Christmas Bells (5 page)

Her smile faded. “You mean you weren't responding to the notice in the church bulletin?”

“Sorry, I wasn't.” He realized then that he actually was sorry. “I'm here on a research assignment. I'm not a member of this parish.”

“That's not a requirement for the job,” the nun piped up.

Just then, a side door opened and a dark-haired boy of about ten strolled in, followed by a girl of around nine with a younger boy, their ginger hair so alike in color and curl that they had to be brother and sister.

“How well do you sight read?” inquired the nun as more children filed in and took their places in the choir seats.

Lucas hesitated, reluctant to deceive the nun or to diminish himself in the eyes of the pretty choir director. “I'm not bad,” he admitted, and before he knew it he was seated at the piano again,
running through scales as the children warmed up, and accompanying them as they sang a few pieces of sacred music suitable for Holy Week. He had expected the children to be all over the staff with their pitch, but they were actually quite good, and Sophia proved to be an energetic and effective teacher, drawing the best out of each young singer.

He forgot about his research project and his dinner date until a few minutes before six, when parents began drifting into the church to pick up their children. Rehearsal ended promptly on the hour, and as the young singers closed their binders, thanked Miss Sophia, and darted off to join their parents, Lucas hastily rose and closed the lid to the keyboard. If he hurried, he could still meet Brynn for supper. He would have to defer his tour of St. Margaret's to another day.

Sophia approached him as he slung the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Well?” she asked, her expression tentative but hopeful. “What did you think?”

“That was actually a lot of fun,” he admitted.

“The job's yours if you want it. We rehearse on Tuesdays and Fridays from four thirty until six, and we sing at the nine o'clock Mass every Sunday morning, and at the afternoon vigil Mass the first Saturday of the month. We also have a few concerts throughout the year for holidays—Christmas, Easter, the usual.”

He knew he was too busy and ought to refuse, but Sophia's smile was fading, telling him he had hesitated too long. “Sure, why not?” he heard himself say. He couldn't bear to turn her down and watch her smile disappear entirely. “I'll see you Tuesday.”

“See you Tuesday,” she echoed, and for a moment he stood there grinning back before he remembered with a jolt that he was expected elsewhere.

He hurried to the law library, composing apologies and inventing excuses for his tardiness. Fortunately, he needed none of them. When he found Brynn at her usual table—laptop open,
books spread around, long, fine blond hair tucked behind her ears as she fixed her gaze alternately upon page and screen—he discovered that she had been so focused on her studies that she had not missed him.

Over supper, he amused Brynn with the story of how he had been coerced into performing for the choir rehearsal, entirely neglecting his research in the process. Without deliberately meaning to do so, he made Sister Winifred the clever mastermind and Sophia a secondary character, scarcely more than the nun's sidekick.

“I can't picture it,” said Brynn, slipping her hand into his as they left the restaurant. “You, playing hymns in a church with a bunch of kids.”

Bewildered, Lucas halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “I love kids. I have four nieces and two nephews, and I'm crazy about them. I think I'm going to enjoy working with the ones at the church.”

“You didn't agree to do it.”

“I did, actually.”

“You can't,” she protested. “Your schedule is much too full to squeeze in a regular commitment like that. Anything that doesn't directly contribute to finishing your degree is a waste of time.”

“I don't agree, and I can manage my schedule.” When Brynn sighed and shook her head, he added, “They need an accompanist, and some of us—” He squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips. “Some of us actually enjoy a break from work now and then. You'll laugh, but I feel like I'd be giving something back to the community.”

She did laugh, but then she kissed him. “You're such a bleeding heart. It's adorable.”

He invited her to their performances, but she always declined, citing dozens of other obligations. He accepted that. The choir was his thing, not hers, and third-year law students were
notoriously busy. Then one Friday in September she surprised him by suggesting that they meet at St. Margaret's after rehearsal and go out to dinner and a concert. He half expected her to cancel at the last minute, but she surprised him anew by arriving in time to observe the last half hour of rehearsal from the third row.

Brynn looked beautiful in a light flowered dress and a little sweater, her long hair held back from her face by a complicated-looking clip and flowing like gold down to her shoulder blades. Lucas proudly introduced her to Father Ryan, Sister Winifred, a few of the kids who were brave and curious enough to want to meet her on their way out, and, of course, Sophia. Everyone was kind and welcoming, but they could not resist embarrassing Lucas by praising his playing well out of proportion to his talent and thanking Brynn for sharing him with them. Brynn endured it with her usual grace and poise, so well that they were halfway to the restaurant before he realized she was upset.

“You never mentioned that Sophia was gorgeous,” Brynn said tightly as they waited at a crosswalk for the light to change.

“Is she?”

The light changed, and she began briskly crossing the street. “You also never mentioned she was young.”

“She's our age, twenty-eight, maybe a year or two younger.”

“Yes, I know that now. You made her sound like she was ready for the geriatric ward.” They reached the opposite curb, where Brynn halted, planted a fist on one hip, and frowned up at him. “I thought she was a nun.”

“Why did you think that?” He might have omitted certain significant details, but he never would have described Sophia that way. “I talked about
Father
Ryan,
Sister
Winifred, and Sophia. I never called her
Sister
Sophia.”

She said nothing for a long moment. “Lucas, should I be jealous?”

“Of course not.” He reached for her hand, but she would not let him take it. “Sophia has a boyfriend.”

Brynn's long, golden hair spun out in a fan as she turned and strode quickly down the sidewalk away from him. After a moment, he hurried to catch up with her. “I'm sorry,” he said. “Sophia's a friend and a colleague. That's all. That's not just her choice. It's mine too.”

They walked along side by side in silence for another block before Brynn sighed and somewhat grudgingly took his hand.

A few weeks later, Lucas realized that Brynn's birthday was approaching, and that it fell on a Friday. “I thought I'd skip choir practice so we could go out,” he told her over the phone on Tuesday morning as he walked to class. He had wanted to discuss plans for the evening in person, but they had not seen each other in more than a week.

“You don't need to do that.”

“It's okay. They can survive without me for one rehearsal.”

“Maybe, but—” Brynn was silent so long he thought the call had dropped. “You don't have to. I have other plans. I'm going out with my roommate and some friends.”

“Oh.” Vaguely reluctant, he asked, “Do you want to go out Saturday night instead?”

“I have to study.” She sighed. “Look, that's not all. I don't think we should see each other unless and until you get over this thing with that choir director.”

“What thing? What do you mean?”

“Are you serious? All you ever talk about is Sophia this, Sophia that. Sophia the goddess of music, the passionate teacher, blah, blah, blah. I'm so sick of it.”

Lucas felt a sting of anger. “Sophia's my friend. She's never done anything to hurt you.”

“Nothing except constantly distract you.”

“Brynn, whatever you think—” He had no idea what to say that would not make everything worse. “Listen. I haven't cheated on you.”

“Then let's quit while we're ahead, before you're tempted.”

•   •   •

So it was that he had spent Brynn's birthday at St. Margaret's with Sophia and the choir, and he had not missed a Friday rehearsal since. Neither had Sophia, but after he finished warming up at the piano and as the choir filled the risers, Lucas began to think that for the first time, she might.

“I'll be right back,” he called over the din, rising from the piano bench and crossing to the side entrance. In the stairwell he found Father Ryan, just taking off his coat and hat. “It's almost four thirty. Have you seen Sophia?”

The priest regarded him skeptically. “You're worried she might have gotten stuck in a snowdrift somewhere between here and school?”

Lucas shrugged, feeling foolish. “You never know.”

Looking as if he were struggling not to laugh, Father Ryan pulled his coat on again. “You stay here and start rehearsal. I'll keep watch for Sophia.”

“Thanks, Father.”

The children were a bit puzzled when he announced that they were going to begin and that Miss Sophia would join them soon, but they complied, warming up their voices and filling the church with do-re-mis. Where was she? In the three, almost four, years Lucas had known her, half past four on a Friday afternoon found her at St. Margaret's without fail. He had not felt so sick and helpless since—he didn't need to search his memory, for he knew exactly when. Since Sophia had announced her engagement, on Christmas Eve the year before.

For weeks they had been preparing the choir for their most
important performance of the year, the concert before the Children's Mass on Christmas Eve. The choir also sang during the liturgy, so Sophia and Lucas faced the additional challenge of choosing a program that served the spiritual needs of the parish, celebrated the reverence and joy of the occasion, and allowed the young singers to shine without taxing their stamina.

Christmas Eve fell on a Monday that year, and after their last Friday-evening rehearsal before it, Sophia and Lucas had stayed late at the church discussing the children's preparedness and making final decisions about the program and the assignment of solos. They were both tired and stressed from the week, for reasons having nothing to do with the choir, and so when Sophia suggested they move their meeting down the street to a café that served hot coffee and excellent pie, Lucas readily agreed.

The change of scene relaxed them both, and they worked out the final details of the concert and mass well before they finished dessert. When conversation turned to their plans for the holidays, Sophia grew quiet and pensive, until Lucas was compelled to ask her what was wrong.

She hesitated. “It's probably nothing.”

“If it's bothering you, it's not nothing.”

“Okay, but don't tell Brandon.”

Lucas traced an
X
over his heart with his finger. “Promise.”

“A few days ago, we were at the jewelry store. I was helping him pick out a Christmas gift for his mother.” Her expression was troubled, with an undertone of embarrassment. “We were browsing, looking at the rings and bracelets and necklaces displayed in the cases, when suddenly I saw something that I thought would be the perfect gift for Brandon. You know, to show him how I feel.”

When she fell silent, Lucas prompted, “A gold-plated calculator?”

She smiled wanly. “No, silly. That's what I got him last year.”

“You're kidding.”

“Yes, I am.” She took a deep breath. “So I called him over, and I took his hand, and I said, ‘This is what I would want to give you, even if I had to sell my hair to buy it.' And I showed him—”

“A fob chain.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes.
Yes
, exactly. It was even made of platinum. So you get it?”

“Of course I get it. ‘The Gift of the Magi,' one of the greatest Christmas stories ever written. The wife sells her beautiful hair to earn enough money to buy her husband a fob chain for his most prized possession, a gold watch that had been in the family for generations. What she didn't know was that her husband had sold the watch so he could buy her a set of combs for her beautiful hair.”

“So it's not a completely obscure reference, especially at Christmas.” Suddenly her air of vindication vanished, and she looked utterly miserable. “I felt so stupid. I still do.”

“Why would you feel stupid? It was a very nice thing to say.” It was more than nice, but that was the best Lucas could manage while forcing back his jealousy.

“Because Brandon didn't understand at all. He just gave me this blank look and said that he didn't own a pocket watch, he didn't know anyone who did, and he was surprised that the jeweler would carry a fob chain for something no one used anymore.”

“Oh.” Lucas inhaled deeply and ran a hand over his jaw. “Wow. Well, maybe he isn't a fan of O. Henry.”

“Evidently not, but even after I explained the story to him, he still just shook his head, completely bewildered. He couldn't understand that the point of the story is that Della and Jim loved each other so much that each sacrificed their greatest treasure for the other.”

“Right, because the other person's happiness was more important than their own. The other person's happiness was
essential
to their own.”

“Yes, exactly.” Sophia reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for confirming that I'm not crazy.”

He held his hand perfectly still, unwilling to do anything that might encourage her to move hers. “You're not crazy. You just . . . have a better grasp of literature than Brandon.” He forced himself to add, “That doesn't make him a bad guy.”