There’s a stranger at the door on Christmas Day…

Single mother Paige Summerville wants to give her seven-year-old son the Christmas of his dreams. Jason needs surgery to beat the illness that’s plagued his young life, leaving Paige desperate to make ends meet. So she turns to a charity that grants the wishes of sick children…

Then a stranger arrives bearing gifts for Jason—and for her. He’s Daniel Kinsley, a lawyer who’s grown cynical about family. But his kindness in making Jason’s wishes come true offers him more than he ever imagined. Is there room in Paige’s heart for a man who could fulfill all their dreams? And not just at Christmas!

He started to rise with his Christmas mug in hand.

“I should go and let you get some sleep.”

Paige placed a hand lightly on his forearm. “No. Please stay. Finish your coffee.”

Daniel watched her for a moment, as if having a silent debate with himself, then nodded and sat back down. He took a sip from his mug. “Thank you again for a wonderful dinner.”

“I’m glad you could be here. It meant a lot to Jason.” She glanced at the train set on the coffee table. “I don’t think we could have figured out how to put it all together, at least not in the time it took the two of you.” She set her mug aside, linked her fingers and looked down at her hands. “Thank you for all the gifts. The ones for me were totally unexpected, unnecessary, but very much appreciated. I…I like to take care of things myself, but without your generosity, I frankly don’t know what I would have done.”

He started to say something, but she shook her head.

“I don’t have the words to adequately thank you for what you’ve given Jason, and I don’t just mean in a material sense.” She raised her eyes to his. “You’ve made Jason very happy and taken his mind off…everything, other than the sheer joy of Christmas.”

Dear Reader,

Christmas is magical. It’s one of my favorite times of the year. As Christmas approaches, I still feel a bit of that giddy excitement I did as a child. My parents always made Christmas special for me. There were times when they couldn’t afford much, but every gathering and every gift was thoughtful and filled with love.

Sadly, I lost my father just before Christmas while I was in university. I chose not to celebrate Christmas the following year, and the holiday had a very different quality for me for a number of years.

But the magic of Christmas prevailed. Although I still have some bittersweet moments, I truly love Christmas. The passage of time helped, of course, but what made the biggest difference was being able to see the wonder of Christmas through the eyes of a child.

If Christmas is a special time of year for you, as it is for me, I hope A Child’s Christmas enriches your joy. If you find that Christmas has lost a bit of its sparkle, I hope this story will help you recapture its magic.

Thank you for reading A Child’s Christmas. I would love to hear from you. You can contact me by email at readers@kate-james.com, through my website at www.kate-james.com or by mail at P.O. Box 446, Schomberg, ON, L7B 0H7, Canada.

Merry Christmas, and much love and happiness to you and yours!

Kate

A Child’s Christmas

Kate James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KATE JAMES

spent much of her childhood abroad before attending university in Canada. She built a successful business career, but her passion has always been fiction, both reading and writing it. As a result, she turned her energy to her love of the written word. Kate’s goal is to entertain her readers with engaging stories featuring strong, likable characters. She’s been honored with numerous awards for her writing. She and her husband, Ken, enjoy traveling and the outdoors with their beloved Labrador retrievers.

To my husband, Ken, who believed in my writing even before there was anything to believe in, for starting me down the path by giving me my first laptop to use solely for writing, for supporting me unfailingly when I was on the precipice of leaping from a rewarding business career into uncharted territory with my writing, and for being by my side every step of the way. Ken…I still choose you!

To our friend Carl Compton. Carl…you know why.

To my editor, the amazing Paula Eykelhof, for believing in me and taking me—a fledgling author—under her wing, for her generosity with her much-in-demand time, limitless knowledge and incredible expertise, and for already having taught me so much.

And to Victoria Curran, for giving me the opportunity to write for Mills & Boon Heartwarming, and for appealing to my competitive nature to see if I can adopt as many dogs as she can cats!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS HER worst nightmare. Her son had less than a year to live, Paige Summerville thought incredulously, then defiantly rejected the very idea.

Standing outside the train terminal, she couldn’t help the short, bitter laugh that escaped her lips—then realized she’d let her guard down when she felt Jason tug on her hand.

Paige was immediately contrite and forced a bright smile onto her face. Seeing the worry in her little boy’s blue eyes, she bent down and lovingly brushed his ash-blond hair from his forehead.

Knowing the perfect distraction, she suggested, with a cheer she didn’t feel, “How about we go to McDonald’s for lunch?”

His eyes cleared, and a grin spread across his freckled face. “Can we, Mom?”

She zipped up his jacket to shield him from the biting November wind. “We most certainly can!”

After lunch, they walked along Camden Falls’ tree-lined Main Street, pausing whenever Jason wanted to examine a brightly colored leaf or greet a passing dog. He clutched her hand tightly as they made their way home, glancing up at her periodically with eyes strikingly similar to her own. Occasionally, she’d lean toward him and whisper something in his ear or simply touch his arm, his shoulder, the top of his head.

Paige couldn’t imagine her life without her little boy, but it was a possibility she might have to face.

Jason had a malignant brain tumor.

They’d taken the train that morning to see an oncologist at the Rosenthal Cancer Center in nearby Boston. If he was correct, this could be her son’s last year. Paige had to believe they could beat the disease, but she knew the odds were stacked against them. After all, this wasn’t their first battle with the devastating disease.

The day had taken its toll on Jason. By the time they reached their small ground-floor apartment, he could barely keep his eyes open. He yawned as Paige tucked him in for a nap. She sat beside him long after he fell asleep, not wanting to leave him, needing always and forever to protect him, wishing she could smooth the furrows between his brows—a constant sign that he was never fully free from pain.

Yet Jason had an indomitable spirit. He never complained. He was a warm and loving child. Intelligent, even-tempered, so easy to please. Paige was thankful for that, since she didn’t have the means to give him much. What Jason lacked in material things, she was determined to make up for with her love.

Hearing the tap on her front door reminded Paige that she was running late. She wouldn’t have time to change into something more businesslike for work. Fortunately, she was employed at a call center for a financial collection agency. Since her interactions with people were over the phone, it didn’t matter if she wore the jeans she had on, although she preferred not to. She took another moment to tuck the blanket more snugly around her little boy and place a kiss on his brow.

Opening the door, she welcomed her silver-haired neighbor. “Hello, Mrs. Bennett. How’s Mr. Bennett’s arthritis today?”

“He’s doing well. Thank you for asking.”

Paige was immensely grateful to Mrs. Bennett for her willingness to take care of Jason while Paige was at work. She felt guilty that Mrs. Bennett wouldn’t accept any payment, but it was also a relief that she didn’t have to stretch her limited funds.

Mrs. Bennett glanced around. “Is our little man in his room reading?”

Paige shook her head and opened the hall closet. “He’s sleeping. It was a hard day for him.”

As Paige put on her coat, Mrs. Bennett placed a hand lightly on her arm. Concern infused her voice and clouded her eyes as she asked, “How did it go at the hospital this morning?”

The simple question threatened Paige’s self-control. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before responding in a shaky voice, “Not well.”

Mrs. Bennett tightened her grip on Paige’s arm. “What did the oncologist say?”

Paige shook her head. “I have to get to work. I can’t go into it now.”

Mrs. Bennett pulled Paige into a comforting hug. “Okay, dear. Go to work. When you come home, I’ll make us a nice pot of tea and we’ll talk.”

* * *

WHAT WAS IT about the holidays, Daniel Kinsley wondered as he returned to his desk, that seemed to bring out the worst in people?

He was glad he had some time to spare before his next appointment. His meeting with Gloria Farnsworth had put him in a miserable mood. He dropped heavily into his chair and swung it around to stare out the window. Across the street, a billboard displaying a Norman Rockwell–style scene seemed to mock him. It showed a cheerful, ruddy-faced Santa distributing brightly wrapped gifts to an elegantly dressed and ridiculously happy family. The husband clasped his wife’s hand affectionately, and the model-perfect woman stroked the blonde curls of a little girl in a red velvet dress. Daniel snorted. Did anyone really live like that? Not in his experience.

He thought of his own parents and their respectful, polite relationship. When was the last time he’d seen his parents touch? For that matter, his mother’s obligatory cheek kisses aside, he couldn’t recall his parents ever touching him with affection. They never argued. They never fought. But he also wasn’t sure they actually loved each other. A sad statement, especially after forty-three years of marriage.

It didn’t help his mood to remember that he’d agreed to spend more than a week with them in Newport over the holidays. He knew there’d be no Christmas cheer in that. At times he questioned why his parents stayed together. Then again, maybe they had it right. No love, no pain. Not wanting to dwell on it, he allowed his thoughts to come full circle to Gloria Farnsworth.

Daniel turned away from the window and looked down at the open Farnsworth case file on his desk. He’d been tempted to tell Gloria to find another lawyer. But would that really have accomplished anything? More than half his cases disgusted him in one way or another. Okay, maybe none quite as much as the Farnsworth case, but if he wanted to extricate himself from cases that he found morally reprehensible, where exactly would he draw the line?

He picked up his pen and twirled it between his fingers.

Gloria Farnsworth was definitely at the extreme end. She’d torn a strip off him when he told her she should be satisfied with the spousal support her husband had agreed to—generous in his estimation—and accept that she was on shaky ground trying to get child support for a nineteen-year-old who wasn’t attending school and didn’t have a job. Gloria had demanded to know under what conditions she would be entitled. And fool that he was, he’d treated her like a rational person and explained some of the circumstances under which case law might entitle her to child support. He never would’ve imagined that she’d jump on one of the alternatives and willingly label her own son mentally disabled for the sake of gouging more money out of her soon-to-be-ex.

It was repugnant. Daniel knew it wouldn’t hold up in court—no expert witness would testify to it—but things probably wouldn’t come to that. Having met the husband on a couple of occasions, he sensed that the man cared about his child. Daniel was quite certain he’d settle rather than subject his son to the pain and humiliation of being questioned in court about his mental capacity.

Maybe Daniel should tell Gloria Farnsworth to take a long hike off a short— Whoa! She’d really gotten to him. In more polite terms, he would ask her to hire another lawyer. He refused to be party to what essentially amounted to fraud.

He straightened the papers, closed the file folder and tossed his pen on top.

With his parents’ loveless marriage, plus the hostile family disputes he witnessed at work, it was hardly surprising that he was still single at thirty-six.

Why couldn’t people be civil to one another? As an idealistic law student, he’d chosen family law because he wanted to help people, yet his caseload was dominated by nasty divorce and custody battles. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t helped anyone in a long time in any way other than to better their financial circumstances or inflict hardship and pain on their spouses. It was a bitter disappointment to see how people who’d supposedly once loved each other and been committed to each other ended up.

Yes, he told himself again, maybe his parents had it right, after all.

Selena, his executive assistant, interrupted his thoughts, calling to announce his next appointment—probably a good thing, as he was getting more and more depressed. Checking his schedule, he felt his mood lighten. This meeting would be a nice antithesis to his day so far.

He rose as Selena escorted a plainly dressed, middle-aged woman into his office. “Ms. Andrews, I’m Daniel Kinsley.” He extended a hand in greeting. “Would you like a coffee? Some water?”

“Call me Laura, please,” she said, shaking his hand, “and no. I’m fine, thank you.”

Daniel signaled to Selena that she could leave and offered Laura Andrews a seat.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Laura began.

“The pleasure is mine. Your organization has a stellar reputation, and so do you as its executive director.”

“All of us at the Wish I May Foundation believe wholeheartedly in what we do, and we work very hard for our program’s children and their families. Yet we always have more families in need than we have sponsors, especially at this time of year. I can assure you that if your firm sponsors a child, you won’t regret it. All our sponsors tell us how much it means to them to make a difference in a young person’s life.”

“What’s involved in sponsorship?”

“It’s straightforward. You’d be given information on a chronically ill child and that child’s family and Christmas wish list. You’ll find that their wishes, for the most part, are very basic. Winter clothing, books, some small toys.” Laura’s smile conveyed sadness rather than pleasure. “Basic because these families often endure hardships that extend well beyond the illness of the child. We encourage sponsors to consider doing something extra for the child, if they can.” Daniel thought he saw a mischievous glint in her eye. “A trip to Walt Disney World, perhaps, or a PlayStation gaming system.”

It didn’t take Daniel long to commit his firm.

“All that’s left is to decide on the family you’ll be sponsoring.” Laura reached into her bag and pulled out a folder. Flipping through the papers, she finally drew out two sheets.

“Problem?” Daniel asked when Laura continued to scrutinize the two pages.

“Hmm? No. Not really.” She glanced up. “It’s just that I know both these families personally, and I’m having a hard time choosing between them.” She held out both sheets. “Here. Why don’t you decide?”

Daniel read the pages and examined the photographs at the top of each. Choosing between the two children and their families was impossible. Finally, coming to the only decision he could, he set the pages on his desk and looked up at Laura. Her eyes were focused on him, and a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. Her expression made him think that he’d been masterfully manipulated. In this case, he didn’t mind. “You’re very good at your job,” he acknowledged.

She gave a slight nod, and her smile remained in place. “I do my best.”

Daniel knew that when he shared the children’s stories with his partners, he’d be able to raise the needed money for each of them, including enough for some nice extras. “We’ll sponsor them both,” he said.

For the first time in months—no, years—he felt he was doing something worthwhile. And it had nothing to do with the law.

CHAPTER TWO

IT MIGHT HAVE been a blessing, Paige mused as she unlocked her door that evening. Nearly every call she’d made at work had ended with the recipients arguing that they didn’t owe the money. In a few cases, they’d turned their anger on her. Although unpleasant, it kept her mind—at least briefly—off her own troubles. She’d worked late but was grateful for the extra hours. She could barely make ends meet, even without factoring in Jason’s medical expenses not covered by her insurance or any indulgences for Christmas.

Despite her worries, she smiled as she entered her living room. Louise Bennett had been true to her word. A teapot covered in a quilted cozy sat on the coffee table. Mrs. Bennett reclined on the sofa, her hands folded tidily on her lap, her head drooping forward in sleep. She snored softly.

Paige nudged her gently. “Mrs. Bennett. I’m home.”

Mrs. Bennett’s head jerked up, and a hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my goodness. I must’ve fallen asleep.” She smoothed her short, wavy hair. “Sit down, honey. I’ve made our tea.” She lifted the cozy and tested the temperature of the pot to make sure the tea was still warm.

“I appreciate that, but it’s quite late. You should go home.”

“Nonsense!” She waved dismissively. “I said we’d talk when you got home, and we will. You shouldn’t keep things bottled up inside.”

“Mrs. Bennett...”

“We’re going to talk,” Mrs. Bennett declared emphatically.

Paige realized it would be useless to argue. “All right. Let me check on Jason first.”

She opened his bedroom door quietly. In the glow of the nightlight, she could see her little boy snuggled in his blanket. His arms were wrapped around his teddy bear, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly parted. She heard his even breathing. Satisfied that he was sleeping peacefully, she closed his door.

Mrs. Bennett was pouring their tea when Paige rejoined her. “Go ahead, dear. Tell me what happened,” she said.

“Oh, Mrs. Bennett. It’s awful,” Paige began. “Jason’s tumor has recurred since his last checkup a year ago. His oncologist, he...he believes Jason has less than a year left. He...” Paige dropped her head into her hands and struggled to hold back the tears. Mrs. Bennett folded Paige in her arms and held her tightly as Paige’s body shook in despair.

When the tears changed into dry, hitching gasps, Paige pulled back and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. Accepting the tissue Mrs. Bennett offered, she blew her nose and fought to collect herself. “The doctor...he feels Jason’s only chance now is surgery to remove the tumor. But even if I could afford it...” She choked back a sob. “The tumor’s too big right now, and the risks are significant. His chances of survival are...low.”

Mrs. Bennett’s eyes filled with tears, too. “I know it’s hard. But think about all the challenges he’s already overcome.”

Paige raised anguished eyes to Mrs. Bennett’s.

“Wasn’t Jason just three when he was first diagnosed? And didn’t you both get through it, despite his father deserting you?” When Paige was about to interrupt, Mrs. Bennett raised her hand. “I know what you’re going to say in his defense. ‘It wasn’t that simple.’ But let’s face it. He abandoned you. You and Jason were both strong and determined, and you made it through. Then the tumor came back.”

The horrific day when Paige learned the tumor had recurred the first time was indelibly etched in her mind, as today would be. “Yes, it came back five months later.”

“And?”

“And...” Paige said in a whisper, “Jason underwent treatment and made it through again.”

“Twice you’ve beaten it. Twice. Can’t you believe you can beat it again? And this time for good?”

“I’d like to think so, but I don’t know.” Paige shook her head. “I just don’t know.”

“What did the doctor say about treatment?”

“Jason has to undergo aggressive treatment again.” She tried to stay composed, but the tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “The oncologist is recommending a new cancer drug that’s still in the clinical trial stage. It specifically targets the cancer cells to shrink the tumor so they can do the surgery. With the size of the tumor now, surgery isn’t an option. The drugs are going to make Jason very sick, just like the last time. How much can he take?” Paige broke down again.

“There, there,” Mrs. Bennett soothed. “As much as he needs to.”

“But Christmas... He’ll be going through the worst of it at Christmas. And this might be his last...” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced at his bedroom door. “With the limitations on my healthcare plan, I have no idea how I’ll handle the medical expenses, let alone give him a special Christmas.”

“If you need to work more hours, it’s no trouble for me to watch Jason. And what about one of those charities that helps people with sick kids?”

Things might have been tight, but Paige had always managed. She knew there were many needy, deserving people who relied on the generosity of the more fortunate, but she didn’t feel comfortable with receiving charity. She thought of her ex-husband, and her resolve grew. It was pride speaking as she said, “Jason is my responsibility.”

“But there are organizations that help parents make sick kids’ Christmas wishes come true. That’s all I’m talking about.”

Paige relented a little. “Oh, yes, of course. But I’ve also heard they have long waiting lists. This close to Christmas, they probably have more families than they can handle.”

Mrs. Bennett patted Paige’s hand. “Leave it with me. Let me look into it for you.” Her voice softened. “Dear...?”

When Paige’s eyes met hers again, Mrs. Bennett continued. “Have you told your mother?”

Paige’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, good heavens, no.”

“Now, Paige. You have to tell her, especially if...” She left the sentence unfinished, but Paige understood. Her parents might have limited time to see Jason.

Paige rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. Mom already has so much to cope with. Dad’s not doing well. His Alzheimer’s is progressing. Mom has her hands full just dealing with day-to-day living.”

Mrs. Bennett nodded sadly. “But do you really think your mother would want you to keep this from her?”

“No.” Paige exhaled. “No, I don’t.” She had no siblings, so Jason was their only grandchild. She had to tell them.

All of a sudden, she felt impossibly weary but somewhat steadier. “Thank you for talking this through with me. It’s helped a lot. Now we both need to get some sleep.”

When Mrs. Bennett rose to clear the tea neither of them had drunk, Paige stopped her. “Please don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it.” When Mrs. Bennett hesitated, Paige added, “Tomorrow. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

Still, when Paige closed and locked the door behind her neighbor, she went about the task of clearing up. She was exhausted, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Even mindless tasks were a distraction, and preferable to lying in bed with sleep eluding her and worries crowding her mind.

* * *

OVER THE COURSE of a long, sleepless night, Paige decided that not only did she have to tell her mother, she needed to do it sooner rather than later. If she didn’t, her mother—understandably—would never forgive her. She had a right to know. The question was how she should go about it...

Paige tried to be as cheerful as possible as she made Jason breakfast and helped him get ready for school.

As they were saying good-bye on the steps of his school building, Jason looked up at her, his face solemn, and asked, “Are you okay, Mom?”

She was quick to assure him, “Of course, sweetheart.”

He studied her carefully, his eyes mature beyond his years, and she wondered if he could sense that she was lying to him for the first time in his life.

“Okay.” He scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the concrete step. “It’ll be like before, won’t it?”

Paige knew he was referring to his treatment. At least in this, she could be honest. “I’m not sure, but I think so.” She recognized every expression, every nuance of his face. “Your head hurts, doesn’t it, sweetie?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but it’s okay, Mom.”

“Oh, baby. Come here.” She opened her arms. He threw his small body against hers, and she hugged him fiercely.

They held on to each other for a while. Then Paige kissed Jason good-bye and watched him walk up the stairs, open the door and disappear inside the school. Only when he was completely out of sight did her legs buckle. She crumpled to the steps. Burying her face in her hands, she let the sobs burst forth.

* * *

PAIGE DIDN’T GO straight home. She couldn’t stand the thought of being in the empty apartment. As she was on the evening shift this week, she wasn’t due at work until seven. She walked along the town’s cobblestone streets. She sat on a bench in the square and watched the coal-black squirrels scurry over the light dusting of snow, foraging for food. Finally, she picked up some groceries and headed home.

After putting the groceries away, she called her parents in Great Barrington, where they’d retired years ago. “Mom, it’s me.”

“Paige. How are you?”

Paige evaded the question and hoped her mother wouldn’t notice. Before she broached the reason for her call, she wanted to see how her mother was holding up. “Is Dad having a good day?”

“He’s keeping me on my toes, as usual. Always up to something. He decided he wants to build a bird feeder.”

“But Mom—”

“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry. I’m not letting him anywhere near power tools. They’re long gone. I bought him a balsa-wood kit that he can assemble. The pieces are precut, and all he needs is children’s glue.” She chuckled. “You should see him. He’s having a grand time! That’s what counts.”

Paige smiled through her tears. Her mother was sixty-eight now, her father eleven years her senior. Her father was the only man her mother had ever loved. They’d enjoyed a good life, and a long and loving marriage. In two years, they would be celebrating their fiftieth anniversary. But knowing that her strong, intelligent, capable father had been reduced to relying almost entirely on her mother tore Paige apart. She had enormous respect for the way her mother was coping.

“Are you still there, Paige?”

“Yes, Mom.” Paige realized she couldn’t break the news to her mother over the phone. She’d somehow have to find the time—and the money—to take the train. “Mom, I wanted to let you know I’m coming for a visit. I want to see you and Dad.”

Her mother’s voice brightened. “That’s wonderful! When are you coming?”

Paige felt remorseful hearing her mother sound so happy. Her heart would break when she learned the reason for Paige’s impromptu visit. Why hadn’t she thought of visiting her parents with Jason weeks ago, when they could’ve had a happy reunion? Jason loved his grandparents dearly and was so sweet with his Gramps—so patient and kind. “I’m not sure, Mom. I’ll have to check my work schedule. I’ll call you back and let you know. But it’ll be soon.”

“That’s wonderful,” her mother repeated. “Your father will be very happy to see you.”

Paige doubted it, since the last couple of times she’d visited, he hadn’t remembered her at all.

“We look forward to seeing Jason, too.”

Paige paused. She considered taking Jason with her. Under the circumstances, it wasn’t a good idea. She anticipated the discussion with her mother would be a difficult one, and she didn’t want Jason to see either of them break down. “No, Mom. Jason won’t be coming with me.” Paige pulled the elastic from her ponytail and shook her hair loose. “Um...he can’t miss school right now,” she improvised. “And I’m scheduled to work some hours over the next couple of weekends.”

She felt relief when she heard someone at her door. It gave her an excuse to end the conversation. “I need to get the door, Mom. I’ll call you again soon.” They said their good-byes, and Paige went to open the door.

Chelsea Owens, her upstairs neighbor, stood in the hallway, uncharacteristically subdued, her eyes rimmed in red, her lower lip quivering. “Chelsea, what’s—”

Before Paige could finish, she was smothered in a powerful embrace. To her shock, Chelsea started to cry, and Paige stroked her back reassuringly. “Hey, what’s up?”

Chelsea pushed away, ran her fingers through her spiky black hair and tried to speak through an attack of hiccups. “Me? What’s up with me?” She began crying again. “Mrs. Bennett...” She clapped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were huge. She bent forward to peer at Jason’s door. “He’s...he’s not...”

She pointed repeatedly toward his room.

Understanding, Paige sighed heavily. “No. He’s not home. He’s at school. Mrs. Bennett told you.”

Chelsea sniffled and swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “I’m sooooo sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

Paige gestured for her to come in and closed the door. Chelsea stepped into the small living room and collapsed on the sofa. “Jason is such a wonderful kid. This is so unfair.”

Paige dropped down beside her. She’d had the better part of a day to come to terms with it and simply couldn’t. “Yeah. It really is.”

“Is there anything I can do? Anything at all? Just say the word.”

“I appreciate it. All I ask is please don’t fall apart in front of Jason. He’s already been through this twice. As hard as it was on him, he’s coping, thinking he’ll be through it again in a few months.”

Chelsea flopped back on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. “Poor kid. I mean, I didn’t know you back then, but I can’t imagine how he does it. How you both do it.” She turned to Paige. “And your folks. How did they take it?”

Paige rubbed her forehead where a throb was intensifying. “I haven’t told them yet. I was just on the phone with Mom. I was going to tell her, but then she went on about Dad, and I couldn’t.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m planning to go and see them instead.” She leaned forward to fidget with the decorative bowl on the coffee table. “If I can get the time off work. And put aside the train fare. I’m sure Mrs. Bennett won’t mind taking care of Jason for a few days.” Tears gathered in Paige’s eyes, and she reached for the box of tissues on the end table. “I couldn’t tell my mother on the phone. It’s not as if she can turn to Dad for comfort. I just couldn’t do it.”

Chelsea straightened. “Wait! I’ll drive you.”

“I appreciate the offer, but no, I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Then take my car.”

“I can’t do that, either. You need it to get to work.”

Chelsea shook her head. “Nah. I’ll schedule my shifts at the art gallery so they’re the same as Joel’s. You remember me telling you about Joel? He’s the cute events coordinator at work. I’ll have him pick me up. That way, I can manage without my car for a few days. You need it—so use it. It’ll be cheaper and easier for you.” Chelsea smiled. “Besides, that’ll give me a chance to spend time with Joel!”

Yes, it would be cheaper. More importantly, Paige could set her own schedule, reduce the travel time and get home to Jason faster. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“No, not at all. Honestly, it’s the least I can do.”

“It’s very generous of you, Chels. Thank you.”

* * *

THE NEXT FEW days passed quickly. Paige arranged for the time off, and she was working double shifts to make up for it. Jason also had a number of doctors’ appointments and tests in preparation for the start of his treatments, so he was missing school. Paige set up a journal—as she first had when Jason was three—to track his temperature, blood pressure and general well-being against his treatment schedule. She knew it would get progressively harder for Jason as his treatment cycle progressed, and she wanted to make sure she could accurately discuss his reaction to the drugs with his doctors.

The appointments weren’t easy for Jason, but he was very brave. The strain was wearing on Paige, though. She let herself into their apartment after a long day at work, thankful they were on the ground floor of the small three-story walk-up. She was tired and worried.

Mrs. Bennett greeted her excitedly. “Go say hello to Jason and hurry back, dear. I have good news for you.”

Paige thought she could use some good news as she checked on Jason doing his homework. She spent a few minutes chatting with him, then returned to the living room. “I’ve found an organization that should be able to help,” Mrs. Bennett announced.

“Sorry. What?”

“A charitable organization that can help you and Jason.”

With so much else on her mind, Paige had forgotten their conversation. Remembering now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to pursue it. Not only because she didn’t feel comfortable with charity, but because she knew there’d be an application process. It would mean more time and effort for her, with no guarantees. “What organization?”

“The Wish I May Foundation. It’s wonderful! They make Christmas dreams come true for sick kids. Their mission is to help families in situations like yours.”

Although not convinced, Paige agreed to speak to the organization’s executive director.

“Her name is Laura Andrews. What harm is there in talking with her?” Mrs. Bennett asked.

It wasn’t at the top of Paige’s list of priorities, but since she’d promised Mrs. Bennett that she’d call Laura, she made time for it the next day.

Paige immediately liked Laura. Laura didn’t cause her to feel inadequate or as if she was unable to care for her own child. Just the opposite. Laura gave her a sense of pride in what she’d accomplished as a single mother. Laura also shared stories of children who’d overcome equally dire illnesses, leaving Paige with a glimmer of hope.

“All you have to do is send me a picture of Jason and a list of the things he’d like for Christmas. I’ll take care of the rest,” Laura assured Paige. “But please do it quickly.”

Shortly after they hung up, Paige emailed Laura a picture of Jason, with a promise to get his Christmas list to her soon. For the first time since Jason’s diagnosis, Paige felt encouraged.

* * *

LAURA WAS IMPRESSED by Paige’s resilience and commitment to her son. She was deeply touched by the small family’s plight. Despite the number of people Laura still had on her waiting list, she couldn’t turn Paige down. Ignoring all the obstacles she knew she’d have to overcome, she promised Paige the Foundation would ensure that Jason’s Christmas wishes were fulfilled.

It meant that Laura now faced a significant challenge—to find a sponsor for Jason, with other families still needing sponsors. She’d just have to work extra-hard. She sat at her desk, staring at the image of the tousle-haired little boy grinning at her from the computer screen, when her phone rang.

“It’s Daniel Kinsley, Laura. How are you?”

“Fine, Daniel.” Laura felt a smile spread across her face. God works in mysterious ways, she thought, and gave silent thanks.

“We’ve raised enough money for everything on both kids’ lists and then some.”

“That’s terrific, Daniel! Two very deserving families will be ecstatic.”

“It’s been my pleasure. It was no trouble shopping for the families.”

Laura knew Daniel was a successful lawyer, a managing partner with his firm. She would never have expected him to do the shopping himself. Her smile broadened. “The families will be grateful.”

“I won’t keep you, Laura. I just need to know where I should send the packages.”

She gave him the address for the Foundation’s warehouse, then tested the waters. “Ah, Daniel? I just received a last-minute request for a brave little boy in dire need. With our program already in full gear for Christmas, I don’t have another company to turn to. I realize it’s asking a lot, but would your firm be willing to sponsor one more child?”

* * *

DANIEL DIDN’T THINK his partners would be enthusiastic about contributing more money. He’d pushed their generosity to the limit with the two families they were sponsoring, especially since he’d made sure they’d gone well above what was requested. No, he couldn’t commit his firm to more.

Laura rushed on before he could decline. “How about if I email you Jason’s picture and his story? Then decide.”

He didn’t see how he could refuse without sounding rude. Besides, if he’d learned one thing about Laura during their brief interactions, it was that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. In fact, he could hear her nails tapping on the keyboard as they spoke. He remembered their initial meeting, and how she’d good-naturedly maneuvered him into sponsoring two families instead of one. He sighed. She was good at her job, and he couldn’t fault her for that. “Okay. Send it to me.”

“Thanks again, Daniel. Please don’t take too long to think about it. Time’s running out...especially for Jason.”

Daniel opened Laura’s email and then the attachments. Reading Jason’s story, he ached for both the boy and his mother. They lived in Camden Falls, a town he hadn’t heard of. According to the report, it was just outside Springfield, Massachusetts, less than an hour from his office in Hartford. The brief overview told him that the mother was single and doing her best to take care of her very sick child. Daniel sat in front of his computer monitor, staring at the little boy who’d been through so much in his short life and—miraculously—was still able to grin. Jason’s blue eyes seemed to gaze directly into his.

Daniel wasn’t going back to his partners for more money. But little Jason would have everything he wanted for Christmas. Daniel would see to it—personally.

CHAPTER THREE

PAIGE WORKED EXTRA hours for a week straight, since she’d traded shifts with a colleague so she could take a few days off to visit her parents. She tried to save her vacation days to accommodate Jason’s medical appointments, and she didn’t want him to be without her over the weekend, either. She hated to leave him, but things were hard enough for Jason as it was; she didn’t want him overhearing their conversations, easily done in her parents’ small bungalow.

As they’d agreed, Paige borrowed Chelsea’s ancient silver Honda Accord for the drive to Great Barrington. The weather forecast concerned her. An accumulation of wet, heavy snow was expected, but she didn’t have much choice. Between her work schedule and Jason’s first treatment, these three days were the only real opportunity she had.

Jason was staying with Mrs. Bennett—a great adventure for him. Other than his visits to the hospital, it was the first time he’d be away from home without her. Chelsea had offered to take him to the park, promising they’d make a snowman if there was enough snow. To prove that she was serious, she’d bought carrots, a small bag of coal and even a toy pipe. Mr. Weatherly, their next-door neighbor, also offered to spend some time with him.

Paige drove through a few intense snow squalls, clinging white-knuckled to the steering wheel. She thought about stopping for a coffee but feared the storm would only get worse. She didn’t want to risk not being able to get to Great Barrington that afternoon. She drove on and hoped for the best.

Fortunately, the squalls were localized and short. She made it to Great Barrington without incident. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she pulled up outside her parents’ house.

Her parents adored the little bungalow, with its board-and-batten exterior stained a pale blue-gray and the shutters and trim painted a sunflower yellow. She remembered the excitement in her mother’s voice when her parents had first seen the house. Her mother had said it reminded her of a bright summer sky. Even in the dreary twilight, the house glowed with warmth and welcome.

Her mother loved to tend the gardens on either side of the porch steps. In the summer, ever-blooming annuals crowded the small space with a riot of colors. Now the gardens were cut back and neatly edged, laid to rest for the winter. With Christmas fast approaching, the house was decorated for the holidays. As a child, Paige had loved that she was the envy of all her friends at Christmastime because their house was always the brightest and most cheerful in the neighborhood.

Feeling nostalgic, Paige grabbed her overnight bag from the Accord’s trunk, stood beside the car and inhaled deeply. From the familiar subtle, smoky scent, she knew her mother had a fire going in the fireplace. She mounted the three short steps to the porch, and the muffled strains of Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” drifted out to her.

The glossy red door, adorned with a wreath of holly, was framed by a garland entwined with twinkling white fairy lights. Pewter-gray urns stood on either side of the door, filled with evergreen boughs, birch branches and twigs laden with red berries.

Despite her father’s illness, joy and love emanated from the simple little house.

Paige felt guilty about bringing sadness to her parents’ door, especially at this time of year. How was she going to do this? For once, her father’s loss of memory might be a blessing, if it spared him the cruelty of the news she had to impart.

Now that she was here, she was terrified of the impact her revelation about Jason’s condition would have on her mother, who’d been so eager for Paige to visit. In a few short hours, she’d be breaking her mother’s heart.

Paige took another fortifying breath and let herself in. Almost immediately, a sheltie scrambled out of a room on the right, bounded over to Paige and took little leaps all around her in greeting. Paige put her bag next to the front door and bent down to scratch the dog. “Hey, Iris. How’re you doing? Have you been a good girl?” Paige was rewarded with an energetic face wash.

The greeting ritual completed, Paige straightened. She brushed some dog hair from her pants, pulled off her boots and simply stood where she was. The combined living/dining area was to her left, the kitchen ahead of her, and a small den and powder room to her right. Pretty Christmas touches were everywhere—the poinsettia on the hall table beside a photograph of her, Jason and her parents, the mistletoe hung from a chandelier, and a plastic snowman they’d had since she was a child, which stood as a friendly sentinel in a corner of the hallway.

From her vantage point, she could see the Christmas tree in the living room with its bright decorations and more flickering lights, a half dozen neatly wrapped packages beneath it. A miniature tree, no more than eight inches high, with a dusting of fake snow, sat on the coffee table beside a dish of sugar cookies.

Although the fireplace was out of Paige’s sight, she could hear the logs crackling, smell the rich aroma of applewood and see the dancing reflections of the flames.

Just as she had when Paige was a child, her mother made every occasion special. All of a sudden, Paige had an overwhelming need to be held by her. She took a few steps forward, the dog at her heels. “Mom! I’m here.”

Charlotte Brooks emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Hi, honey.” Her hair was snow-white, short and stylish. Behind her glasses, her eyes were clear and bright, and the same shade of cornflower blue as her daughter’s. Her face was remarkably unlined for a woman approaching seventy. She wasn’t as tall as Paige but had a slim, youthful figure. She wore neatly pressed black pants and a pale pink sweater. A white apron was tied around her waist.

Love and admiration swelled in Paige’s chest, as they never failed to do whenever she saw her mother.

They hugged, swaying gently together. “It’s so good to see you, Mom.” Paige held on, taking strength from her mother.

When they parted, Charlotte grasped Paige’s shoulders and stepped back. “Let me have a look at you.” After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “What’s wrong, honey?”

“We’ll talk, Mom. But I’d like to see Dad first.”

“He’s in the den. Reading, I think.”

Charlotte followed Paige into the cozy room. There was a fireplace here, too, faced in green marble, with a small fire sputtering in the hearth. The room, paneled in deep, rich oak, had ample bookshelves. There was an upholstered bench seat in the bay window, with forest-green brocade drapes tied back on either side. A large, overstuffed reclining chair was positioned near the hearth.

Her father sat in the chair, his hands linked across his slightly protruding belly, his head bent forward. His chest rose and fell rhythmically with his breathing. A book was splayed open on his lap. Seeing her father like this, still youthful looking and so peaceful, Paige found it even harder to accept his illness.

Iris bolted past Paige and skidded to a stop at her father’s feet, tail thumping against the side of the chair. Paige followed her in and bent down to run a hand along her back. “Watching over Dad while he sleeps, are you?”

Charlotte had moved over to stand beside her husband. It was never lost on Paige that after nearly five decades of marriage, her parents’ love had not only endured but seemed to intensify year after year. With a loving touch, her mother brushed back the still-thick lock of salt-and-pepper hair that had fallen over her father’s forehead. When he stirred, she murmured softly, “Stephen, honey, look who’s here.”

Appearing disoriented, he gazed up at his wife and smiled. “Good morning.” Charlotte didn’t bother to correct him about the time of day. Rather, she took one of his hands in her own, gesturing with the other. “Stephen, it’s Paige.”

Stephen turned his bright smile on his daughter, and Paige’s heart melted as she crouched down so they were eye to eye. “Hi, Dad.”

Confusion flitted across Stephen’s face, but his smile didn’t waver. “Hello, young lady.”

Still uncertain whether he recognized her, Paige reached for his free hand. “How’re you feeling?”

“Oh, just fine, thank you.” His eyes cleared, and Paige held her breath. “You must be the new nurse.”

Charlotte was about to interject, but Paige shook her head. She didn’t want to cause discomfort for either of her parents, or further pain for herself. She spoke quietly with her father for a few minutes about generalities, the weather and a TV show he remembered watching. When it was evident that he was struggling to keep his eyelids from drifting shut again, she rose. By the time her mother replaced the book on the end table next to the chair and tucked a light throw around his lap, he was sound asleep.

Paige kissed his forehead and skimmed her hand over his. With a final longing glance at her father, she accompanied her mother out of the room. Iris gamboled after them to the doorway. There she paused, considered and did a quick shuffle. With a small sigh, she returned to the foot of the easy chair to curl up by her master again.

Paige prepared a pot of coffee while her mother set out mugs, plates, napkins and—despite Paige’s protests—some homemade biscuits.

With their hands joined across the kitchen table, Paige told her mother everything there was to tell. When they finished the first pot of coffee, Charlotte brewed another. Painful as it was for Paige to share her burden, she did feel slightly better. They sat at the table, eyes brimming with tears.

“Honey, what can I do to help?”

“Just be here for me, Mom.”

Charlotte squeezed Paige’s hands. “Have I ever not been?”

On a long breath, Paige turned her hand over and curled her fingers around her mother’s.

“Do you need money?”

Paige heaved a huge sigh. “Of course. But I’ll manage.”

“How much do you need?”

“Mom, you can’t. Where would you get it?”

“Our savings. If need be, we can borrow against the house.”

“Mom, no! You need your savings to live on. And how would you repay a loan? You’re already stretching your retirement benefits as it is.”

Charlotte patted Paige’s hand. “Let me worry about that. Jason is our priority.” She gave her daughter a firm look. “If you need money, you tell me.”

Paige sighed again. “I will, but I can’t let you use your savings or take any equity out of the house.”

“What about Mark? Does he know?”

“No.” Paige realized her answer sounded abrupt, but given how things had ended with her ex-husband four years ago—over Jason’s initial diagnosis—she couldn’t help it. “I can’t see him offering any assistance.”

Charlotte peered at Paige over her glasses. It was the look that had put fear into Paige as a child. “Maybe not. But he is Jason’s father.”

“You remember what happened the first time Jason was ill. Remember, that’s why I decided to trade off child support for sole legal custody. I can’t risk that again, for either of us.”

“But he has a right to know.”

“I’ll think about it.” That was the most Paige was prepared to commit.

* * *

THEY HAD A quiet dinner together, and Paige decided to leave early the next morning. She’d originally planned to stay three days but was anxious to get back to Jason. The weather forecast was also calling for inclement weather the next day.

After breakfast, Paige packed her small bag and stowed it in the trunk of the Honda. Her father was back in the den, in his favorite chair, Iris at his feet, when she went to say good-bye.

“Hi, Dad.” Paige sank down on one knee in front of her father and rewarded the faithful Iris with a scratch behind her ears.

Her father lowered the paper he’d been reading, then gave her a warm, friendly smile. “Well, hello, young lady.”

Paige placed a hand on his knee. “It’s me. Paige.” She needed to try before she left, just to see if he would remember her at all.

“Paige...” He rolled her name around his tongue. “It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?”

Paige continued to smile, but she withdrew her hand. “Yes, it is.”

“Such a lovely name for a lovely young woman.” He looked vague for a moment. “I’ve always favored it, I think.”

Paige felt the sting of tears, lowered her eyelashes and gave her attention to the dog. There was no reason her father should see her pain. When the mist had cleared, she reached into the pocket of her shirt, pulled out a recent school picture of Jason and held it out to him.

Stephen took the picture and examined it for a minute while Paige tried to distract herself by rubbing Iris’s belly. “What a handsome young man,” Stephen said. He shifted his gaze to Paige. “He resembles you.”

She swallowed the sob that bubbled up in her throat. “This is Jason. He’s my son.”

Stephen pursed his lips and nodded decisively. “Yes. I thought so.” He took one last look at the picture before handing it back. “A very handsome boy, as I said. You should be proud.”

Paige swallowed hard again. “You can keep it if you like.”

Stephen lowered his eyes to the picture once more. A smile spread across his face. “I would like that very much. Thank you.”

With a herculean effort, Paige held back her tears. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink, maybe, before I go?”

“How sweet of you to ask.” He glanced at his watch, studied it for a moment while his mouth worked, then looked up again. “It should be time for my walk soon, but a cup of tea would be very nice.”

“I’ll get it for you.” Paige rose. On impulse, she leaned forward and gave her father a hug. He responded to her affection by wrapping one arm around her back, his head just above her shoulder, his mouth near her ear.

Because of the proximity, Paige caught his softly whispered words. “You’re my darling girl, Paige. You are.” When she straightened, the vague look had returned to his eyes.

CHAPTER FOUR

PAIGE WAS RELIEVED that the nasty weather held off during her drive home. Emotionally and physically drained, she didn’t think she was up to coping with treacherous road conditions. A couple of blocks from home, she pulled into a gas station and filled up the Honda. The least she could do was return it to Chelsea with a full tank.

She parked it in Chelsea’s assigned spot, retrieved her overnight bag and headed inside. None too soon, as the first flakes of snow started to fall.

She dropped her bag inside the door to embrace Jason, who rushed into her arms. She held him tight and breathed in the baby powder fragrance of his shampoo. If there was a better feeling than holding her son, she couldn’t imagine it.

Mrs. Bennett joined them by the door. Paige understood the silent support in her eyes and knew she wouldn’t ask how things had gone with Jason in the room. She thanked Mrs. Bennett for taking care of her son.

“No trouble at all, my dear. We enjoyed ourselves. Jason, make sure you show your mother what you’ve been working on.”

Jason did just that after Paige had put her things away. He’d painted a winter scape with a large snowman that looked a lot like Frosty.

“See?” He thrust out a printout of a photo. “It’s the snowman Chelsea and I built!”

Paige examined the photo, then the painting again. The likeness was undeniable. Her son had a remarkable talent. “It’s wonderful,” she said. “You had a nice time while I was gone?”

“Yeah, Chelsea took the picture that I used for the painting,” he replied, but the light in his eyes had dimmed.

Paige stroked his hair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“I was sick, Mom. Like before.”

She immediately placed her palm on his forehead, checking for fever. Since Jason had started his treatments a few days earlier, they were both adjusting to the cyclical swings in his health. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better. Mrs. Bennett took my blood pressure, too. She said it was fine. She wrote it down in your journal.”

Paige looked over the notes in the journal she kept of Jason’s health. With relief, she saw that everything seemed okay now.

He’d always had a hard time immediately after a treatment, especially with the nausea, but got progressively better. She knew from experience that the second week after a treatment was generally good for him. Of course, as the cycle progressed, the effects built up and he felt increasingly worse, particularly right after the treatments. Paige not only accompanied him when the new cancer drug was administered, but tried her best to stay home with him the day or two after, when he was feeling the worst. He was already missing a lot of school because of his various appointments.

She was very grateful for her friends in the building—Chelsea, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, and her next-door neighbor, Mr. Weatherly. She could count on one or another of them to help out if she found herself in a bind.

The reality was that Jason needed her, and her whole world was Jason. Nothing mattered more than making his life easier and taking care of him when he was unwell.

Paige accepted this, and she had no complaints—if only Jason could be healthy again.

* * *

JUST THREE WEEKS before Christmas, and it had been one of those days, Daniel Kinsley thought as he let himself into his house. If his initial consult with a potential new client was any indication, there was another nasty divorce battle brewing. And she was young. In her twenties. She and her husband hadn’t been married a full year!

They were using the standard “irreconcilable differences” argument. Did they even know what that meant in legal terms?

He’d finally gotten rid of Gloria Farnsworth. He’d transferred her case to one of his partners. The firm didn’t want to lose the revenue they could generate if she did take her husband to court and there was a protracted legal battle. But now he had “Farnsworth lite” to contend with.

As dissatisfying as his work continued to be, there was one bright spot for Daniel. It had to do with a little boy named Jason.

Daniel had made his decision to sponsor Jason the day he’d spoken to Laura Andrews, but he hadn’t had a chance to confirm it.

He sent Laura a quick email, letting her know his decision. By the time he’d fixed himself a Crown and Coke, set a fire in the fireplace in his home office and gone back to his laptop, she’d already emailed him a scanned copy of Jason’s handwritten wish list. He chuckled as he printed it.

Daniel perused the list while he sat by the fire and sipped his drink. Much like the lists provided by the other families, Jason’s consisted of basic items—winter clothes, a stuffed dog, a backpack for school, a sketch pad, a New England Patriots cap, a toy train and a book about circuses. Circuses—huh! Daniel remembered his own fascination with circuses when he was a kid, but they were more popular then. It was different now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard of one in the area. He wondered how the kid had developed an interest in circuses and felt a sudden connection with this boy he’d never met.

Daniel was particularly struck by the last item printed neatly at the bottom of the page.

Jason wanted to be a “normal” boy. What would that mean to a kid like him? To be healthy? To have a father?

Daniel stared long and hard at the list and the little boy’s meticulously neat printing. Daniel might not be able to make Jason’s last wish come true, but he resolved to take care of all the others on the list—and more.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY was no better for Daniel. By six-thirty, he’d had enough. After another discussion with his new twenty-something client, he’d hung up the phone, packed his briefcase and left the office. He hadn’t planned to stop at Westfarms Mall. He just wanted to get home, have a light dinner and catch up on his paperwork. But as he was approaching the New Britain Avenue exit off I-84 W, he remembered that he needed refills for his electric shaver. He took the exit, regretting that decision as soon as he saw the packed parking lot. Who said there was anything wrong with the economy? Based on how full the lot was, half the population of Hartford must’ve decided to go shopping.

He hated crowds. That was one of the reasons he tried to avoid malls, especially at this time of year.

Well, he was here. If he could find a parking spot, he might as well brave the crowds. They certainly wouldn’t decrease as the days before Christmas flew by. He reluctantly squeezed his Mercedes coupe into a tight spot between two hulking SUVs. He entered the mall by one of the main doors leading into an atrium. Jewel-toned Christmas lights shone everywhere. Children’s laughter and the occasional wail mingled with the buzz of shoppers, all layered over traditional Christmas music. The smell of greasy fries and overcooked burgers wafted over to him from the nearby food court.

The atrium was filled with people, many of them kids. As he made his way in, he realized why. At the far end of the atrium, a very convincing Santa sat on his throne, surrounded by a half dozen elves. What person in his or her right mind would wear those green outfits with the green-and-black-striped tights and still be able to smile about it?

He couldn’t say what compelled him, but he stopped to watch.

Santa had a little boy who couldn’t have been more than five sitting on his lap. The boy was hunched in on himself and kept glancing with pleading eyes toward his mother at the side of the dais. Daniel felt for the kid. He looked painfully uncomfortable, but the mother seemed oblivious. She was preoccupied with capturing the perfect shot of him with Santa.

Daniel hadn’t noticed how tense he’d become watching the poor kid until he heard his own breath hiss out when the kid was finally allowed to slide off Santa’s lap. Was that how it had been for him when he was a boy?

Daniel was about to move on when he noticed the next kid in line to have an audience with Santa. She was all blonde curls and porcelain skin, and she wore a pretty, frilly dress. She reminded him of the child on the billboard visible from his office window. There was nothing shy about this kid. She clambered up on Santa’s lap, took his face between her tiny hands and placed a smacking kiss—he could have sworn he heard it where he stood—right on Santa’s big nose. As the child spoke intently, she used her pudgy little fingers to count, no doubt enumerating the things she wanted for Christmas. Daniel caught himself grinning. Self-consciously, he forced his lips back into a straight line.

He cast a glance at the girl’s mother. Unlike the previous woman, this one was filled with pride in her daughter. If the look on the mother’s face was any indication, the little girl would get everything she dreamed of for Christmas.

An image of a boy with a mop of blond hair, bright blue eyes and a smattering of freckles came to mind. Daniel thought of what Jason’s Christmas would’ve been like if he hadn’t agreed to sponsor him. He was glad it was a rhetorical question. He’d guarantee the kid wasn’t disappointed.

Forgetting all about his electric shaver refills, Daniel consulted the mall directory and headed to a toy store.

A couple of hours later, carrying numerous shopping bags, he entered a hobby store. He was hopeful he’d be able to tick the toy train off his list, too. Finding the appropriate section, he stacked his bags in an out-of-the-way corner so his hands would be free. He began to examine the various toys neatly arranged on the shelves.

He picked up and examined a locomotive, then a caboose. He was fascinated by the perfectly crafted miniature pieces, but there were so many of them. When he was a child, his parents had encouraged him to play with educational toys. He’d never had anything as frivolous—or as much fun—as a train set. Perhaps because of that, he wanted to make this a special gift for Jason, but he had no idea where to start.

“May I help you?” Daniel nearly jumped when he heard the pleasant, cheerful voice behind him. He carefully replaced the caboose on the shelf and turned to see a lovely dark-skinned young woman with short, springy hair and an eager-to-help expression on her face.

Generally not one to ask for assistance, at this moment he considered the young woman a godsend. “If you know about trains, yes, I beg you to help me!”

“It’s not my specialty, but I’d be happy to see what I can do. Are you interested in a particular piece or a set?”

The kid had asked for a toy train, but Daniel wanted to do more. “A set, I think.” He gave her a grateful smile. “Something special.”

After a brief discussion, the sales associate advised Daniel that the complexity of the set he was considering was beyond her level of expertise and said she’d fetch the owner of the store. With the owner’s assistance, Daniel decided on a deluxe electric train set. He knew it was over the top, but somehow his own childhood’s unfulfilled desire had become entangled with the kid’s wish, and Daniel couldn’t resist. He hoped Jason would be as excited about it as he was.

The challenge was that the set had to be custom manufactured, and the company was already backed up with orders. When Daniel shared Jason’s story with the owner of the shop, the man made a firm commitment that he’d do whatever needed to be done and personally guaranteed that Daniel would have the train set in time for Christmas.

Another hour later and still without the shaver refills, Daniel was loading shopping bags into the trunk of his car. Doing a quick scan of his doors, he was grateful for small blessings that his car appeared to be undamaged. Shopping malls, especially during the hustle and bustle of the holidays, tended to put him in a sour mood. Yet he found his disposition decidedly brighter than it had been when he’d left the office. He paused. Had he ever been this happy and excited about Christmas?

At home, he took all the parcels into a spare bedroom. Despite his growling stomach reminding him that he hadn’t had dinner, he unpacked the gifts. He read labels, examined assembly instructions and realized he felt like a kid himself.

He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to leave for Newport to visit his parents the week before Christmas. At the thought of spending a whole ten days with his family, he nearly shuddered—and immediately felt guilty. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his parents. There just wasn’t any warmth in the relationship. Not like the depiction on the billboard across from his office.

He’d visit his parents. He was too much of a dutiful son not to. He’d spend the weekend, but he’d make excuses and return home before Christmas. That way, he’d be in Hartford to finish shopping for Jason—not that he hadn’t already covered everything on the list—and he’d make the most of the holidays on his own.

CHAPTER FIVE

CHELSEA SAT ON a chair in Paige’s living room, one leg dangling over its arm. She was dressed in her favorite color—black leggings, thick black socks and an oversize black sweater. Jason was sprawled on the carpet, reading a book. Paige was curled up on the sofa, her legs tucked under her. In contrast to Chelsea’s dark, she was light. She wore faded jeans and a white long-sleeved T-shirt, and her blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a high ponytail.

Her friend studied her while munching on a carrot stick. “You look about eighteen, you know, with your perfect skin and that ponytail.”

Paige flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. “I think that’s a stretch, but thanks for the compliment.”

Bobby Helms’s “Jingle Bell Rock” started to play on the radio.

“Can you believe it’s only a couple of weeks until Christmas?” Chelsea exclaimed. “What are you guys doing this year?”

Paige glanced down at her son just as he turned his head and smiled up at her. “Jason and I discussed it. Although it would be great to be with Mom and Dad, we decided to spend Christmas here.”

Jason pushed up into a sitting position and crossed his legs. “Yeah. That way I won’t get as tired, ’cause I’ll need all my energy for my next treatment right after Christmas.”

Paige looked back at Chelsea. “The doctors timed his second treatment as far before the holidays as possible to make sure he’d feel the best he could for Christmas. But it means he’ll get the following one on December 27.”

Chelsea nodded in sympathy. “Bummer about not seeing your grandparents though, huh, Squirt?”

Jason lowered his eyes. “That’s okay. I wanted to, but Gramps doesn’t really remember me most of the time,” he murmured, then brightened. “Besides, we can see you and Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, and Mr. Weatherly! You can all come over, and we can have hot chocolate and play games and stuff!”

Chelsea swung her leg to the floor and shifted in the chair. “Actually, I won’t be here for Christmas. I’m taking Joel to spend the holidays with my parents in North Carolina. Things are getting serious enough that it’s time they met him. We’ll be gone from just before Christmas until the second of January.” Chelsea shrugged apologetically. “Mrs. Bennett mentioned yesterday that they’d be spending Christmas with their daughter, her husband and the grandkids.”

Jason looked crestfallen.

“Sorry, Squirt,” Chelsea said. “At least Mr. Weatherly will be here.”

A tap at the door had Jason scrambling to answer it. As if on cue, Mr. Weatherly stood in the doorway, holding a small plant, its pot wrapped in shiny red paper.

“Well, hello, Mr. Weatherly.” Paige rose to greet her next-door neighbor. Harrison Weatherly was a very proper, middle-aged English gentleman. He was dressed, as always, as though he was off to have tea with the Queen. Today he wore gray tweed pants with an impeccable crease, a perfectly pressed white shirt, a black knit vest and a maroon bow tie. Paige knew he’d never been married and—because a young lady in his youth had broken his heart—he liked to boast that he was a confirmed bachelor. He didn’t have family in the United States. It struck Paige that he seemed lonely. Gardening was his passion, and he made the most of the small outdoor space that came with his ground-floor apartment. Paige had a soft spot in her heart for Mr. Weatherly.

“Hey, Mr. Weatherly,” Chelsea chimed in, waving at him.

“What’s that?” Jason dashed over, peering at the plant.

“This is for you, young master Jason, and for your mother. It’s a miniature spruce, all decked out for Christmas. Here you go.” He handed Jason the small tree, which was decorated with tiny ornaments and a miniature star on top.

“It’s cool!” Jason exclaimed. Catching his mother’s look, he swiftly added, “Thanks.”

Paige stood on her toes and gave Mr. Weatherly a kiss, bringing a bright red stain to his cheeks. “It’s beautiful and very considerate of you. Thank you.”

“I just thought it might be nice on your table. Perhaps as a centerpiece for Christmas dinner.”

“It’ll be perfect! Jason, why don’t you take it over now? Mr. Weatherly, please come in for a cup of tea.”

Mr. Weatherly followed Paige into the apartment and made himself comfortable on the sofa while Jason positioned the little tree in the middle of their dining table.

Paige paused at the doorway to the kitchen. “Speaking of Christmas dinner, we’d love to have you join us.”

Mr. Weatherly smiled broadly. “What a kind invitation, but this year I’m going to New York City. I’ve always wanted to experience New York at Christmas. Attend a Broadway play, see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. I finally decided to do it. I signed up for a New York Christmas excursion. I’m quite excited about it.”

“That’s wonderful,” Paige said, but she shot Chelsea a quick glance and felt sad as she prepared the tea. Christmas was about spending time with loved ones—family and friends. She wondered again if there was any way she and Jason could spend it with her parents, but travel would be hard for him, and her father wasn’t comfortable in places he didn’t recognize. So this Christmas it would be just her and Jason. All the more reason she needed to make it a special one for him.

* * *

DANIEL WAS IN his office on a settlement teleconference call with opposing counsel for one of his clients. They were doing the customary dance, even though they both knew where they’d ultimately end up. It promised to be a long dance. He leaned back in his chair and spun it around to watch the snow falling outside while he listened to the opposing counsel list the multitude of alleged grievances against his client.

Daniel’s gaze rested on the billboard with the Rockwell-like family. He focused on the flawless-looking parents, ostensibly so happy and in love. They seemed to exude tenderness for each other and their child.

It made him think of Jason’s mother. How would she feel, having recently learned of her son’s illness, alone and with obvious financial difficulties? Who would she lean on for support? Was there someone who loved her and would shower her with gifts on Christmas morning? He had no idea who she was, what she did for a living or what her dreams and desires were. But he could guess that her fears would all be concentrated on her son. He was equally certain that she’d be a good mother. The image of the boy in the picture Laura had sent him suggested a happy, well-loved kid.

Daniel’s thoughts kept darting back to Jason’s mother while he half listened to the other lawyer drone on. He’d had enough by the time they finally agreed on the settlement—a settlement he’d been so confident in, he’d already had the agreement drafted.

He turned to his computer and flipped through his contacts as he concluded the call. Rather than hanging up, he dialed another number. After two rings, the call was answered.

“Laura Andrews.”

“It’s Daniel Kinsley, and I’d appreciate your help with something.”

“Sure, Daniel. I’d be happy to assist if I can.”

“I need some information about Jason’s mother.”

A note of apprehension crept into Laura’s voice. “Now, Daniel, that’s against our policies. Most of our families are proud, hard-working people, and they don’t feel good about needing assistance. We assure them that we’ll keep identities confidential.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t need to know her identity. Just a little about her.”

“I don’t understand...”

“It’s nothing sinister. Based on what you told me, I figure she’s unlikely to splurge on anything for herself. It occurred to me that I’d like to get a few things for her, too.”

“That’s very considerate of you. What do you have in mind?”

He chuckled again. “I haven’t got a clue!” Whenever he’d dated a woman during the holidays, invariably the gift of choice had been jewelry. He was well versed in the cut and clarity of diamonds, although he’d always stayed clear of rings. But he didn’t consider jewelry an appropriate gift for this particular woman. “That’s where I need your help, Laura. Can you give me some ideas?”

“Let me think... Yes! I know exactly the types of things she could use.”

Daniel made a list. It shocked him that he was looking forward to doing more shopping.

* * *

PAIGE WAS GRATEFUL that Jason was feeling better after his treatment. It had been his last before Christmas, and they were able to spend a quiet weekend at home. Mr. Weatherly’s gift of a small Christmas tree aside, they had an agreement with their neighbors that they wouldn’t exchange gifts, other than each of them bringing some small toy for Jason, and Jason painting everyone a picture. Since their neighbors were leaving for Christmas over the coming days, they all stopped by Paige and Jason’s apartment to offer holiday greetings. First it was Mr. and Mrs. Bennett from across the hall, Mr. Bennett making a special effort to move around despite his severe arthritis. Next it was Chelsea, brimming with excitement about introducing Joel to her parents.

Sunday morning, Jason was working with his watercolors at the dining room table. Paige sat down beside him, tilting her head to see what he was painting.

The background was a mottled green. The large form in the foreground was mostly filled with a pale burnt-orange wash, leaving some sections white. Jason was working with a fine bristle brush and undiluted black paint. As Paige watched, the form started to take the shape of a tiger—a rather well-executed one.

Where had her son gotten his talent? Neither she nor her ex-husband was artistic, but there was no denying that Jason had a gift. She began to say so when a knock sounded at the door. Jason was reaching over to put his brush down, but Paige laid a hand on his wrist. “You keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll get it.”

“Good morning, Mr. Weatherly,” Paige greeted him. He was dressed as spiffily as usual, with a vest under his houndstooth check jacket, a bow tie and a fedora.

“Hi, Mr. Weatherly!” Jason stuck his paint brush into the mason jar on the table and ran over.

“A merry Christmas to you, Jason.” He handed Jason a package wrapped in gold foil with a big red bow. “Hold on to this until Christmas,” he said with mock sternness. “Don’t open it until then.”

Jason shook the box gently and listened to the slight rattle.

“No trying to guess, either, young man!”

“Okay. And thank you. I’ll go get your gift.” Jason hurried to his room and returned carrying a large envelope, hand-decorated with a Christmas motif, and with Mr. Weatherly’s name beautifully written on the front. “This is for you.” He held the envelope out to Mr. Weatherly.

“Thank you, young man. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait to open this, too. Gifts should be opened on Christmas morning, don’t you think?”

Jason nodded.

“Mr. Weatherly, would you like a cup of tea?” Paige asked.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

He followed Jason to the table, while Paige went into the kitchen. Their conversation drifted in to her as she made the tea.

“This is going to be a tiger, isn’t it?” he asked Jason as he studied his painting.

Jason knelt on his chair and picked up his brush. “Yes. It’s a Bengal tiger.”

“I can see that. Well done. And you’re painting it from your imagination?”

“From my memory! I saw one in a zoo once.”

“You did?”

“Oh, it was a long time ago.” Jason added a few more black stripes to the tiger’s face. “When my dad was still around.”

He nodded. “What made you want to paint it now?”

Jason moistened the tip of his brush again and swirled it lightly over the cake of black paint. He glanced toward the kitchen doorway. Keeping his voice low, he responded. “Every year, at Christmas, I make something for my dad. Something he’d like. He really liked the tiger at the zoo, so I thought I’d paint him a picture of a tiger this year.”

Hearing her son’s words, Paige froze in the doorway, a tray with cups, milk and sugar, a pot of tea and a plate of cookies in her hands. Jason took that moment to glance up again. Their eyes met. Paige moved forward and placed the tea service on the table. She poured three cups of tea, passed Mr. Weatherly his cup, and made hers and Jason’s with a bit of sugar and some milk.

They chatted until Mr. Weatherly finished his tea and rose. “Well, I’d better be off now, since I’m leaving for my trip soon.” He held Jason’s envelope in one hand, tapping it lightly on the palm of the other. “I thank you for this, and I know I’ll love it. Merry Christmas to you both!” He gave each of them a stiff little hug, and they said their good-byes.

Paige cleaned up the tea service before rejoining Jason in the dining room.

She sat at the table, elbows resting on the surface, not quite knowing how to broach the topic of Jason’s painting. “It’s turning out really well,” she began.

“Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled, but he avoided eye contact.

Her heart had been aching from the time she’d heard Jason’s admission to Mr. Weatherly, but fresh pain seared her now. She ran a comforting hand up and down Jason’s back. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about what I heard.”

His eyes darted to hers before he lowered his lashes again. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She took the brush out of his hand, placed it back in the mason jar, then drew him into a hug. “Oh, sweetie. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” As his arms tightened around her waist, she rocked him gently. “I’d like us to talk about it, though.”

He gave her one final squeeze before settling back in his chair, but he remained silent.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jason picked up his brush and fidgeted with it. “I know we’ll probably never see Dad again,” he muttered.

Paige felt the burn of tears.

“It’s no big deal,” he said quickly. He twirled the brush between his fingers. “But every year I make something for Dad. This year, it’s the tiger. Just in case...” He shrugged. “After Christmas, I’ll put it away. I have a shoe box I use for that. Last year I made him a candy dish at school.”

Paige had wondered what had happened to the pretty blue-and-white dish.

“After Christmas, I’ll put the painting of the tiger in the box, too.”

Jason’s eyes shone with some indefinable emotion when he looked up at her, “Then if I do see him again, the presents will all be there for him.”

Paige’s heart simply shattered, but she’d die before she’d let Jason see that. She smoothed his bangs back from his forehead and brushed her lips across his brow. “That’s very thoughtful of you. It’s a beautiful painting. I know your father would love it.”

Jason straightened his shoulders and swirled his brush over the cake of black paint. “Thanks, Mom.” His voice soft, he added, “Maybe someday I will be able to give it to him.”

* * *

DANIEL WAS ASTONISHED to discover that he actually enjoyed shopping for Christmas gifts despite the crowds, noise and general cacophony. He’d even taken care of all the wrapping. Well, not personally. That was beyond his capabilities or, perhaps more accurately, his patience. But he felt good about that, too, because he’d had everything wrapped by one of those charitable gift wrapping services in the mall.

He dropped off all the brightly wrapped packages for Jason and the few for Jason’s mother at the Foundation’s warehouse so they could be delivered the day before Christmas.

The only thing missing was the deluxe electric train set he’d ordered. Two days before Christmas, he called the hobby store’s owner again to follow up on the delivery date.

“I’m so sorry for the delay, Mr. Kinsley, but the manufacturer didn’t realize how popular train sets would be this year.”

“But you told me—”

“I did, and I am a man of my word. I’ve contacted the manufacturer. He’s working around the clock to fill all the orders, even though it’s costing him more money and he likely won’t make a profit on these remaining sets. I know that’s not your concern, but I just want you to appreciate his commitment. He’s promised to deliver all the train sets by Christmas. Yours was one of the last orders placed. Unfortunately, that means it’s also one of the last being manufactured. He’s trying for tomorrow, but if that’s not possible, he will absolutely have it done by Christmas morning.”

Daniel was somewhat reassured, but now he needed another favor from Laura. He knew this one would be a challenge for her. There was no point in delaying the inevitable, so he called her number next.

When she answered the phone, he began, “Laura, I’ve got a problem.”

“Of all the people I know, I’d think you’d be the least likely to have a problem. Not one you can’t resolve, anyway,” Laura teased him.

“See, that’s the thing about assumptions. They’re often wrong.”

Daniel summarized the situation, and the humor went out of Laura’s voice. “I explained our confidentiality provisions before. If I’m not at liberty to give you a name, I certainly can’t give you an address, especially without checking with Jason’s mother.”

“You can’t check with her. I want it to be a surprise for both of them. You should see this train set, Laura! The kid’s going to flip.”

“I really can’t—”

“As for a courier, I’ve already looked into that without any luck. How about one of your staff, then? I really want Jason to have the train set.”

After a brief silence, Laura responded. “I don’t have anyone I could ask. They’re mostly volunteers, and they’ve worked exceptionally long hours this year because of the large number of families needing help. I couldn’t take them away from their families. I’d do it myself, but I promised my parents I’d visit them. I can’t disappoint them.”

“Then I have to do it. I’m a lawyer. That means I have a code of ethics that requires me to respect confidentiality. I just want the kid to have this train set, and there’s nothing I can do to get it earlier. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“All right, Daniel. I’m breaking the rules here. I hope you know this could cost me my job, but you have a compelling argument, and you’re not leaving me much choice.”

“Thank you, Laura! You won’t lose your job. I promise. If anyone gets any ideas about it, I’ll get you the meanest, most tenacious employment lawyer in existence.” He laughed. “Opposing counsel won’t have a chance, but it won’t come to that.”

CHAPTER SIX

THE DAY BEFORE Christmas, Paige felt sluggish and achy. She’d been working long hours and odd shifts so she could take Jason for his various doctors’ appointments. She had her checkbook, her phone and a pile of bills in front of her. Her bank balance had been teetering on the brink of overdraft for weeks now, but with the extra hours she’d worked, she’d been able to keep it in the black.

She slid another bill toward her. She paid it through the automated system and checked her balance—precariously close to zero. She would definitely be dipping into overdraft this week, and she’d barely done any Christmas shopping. Between work and taking care of Jason, Paige had had the chance to buy him only one gift so far. She’d wait until Jason lay down for his nap and call Mrs. Bennett to watch him for a couple of hours before their daughter picked them up. That way she could slip out for a bit and do some shopping.

She glanced up when Jason walked into the kitchen. He was wearing his pale blue pajamas, adorned with Squidward Tentacles, Patrick Star and some of the other characters from his favorite cartoon. He wore furry dog slippers and had his teddy tucked under his arm. He was dragging his feet, a sure sign that he was tired.

Paige got up and went to him. Crouching down, she cupped his cheeks in the palms of her hands. She could see the sheen of perspiration on his face, and touched his forehead lightly, checking his temperature. He had a slight fever. She’d have to make a note of it in his health journal.

“Let’s get you some juice before your nap, okay?”

He nodded sadly.

She poured him a small glass of orange juice, and she held his teddy while he drank it. Ill as he was, he still shuffled over to the sink and put his empty glass in it before reclaiming his teddy. With Paige’s hand on his shoulder, they walked to his bedroom.

Paige tucked him in and lowered his blinds. She sat with him as he read aloud from The Hobbit until his eyelashes fluttered closed and the rhythm of his breathing changed. Paige dropped a kiss on his forehead and turned off his bedside lamp.

She watched him until she was satisfied that he was napping comfortably.

Closing his bedroom door, she started for the kitchen to call Mrs. Bennett. Suddenly, the room swam in front of her, and she leaned heavily on the doorframe to keep from falling. Brushing her hair back with her free hand, she noted that her own forehead was warm, too. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. “Okay. I’m okay,” she whispered. “Just a little tired.”

She pushed away from the doorframe and moved slowly into the living room. Before she went shopping, she’d sit down and rest for a few minutes. She lowered herself gingerly to the sofa and sighed in relief as she rested her head against the cushion. She’d close her eyes for a little while, and she’d be fine.

She bolted up at the pounding behind her temples and winced at the sharp pain that followed it. She grabbed her head with both hands. When she heard the banging again, she realized with a measure of relief that the racket was not in her head but at her door. Disoriented, she checked her watch. It was well over an hour since she’d sat down and closed her eyes.

The knocking resumed. She rose as quickly as her throbbing head would allow, worried that the noise would wake Jason. Groggy, she swayed as she went to answer the door.

Two delivery men stood in the corridor. They held large cartons overflowing with Christmas-wrapped packages.

“Ah...may I help you?” she asked with some confusion.

The younger of the men jiggled the carton he was holding and leaned an edge against the doorframe. He flashed her a crooked smile. “Yes, ma’am. We have some gifts for you.” He jostled the carton again and raised his right knee to balance it on his upper leg. “They’re darn heavy.”

“I don’t understand...”

The two men exchanged a look. It was the other, older man who spoke. “Are you Ms. Summerville?”

“Yes,” Paige replied hesitantly.

“These are for you, from the Wish I May Foundation.”

Paige belatedly recognized the Foundation logos on their jackets and raised a hand to her forehead. “Oh, I’d forgotten. This...” She gestured at the large cartons. “This is all from the Foundation? For us?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“May we come in, please?” the younger man asked again, obviously struggling not to drop his carton.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Paige stood back, opened the door fully and motioned for them to enter. As they did, she snuck into the kitchen to take a couple of painkillers for her headache. When she returned, she was surprised to find not only the two large cartons but also a smaller box of decorations, another box with some nonperishable groceries and a large cooler she assumed was filled with food. A bound Christmas tree leaned against her living room wall, and the two men were busy assembling a tree stand.

With everything else on her mind, she had forgotten about the Wish I May Foundation. Clearly its executive director, Laura, had delivered on her promise. Paige shook her head in amazement at all the boxes in her living room.

“Where would you like your tree?” the older man inquired.

A tree was something else Paige had planned to get that day. Dazed, she looked around the room and pointed to the corner behind the armchair. “Over there, please.”

“Good choice. That way you can see it from your sofa and your dining room.”

“Can I get you some coffee or juice?” Paige offered.

The older man glanced at his partner, who shook his head. “No, thanks. We’re fine.”

They spread out a large sheet to keep the pine needles from getting all over the floor and began unwrapping the tree and setting it up.

The tree was absolutely beautiful! It had to be at least seven feet tall. In the stand, it nearly reached the ceiling.

Finished with the tree, the men gathered up the twine, the packaging for the stand and their tools and moved to the door. “Have a merry Christmas,” they said with cheerful smiles.

“Oh, wait. Just a minute, please.” Paige rushed into the kitchen, returning a moment later, rummaging through her handbag. “Here.” She pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and held it out to the older man. She couldn’t really afford the tip, but they’d taken such care and effort setting up the tree, and it was a blessing to have received so much.

The older man raised both hands, palms out. “That’s very kind, but no, thank you. It’s been our pleasure.” They both wished her a merry Christmas again as they left.

Paige turned and leaned against the closed door. She steepled her fingers and held them in front of her mouth. Her gaze roamed from carton to box to cooler to the Christmas tree. “Oh, my goodness,” she whispered.

Although she felt much better after the nap and the painkillers, she certainly didn’t need to go shopping now. She checked her watch again. Another thirty minutes had passed. Jason usually didn’t nap longer than two hours. She probably had about thirty minutes to get things organized. Her lips trembled as she smiled, and she gave silent thanks to Laura and the Wish I May Foundation.

Unsure of where to start, she looked in on Jason first. He slept peacefully, one arm around his beloved, slightly frayed teddy bear. Paige backed quietly out of his room to get to work. She could hardly wait to see his reaction when he woke up.

Paige put away the food from the cooler first, then unpacked the gifts. She was surprised to discover that, at the bottom of one of the cartons, there were a few presents with her name on the tags.

After the gifts were neatly stacked and the cartons collapsed and stored by the apartment door, she put away the nonperishable food. Just as she finished, Jason padded into the living room. He still wore his pajamas and clutched his teddy tightly to his chest. He looked around the room, his eyes wide. “Mom...?”

Paige held out her hand. When he put his small one in hers, she led him to the tree. “How about we make hot chocolate and decorate our tree?”

His eyes lit up at the mention of hot chocolate before his face turned serious again. “Mom, where did all this come from?”

As much as Paige tried to shelter her son, she knew he was astute enough to understand that they couldn’t afford such luxuries. “Santa?” She tried for levity, knowing he hadn’t believed in Santa for a couple of years.

“Mooom...”

She thought of Laura and improvised. “A wonderful angel.”

The little boy in him prevailed, and a smile spread across his face.

For those precious hours—as they drank hot chocolate, decorated the tree and arranged the presents beneath it—Paige was able to forget about her son’s illness and her financial woes. Jason’s cheerful laughter, something she so seldom heard these days, warmed her right down to her toes.

At the end of the evening, they were curled up on the sofa together, sipping more hot chocolate and watching A Charlie Brown Christmas—one of Jason’s favorite holiday shows. When the closing credits rolled, it was well past his normal bedtime. Paige turned off the television and took their empty mugs into the kitchen. By the time she returned, Jason’s head had drooped to the side, and he was sound asleep. The glow of the Christmas tree lights—the only illumination in the room—gave his face a rosy tint, masking the paleness of his complexion. In sleep, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; a bit of cocoa was smeared on his upper lip. Jason looked so healthy, happy and normal, Paige wanted that moment never to end. He stirred, seeming to grope for his teddy, before his hand fell limply onto his lap again.

Paige lowered herself beside him and watched him breathe. Such a simple thing, really, but to see him do it without strain was its own kind of miracle. She rested a hand on his narrow shoulders. When he stirred again and reached for her, she gathered him in her arms, then lifted him up and carried him into his bedroom.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“MOM? MOM!” JASON stroked Paige’s face.

Despite their late night, Jason was up early on Christmas morning and clearly eager for Paige to wake up, too.

Paige yawned and stretched. She rolled over on her side and tucked one arm under her head. “Good morning, sweetie.” He was already dressed in jeans and his favorite blue sweater.

“Mom! C’mon. It’s Christmas!” He yanked at her other hand. “You have to get up. We have presents to open.”

Paige stifled another yawn and smiled. “Yes. We do.” She thought of the three beautifully wrapped packages with her name on the gift tags. They were entirely unexpected, as Laura hadn’t said anything about gifts for her. She felt a thrill of anticipation. “Go get a glass of milk, and I’ll be out soon.”

By the time Paige entered the living room wearing jeans and a pale yellow shirt, Jason had settled by the tree. There were two glasses of milk on the coffee table, one nearly empty, the other full. She surmised that the full one was for her. How sweet of him.

Jason glanced up as she approached. Scooting around, he tucked his legs under him and sat back on his heels. “Can we open the presents now?”

Paige bent down beside him. “I don’t see why not. But you have to give me a hug first.”

“Yay!” he proclaimed as he threw himself in her arms and briefly buried his face in the crook of her neck.

She stroked his mop of hair as she stood up. “Decide which one you want to start with while I go get a garbage bag for the wrapping paper, okay?”

When she returned, Jason was bubbling with excitement. In no time at all, most of the presents were open and piled around them. Jason had gotten almost everything on his wish list: a sketch pad, winter clothes, a New England Patriots cap, a picture book about circuses, a stuffed dog and a backpack for school. The only thing missing was a toy train, but he didn’t seem to mind. There were too many other exciting gifts he hadn’t even asked for.

“Look, Mom!” Grinning, Jason showed her an electronic tablet. “And this!” He held up a kid-size Patriots jacket that came with the cap.

“I see, sweetie!” She playfully tugged the cap down over his eyes. “Santa’s been good to you, huh?”

Santa had been good to her, too. The packages with her name on them had contained lovely things she would never have spent money on. She’d received a soft-as-a-cloud fleece bathrobe that would replace her well-worn terry-cloth one and would come in handy with the cool winter temperatures. She’d also received a beautiful lilac wool sweater. She assumed Laura must have thought of her and given their sponsor an accurate guess as to her size, since both the bathrobe and sweater were a perfect fit. The third package contained a fancy coffeemaker. She hadn’t had one since she was married. She’d made do with instant. The coffee machine had come with an ample supply of coffees, teas and hot chocolate that would last a long time.

They’d each also received a few small gifts from Paige’s parents.

Now there were only two packages left under the tree: Jason’s gift for Paige, and hers for him. Paige had kept them back on purpose. “Why don’t you open yours first?” she encouraged him.

She didn’t have to ask him twice. Jason pulled the rectangular box toward him and looked up at her. “It’s heavy.”

“Uh-huh.” She knew he was trying to figure out what it was. This was the only gift she’d bought herself. She’d purchased it nearly a month ago, when she got a special customer service bonus from her employer. She had wanted Jason’s present to be special, and she hoped he’d like it, especially after all the other gifts he’d received through the Foundation.

Jason was busy tearing the shiny wrapping paper. He ripped off a piece that revealed the writing on the carton. “Whooaa!” he exclaimed and quickly tore away the rest of the paper. He opened the cardboard container just as quickly and lifted out a wooden artist’s box. Unlatching the top, he examined the paints and pencils and brushes, taking them out and replacing each with great care. Closing the lid, he threw his arms around Paige’s neck.

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