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“What?”
“At the nativity scene. Down in the town square. I, um, have something for you, and I can give it to you then.”
His face was filled with such hope that she had to smile. “I’ll bet you’ll be the best shepherd ever. What was the time again?”
“The animals will be there from three to seven o’clock, and everyone in the play needs to be there before the churches have their Christmas Eve services. So you’ll have to be downtown, anyway, right?”
She bent to give him a quick hug. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’re a cool kid, Joshua Shueller. I’m going to miss you.”
“Come at six, okay? We all have lines to say. Promise?”
She crossed her heart. “I’ll be there.”
* * * *
DARKNESS HAD FALLEN by four-thirty, and now, as Bernice and Sara stood in the gathering throng at the live nativity scene in the town square, fat snowflakes began to fall.
Sara had hoped for clear skies and a heavy blanket of stars on her last night here, but the snow was beautiful—silvery sequins dusted the bright woolen hats and coats of everyone in the audience, and the little ones stood with their heads tipped back and mouths wide open, trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues.
Her brother Kyle had claimed he had to work over the holiday and couldn’t get away—but Sara had heard his voice break after she told him about their father and Robert. With time and luck, maybe new bonds could be forged and they would again be a family.
In the crude wooden lean-to, a Jersey cow with big, liquid brown eyes and long lashes as pretty as a girl’s stood patiently in a heavy bed of straw. Three fat sheep lay in front of the manger, and the cast of long-robed shepherds and kings was already in place.
The actors—high-school students—self-consciously picked at their costumes and searched the audience for their friends, then gave surreptitious waves to the people they knew.
“Where’s Josh?” whispered Bernice. “Isn’t he here?”
Sara scanned the players again, more slowly this time. “I don’t see him. Maybe he—”
Sara heard her mother gasp. “There’s Kyle,” she said.
Even into adulthood, Kyle Hanrahan had retained an air of insolence. With his wavy, copper-colored hair and lean, hard features, he might have been mistaken for some rising new movie star, but the perpetual sneer was no affectation, and drawing him into conversation was like slogging through cement.
But now, there was something different, something almost vulnerable in his eyes as he stopped next to Bernice and gave them both a self-conscious nod. “I couldn’t get here any sooner.”
“Merry Christmas, Kyle,” Sara murmured. He’d never been good at giving or receiving demonstrations of affection, but she stepped forward, anyway, and gave him a hug. “It means a lot to us that you came.”
Bernice hugged him next, and the two of them stood for a long moment in that embrace, their eyes closed tight.
“All this time,” Kyle said. “Everything that people said...”
Bernice stepped back and held his arms. “We’ve wasted a lot of years. Maybe now we’ll all have new beginnings.”
“There was an article in the newspaper this morning,” Sara added. “Front page. Murder charges are pending against Robert Hanson. That, plus his federal drug charges, will keep him off the streets until the day he dies.”
“It’s a real baby!” a child cried.
From behind the lean-to, a pretty girl stepped forward as Mary, holding a snow-suited baby. Behind her, holding a long staff, came a boy dressed as Joseph, his expression somber and his cheeks red.
Sara stared at him in wonder, her heart lifting with joy. “Look, it’s Josh!” she whispered to Bernice. “He got the part he wanted!”
The crowd fell silent as the actors moved into position.
Shifting his weight, Josh white-knuckled his staff and cleared his throat, then squeezed his eyes shut tight as if saying a fervent prayer for help with his lines.
Someone in the audience tittered. Several others whispered, “Shhh!”
Then he opened his eyes and his young voice rang out through the night. “And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be registered...”
