The Christmas decoration in the waiting room at the hospital was one tiny pencil tree with four ornaments remaining. The lower decorations had been picked off by bored children, waiting for good or bad news. Just like us.
As it turned out, Eve and her baby were fine. They had survived the ordeal of birth in the woods, and Doc assured all of us they’d soon be out of the hospital. The same couldn’t be said for Mitch and Dara Peterson’s little boy, Alfie. The baby was very, very sick, and Carla’s greedy scheming had put his life in jeopardy. The specialists said it was touch and go.
Mitch, who, once I had a clear view of him in the light, bore a striking resemblance to his sister Eve, sat with his wife, Dara, and her parents, Matilda and Curtis Bromley. The Petersons and Bromleys were definitely connected, by marriage. Dara Bromley had married Mitch Peterson—who’d been adopted as an infant by the Peterson family who lived not too far upriver from Fortis Landing.
When Alfie had been diagnosed with his illness, Dara and her sister, Mariam, had begun to untangle the story of Mitch’s adoption. They’d backtracked, just as I had done, to the birth of twins in a Tishomingo County hospital. Their quest for an organ donor had taken them to Will and Clara Falcon. Will had been agreeable, but Clara had set a high price for a portion of Will’s liver. Her hatred of Eve and Cece had dovetailed with her greed, and the scheme to “abduct” Eve and get Cece to pay the ransom had been born. Carla had insisted on the ploy. Her goal had been not only monetary, but a chance to punish everyone. She’d succeeded, but not in the way she’d expected. Everyone had suffered at her hand, but now, she was about to pay the piper.
Will had volunteered his liver—and was being prepped for surgery—for little Alfie, but the child was so sick the odds were fifty-fifty that he would survive the operation. In the waiting room, the seconds ticked by with the creep of cold cane syrup.
Christmas Eve had given way to Christmas Day, and when I went to the window of the waiting room and looked out, the sun on the new snow was a dazzling gold.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and Cece drew me into a hug. “Thank you, Sarah Booth. Thank you.”
“Sorry about your aunt,” I said. “Wait, that’s a lie. I’m not sorry. I hope Carla never sees the light of day again.” Carla Falcon was in the Sunflower County jail charged with a number of illegal acts. Will Falcon was in surgery, waiting to donate a portion of his liver to the grandson he’d never been allowed to know. If Alfie’s little body could accept the transplant and he was treated for the blood disorder that had caused the damage to his own liver, he stood a chance of having a long, complete life. If the surgery worked. And if the damage to the little boy wasn’t too great already.
This was why Eve needed $150,000. Not for the surgery, but to pay Carla Falcon so that she would allow Will to donate a part of his organ. I was still reeling from this revelation.
“I’m glad Carla is in jail,” Cece said. “I hope she rots there. All she had to do was ask for the money. I would have gotten it. She’s a vile human being.”
“Is Will going to be charged, too?” Cece and Coleman had been in a huge confab, and no one had had time to tell me the results.
“I don’t know.” Cece rubbed the deep furrow between her eyebrows. “I just can’t believe he’d let Carla keep him from helping his own grandson. Coleman is also talking to the Tishomingo County authorities. He wants Joanne Woodcock’s suicide investigated. And I think he may be on to something. Coleman talked to the nurse who knew Joanne. Yes, Joanne was depressed, but she also said that she believed Will would leave Carla. She was expecting him to visit to see his children. Then suddenly Joanne was dead.” Cece shook her head slowly. “Carla is capable of anything.”
“Greedy, evil witch.” I had no need to mince words.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to see that the prosecutor throws the book at her. If Will goes down with her, so be it.” Cece had taken the one big step toward adulthood—she wasn’t responsible for the actions of her crazy relatives.
I nodded toward the little group clustered together. “Have you had a chance to talk to Mitch?”
“Not really. He feels terrible about the plot Carla cooked up but he didn’t know what else to do.”
“He wasn’t really in control of that. And I understand, in a way. Carla took control of the situation and manipulated things to suit her. Maybe Mitch should have come to talk to you.”
Cece studied the ground for a moment before she settled a clear stare on me. “He didn’t think I’d believe him—that he was Eve’s brother. He was desperate, Sarah Booth. His baby was going to die, and he had to have that liver. He’d tried to get birth records to prove who he was, but he ran into the same thing we did. There are no records. He figured we’d all assume he was lying, and there wasn’t time to get DNA testing done. Alfie was in real danger. He needed that liver yesterday.” She turned wistful. “He’s such a delicate little boy.”
“And Eve’s baby is robust and very healthy.” I’d seen the little baby—all eight pounds and twenty-three inches of him. She’d named him Jasper, which tickled me.
“Jasper is healthy. He didn’t inherit whatever genetic thing made Alfie so sick.”
“Thank goodness. And I understand Mitch and Dara’s plight, but you have to keep in mind that if Eve had been in real danger out there in the swamp, she might not have made it. Or the baby.”
“I know.” Cece put her arm around me. “Thank goodness you called Coleman and the cavalry.”
“I’m sorry I betrayed your trust.”
“You saved us all, Sarah Booth. The only thing I cared about was making sure Eve and her baby were safe. And you did that by following your gut.”
I kissed her cheek and turned to the sound of Jaytee calling her name. She ran across the waiting room and into his arms, where she finally allowed herself to really cry.
The worst was over. No one was dead. Carla was in the Sunflower County jail. Will was in surgery giving the gift of life to his grandchild. Eve and Jasper were fine. The Bromleys were down the hall in a waiting room with DeWayne and Budgie watching them until Coleman could assess what charges he’d level. Dara and Mitch were desperately waiting for the outcome of the surgery that could save their son.
I had a few questions for Eve, now that the trauma of childbirth was behind her, and I wanted to ask without Cece in tow. I slipped out of the waiting room and went to her room, my feet dragging with weariness. This was not the Christmas Eve or morning I’d envisioned. Coleman and I had not had a moment alone. Soon, though. Very soon we were going to Dahlia House, my pets, and my bed.
When I tapped on Eve’s door, she invited me in. She was a beautiful young woman. Even after the rigors of childbirth, she was still lovely. Almost ethereal. I couldn’t help but think of paintings of the Madonna. Eve was nursing a red-faced baby that shook his fists in what I could only assume was eagerness.
“He’s perfect,” I said.
“He is. And I thought I was having a little girl.” She grinned. “Doc Sawyer says he’s one hundred percent healthy.” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “My brother wasn’t so lucky. Alfie wasn’t born healthy.”
“I know.”
“He didn’t really kidnap me. If I have to face charges for what I did, I won’t fight it. But Mitch doesn’t deserve to be punished. He’s struggled so hard to provide for Alfie and Dara. When he realized Alfie was so sick, he did everything he knew to do, but there were no matching donors. Then he got the idea that maybe his real father was a match. Sure enough, Dad … Will was.”
“And Carla intended to charge Mitch for a piece of Will’s liver?” She was an awful woman, but could she be that completely soulless? I still had trouble believing it.
“Yes. She did some research and said that $130,000 was the going price. Then she upped it to $150,000.”
“And what did Will say?”
Eve blinked back tears. “Nothing. Just like always. Nothing. I don’t know if he’s afraid of her or if she crushed him so many times he simply quit trying to stand up for himself.”
“And it doesn’t matter. Alfie is getting the liver.”
“And what will happen to Da … Will?”
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know. Or the Bromleys. Or Dara and Mitch.” I had to say it. “Or you, Eve. You were blackmailing your own cousin. Why didn’t you just ask her?”
“It’s a long story and I am a fool. I knew Carla hated Cece and wanted to punish her, but…”
I suddenly knew the answer. “Carla told you awful things about Cecil, or Cece as she is known now. She made you believe Cece would never willingly pay the ransom. She made you doubt who Cece really was.”
“That’s it in a nutshell. Why would I ever believe such things about someone I knew to be kind and generous and loving? How could I have betrayed Cece by thinking such horrible things? She’d never given me cause to doubt her. I was just as bad as Carla.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed and patted her leg. “No, you weren’t. You were a child, Eve. Folks around here have strong opinions about things they know nothing about. Carla played on your lack of experience and also your lack of self-esteem.”
“And I was just as bad, willing to believe the worst about Cece.” She cried quietly, sending the squirming baby into a spasm of crying. She held the child out to me and I had no choice but to take the baby and do my best to comfort him.
Eve slipped out of the bed and went to the bathroom for some tissue to blow her nose. “I was as low and base as Carla ever dared to be. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. I wasn’t Carla’s blood but I was a product of her raising.”
“And yet you had enough conscience not to ask Cece for money.”
She scoffed bitterly. “Yeah, bully for me. I didn’t ask outright, I just decided to help Mitch by extorting the money from her. If it matters, I would have paid her back. I was getting a promotion at the bank with a pay increase, and I would have saved every week until I could give every penny back to her.”
Whatever sentence was imposed on Eve for her part in the scheme, she would punish herself far worse. I adjusted Jasper in my arms and began the age-old remedy for a cranky baby—walking and gentle rocking motions. To my amazement he quieted and yawned, then reached a tiny baby fist up to touch my cheek. I felt a strange and powerful throb right around my heart.
“Talk to Cece.” That was my best bit of advice. “Tell her all of this. We make mistakes, Eve. Every single one of us, every day. The hard thing is to recognize them and learn. I think you’ve done that.”
She reached out for the baby and I returned little Jasper into her arms. “Thank you for understanding. You’re a good friend to Cece. She had an awful family, but she’s lucky in her friends.”
“I think you’ll find she wants family. She’s beating herself up for not hunting harder for you when you first disappeared. You both carry a lot of unnecessary guilt. Let it go. Live for the moment and don’t drag around what you can’t change.” If only I were smart enough, or strong enough, to live by my own words.
“Merry Christmas, Sarah Booth,” Eve said, waving Jasper’s little fist at me.
“And you, too, Eve. I’ll be in touch.” I hesitated. “Who is little Jasper’s father?” I asked.
“He’s a good man, Sarah Booth. He never knew I was pregnant, and I was never going to tell him, but I’ve changed my mind. Jasper deserves to know his father, on whatever level of relationship they decide to have. But I’m not telling anyone until I tell him.”
“Good plan.” I leaned and kissed her forehead. “A very good plan.”
* * *
It was time for me to go home. It had been a helluva holiday, and I wanted only to light a fire and curl up in front of it with Coleman. When I returned to the waiting room, Tinkie and Oscar had gone home. Coleman had Mitch and Dara’s word that they would turn themselves in as soon as the baby’s surgery was over—they were huddled in a corner waiting on results. Though Coleman didn’t say it, I knew DeWayne and Budgie would stay close.
“Good luck with baby Alfie,” I told the young couple. “Do you need me to stay?”
“My parents are in the other room,” Dara said. “They’ll stay with us. Please keep in mind they were forced into helping with this scheme. It wasn’t their idea and they tried to talk us out of it, but Mitch and I had to do what we did for our baby boy. Eve is a victim, too. She found out she had a brother and that her nephew was dying all at the same time. Alfie was so sick and we had to take action. I’m sorry for any pain we caused.”
“No judgment from this quarter,” I said, and meant it. “Coleman will sort it all out. I know Cece isn’t pressing charges. She wants to get to know you, Mitch, and your family. You’re her blood.”
“I wish I’d known her.” Mitch was rueful. “If I had believed she would accept me as family, I would have done things differently. I would never have listened to Carla. All my life I’ve been shut out of knowing what it’s like to have blood.”
“Where were you raised?” I asked.
“Here and there. I was adopted as an infant and stayed with the Peterson family until I was fifteen. They were good people, and I took their name. They were kind. But Helena got sick and when she died, Britt just lost his will to continue. They were older, and he had a heart attack. I went back in the system but I was in high school, not the cute infant or toddler that everyone wants. I was lost and angry and I made a lot of mistakes. I came back to Fortis Landing and started work on the cotton gin. Then I met Dara and her family.”
People were capable of overcoming many, many hardships and experiences. We all wore our scars—or hid them. “We’ll get this sorted. Now I’m going home to sleep.” I’d been up for nearly twenty-six hours.
Coleman was waiting for me in the hall, and I joined him, taking his hand and walking beside him into the sunshine and the snow. My whole world was new and fresh and white. The snow was another Christmas miracle.
“You know I followed your footsteps in the snow to the drop site,” Coleman said. “I think about that and how remarkable it is. Snow in Sunflower County.”
“I know.” I got in the patrol car and left the Roadster in the hospital parking lot, beside Tinkie’s caddy. Oscar had driven her home.
“How was the Christmas pageant?” I asked. “I’m sorry I had to miss it.”
“Well, Mrs. Hedgepeth was perhaps an unwise choice to play the mother of Jesus.”
“What happened?” The hint of gossip perked me up instantly.
“Instead of saying her lines, she went on a tear and listed all of the things that everyone in Zinnia does that make her angry. Your name came up, about a dozen times.”
I laughed in the bright sunshine and crisp air. It was wonderful to laugh. “I’ll bet it was funny.”
“Not to Margaret Welford, who’d worked so hard on the pageant. And Thomas Terrell, who’d written the whole script. They were very upset that Mrs. Hedgepeth had rolled over their entire production just to have her moment of ranting glory.” He chuckled as he drove toward Dahlia House. “It was quite a dramatic moment. They had padded Mrs. Hedgepeth’s costume to indicate her large pregnancy. When she started on her rant, the padding slipped down a little so she just reached up under her skirt and pulled out that horrible baby doll she insisted had to be Jesus. Mrs. Hart and Mrs. Ninny both screamed and fell backwards. Doc thought they’d had heart attacks and he went to tend to them. Thank goodness they were just swooning from the shock of that delivery.”
I couldn’t help it. I was laughing out loud. “I’m so sorry I missed this!”
“Then when Mrs. Hedgepeth threw the baby into the audience, well, there was a stampede toward the church door.”
“What did you do?”
“Oscar, Harold, and I were hiding behind the choir seats waiting for our cue to come on the scene with our gifts, but once Mrs. Hedgepeth sent the baby Jesus flying into the audience, all bets were off. Neely McDuff had fallen asleep during the service and when that ugly little baby slapped him upside the head, he started screaming and stood up and fell over backwards onto Eunice Dudley. He inadvertently groped Eunice, and she slapped him so hard his glasses flew down the aisle. In the stampede the glasses were broken, and so was Mr. McDuff’s arm when Eunice dumped him off her lap.”
I tried hard to suppress my mirth, but it was useless. The laughter ripped out of me and I laughed until I cried. “I can’t believe I missed all of this.”
“You missed a show, but it was videotaped by many.”
“Last year, after those bad boys wrecked it with the pig running through the manger scene and the llamas spitting on everyone, I thought it would be a calm production. Indoors and with only adults participating. Looks like there were several miscalculations.”
“Mrs. Hedgepeth was a surprise. Who knew she’d grandstand and go so off script?”
“She is filled with spleen. It has to come out somewhere.” But I was laughing still. Mrs. Hedgepeth was way down my list of things to worry about. “Thank you for arriving on time, Coleman.”
“I’m glad you called me. It’s important to know that you trust my judgment.”
“Always. I was caught by a promise to Cece.”
“I get it.” He pulled me close up against him. “And now we’re almost home.”
We turned down the drive to Dahlia House and my three horses, blanketed against the cold, met us at the corner of the pasture and raced the car toward the house. They bucked and snorted in the pristine snow that covered the world, hiding all the familiar and ugly flaws. The world was new and fresh and pure.
“I guess DeWayne blanketed the horses again.”
“And fed them.”
“I need to put him on my payroll.”
“Naw, just invite him to ride. He used to as a teen, but he’s fallen out of the habit.”
“I’d love for him to ride.” The suggestion made me smile. Horses were another great way to share good times. “We’ll get a group together and maybe ride through one of the state forests. A camping trip in the spring.”
“Perfect.” Coleman kissed the top of my head just as Dahlia House came into sight.
The cedar and magnolia garlands draped the front porch, interspersed with large red ribbons. The multi-colored hues of an old-fashioned Christmas came from the front parlor window where someone had plugged in the Christmas tree to welcome us home. With the snow on the ground, it was a picture-perfect moment.
“I wouldn’t want to share this with anyone else,” I said to Coleman.
“It’s like the homecoming I always dreamed of as a kid.”
“It would seem,” I said as I knelt on the front seat, “that our Christmas dreams have collided.” When he parked and turned the car off, I laid a kiss on him that started an instant fire. I’d been tired enough to sleep standing up, but suddenly I was wide awake and hungry for Coleman’s touch.
I pulled him into the house, past the Christmas tree and up the stairs to my bedroom.
“What about opening presents?” he asked, pretending to be reluctant.
I arched one eyebrow at him. “You’d rather open presents?”
“Later is good.” He grabbed me and tossed me onto the bed. “Now let’s get down to some serious Christmas celebrating.”
* * *
I woke up after the sun had set. Coleman and Sweetie Pie snored softly in a kind of tender harmony. Pluto watched me with his green, green gaze.
I slipped out of bed and went downstairs where the Christmas tree still glowed red, blue, green, and yellow. I stood for a moment and simply drank in the sight. It was good that Jitty had prompted me to put it up and that Coleman and my friends had helped decorate it for me. Christmas Day was gone, but there was still plenty of time to open presents. I suspected that Cece and Jaytee and Tinkie and Oscar were all in bed, too. A night out in the cold and snow had taken the sap out of us. We’d have our celebration later in the week.
I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water, taking a long slow drink and savoring the simple pleasure of quenching my thirst. So many people were without clean water that flowed out of a tap with the twist of a wrist. For all the things I’d lost, I was a lucky woman.
The strains of The Nutcracker came to me and I stepped back into the parlor to see the Sugar Plum Fairy dancing around the entire first floor of Dahlia House. Her elegance stunned me, and the beautiful feathered tutu stood out from her waist and bounced gently with each step she took. I knew that it was Jitty, making one final Christmas appearance, and I didn’t care. I simply enjoyed the spectacle of her dancing and the power of her graceful execution of the dance moves. She was a pleasure to watch, and I loved the music. When she finished and took her bows, I applauded softly so as not to disturb Coleman and the pets. I’d whip up something special for my man to regain his strength to open Christmas presents.
Jitty came to me, her skirt bobbing and her hair so perfectly coiffed I was reminded of photographs of Josephine Baker. “You’re something else, Jitty. I kind of hate to see this Nutcracker business come to an end.”
“You got the message at last. I can move on.”
“The message?”
She gave me a peeved look. “Your mama and daddy went to great lengths—Girl, you are a devil.”
“I got the message,” I admitted.
“Then my work here is done. Until next time.”
There was the jingle of Christmas bells as Jitty disappeared in a whirl of snowflakes that dissipated in midair. I walked to the window and looked out on the front porch surrounded by pastures and the long drive between the leafless sycamores. Snow covered the ground. It was the perfect morning for a brisk ride. I had boots for the horses to prevent ice from lodging in their feet and brand-new riding boots for my man. It was time to rouse the sleeping Coleman and the pets and enjoy the sunshine and the magical winter day. After all, I’d gotten the message. Magic, especially at Christmastime, was real. And miracles do happen.