Lee McClain - The Secret Christmas Child

A murmur rose in the room. Reese looked around, wondering what it was about.

But Bernadette gave a nod, put her hands on her hips and looked around the room until the murmuring stopped. “I suggest we see what Reese can do. If he manages the children well through this break, then we’ll know the program can be expanded, and we’ll have a better basis to fund it through the next year.”

“But how will we know if he manages it well?” the board’s accountant, Mike Watson, asked. “What criteria are we using? How will we assess the outcomes?”

Bernadette opened her mouth to speak, but there was another flurry back in Nana’s part of the room, and then Gabby stood. Her cheeks were pink, her mouth determined. “How about if we have the kids and animals do some kind of a performance for the church? A Christmas performance?”

“What’s your vision, Gabby?” Bernadette asked. “How would that help us assess the results?”

Reese didn’t know how he’d lost control of this discussion, but he needed to take it back. He opened his mouth to speak.

Gabby gave him a look, and because of their history together, he read it instantly. I’ve got this, relax , she seemed to say with her eyes. “If the boys are able to work together toward a productive goal that entertains the community, that’ll show that they can work toward other productive goals,” she said. “And by attending and supporting the performance, the church members can show that they understand our mission.” She looked pointedly at Santiago Romano as she said it.

Reese hid a small smile. Despite the fact that this was likely to be a disaster, he admired Gabby’s spunk.

Gabby glanced at Reese, then went on. “The Sunday before Christmas, or the early Christmas Eve service, might be good times to give the pastor and choirs a break. But we could do it on a weeknight instead. Whatever would help out the church.”

Mr. Romano started to laugh. “Boy, if you can pull that off with those kids, you’ll be doing something very surprising.”

“Christmas is the season of wonderful surprises,” Gabby said gently.

“That it is,” Bernadette said. “If we can all agree to this proposal, we can get on the road and home to our families. I’d suggest Tuesday evening, the twenty-third, which gives you just over a week. All in favor?”

Thank you, Bernadette. Everyone wanted to get home. There was a chorus of ayes, and just a couple of nays, one belonging to Mr. Romano. No surprise there.

As people hurried to gather their coats and hats, Reese blew out a breath. Thanks to Gabby, he now had a clear-cut goal. With a breathtakingly short time line.

He had to make this program a success. With his disability, he couldn’t do what he’d always planned to do, carpentry. And he seriously doubted that he could form a family; even before he’d become disabled, he’d never been especially smooth with women. The one woman he’d fallen in love with—Gabby—had dumped him.

If he could make a go of this program, he could have a different kind of a family, and meaning in his life.

Few people gathered around the coffeepot afterward, but Gabby was among them, and he tapped her on the shoulder and gestured her off to the side. “You’ve set us up to do something difficult,” he said.

“I’m sorry. It just came to me.”

She looked so penitent that he felt bad. “I’m not upset about it. It’s a good idea,” he said, and when her face brightened, his heart lifted, too. He needed to get himself under control. They were working together and that was it. “It’s definitely going to be a challenge, and we need to get started right away. Can you meet me this afternoon so we can start to figure out how we’re going to make it work?”

She glanced at Nana, still seated. “I think I can,” she said.

That made Reese realize that he hadn’t seen young Jacob at the church service. He wondered how things were going in the household.

Still, it was Gabby who had brought up this possibility, and Reese knew next to nothing about putting on a show. “I really need you to step up and help with it,” he said.

She nodded. “I’ll do my best,” she said, her voice subdued.

So now, rather than his usual quiet Sunday afternoon avoiding his aunt and uncle’s family gathering, Reese was going to be working with the very pretty lady who’d already broken his heart once.

He just had to make sure he didn’t let her do it again.

“I’m so glad Cleo’s Crafts and Café is still here.” Gabby sipped peppermint hot chocolate and looked around the cozy place. Steam blurred the windows, making the café its own little world. There were only about ten tables. Up front, a pastry case held Cleo’s famous concoctions, heavily leaning toward Christmas items at this time of year: chocolate pinwheel cookies and gingerbread boys and chocolate-pecan chess pie.

Reese looked around, too. “You haven’t been gone that long, have you?” He sipped his own flavored coffee. “I’m surprised you’re surprised.”

“It seems like forever ago.” Then she flushed, because she wasn’t referring to the last time she’d been home; she was referring to their high school years, when they’d been falling in love.

“It’s different because we’re different,” he said. Maybe he didn’t know it, but his hand went to his arm. Today, he was wearing a prosthetic, obvious because of the pincerlike hook in place of his right hand.

Curiosity won out over decorum. “Why do you wear a prosthetic some days and not others?”

“Getting used to it. It’s a process.” He leveled a steady gaze at her. “ You seem different from when we were kids, too.”

I’m different because I’m a mom. “We should figure out the show,” she said briskly, trying to get back to business. And avoid telling him about Izzy. Which shouldn’t be a big deal, but she hated the thought of his questions. Despite all her counseling, she still felt a heated rush of shame at the idea of talking about it. “I feel bad to have volunteered you for something you don’t want to do, but I think it’ll be great.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Tell me what you were thinking. I don’t exactly have a vision.”

She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Tell me about your boys. Ages, abilities, things like that.”

He nodded, sipping coffee. “Like I mentioned to Jacob, they’re eleven to fifteen. But skewed toward the younger side. I think we have...three each of eleven-and twelve-year-olds. Two thirteen-year-olds, and one each of fourteen and fifteen. Two fifteen-year-olds if Jacob joins.”

She nodded, making notes. “And how do the dogs fit in?” She’d seen them when she’d been in the barn before: the one Doberman that seemed to roam around, a row of kennels in the back of the barn and an open yard area separate from where the boys gathered in the front.

“In a way, the dogs are similar to the boys,” he said wryly. “Most have behavior problems and that’s why they were surrendered.”

“All breeds?”

He nodded. “But I try to make it so there’s one dog per boy. Their job is to train that one dog.”

She put down her pen. “Uh-oh. Will Jacob mess that up? Can he get a dog this late in the game?”

“There are always dogs that need help,” he said. “See, the overall vision is...” He trailed off, looking just a little shy.

“Tell me.” She set her cup down and leaned forward a little. Reese had always been a dreamer, the rare kind who could put his dreams into action. When she’d been falling in love with him in high school, his dreams had been of beautiful cabinets and chairs and tables he could make. He’d looked at a piece of wood, even scrap wood, and seen all its possibilities.