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Iris shook her head. “It can wait.” She took in his guilty expression. “Mistakes happen to all of us, Blair. Please don’t worry about it.”

She was on her way downstairs when he called after her. Iris turned back around, afraid that he’d decided he couldn’t join her after all, and saw that he was holding out a bouquet of purple and white roses wrapped in pearlescent plastic.

Blair smiled softly. “These are for you.”

Jogging back upstairs, Iris accepted the flowers, suddenly flooded with renewed hope for the evening. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” Their scent was so strong, she didn’t know how the whole upstairs hadn’t absorbed their aroma and ruined his surprise.

“You aren’t worried, are you?” he asked. “I know you’re going to be amazing tonight.”

Nerves danced in her stomach at the thought of having to sing in front of so many people. Still, she smiled, touched. “Thanks, Blair. So will you.”

16

Gabriel sat alone at a pew toward the back of the sanctuary, tapping his bulletin against his leg as congregants of all ages shuffled in around him. Candles flickered in the candelabras above his head, basking the church in a haze of wax-scented smoke. The scent coalesced with the rich mahogany of the pews, its perfume clinging to the warm air.

After several long minutes, Iris stepped out of the back room and onto the stage, seating herself in a rickety chair next to an elderly man Gabriel recognized from previous holiday services as the pianist. Iris scanned the crowd until she found Gabriel. She waved, a nervous smile lighting her face. Gabriel waved back at her, mouthing “good luck,” just as Blair lowered himself into the chair to her left, the violin resting against his knee.

A family of three sidled up to Gabriel’s pew, and Gabriel scooted over to allow them to sit. As the minister stepped up to the pulpit and the organist performed the prelude, someone hurried into the sanctuary, her gray hair disheveled, coat slung over one arm. It was Mary, Iris’ mom. She scurried over to Gabriel’s pew, looking displeased when she saw there weren’t any remaining seats.

“Merry Christmas, Gabriel,” she greeted warmly, sitting next to an elderly couple in the pew directly behind him. “There’s our girl,” she whispered, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze. “She’s going to do wonderfully.”

“Yeah. She is.” Gabriel smiled as he watched Iris chat with the pianist for a moment before the two of them turned their attention politely to the organist.

His thoughts were far away as he stood with the congregation to sing the opening hymn, the words slipping from his lips like a familiar lullaby. He thought of the previous Christmas Eve, when he and Iris had sat together in that very pew with her mother. Audrey had accompanied them that year, too. Afterward, they’d stayed for coffee and cookies in the church parlor, before retreating home to open presents early around the fire… Things had seemed so simple back then, so effortless. He’d taken it for granted.

The congregation sat down as one, and Gabriel’s stomach leapt as he glanced over at the crinkled bulletin in the woman’s hands beside him to discover that communion was next on the agenda. He was sure Iris would do well, but he couldn’t help the nerves he felt on her behalf as he watched her smooth out her velvet dress and walk to center stage. Blair stepped out beside her, one hand wrapped tightly around the neck of his violin, its dark shellac glimmering under the stage lights. The pianist leaned heavily on his cane as he walked to the piano at the back of the stage.

Following a short speech about the last supper, two volunteers made their way down the center aisle, stopping at each pew to invite guests to rise to accept communion. As each participant made their way down the line, a deacon placed a wafer onto their tongue, and the minister tipped a chalice of deep red wine against their lips in remembrance of Jesus’ sacrifice. Gabriel remained in his seat, his attention shifting back to the stage as the first wavering notes of the violin pierced the still air.

Iris’ voice filled the hall, and Gabriel felt his eyes drift closed. She had always been an incredible singer, but the warmth in her timbre fit the sentiment and musicality of “O Holy Night” in a way that was almost hauntingly beautiful.

For an extended moment, all was calm.

And then a resounding crash hit the stage, reverberating across the sanctuary like a thunderclap.

Gabriel’s eyes snapped open in time to see Blair bolting down the stage steps, his violin lying abandoned on the floor. Iris froze in obvious panic as she watched him disappear around the corner into the lobby.

Muttering a quiet apology to the family in the pew next to him, Gabriel followed in Blair’s wake. He felt the concerned stares of Mary and many other members of the congregation as he strode purposefully out of the sanctuary, only half listening as the pianist resumed playing and Iris’ voice broke through the tense silence.

Entering the lobby, Gabriel was just in time to see the bathroom door swing closed. He grasped the handle and wrenched it open.

Blair was slumped against the counter, his head resting on the Formica in between two porcelain sinks. The cool white lights made his skin appear greenish and sickly as he trembled and writhed. Gabriel stood blocking the doorway, unsure of how to defuse the situation, or even what had set Blair off.

“Blair—” he began, but Blair cut across him.

“I can’t be here,” he said, his voice choked as he gasped against the counter.

“Why not?” Gabriel asked, taking a step closer.

Blair’s body shuddered as he raised his head slightly. Gabriel was alarmed to see that his eyes had grown bloodshot, his pupils widening and turning scarlet as they spoke. “In a church,” he gasped again, his hands clenched into shaking fists at his sides. He shook his head. “I’m not something that can be saved.”

Ever so slowly, Gabriel reached out to place his hands on Blair’s shoulders. Blair’s body jerked under his touch, but he didn’t move away. “If I can be here, so can you,” Gabriel said, enunciating every word, urging Blair to infer his meaning.

Blair’s eyes flicked up to him, but Gabriel was unsure how much he could see. “What do you mean?” His voice was still strained, his entire body convulsing under Gabriel’s steady hands.

Gabriel’s mind raced as he tried to find a way to explain. “Have you ever been responsible for someone’s death, Blair?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Blair flinched as if Gabriel had struck him. “Of course not. I’m not… I’d never…”