dropped the hammer into the tool box and handed Quinn her coat. “How about we stop by the diner on the way home for a cup of coffee and a slice of Gus’s famous pecan pie?”