Virginia Carmichael - Season of Hope

As the frigid night air hit him, Gavin felt the warmth of the Mission being stripped away. He pushed aside all the feelings that had swelled in him when Evie was near, the regrets of being too busy for a romantic life, the wishful thinking that did no one any good.

He hunched farther into his coat, walking into the biting wind. He couldn’t let his focus slip, not for a day. He had made a promise to Patrick and lives depended on him.

Chapter Two

“Over here!” Evie waved at Jack above the crowd of kids, but she wasn’t sure he heard her over the noise. The Downtown Mission’s children were gathered in groups on the sidewalk, eagerly awaiting the delivery of the annual Christmas tree. Grant wandered the sidewalk, crouching down every few feet to chat with some small child or another. The Mission workers passed cups of hot chocolate and took turns peering down the road for any sign of the tree.

Evie huddled inside her wool coat and tried to stamp some feeling back into her feet as her twin made his way over. The paper had been put to bed for the day, so there was nothing left but to jump back into the fray. It could be a 24/7 job, if she let it. She’d been down that road before, back in Aspen. A fast crowd of photographers, chasing a faster crowd of celebrities, made for a perfect storm of selfishness. She could feel her perspective slipping, just like old times. Her brain needed a little time away from the drama, and this was the perfect way to get a grip on her priorities.

Snowflakes drifted gently down over the crowd of excited kids, and Evie whispered a silent prayer of thanks. Christmas was her favorite season, all about hope, new beginnings and fresh starts. She was living proof of second chances.

“I heard the wagon got stuck on Lincoln Street.” Jack tugged his ski hat down over his ears and gave Evie a hug.

“Traffic at this hour?” She frowned up at the sky. Drivers in Denver were used to the weather.

“Something about a frayed rope. I didn’t catch the whole story.” Jack broke off as a cheer went up through the group.

Around the corner came a pickup truck pulling an old-fashioned wooden wagon. The large spoke wheels were caked with clumps of snow. On the cart was strapped an enormous, bushy fir tree. The truck stopped and Gavin jumped from the passenger’s side. His coat was unbuttoned and he wore no hat, but he had a length of rope over one shoulder. He waved to the kids and flashed a thumbs-up, which resulted in another round of cheers.

Evie sucked in a breath at the sight of his smile. Last week he’d seemed so preoccupied. Of course, she didn’t expect a finance meeting to be a barrel of laughs, but this was a different side completely.

“I’ll see if he needs help with the tree.” Jack loped off toward the wagon, joining Grant and a few other Mission workers in the job of wrangling the tree into the lobby.

“Will you help me hand out the cookies?” Evie turned to see a young woman holding a tray of brightly colored treats. Her name tag was sporting a blob of snow, but it was still legible.

“Sure, Simone. My pleasure.” She took the tray and started toward the swirling group of preschoolers.

From the corner of the group, Lana sang out the first lines of “Jingle Bells” in a sweet, clear voice. Evie joined in, moving through the crowd of waist-high kids, distributing cookies into mittened hands. The snow fell faster, large clumps landing on brightly colored hats. She couldn’t help grinning, although it was hard to sing and smile at the same time. To think she could have missed this moment by spending another evening at the office.

Her tray was almost empty when the song changed to “Deck The Halls.” She felt a small hand slip into hers and looked down into the face of a little girl.

“I love Christmas,” the girl said. Her lisp was so pronounced, her large eyes such a deep brown, that Evie almost laughed. So much sweetness in one little person shouldn’t be allowed.

“I do, too.” They both stood watching Gavin and Jack help carry the tree into the lobby. The children sang with gusto, if not perfectly in tune, and Evie blinked back tears.

Five years ago she was the very worst kind of person, without a real friend in the world. She’d turned her back on everyone who loved her. Chasing money and fame was all that mattered. Evie sucked in a shaky breath.

Thank You, Lord, for second chances. I won’t let You down again.

* * *

Gavin stood back to admire the tree. The Mission kids had decorated every inch as far as they could reach, then handed ornaments to Jack as he stood on a ladder. He really should be at the lab, but Frank had told him to take the evening off. Something about not being any use if he worked himself into the ground.

“You guys picked a great tree.” Evie stood by his side, shy smile on her face. She smelled lightly of something flowery, maybe roses.

“Gerry picked it out. I just tied it down.” He pretended to think it through. “But I should definitely get points for standing in the middle of Lincoln St. replacing the broken rope. I never want to stand in traffic again.”

She snorted. “Let’s hope that’s your once-in-a-lifetime moment.”

A short Hispanic woman bustled out of the double doors that led from the kitchen. Her black hair was pulled back into a bun, black eyes snapping with energy. “Gavin, is Grant in the office?”

Evie answered for him. “Marisol, I think he went to call Calista. She wasn’t feeling up to the party so she stayed home. He’ll be right back. Would you like a cookie? We have a few left.”

Lana held out the cookie plate with a smile.

“Uh-oh. Lana is making Grant cookies now. He won’t want any of my enchiladas. I made them especial.” Her words were a rebuke but she was smiling.

“Lana, why you not married? You cook like this and the men gather round.” Marisol gestured at Jack and Gavin, who froze like a pair of deer caught in headlights.

Covering her mouth with her hand, Evie looked like she was working to get her expression under control.

Lana snorted. “I’m not averse to marrying a younger man, but I’m pushing fifty. I don’t think good cookies will make up for a wheelchair and grandma status.”

Marisol paused, black eyes gone wide, cookie in midair. “Abuelita already? When did it happen?”

“No, no. Eric’s only thirteen.” Lana brushed a hand across her forehead, as if the thought pained her. “My son’s a great kid, but let’s give him a few more years. Like ten or so.”

“Ah, well, I am sure you will have many babies to cuddle.” She said this like a benediction, her dark brown hand lifted toward Lana.

“Thank you, Marisol. I can’t imagine how wonderful it will be. But you’re closer to that than I am.” Lana’s face crinkled in a smile, and both women sighed happily.

“You’re waiting for a new grandbaby?” Gavin wished he had a cheat sheet for the Mission staff and their families.

“Calista is having her baby soon. Very soon.” The older woman put a hand on her heart and closed her eyes. “Dios le bendiga. We must pray for her.”

Gavin glanced at Evie and grinned. He’d seen Calista, and the woman was as white as they came. And Grant, with his tall frame and blue eyes, was probably not related to Marisol, either. He was getting the full picture of this place and it was all about family, but not the kind he’d known.

The seriousness of what he’d seen this morning in the neonatal critical care unit intruded on his thoughts. He reached for his keys. “It was a wonderful party, but I’d better go.”

“Anything we can do, Gavin? Is the office running twenty-four hours?” Lana turned, concern lining her face.

“We are. Just keep trying to get the word out. We’re racing to stay ahead of the outbreak, but...” His voice trailed off and he could feel Evie watching him. It was the stuff of nightmares, his very worst fear, that his city would be hit with a disease he couldn’t control. That more families would suffer like Patrick’s had.