Angel Song (3 page)

“Six years doesn’t have to become seven, Quinn.”

“Save the sermon.” Quinn shifted in the seat as she motioned toward the road once more. “Pull in here. This is my house.”

Jason set the turn signal and tapped the break. “What time do you go into work tomorrow?”

“Five.”

He frowned. “Tell me you mean PM.”

“No, AM. Why?”

The frown contorted to a grimace. His blue eyes darkened a shade or two. “I’ll pick you up and drive you in.” He set the break as they eased to the top of the short driveway.

“But—”

“No arguments.” Jason left the motor running as he slipped from the seat and went around the car to open the passenger-side door for her. “I’ll be back at four forty-five sharp, Quinn.”

“If you insist.” She took his hand and stepped carefully into the snow. The chill seeped through her tennis shoes to numb her toes once more. She really had no other choice than to accept Jason’s offer. It was that or walk to work. And the highway didn’t look all too safe in daylight. She could only imagine the harrowing walk through an icy, pre-dawn dark. She gathered her purse and the to-go containers that held Linsey’s dinner. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded, closing the passenger door and returning to the driver’s side. “See you in the morning.”

Quinn stumbled up the walk, her toes screaming in the damp tennis shoes. She’d have to add boots to the growing list of things she and Linsey needed. Behind her, the SUV’s engine revved as Jason backed from the drive. Taillights winked as he crawled east, turning into a snow-packed driveway across the street and only two houses down.

They were neighbors.

“Mom, look at the snow!” Linsey’s voice drew Quinn’s attention. The child had thrown open the front door and rushed onto the porch. “Can we make a snowman?”

“That depends…” Though her back was strained and Linsey, at five-and-a-half, was much too big to be carried, Quinn dropped her purse and the small backpack and scooped up the child. She smelled of peanut butter and vanilla swirled with a dab of strawberries. Her wavy, copper-red hair was pulled back in a neat braid and her blue eyes danced with mischief. A spattering of freckles dusted her nose. “Have you been a good girl?”

“Very good.” Linsey nodded vigorously. “Mama Cantori says I get a gold star today.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh huh. We made sugar cookies with silver cookie cutters and I got to frost them and shake on the sprinkles.” She pressed a hand to Quinn’s cheek. “They’re pretty, Mom, and I made a special one just for you.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. It’s an angel with wings and everything.” Linsey glanced over her shoulder toward the drive, and her mouth suddenly turned into a frown. “Where’s the car, Mom?”

“It’s at the diner.” Quinn gnawed her lower lip to keep the waterworks from starting up again. “It’s feeling a little sick.”

“Like I was?”

“Kind of.”

“But I’m all better now, so the car will be, too. Right?”

“Right.” Quinn set Linsey down as they entered the kitchen, where Mama Cantori stood at the sink rinsing a baking sheet. It brought back memories of when she was a little girl, and the huge-hearted woman took her in as a foster child. Weeks had turned to months and then years until life with Mama and her generous husband, Lorenzo, was a home Quinn cherished.

Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” drifted from a radio beside the microwave and Mama Cantori hummed along. The velvety voice reminded Quinn of the approaching holiday. How would she buy Linsey’s gifts? The worry was like a sliver embedded under her skin, nagging her. On the counter, steam bubbled from a crock pot. The aroma of carrots and a plump, juicy roast filled the room. Quinn’s appetite roared.

“Oh, I’ll get those.” Quinn rushed to the sink to help with the dishes.

“Nonsense. I’m almost done.” Mama Cantori set the baking sheet in the dish drain to dry and then wiped the counter before untying an apron from her ample hips. “There, done.”

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Quinn placed the bag of to-go cartons in the refrigerator as Linsey pirouetted around the table. Yes, the child was back to her old self, completely healed. “I had some trouble getting the car started.”

“I saw Jason Graves drop you off. Did you run by the church, first?”

“The church?” Quinn’s pulse stuttered. “What church?”

“Landers Hollow Community Church.” She propped her reading glasses atop white hair, woven into a neat bun. “He’s the youth director there.”

“Youth director?” She hesitated. “At the
church
?”

“Of course, but you say it like it’s a bad thing.” Her eyebrows knit together. “Did you fall and bump your head, Quinn? You’re not making a lick of sense.”

“No. I should have put two and two together. I mean, he came into the diner and then he tried to help me with the car. When he couldn’t get the battery to turn over, he offered me a ride. And then he mentioned a Christmas pageant.”

“Yes, the children’s pageant on Christmas Eve.” She shook her head. “It’s such a shame…Mrs. Donaldson in the hospital.”

“Mrs. Donaldson?”

“Never mind.” Mama Cantori waggled her plump fingers. “Are you going to help Jason?”

“Of course not. How could I?”

“How could you, indeed?” Mama’s dark eyes narrowed. “You should consider all the possible ways, Quinn. Jason’s a nice man…a generous man. He’s a good neighbor—always willing to help.” She nodded. “I’m glad he’s finally getting out again—outside of church, that is. What happened to that poor man…” She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, it was beyond awful.”

“What do you mean?”

Mama glanced at the clock. “Oh my, it’s getting late.” She shook her head, pressing a hand to her lips. “I must go start dinner for Lorenzo. He’ll be home from work soon and ravenous, as always.”

“But the roast—”

“I made that for you and Linsey, dear.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Quinn’s eyes filled with tears. There was no end to the elderly woman’s generosity. “One day I’ll pay you back for all the heartache I’ve caused.”

“God has a way of turning heartaches into blessings.” She wrapped a scarf around her head and then gathered her long, wool coat from a hook on the kitchen wall. “I’ll be back in the morning…early, right?”

“Yes, I have the breakfast shift again.” Though waking in the middle of the night was less than appealing, Quinn actually preferred the early shift. She was halfway done with the work before Linsey even woke, and returned home as Linsey finished her day at kindergarten. That left plenty of daylight to spend with her daughter.

Except today, a cluster of heavy, gray clouds stole the sunlight and made three o’clock seem like midnight.

“Mom, can we build a snowman now?”

“We’ll see.” Quinn dipped a spoon into the crock pot and nibbled a chunk of potato. Mmm…delicious. “Say good-bye to Mama Cantori, first.”

“Bye, Mama Cantori.” Linsey flew across the room and into the woman’s outstretched arms. “I love you.”

“Bye, sweetie.” Mama Cantori pressed her lips to Linsey’s copper crown. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

****

Jason heard Quinn’s happy squeals all the way down the street, and the laughter cut like a knife. After two years, it shouldn’t still bother him so deeply…the fact that Denise had left. Who would have thought he’d end up divorced? He couldn’t help but shoulder much of the blame. After all, she’d made her wishes for the future more than clear before they’d exchanged marriage vows. He should have considered every possibility—or lack thereof.

A sense of failure gnawed at him.

Maybe he’d never get over her or the ache that had set up residence in his heart when the doctor gave him the news that carved a direct route to the demise of his marriage and the future he’d so carefully planned—and so desperately longed for.

He’d never have children.

Jason glanced out the living room window. Three houses down floodlights cut through the cloud-covered afternoon. Quinn was busy rolling a snowball across the ground while a little girl stood by her side, watching. The girl’s wavy red hair, a lighter version of Quinn’s, peeked from beneath a knit cap.

When the ball grew large enough, Quinn set it atop two others, making a snowman complete by giving him a smooth, rotund head. She hoisted the child into the air and giggled as together they added eyes, hair crafted from what looked like purple yarn, and a carrot nose. The laughter continued as she set down the child and they commenced dressing the snowman in an oversized floppy straw hat, a red knit scarf, a colorful patchwork vest, and blue mittens propped on the end of his twiggy hands. Then Quinn reached into a knapsack and pulled out a spray can.

Jason couldn’t believe his eyes as she began to paint a pair of galoshes for the snowman’s feet and fat, black buttons across his protruding belly. Finally, she added a black rectangle to the surrounding snow, complete with intricate details, until it took the shape of a sled.

The kid squealed with delight when Quinn offered her a second spray can and lifted her into the air once more. A moment later, Mr. Snowman’s face was graced with a wobbly, crimson smile. A pair of sunglasses propped on the carrot nose completed the snow-loving friend.

Quinn…the word rolled off his tongue. Jason didn’t even know her last name. But, wow, Quinn-whatever-her-last-name-was perfect for helping with the Christmas pageant. If only Jason could convince her.

But she had a past, and apparently whatever it was had left deep wounds and a heaping bowl of self-doubt. He shook his head and stepped back from the window. Somehow, he felt it would be easier to melt the snowcaps in Siberia with a single match than convince her she was just the person he needed.

Jason glanced at the clock, which had inched an hour closer to the deadline for Christmas pageant rehearsals to begin. Without sufficient time to practice, they’d never get the musical ready. Resigned, he wandered to the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee before settling in at the table with the church directory. There had to be someone willing to work with the set design…someone who had a passion for helping kids. If he couldn’t convince Quinn to help create the set then he’d just have to make the best of things without all the fluff. The kids would be disappointed, but that would ease…eventually.

A thorough perusal of the directory failed to unveil anyone new.

He’d have to take on the set design himself. Maybe if all of the parents pitched in just a little bit, they could get it together. He’d promised, and he wouldn’t let the kids down.

Somehow, with God’s help, he’d find a way. There was no turning back now.

4

“I can’t believe you did this.” Quinn tromped across the diner’s parking lot toward her car. “Oh, Jason, you shouldn’t have.”

“You sound angry.” His long strides quickly overtook her and, once past her, he spun to face her, talking as he walked along backwards.

“I’m not…it’s just, I can’t repay you right now—maybe not for several weeks.”

“Who says you have to repay me?”

“I do.” She glared at the raised, white block lettering on unsoiled tires. He hadn’t just splurged on a decent second-hand set; these were the mac-daddy, all-weather treads she’d dreamed of. Little nubs poked from the rubber to indicate the tires had never been used. How had he moved the sedan without soiling the tires—and without her noticing? Even from this distance she smelled new rubber. It reminded her of the bicycle shop Mama and Lorenzo Cantori had owned while she lived with them. “I can’t accept charity.”

“Charity?” Jason shook his head and blew out a breath. “Quinn, I have a friend who’s a mechanic. He came by last night and towed the car to his shop, where he fixed it and then returned it to the lot. He didn’t charge anything for the work.”

“Not even for the tow…or the tires?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you, Jason. Tires are expensive, especially
these
tires. I know…I’ve been following the prices for a while now, searching for a good deal.”

“Well, it seems to me you found one.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. “Look, you can believe whatever you want, Quinn, but I’m telling you the truth. Steve didn’t mind helping out, and the cost was nil.”

Quinn frowned. She’d done it again—let her temper get the best of her. Now she was calling the youth leader a liar. “I’m sorry.”

“You apologize a lot, don’t you?”

“I have to.” A smile tickled her lips. “I jam my foot into my mouth excessively, which precipitates the stream of apologies.”

“Well, I’ll agree with that much.” He opened the driver’s door for her. “Crank it up…see how she sounds.”

Quinn slipped into the seat and inserted the key into the ignition. One turn, and immediately she knew her problems—at least as far as the car went—were solved. The engine rumbled amicably, and she bet the tires would purr just as happily over freshly-plowed roads.

“Mission accomplished.” Jason thumped the car’s hood and then dipped his head through the passenger window, grinning. “I’ll follow you home.”

“On one condition…you come in for dinner.” She pressed the gas pedal and smiled as the engine revved. “It’s the least I can do to say thank you.”

“Well, there is one other thing you could do…”

Quinn froze.
Here it comes—he’s going to guilt me into helping with the Christmas pageant. I knew this was too good to be true.

“And what’s that?”

“Your name.” Jason winked. “It would be nice to know your whole name.”

“Oh.” How many times in one day would God convict her? “It’s Sanders…Quinn Sanders.”

“Hello, Quinn Sanders.” He offered a slight wave along with a smile. “Thanks for the invitation. I’d love to share dinner with you.”

****

“So, how did you happen to begin working at the diner?” Jason took another bite of his sandwich and washed it down with a sip of coffee.

“Linsey and I stopped by there for dinner our first day in town. I saw the sign, asked a few questions, and Gus hired me on the spot.”