Twenty-One

Rebuilding

That afternoon, Jake announced he’d be working late that night, explaining to Sharleen about the considerable amount of planning that needed to happen for the rebuild of the multipurpose room to not only be safe but for it to be completed on time. He’d quickly assembled a crew to oversee the complex project, but the team needed to meet to discuss, troubleshoot, and strategize.

“There’s a lot to be done and not a lot of time to make it happen,” he said. “The clock is ticking and we all feel it.”

Sharleen offered to stay with Ivy, to make sure she ate dinner, finished her homework, and got to bed at a decent hour.

That evening, Sharleen and Ivy sat at the dining table in Ivy’s house with an open box of pizza positioned between them, and glasses of iced tea. Their paper plates were covered with hot slices of pepperoni pizza. Ivy wasted no time consuming her portion, claiming once again pizza was her favorite thing to eat. Next to ice cream, of course.

Once Ivy finished eating, she looked at Sharleen with a curious expression. “Do you like being here with us … in our house?”

Sharleen put down her almost-finished slice of pizza, reached for her napkin, and said, “What do you mean?”

At first, Ivy seemed hesitant to share her feelings but then powered through. “My dad said you don’t have a family anymore. He said you were all alone,” Ivy said. “It makes me sad when I think about that. About how you don’t have a mom either.”

At once, a lump formed in Sharleen’s throat, knowing that tears were rising within.

This young girl has already known so much grief in her life. I have to remember she was so much younger than I was when she lost her mom. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling, what she goes through. To not have a mom at such a young age.

Sharleen took a quick sip of iced tea before responding. “I used to be sad … very sad, actually … but you and your father have brought a lot of joy into my life,” she explained. “And I’m thankful for that.”

Ivy gave this some thought, nodding her head. “I think you did the same thing for us.”

Sharleen smiled at her dinner date. “I hope so.”

Silent for a moment, it was clear to Sharleen that Ivy had a lot to say, a lot she wanted to share. “I like having you here with me,” Ivy said.

“You do?”

“Yes, my dad is always smiling when you’re around or when he talks about you he acts very goofy sometimes.” Ivy let out a giggle. “He’s like a big puppy dog. I told him so. I told him he was a silly puppy dog dad.”

Sharleen laughed, too. “It’s okay to be goofy if you’re feeling happy.”

Ivy’s giggle disappeared and her facial expression turned more serious. “But he wasn’t happy for a long time because he missed my mom,” she said. Sharleen thought she saw tears in Ivy’s eyes. “I miss her, too. Do you think I always will?”

Sharleen got up from her chair and went to Ivy, kneeling next to her. Behind her, the Christmas tree lights blinked and twinkled, casting a beautiful rainbow of colors on them. “Yes, but that’s okay,” she said. “And it’s okay to get sad about it sometimes, too.”

Ivy looked into Sharleen’s eyes. “But if I get sad, I can come to you and tell you, right?”

“Of course.” Sharleen’s heart melted.

Ivy’s infectious grin was back. “Sometimes I think you’re magical.” It felt like a secret that was being shared.

I’ve been called many things in my life, but magical … this is a first. If I were magical, I wouldn’t have finals next week.

“Me?” she said, touched by the thought. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Ivy, but I’m not magical.”

“But since we met you, a lot of the sadness has gone away,” Ivy explained. “And how my dad is so different now. And how you help me to sing.”

“I want you to sing because you have a beautiful voice,” Sharleen said. “I was scared to play the piano a long time ago and I’m so glad I didn’t let that fear stop me.”

“I like it when you play. You look so happy when you do.” Ivy took a breath before adding, “But you look even happier when you’re here at our house.”

Sharleen stood up. She closed the lid on the pizza box, then collected their empty paper plates and glasses. As she walked into the kitchen to find a place to throw the garbage, she said, “I like being here with you and your dad.”

Once Sharleen returned from the kitchen, Ivy said, “Maybe you’ll stay here forever … I mean, even when Christmas is over. Do you think you will?”

Sharleen moved closer. “Would you like that?”

Her smile widened. “Yes, yes I would.” Her little head bobbed up and down, tears disappearing.

Sharleen moved into the living room and Ivy followed. They found a comfy spot on the couch and sat together.

“I hope you know … I would never try to take your mom’s place, Ivy. I couldn’t do that, no matter how hard I tried. And I wouldn’t want to.”

Ivy was quiet for a moment, most likely processing their conversation. Her eyes brightened a little when she said, “You and my mom are very different.” She turned to Sharleen. “I really think I can love you both.”

Sharleen tried her hardest to stay awake long enough to greet Jake when he got home, but exhaustion won the battle. Shortly after tucking Ivy into bed for the night, she crawled onto the sofa and was fast asleep within seconds.

The next thing she knew, Jake was standing over her and whispering her name.

She wondered if he was a part of her dream. He certainly looked like a dark-haired prince who’d fought the creatures of the night to be by her side when she woke.

“You have beautiful eyes,” she said, without thinking and not fully awake.

What did I just say to him? This isn’t a dream. Where am I?

“Do you want me to drive you home?” he asked.

Oh, that’s right. I don’t live here. I have an apartment filled with porcelain cows.

She sat up, yawned, and stretched. “What time is it?”

“It’s late, after eleven.”

“I tried to stay awake, but I guess I was really tired.”

“No need to explain,” he said. “Do you want to go home? Sleep in your own bed?”

Sharleen gave him a look. “Or I could stay,” she suggested.

She could see a look of contemplation on his face. “That’s fine,” he said.

She sat up when she realized he was heading out of the room. “Where are you going?”

“To get you a pillow and a blanket,” he explained. “I’ll be right back.”

Just my luck. This prince is a perfect gentleman.

Arriving at the school the next morning, she was impressed by the organized way things were getting done. This was evident by the handwritten signs taped to the front windows, offering volunteers information about where to go for what. As she walked through the main entrance of the building, passed the trophy case, and found her way to the unofficial hub, she couldn’t help but feel deeply inspired.

Down the hallway, more handmade signs were everywhere, prompting volunteers to follow a specific path. She passed many friendly faces who all looked like Harmonville Elementary School was the only place in the world they wanted to be.

“Thank you so much for being here,” Sharleen said to every person she saw.

The signs ended, and she entered a room where the final hand-drawn arrow was pointing at. Inside, someone had converted one of the larger classrooms into a central meeting area, a place where the volunteers could safely store their belongings or take a quick break when needed.

Even though the hour was early, Joyce was already working hard to set up a long table for snacks, juice boxes, and bottles of water, which were stacked in almost every corner Sharleen had passed, inside and out.

“Good morning,” Sharleen greeted her with a smile.

“Oh, Sharleen, am I happy to see you,” Joyce said, rattled but exuding her usual optimism and warmth. “There’s so much to do.”

“Did you set all of this up in here? This is great.”

“I did,” Joyce said. “Luckily we have a couple of classrooms that aren’t in use.”

“Where did all of these snacks and stuff come from?” she asked, in awe. “There’s so many.”

Holly entered the classroom at that moment with her cell phone to her ear. She was dressed in jeans and a comfy sweatshirt. Her long hair was pulled back away from her face with a folded red bandana. “I had them donated,” she explained. “I’m working on getting us lunch now … for the rest of the weekend. I’ll be right back.” She returned to the hallway.

Joyce looked at Sharleen with a secretive smile. “Isn’t it nice to see Holly using her … charm … for a good cause?”

“It is a nice change, that’s for sure.”

Joyce reached into a large recyclable grocery bag and pulled out a dark linen tablecloth. “Want to help me set up the food area? The volunteers will need a break soon and I want to be ready for them when they do. They’re all working so hard.”

“Of course.”

They went to work and within minutes, Joyce stood back to inspect the end result. She looked pleased.

“I never thought I’d see this happen,” she said. “In all the years I’ve worked at this school, I’ve never seen the neighborhood come together like this. It really touches my heart.”

“Yes,” Sharleen said. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“This is all your doing,” Joyce said, glowing with gratitude. “If you hadn’t come back when you did…”

George suddenly appeared in the doorway. In his thin arms, he carried a large wicker basket. It was overflowing with dance shoes in all sizes. Sharleen nearly applauded when she saw them.

“Joyce, what should I do with these? They just arrived,” he explained.

“Put them over there in the corner so they’re out of the way,” Joyce instructed.

He placed the basket in an empty spot. Sharleen went to the basket and picked up a few shoes. They were of exceptional quality, the best.

“Where did these come from?” she asked, stunned.

“A store downtown donated them,” George explained. “Holly’s been calling businesses and asking them to help. Everyone has been saying yes, but, then again, it’s pretty hard to say no to her when she wants something.”

“So many people have been donating stuff all morning,” Joyce said. “It’s like a miracle. I had to open another classroom just for storage and it’s already full, wall to wall. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“This is incredible,” Sharleen said. “Joyce, do you know what was donated exactly?”

“All of those supplies you wanted and then some. It’s like you wished for it and it happened.”

Don’t tell Ivy that or she really will think I possess some form of unearthly powers.

“There’re costumes, stage lights, lumber, a lot of cans of paint, Christmas trees, and several boxes of candy canes,” George said. He peered out the classroom window and said, “Look! More stuff just arrived.”

Sharleen followed George’s gaze to the window. In the lot, a delivery truck was parked. From the back of it, two people in matching T-shirts and baseball caps were unloading an upright piano.

“Is that a piano?” Sharleen couldn’t believe her own eyes.

Joyce joined them at the window. “Yes, and it looks new, too.”

A thought struck Sharleen. “Joyce, is someone keeping track of everything that’s being donated?”

“Willie has been keeping a very detailed list.”

As proof of that, they saw Willie appear in the parking lot, where she was greeting the two movers. They watched Willie shake their hands and then walked with them as they wheeled the instrument toward the building. Willie carried a clipboard, writing while walking.

“Good heavens,” Joyce said. “Where in the heck are we going to store that thing? The multipurpose room won’t be ready for a few more days.”

“We’ll find a place,” Sharleen said with determination.

Later, Sharleen searched the building for Jake. She found him standing just outside the gutted multipurpose room. Through a window in the double doors, Sharleen could see his crew hard at work inside, but it was clear there was still so much to do. A symphony of power tools could be heard filtering through the air.

Jake had something in his hands that looked like a blueprint. He was studying it, eyes cast on the paper, concentrating. He smiled when he glanced up and saw Sharleen. She handed him a paper cup of coffee.

“I thought you might need this,” she said. “And I think I made it the way you like … two sugars and a splash of cream.”

“Thank you. This is perfect.”

“They’re so many people here, Jake. I can’t believe it. Everywhere I look, someone is cleaning something or painting or building.”

“The turnout of volunteers is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Do you think we’ll actually be able to pull this off?” Sharleen asked.

“It’s too early to tell, but I’m definitely feeling optimistic.”

“So am I,” she said. “Someone donated a brand new piano to us. It’s in the girls’ bathroom at the moment because it was the only empty space we could find, but it’s beautiful.”

“So are you,” he said.

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “You’re not so bad yourself, mister.”

A voice interrupted their intimate moment. It was George. “Sharleen?” he said, an embarrassed expression on his face and his blue eyes to the ground. “So sorry for interrupting the two of you, but Betty needs you outside. There’s a news crew here and they want to interview you.”

“Oh, no,” she said. “Looking like this?”

“Think of the children,” Jake chided. “Do it for them. Besides, I have a feeling the camera will love you.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, but this is why I prefer working behind the scenes. I don’t need the attention or the glory.”

“Go,” Jake said. “Speak from the heart.”

George was at her side as she moved toward the main exit. “Sharleen, I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Do you think I could be in charge of coordinating the costumes for the show?” She could hear the nervousness in his voice.

Sharleen stopped in her tracks. George then did the same. “Is that something you really want to do? It’s a big responsibility.”

“Yes. My grandmother was a professional seamstress and costume designer. She used to create costumes for operas. She taught me a lot about it when I was young. I think I still remember some of it.”

“That would be wonderful, George,” she said. “Thank you for volunteering for such an important task.”

They started to walk again.

“It will be nice to do something for someone other than Holly for a change.”

Sharleen pushed open the door and stepped out into the cold air. She saw George shiver in response to the icy temperature. “Yeah, about that,” she said. “It’s okay to stand on your own and be your own person, George.”

“I don’t help her for me,” he explained. “I do it for her. Otherwise, she would be lost without me.”

He has a point.

Sure enough, a news crew was set up and ready to go live, planning to broadcast directly from the school parking lot. The beautiful news reporter was getting a touch-up from a makeup person when Sharleen arrived.

I have to stand next to her? She looks like a supermodel.

Although Sharleen knew Betty was exhausted, the principal looked professional in a dark blue pants suit and silk blouse. Her hair was styled to perfection and her lipstick looked flawless. “It’s been a long week,” she said to Sharleen. “I don’t think there’s any rest in sight for either of us.”

“That’s okay,” Sharleen said. “We can catch up on sleep later.”

“Spoken like a true hero,” the news reporter said, joining them. “I’m Tammy.”

“And I’m no hero,” Sharleen said.

“Sure you are,” Tammy insisted. “Just ask anyone who’s here today.”

“Wait,” Sharleen said. “This isn’t about me.”

“She’s right,” Betty agreed. “As much as Sharleen has done for our school, and our community, this is about the students. Can we please keep the focus on them?”

The reporter still looked clueless and hopelessly sentimental. “You’re right and we will. But our viewers want a hero. Trust me. It will inspire them to do even more for you.”

Someone nearby said, “We’re going live in, five … four … three … two … one.”

Sharleen watched as an instant smile flashed across the face of the tall blonde. “I’m Tammy Sanderson coming to you live from Harmonville Elementary School, where local community members have rallied together in the aftermath of a fire just days before a scheduled performance of a holiday variety show, the first of its kind to be performed in the long history of this school—the oldest grade school in our city. I’m joined today by Principal Betty Marchant and afterschool program coordinator Sharleen Vega, who is also the director of the planned production.”

Sharleen felt a wild kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions overcome her. What’s happening right now? I feel like I just left my body and I’m watching a scene from someone else’s life. Betty looks so poised and together.

Tammy’s sugar-sweet voice interrupted Sharleen’s thoughts when she asked Betty a question. “Principal Marchant, how do you describe all that’s happening today at your beloved school?”

Betty smiled, looked into the camera, and replied, “It’s a blessing, really it is.”

The microphone suddenly appeared just below Sharleen’s face. “Miss Vega, is there anything you’d like to add?” Tammy prompted.

“These remarkable students deserve a fair chance to shine,” she said. “Please help them and this school if you can. We’re grateful to everyone who has been donating items and supplies and their time and energy. This truly is a group effort.”

After they survived the live interview and said their goodbyes to a weepy Tammy Sanderson, Joyce was there to urge Betty and Sharleen back inside.

“It’s lunchtime,” she said. “I want to make sure both of you get something to eat. You need some nutrition to keep your strength up.”

“You always take such good care of everyone,” Betty said. “Really, Joyce, I don’t know what we would do without you.”

“Well, as long as Sharleen gets to stick around, I will, too.”

“I’m working on that,” Betty promised.

What exactly does that mean? Is my temporary job going to become a permanent one? God, I hope so.

Just outside of the converted classroom, the volunteers had formed a long line that trailed down the hall. Though their faces were filled with expressions of determination and hope, exhaustion was evident in their eyes.

Willie was walking the length of the line handing a paper plate to each person. “Be sure to grab a bottle of water, and there are napkins and utensils on the counter in the school office,” she said as she continued her task. “Find a place to eat wherever you can. Grab a chair or a spot on the floor. Please help yourself to food. We appreciate all of you!”

The line started to move and people shifted forward. Sharleen stepped into the converted classroom, ready to help. The table she’d helped Joyce set up earlier that morning was now covered with food. Maisy was serving everyone a hearty serving of spaghetti, spooning it out from a huge pot. Victor and Ivy were in charge of serving scoops of salad to each person. Raquel and Camilla were on garlic bread duty. The mothers were ruling over the selection of homemade desserts, explaining to every volunteer they saw who baked what and whose recipe was the superior one. It was comedic chaos at its finest.

As the line started to thin, Maisy handed Sharleen a plate she’d prepared. “Here,” she said. “I made this for you. I knew if I didn’t, you’d find some excuse to not eat.”

“I want to make sure everyone else gets to eat first,” Sharleen protested, despite the fact the food looked and smelled amazing.

“I’m your boss,” Maisy said. “Do what you‘re told. Eat.”

Reluctantly, Sharleen took the plate, grabbed a bottle of water, and found an empty spot in the hallway to claim for herself. She sat and ate in silence. It wasn’t long before distant memories stirred.

Sharleen’s thoughts went back to a terrible afternoon. Right after the last recess of the day, young Holly and her circle of just-as-evil disciples cornered Sharleen, taunting her in a far corner of the old library. She remembered with vivid clarity the second Holly reached out and tugged at her hair, pulling hard.

“You’re so dumb,” Holly said, while the other girls behind her shrieked with laughter. “Who do you think you are, Beethoven?”

Sharleen looked down at her spaghetti lunch, grateful she was back in the hallway, grateful that the awful bullying she’d endured was behind her. For a moment she thought about Victor, making a mental note to find him before the day was through to see how he was doing.

Lunch. That was another memory. Sharleen turned and looked in the direction of the main entrance, recalling a time when her mother had rushed into the building with Sharleen’s forgotten lunch in her hand. Young Sharleen had met her mother in the school office to receive the left-behind item. Theresa had bent down and kissed her daughter on the cheek. Sharleen inhaled deeply as she always did when her mother was near, smelling the sweetness emanating from her skin, a constant reminder of the local bakery Theresa worked at five days a week, sometimes having to be there as early as 5:00 a.m.

Still, she took the time to bring me lunch. That was just the kind of person she was. And exactly the same kind of person I want to be.

Sharleen closed her eyes to say a moment of thanks before taking her first bite, which tasted even better than it looked.

After lunch and spending a few minutes personally thanking every volunteer she could find, Sharleen walked outside and sat on the brick border of a flower bed. She stared at the wilted marigolds, wondering how they managed to stay alive in the winter air. The color of them seemed dull and lackluster, like they needed a pep talk in order to be revived.

Sharleen knew she was tense. She could feel it in her body, especially her muscles. While she craved a hot shower and a good night’s sleep, she vowed to be the last one to leave the school for the night, in a show of solidarity with everyone who was working so hard.

Sitting alone, she zipped up her jacket and tried to conjure calming thoughts. Instead, moments from the last few weeks started to waltz through her mind, keeping her anxiety active and alive. Being able to relax had always been a struggle, but on this particular afternoon she really tried giving it her biggest effort. After taking a few deep breaths, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the chilly air touching her skin.

Christmas is coming. My favorite holiday. My first one without my Lita. I hope I can make it through the day without falling apart. I miss her so much.

Sensing someone was nearby, Sharleen cracked open an eye and postponed any hope of relaxation.

A young man who looked to be in his late twenties was standing in front of her with a case of water bottles in his arm. He had an athletic build and exuded a sense of toughness.

“Taking a break?” he asked, as if they were close friends or co-workers.

“Only for a moment,” Sharleen explained. “There’s a lot of work to do inside.” She gave him a look as if to say, Who are you?

Without being asked, he sat beside her, placing the case of water he carried on the ground at his feet. His closeness put Sharleen on guard. “I’m Michael Salazar,” he said. “I’m Victor’s dad.”

Of course you are.

Sharleen breathed a quick sigh of relief. “Wow,” she said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He was a handsome man with a street-smart swagger. She wondered how much heartache he’d seen in his life. She sensed sorrow was lingering just beneath his macho surface.

“This might sound strange, but I feel like we already know each other,” said Michael. “My wife and my son talk about you all the time.”

Sharleen grinned. “That must drive you crazy.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Sometimes.”

“Did you come here to help? Or for another reason?”

He took a breath and licked his lips. Sharleen wondered if this was a nervous habit of his. “I was sitting at home all alone and I realized how strange it must seem that I’m not here,” he explained.

Sharleen decided to skip the small talk and get right to the point. She was tired and it showed in her words. “Do you want to be here?”

He turned and looked at her. She stared at his perfectly groomed dark goatee as he spoke. “I want to do the right thing, but it’s hard for me,” he said. “My son … he’s different to what I expected. He and I don’t have a lot in common.”

“I think you do,” she said. Michael looked confused. “It took a lot of courage for you to come here today, Mr. Salazar.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you saying that. And you can call me Michael. Especially since my wife considers you family now.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but you three have been a family for a lot longer than I’ve been working at this school,” she reminded him. “It sounds like you and Sylvia should have a talk about how much you both love your son. I suspect you both want to do right by him.”

“Yeah, we do,” Michael said. “I’m just not sure how. I mean, I know I haven’t been the best dad to Victor … and I know I could do better.”

“Have you talked to him?” she asked. Michael shook his head and lowered his eyes as if he were ashamed by his admission. “Well, I have,” she continued. “And he’s bright and kind and creative and I can tell he has a big heart. But, most importantly, I know Victor is forgiving. If you ask for it, he might give you that grace.”

“Wow. I hear you’re a really good teacher and now I can see why,” he said, then added, “And I want to be a really good dad. I didn’t have one of my own, so I screw up a lot. It’s really not Victor’s fault.”

“Michael, we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t mess things up once in a while. I don’t know a lot about being a parent. I don’t have a child of my own. But I do know what it means to be someone’s friend. Maybe that’s what Victor needs right now … someone in his corner … someone he can trust. You seem like a very brave man.”

“Yeah, I try to be.”

“But it also takes a lot of courage for your son to dance. It’s something he loves to do very much. And he’s good at it. And with your support, he can only get better.”

Michael slipped his hands into the pockets of his baggy coat. “I didn’t realize how serious he was about it,” he explained. “I’ve said some pretty awful things to him. I can’t take those back.”

Sharleen stood up. “No, you can’t. But there is a lot of power in an apology, especially if it comes from the heart.”

“That’s really good advice,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Did you bring that water to donate?”

“I did.”

“Come on,” she said, as Michael got to his feet. “I’ll show you where you can drop that off, and then … I’d like to show you something.”

“Sounds good.”

Sharleen led him into the building and to the first tall stack of cases of water bottles she saw.

“You can add that to this stack,” she instructed. “We can never have enough water.”

Michael added his case to the stack and noted, “I know you have a lot, but I should’ve brought more.”

“Well, if you’re interested in helping, we can always use another pair of hands,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m happy to do whatever’s needed.”

“Are you good with a power tool?” she asked.

“I’m no professional,” he said, “but I learn fast.”

“I’ll take you to meet the crew in a second, but first let’s step in here.”

Sharleen and Michael walked through a set of interior doors that opened up to a more secluded section of the main hallway, narrower and less polished than the section closer to the school office.

There, Victor, Raquel, Ivy, and Camilla were practicing the opening number together, under the watchful eye of Sylvia, who was playing the music for them through her cell phone and cheering them on. She was sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair, watching her son dance. There was a tender expression on her face, a look of admiration and pure love.

It was impossible to take your eyes off Victor, even in the low-lit makeshift rehearsal space that felt gray and gloomy. He was the bright spot. His energy and charisma emitted an aura that was seen and felt. It made you want to get up and dance because his passion for it was that strong.

Sharleen watched as Michael’s gaze went to his son. In his eyes, she saw a beautiful moment of realization.

“He looks so happy,” Michael said.

As soon as Victor saw and heard his father, he stopped dancing. He looked fearful, as if he’d been caught committing a crime.

Sylvia stopped the music. She seemed to snap into a state of preparedness and protection, like anticipating a battle she was ready for.

Instantly, the positive vibe the students had created with their joy of performing disappeared as if jealous ghosts had run down the hallway and stolen it from them before slipping through the barred windows and running loose on the playground.

“Dad?” Victor said. He’d only spoken one word, but the fact that he was afraid came through his broken tone, loud and clear.

Sylvia was on her feet. She stood between father and son like a human shield.

“Michael, what are you doing here?” she asked.

Michael stepped forward. He directed his words over Sylvia’s shoulders, wanting them to reach Victor.

“It’s okay, son,” he said. “Don’t stop dancing. Keep going.”

There were tears in Victor’s eyes then. Ivy reached out to him and placed a hand on his shoulder as though feeling the enormity of the moment and knew how badly Victor needed a friend. The sight of this made Sharleen start to cry, despite her effort to hold her tears at bay.

“Are you sure?” Victor asked, still scared.

“Yes,” Michael said. “I’m positive.”

Sylvia turned to her son. “That’s right, Victor. You keep practicing,” she said. She went to him and gave him a quick hug. “You’re going to make us very proud when you perform in the show.”

Everyone’s eyes went to Michael when he said, “He already has.”

Thank you, God. Thank you for this moment. Thank you for letting me bear witness to this.

Sylvia moved to where Sharleen and Michael stood. “You see, Sharleen. I told you my husband would come around eventually.” Sylvia turned to her husband then and asked, “What took you so long?”

A second later, Sylvia pressed a button on her cell phone and upbeat holiday music filled the space around them, rolling and echoing down the long hallway. And Victor started to move. There was a new form of joy shining bright in his beautiful dark brown eyes.