Christmas morning dawned cold and clear. The snow, as Ida June predicted, had been nothing but a wish and a flurry.
Kade could have cared less. He’d slept fitfully but not because of his troubled soul. Rather, he’d been excited about the new beginning and he’d lain awake dreaming of a future with Sophie.
At six he rose, jittery for the day to begin. Sheba padded in, stretched her long, golden body and shook loose the remains of a solid eight hours. Kade let her out and back in, a fast trip thanks to the chill in the air.
Ida June would roll her eyes at his sentiment, but for Sophie’s and Davey’s pleasure, Kade tuned the radio to nonstop Christmas music. With a cup of his favorite caffeinated pain in hand, he plugged in the Christmas tree and slipped a few extra gifts beneath.
He loved that tree. Mostly because he loved the woman who’d decorated it. He’d groused about the smelly little pine when Sophie had dragged him off to a tree farm, but he’d secretly been pleased. The tree had never been the problem. He had. He just hadn’t believed he could deserve a Christmas with all the joy and love and trimmings.
Weird how messed up a man could get.
At seven, Davey, rubbing his eyes, stumbled into the living room in his blue-and-red superhero pajamas. His shaggy hair stuck up in a dozen places. He looked around, dazed and delighted by the pile of gifts and the bulging stockings.
“Place looks different, huh, buddy?” Kade leaned in for a hug.
Davey nodded, pointing toward the Christmas tree.
“Get dressed first. Sophie will be here soon.” He checked his watch. “Very soon.”
As Davey dashed away with Sheba close behind, the doorbell rang. Every nerve ending came to life. Who needed caffeine with Sophie around?
He yanked the door open. She’d come. She was here. Last night in the church had really happened.
She walked into his arms.
He enfolded her, basking in the feel and scent and essence of his woman.
She loved him.
“It wasn’t a dream.” He nuzzled her ear.
“If it was,” she said, a smile in her voice, “we had the same one.”
Content, he sighed against her coconut-scented hair. “You still love me this morning?”
“More.”
He thrilled at her warm lips against his jaw.
“Merry Christmas to me.” He pushed her back a little to kiss her properly. “And to you.”
A gagging sound came from behind them.
“Please,” Ida June grumbled, “I haven’t even had my coffee.”
Kade whirled around and grabbed his aunt, smacking her cheek in a noisy kiss. The white bun atop her head wiggled. “Love you, too, Auntie.”
She pinked up. “Well, look who’s been in the eggnog.”
“We have something to tell you,” he said, ready to shout the good news from a frozen rooftop.
Blue eyes snapping back and forth between Kade and Sophie, his aunt declared, “‘Love, and a cough, cannot be hid.’” She smacked her lips in satisfaction. “I’ve been saving that one.”
Grinning, holding hands, Kade and Sophie joined Davey, Sheba and Ida June in the living room and Christmas Day began.
* * *
With love in her eyes and enough joy in her heart to burst into a Hallelujah Chorus—which she did a couple of times—Sophie watched Kade hand out Christmas gifts. At some point, he’d done some serious shopping. Even though she and her father had bought Davey several gifts, Kade and Ida June had bought more. Within fifteen minutes, all four of them had a pile of gifts stacked in front of them.
“Are we going to open them or admire them?” Kade asked.
That was the only cue Davey needed. With little-boy greed, he ripped into the bright paper, flinging ribbons and wrappings all over the living room. Sheba sat at his side, amber eyes adoring her boy.
Kade abandoned his Santa post to sit by Sophie. “You’re all the present I want.”
“Me, too,” she said, handing him one anyway while wishing she’d purchased something more personal than a pair of leather gloves. “I bought this before…well, before last night.”
He opened it, declared them perfect like her and gave her his gift. The silver paper and royal-blue ribbon were stunning. “I love the wrapping paper.”
“You’ll laugh at my gift.”
“No, I won’t.” She opened the package and…laughed. “Leather gloves! I love them.”
“Great minds think alike,” Ida June declared, wagging a similar pair. “I like mine, too.”
Kade motioned toward the stack of mail she’d brought with her. “What’s all this?”
“Christmas cards, I guess. They were in my mailbox this morning, so I grabbed them before coming over. Some are for Davey. I thought he’d enjoy seeing his name on them.”
“Mail doesn’t run on Christmas.” He gave the stack a curious look.
“Neighbors, probably. Just dropped them in the box. We do that sometimes.” She took one up and opened it. A check fell out.
Kade retrieved the slip of paper from the floor. “Look at this. A donation to help with Davey’s surgery.”
“What a lovely gesture,” she said, heart welling.
“Open the rest.”
“You don’t think—” Sophie shook her head. “Surely not.”
But she opened another. And then another. Some were from friends, others from companies or churches or civic groups. Card after card came with a check or cash and a note wishing Davey a Merry Christmas and a vocal New Year.
By the time she opened the last card, tears streaked down her cheeks. Davey, alarmed, rushed to her side and patted her face. His eyes begged her not to cry.
“She’s okay, Davey,” Kade said, clearing his throat more than once. “Women cry when they’re happy.”
Ida June shoved a tissue into her hand. “Quit blubbering before I start.”
Because Ida June had been sniffing and her eyes watering for the past five minutes, Sophie laughed through her tears. She nearly had her composure back when the doorbell rang.
“Probably Dad,” she said. Ida June had invited him for Christmas dinner. “I’ll let him in.”
The woman at the door was vaguely familiar. “We heard about the little boy who needs an operation. This being Christmas and all, my husband and I wanted to do something.” She handed Sophie a check and walked away.
Stunned, all Sophie could say was, “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”
The car had no more than pulled out of the drive when another, and then another and another arrived, each one bringing a donation for “the little boy who can’t talk.”
Each time there was a lull in visitors—some familiar, others strangers who’d read about the need in the Redemption Register—Kade reported on the total.
As the donations continued, Sophie’s tears of joy turned to astonished jubilation.
The stream of visitors slowed at noon. While all three males played with Davey’s race-car track, Sophie helped Ida June prepare the meal. Once in a while Sophie pinched herself to see if today was really happening.
A shout of laughter had her looking into the living room. Sheba, sitting on her bottom next to Davey, moved her head in circles to the motion of a car racing around the track.
The doorbell rang again. Drying her hands on a dish towel, she went to answer, still laughing at the dog and the trio of males she loved best.
Sophie pulled open the door. “Biff!”
Before her next breath, Kade appeared at her side. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to, but he did glower. Sophie knew how upset he’d been when Biff had discontinued her cookie project. Upset for her sake.
She reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I figured you’d be here when you weren’t at home.” Her principal looked as stiff and uncomfortable as she felt. Though bundled against the cold in a long, wool chesterfield, his head was bare, his ears red.
Considering the words they’d had the last day of school, she couldn’t imagine what he was doing here.
“Merry Christmas,” she said, for lack of anything to say. She refused to hold a grudge at any time, especially Christmas. Biff Gruber was her principal. She would get along with him.
“And to you.” Biff thrust an envelope into her hands. “Some of us took up a collection for the Stephens boy. We wanted to help.”
Sophie required concerted effort not to drop her jaw and gape. Astonished but touched as well, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Gruber. Really. This is very thoughtful of all of you.”
“Yes, well—” he gave a short nod “—Merry Christmas.” And he walked away, back stiff and ears as red as Rudolph’s nose.
Sophie closed the door and leaned her back against the solid wood. “This is almost too much to comprehend.”
Kade moved into her space, his dark eyes alight. “No, sweetheart,” he said. “You asked for a miracle. I think you got it.”
Awed and touched, she opened the check and started to cry.
As she wept tears of joy, Kade pulled her into his arms and murmured his love over and over again.
A small body shouldered in between the adults. They went to their knees to take him into the circle of love as a golden dog and a grinning aunt looked on.
The miracles had just begun. Not one but many. Davey would get his voice. Kade had found his hope again.
And all of them had found each other.
All because of a lost and lonely boy…
A Christmas child.
* * * * *