Rescued by his Christmas Angel (13 page)

But maybe she'd tell them to leave the purple sofa.

Maybe she'd just leave everything. Maybe she'd join her mother and they could be blissfully single in Thailand together.

No, her mother was not going to make her happy. And neither was being single.

It was only part of the lies she had spun around herself. The lie that independence could be a suitable replacement for her heart's greatest longing. It was a lie he had shattered at the same time he had no intention of replacing it.

She had seen that in his face.

Morgan had seen something so hard and cold in his face, she knew she could not trespass there.

If only she had paid attention to that sign, the first day, that said everything she had needed to know about Nate Hathoway.

Go Away.

Now she would. For her own self-preservation she would go away.

What about my kids?
She wailed to herself.
How would they find a replacement at this time of year. Who would teach them?

But then she pulled herself up. She was not thinking one thought that made her weak instead of strong. Not one.

 

Nate thought, by deciding to not call Morgan ever again, by deciding not to give her that ring, he could manage to cheat grief.

Instead, he found out his acquaintance with grief thus far had only touched the surface of where that emotion could go.

With Cindy and with David, there had been no second chances, no second-guessing, no going back…

He'd been forced to say goodbye.

But Morgan lived. She breathed. Her presence in his town, just minutes away from him, beckoned and called.

It made him question himself, his decisions, his sanity.

Ace, who normally forgave him everything, was not forgiving him this. Living with her holding a grudge against him was a form of torment he could not have imagined. And yet to back down, what would that mean?

What would it mean in the long run if he encouraged his daughter to believe in impossible dreams?

Gee, Ace, go ahead. Believe you're going to be the Christmas Angel. Believe it right up until the moment it doesn't happen. Go ahead.

It wasn't the responsible thing to do.

Falling for Morgan had not been the responsible thing to do, either.

To add to his sense of grief he was furious at himself. He was in a pit of recrimination and failure.

He thought he had known darkness before. But he had not even touched the surface of that place that was so black it could swallow a man's soul, whole.

Christmas Eve. Ace had been dropped off in her choir angel costume at the school. She had not looked at him, nor kissed him goodbye.

The absence of the words,
I love you, Daddy
made the world he moved in darker.

Molly and Keith had asked him to join them at the community hall to watch the live feed of the concert, but he wasn't going to.

He was going to sit at home, in his darkness, revel in it, relish it.

And that was exactly what he was doing, when his doorbell rang.

And then, when he chose to ignore it, again, and then again.

Finally, when whoever stood out there made it evident they had no intention of giving up, Nate went and answered it ready to let all his bad temper out on an unsuspecting someone.

But he was astonished that it was Wesley Wellhaven standing here.

Wesley was already in the dark tux he would perform in. He looked wildly uncomfortable. And at the same time, as he had shown by ringing the doorbell over and over again, determined.

“Mr. Hathoway, you need to come.” His voice carried urgency. “I have a place for you at the concert.”

Nate looked down at the way he was dressed, jeans and a T-shirt. He looked at Mr. Wellhaven's tuxedo. His mouth moved. He tried to say no, he was choosing darkness, but the words wouldn't come out.

“Please don't make me late,” Wesley pleaded. “We are live tonight. A foolish idea. I can't tell you how I hate live.”

It was apparent to Nate that Wesley Wellhaven, for some reason known only to himself, was prepared to keep the whole world waiting while he talked Nate into coming to his production.

He remembered already thinking, once this week, he could not deprive the world of the gift of this man's voice.

With a sigh, he grabbed his jacket out of the coat closet and allowed Wesley to guide him down to where a long stretch limo waited at the end of his walk.

Once in the limo, Wesley ducked his head, fiddled with his bow tie, glanced at Nate. “I have a confession to make.”

“To me?” Nate said. This must be some kind of case of mistaken identity.

“Yes, to you, Mr. Hathoway. I was there.”

“Excuse me?”

“I was there. When you argued with your daughter. I like to sit in the seats of the empty auditorium before a performance. I like to see the stage as the poorest audience member will see it. And then make changes to try and make their experience more enjoyable.

“And so, I am embarrassed to say, I saw your very private moment with your daughter.”

“Oh,” Nate said. “I think it's me who should be embarrassed.”

The limo pulled up to the school. Wesley pressed a ticket into Nate's hand.

“Yes, indeed you should at least share the embarrassment, Mr. Hathoway. How could you tell your daughter there is no such thing as a miracle? Why, they happen all the time.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Wellhaven, no they don't.”

“Really? Then see if you can explain how a humble and mild man such as myself was given such a voice,” he challenged. He waited. Nate did not have an answer to that. “Enjoy the performance, Mr. Hathoway. And have faith. If you teach your daughter nothing else, teach her to believe in miracles.”

And then he was gone.

And Nate looked at the ticket in his hands, and knew he had no choice but to go in. Or walk home.

But that day, sitting on the stage, his head in his hands, he'd asked for a miracle. What if this was it?

Oh, sure, Hath,
he chided himself.
Believe one last time
. But the truth was he could not have prevented himself from going into that auditorium.

Of course he was the last one in there, and had to shove his way past all the people already seated to what seemed to be the only remaining chair in the whole place.

And of course, it had to be right beside her.

Morgan McGuire gave him her snippiest look. And when he scraped back his chair, she placed a finger to pursed lips.

“Shh,” she said sternly.

He wondered if she could hear the beating of his heart. To be so near to her, the one he had told himself
he could never have, was a form of the purest torture he had ever experienced.

Then the lights went down, and the children's choir filed onto the stage. He noticed immediately Ace was not among them.

Morgan turned to him. “Where is she?” she whispered, real concern replacing her snippiness.

Nate's heart began to race in fear. He thought of the cold war at home. And her disappointments.

Where was his daughter?

And then, just when he thought he would get up and tear the building apart to look for Ace, he saw the curtain open a tiny crack, and Ace peered out at the crowd, then at the choir.

“There she is,” he whispered to Morgan.

“But what is she doing?”

Ace was looking woefully at the children's choir. She dropped the curtain again.

But not before he had seen the look on her face when she had seen Brenda, who now stood in the choir angel costume with the rest of the choir. He looked at Brenda, too. Her normally lovely face was blotchy from crying.

Oh, God. What had Wesley Wellhaven done? As well-meaning as it was, Nate could sense disaster coming.

His sense of it was so strong he could barely enjoy the production despite how good the children's choir had become, despite how amazingly Wesley blended his voice with those of the children. Despite the fact the evening was an inspiration and a gift to the world, just as Nate had hoped, he could not relax. And he could not enjoy it.

Morgan seemed equally tense beside him.

Finally, they reached the last number. The lights in the whole building went out, and only one came back on.

It was true.

His daughter was the Christmas Angel. There she was on her perch above the Christmas tree, all the lights now turned off except the one brilliantly white spotlight that was on her.

That familiar music started, and he felt himself cringing waiting for her to begin singing.

But Ace didn't start to sing.

On cue, she began to speak the role that had been a singing one. Her voice, despite the croakiness of it, was loud and strong.

Then it wobbled.

She picked up, but then it wobbled again.

And then Nate's little Christmas Angel, on live television, in front of the whole world, started crying.

And then she stopped, and in a voice that had absolutely no croak to it, that was strong and sure and beautiful, Ace Hathoway said, “If for one person to be happy, another has to be sad, that's wrong. And it's not Christmas. Brenda, you come be the Christmas Angel.”

And with grave dignity, she turned around and went down the stairs at the back of the tree, pulled back the heavy velvet curtain and slipped through it.

Nate got up out of his seat. And somehow his hand was in Morgan's and he was taking her with him.

As Brenda quickly made her way up the steps to the top of the tree, Nate and Morgan slipped backstage.

“How could you, you little wretch?” Mrs. Wellhaven
had Ace's shoulders in her bony fingers and was snarling at her.

“Take your hands off my daughter before I bean you,” Nate said.

Mrs. Wellhaven turned and gave him a look that could have slayed dragons. But he went right by her and scooped up his daughter in his arms.

Ace's tears flowed down his neck.

“I ruined it, didn't I, Daddy? I ruined
The Christmas Angel?
”

He could hear Brenda's sweet voice filling the auditorium.

“No, sweetheart, you didn't. You made me really proud. That was a good, good thing to do. The kind of thing only someone with a good heart would think of.”

“I didn't wreck it?”

“No. I think you made it the best Christmas show, ever.”

He and Morgan and Ace stood there, in the back of the stage, Ace's tears sliding down his neck as Brenda sang the song, and then Wesley's powerful voice joined hers as they sang the final number together.

In a moment, as the voices faded, thunderous applause filled the auditorium.

And when it died completely, someone out there yelled, “We want the redheaded angel.”

It was a small town, and someone else provided her name.

“We want Ace. We want Ace Hathoway,” a man called out.

Now it was like thunder, a chant that was picked up
and called out. “We want Ace. We want Ace. We want Ace.”

When it could not be ignored a moment longer, when it felt as if the very roof would fall in under the tremendous volume of that demand, Morgan tugged at his sleeve and ducked under the curtain, bringing him with her.

He looked out at the sea of faces. He saw his friends and his neighbors. And he saw they were on their feet, whistling and stamping.

And he got it.

These people saw Ace's spirit, her willingness to give even though it hurt her, her willingness to put another's well-being ahead of her own.

He remembered her words the night after she had had the dream.

Ace had told him her mommy was going to save Christmas. That her mommy was going to show people what it was really all about.

And he could see that's exactly what had happened. He saw the true spirit of Christmas in his daughter's generous spirit. In the people cheering for her. In Wesley Wellhaven's brave, brave choice to choose a less than perfect Christmas Angel.

And he saw it in Morgan, in the way she was looking at them both, with such love, smiling through her tears.

And the Light broke apart the darkness and chased it from him, like the sun chasing away the last of the storm.

His daughter had just taught him something that was not just a lesson for Christmas, but a lesson for life.

Love gave. Love didn't ask what it was getting back.
Love didn't say,
you might hurt me, so I'm not going to try at all.

Love said,
give everything you've got, every single minute that you've got it.
Love said,
time is short. Don't waste one precious moment of it being afraid, or protecting yourself
.

Love said,
risk all. It's worth it to know Me
.

And in that moment of illumination, Nate knew Wesley was right. And so was Morgan.

Miracles did happen. They came in the form of people, and insights and moments of inspiration. They came on the magnificent voice of a humble man, and the humble voice of a magnificent girl.

Wasn't that what Christmas did? Reminded people, all over again, especially the weary, especially those who had forgotten, especially those who felt downtrodden, especially those who felt beaten, to hope for a miracle. And to believe it would come.

But a person had to be open to that miracle coming. He had to be willing to see.

Or they would slip away if they were not acknowledged. And maybe after a while, if a man turned his back on enough miracles, maybe they wouldn't come back anymore at all.

As if to show how easily things could slip away, Morgan moved away from him and Ace, and over to her first graders. She was instantly surrounded in their clamor. Even from here he could here them calling for her attention.

“Mrs. McGuire. Mrs. McGuire.”

She went down on her knees and opened her arms. In a moment he could not see her for all the wriggling
bodies trying to get close to her, to hug her, to cuddle with her.

A man could make his own darkness. And he could live in it forever.