Linda Warren - A Texas Holiday Miracle

Her father had told Lacey he wanted her always to be honest with Emma just as he’d been honest with Lacey. Still...

She searched for the right thing to say. Lie, lie, lie, her inner voice kept chanting. If she did, Emma would find out soon enough. But she’d still have time to believe like a little girl should.

Lacey scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Emma. “You know there’s more to Christmas than Santa Claus and receiving gifts.”

“No, there isn’t. Christmas is about getting gifts from Santa Claus.”

Lacey prayed for patience...and wisdom. “Christmas is about the birth of Jesus Christ, and we celebrate his life by giving gifts. Sometimes giving is better than receiving.”

“No, it isn’t. Without Santa Claus there is no Christmas.” Emma’s eyes widened in realization. “There is no Santa Claus. No!” She fell sideways on the sofa and howled as if the world had come to an end.

Lacey gave her a minute and frantically breezed through the book in her head, but the pages were blank. Maybe mothers who had given birth had all the parenting answers. Lacey didn’t have a clue how to soothe a little girl’s broken heart, except to love her. She gathered a wailing Emma into her arms. Hitting Brad in the nose didn’t seem like a bad idea at the moment.

“Shh.” Lacey stroked Emma’s hair, picking out bits of grass and leaves. “We’ll still have Christmas. When you wake up Christmas morning, all your gifts will be under the tree and we’ll have hot chocolate and cookies like always. Nothing has changed.”

“It has, too.” Emma sniffled into Lacey’s chest. “I don’t want any gifts if they don’t come from Santa Claus.”

“Not even that red bicycle you’ve been wanting?”

Emma thought for a second. “No. I don’t want nothin’.”

Lacey cradled her sister close. “Sweetie, Christmas is a feeling that you have in here.” She placed her hand on Emma’s chest. “It makes you feel good to believe in an imaginary figure who will grant your every wish. It’s every child’s dream. But in reality it’s those people around us who love us and give us that feeling and make us feel joy and love.” She poked Emma in the chest again. “All you have to do is believe in Santa, and he’s right there, just like Jesus Christ. You learned that in church. As long as you believe, no one can take that feeling from you. It’s warm and comforting and brings unimaginable joy. You’ll feel it’s Christmas because I love you and I will make Christmas as special as I can.”

“But you’re not Santa.”

“I am Santa.” She tickled Emma’s rib cage. “Don’t you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?”

Emma giggled. “You’re weird, Lacey.”

“But you love me.”

Emma snuggled closer. “Uh-huh.”

Lacey sagged with relief. Maybe they could get through this.

The doorbell rang and Emma rose. “I’ll get it.”

“No. You go brush the trash out of your hair and I’ll get the door.”

“Aw, Lacey.”

Lacey pointed toward the hall. “Go.” Emma dragged her feet toward her bedroom and Lacey went to answer the door. Sharon Wilson and her two sons stood there.

Emma came racing back, her fist raised in the air. “I’m gonna hit him in his big fat nose.”

Lacey caught her before she could accomplish her goal. “Stop it.”

Sharon and her boys took a step backward. “She is a little aggressive, Lacey.”

Lacey bristled. “Your son just ruined her Christmas, so I’d be careful what you say.”

“I’m sorry, Lacey. My husband will handle this when he comes home.”

“I’m not sure what your husband can do. The damage is already done, and I’m not happy about it. Your son was very cruel to ruin their Christmas.”

“They’re stupid kids, and...”

Sharon popped Brad on the back of the head with her hand. “Shut up. Your father will deal with you when he gets home. Go to the house and wait for me.” Brad ran away, but Jimmy waved shyly at Emma before following.

“Could we talk for a minute?” Sharon asked.

Lacey nudged Emma toward the hall. “Go brush your hair.” Surprisingly, she went.

Sharon twisted her hands. “I know Emma’s been through a rough time and I understand that, but I feel it’s best if our kids don’t play together anymore.”

You hussy almost erupted from Lacey’s mouth. The woman had nerve. Lacey quickly calmed her rising temper. Jimmy was Emma’s only playmate, and her sister needed a friend. Since their father’s death, Emma had alienated everyone around her. Lacey was working to change that, but days like this didn’t help.

Lacey swallowed her pride. “Emma and Jimmy play well together. It’s your older son who’s causing all the problems.”

“I know. Since he turned ten, I can’t handle him anymore. I leave that up to my husband. I’m really sorry, Lacey. Jimmy likes Emma.”

“Can Jimmy come here to play with Emma, because I really don’t want Emma around Brad?”

“Well, I guess that would be okay.” Sharon looked toward her house down the street. “I better go before the boys get into another fight. Again, I’m sorry.”

Lacey closed the door and made her way to the kitchen. Emma bounded in with her hair all around her face and climbed onto a bar stool.

“Did you wash your hands?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll have to wash your hair tonight.”

Emma brushed it from her face. “Why?”

“Because it’s dirty.”

“Lacey, you always make me do things I don’t want to.”

“That’s life, snuggle bunny.” Lacey placed a plate in front of Emma and sat beside her on the other bar stool.

Emma stared at the food. “What’s this?”

“Supper. Your favorite mac and cheese out of a box. Green beans, turkey and cranberry sauce left over from Thanksgiving.”

“But you burned it.”

“I cut the burned part off and the turkey is still good. Eat it.”

“You’re gonna kill us, Lacey. You’re not supposed to eat burned food.”

“Eat and stop complaining.”

Emma ate the mac and cheese, most of the turkey and picked at the green beans. Lacey had to admit she was a lousy cook. Her mother was, too. Her dad had been in charge in the kitchen. It shouldn’t be that hard, but she seemed to burn everything she made. In Austin, she ate out mostly because she was so busy. But a child needed a healthy diet.

“These beans are yucky. You’re supposed to put butter on them or something. Daddy did.”

Butter. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She had to buy a cookbook or something. Eating at the local diner was getting old. She’d attempted Thanksgiving dinner because she wanted it to be special for Emma, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. It had been a disaster. And kind of lonely with just the two of them.

She carried her plate to the sink. “If you’re finished, go take your bath and I’ll do the dishes. I’ll be in to help with your hair.”

Emma climbed off the stool and dashed down the hall. After putting the dishes in the dishwasher, Lacey wiped the counter. A banging sounded from next door. Their neighbor, Gabe Garrison, was working on something. He always was.

Lacey had never actually had a conversation with the man. Her father had introduced them months earlier and Gabe had said hello and walked away. Her dad had explained that the man’s son had been killed in an ATV accident—an ATV that Gabe had bought the child for his birthday.

According to her father, Gabe had been a lawyer in Austin. After the accident, he’d tried to continue working, but hadn’t been able to. He and his wife had divorced and he’d moved back to Horseshoe, where he’d been raised, to grieve alone. He wanted privacy and Lacey understood that, but that was hard to explain to a six-year-old.