The atmosphere at the Winding Stair Elementary School was one of controlled chaos. After dropping an angelic Jade at her classroom with a gaggle of lambs and ladybugs, Jesse followed Lindsey down the long hall to the auditorium. The noise of a community that knew each other well filled the place with cheer. Everyone they passed spoke to Lindsey and many, recognizing him, stopped to shake his hand and offer greetings.

      He hadn’t been to a school Christmas program since he was in grade school himself, but the buzz of excitement was the same.

      At the door, a teenage girl in a red Santa hat offered him a program and a huge flirtatious smile.

      “Hi, Lindsey,” she said, though her eyelashes fluttered at him. He ignored her, staring ahead at the milieu of country folks gathered in this one place.

      Lindsey greeted the girl warmly, then began the slow process of weaving through the crowd toward the seats. She’d been right. The program was a community event. Everyone was dressed up, the scent of recent showers and cologne a testament to the importance of Winding Stair’s Christmas program.

      “I think you have an admirer,” Lindsey teased when they were seated.

      He knew she meant the teenager at the door, but the idea insulted him. “She’s a kid.”

      Lindsey laughed softly. “But she’s not blind or stupid.”

      Surprised, he turned in the squeaky auditorium seat. What had she meant by that? But Lindsey had taken a sudden interest in studying the photocopied program.

      “Look here.” She pointed. “Jade is on stage for a long time.”

      “No kidding?” He looked over her shoulder with interest. The sweet scent of jasmine rose up from the vicinity of her elegant neck and tantalized his senses. From the time she’d climbed into his truck, he’d enjoyed the fragrance, but up close this way was even nicer.

      She looked pretty tonight, too. He’d never seen her in a real dress and when she’d opened the front door, he’d lost his breath. Surprise, of course, nothing more. In honor of the occasion, she wore red, a smooth, sweater kind of dress that looked pretty with her honey-colored hair.

      The lights flickered, a signal he supposed, for the crowd hushed and settled into their seats. The doors on each side of the auditorium closed and the principal stepped out in front of the blue velvet curtain to welcome everyone.

      In moments, the curtains swooshed apart, and Jesse waited eagerly for the moment his baby would come on stage.

      The program was festive and colorful and full of exuberant good will if not exceptional talent. Most of the children were animals of some sort and each group sang to the accompaniment of a slightly out-of-tune piano.

      When two ladybugs bumped heads, entangling their antenna, Jesse laughed along with the rest of the crowd. A teacher scuttled from backstage, parted the antenna and with a smiling shrug, disappeared again. The children seemed unfazed.

      Another time, one of the fireflies dropped his flashlight and the batteries came clattering out. To the delight of the audience, the little boy crawled through legs and around various other insects until he’d retrieved all the scattered parts of his illumination.

      Despite his hesitancy to come tonight, Jesse was having a good time. None of the awful, tearing agony of loss overtook him as he’d expected. He had to credit Lindsey and his little angel for that.

      “There she is,” Lindsey whispered and pushed at his shoulder as if he couldn’t see for himself the vision moving onto the stage.

      Beneath the spotlight, his angel glittered and glowed in the costume Lindsey had so lovingly created. Her halo of tinsel shimmered against the shining raven hair as she bent to hover over the manger. Even from this distance, he could see her squinting into the crowd, looking for him.

      In a sweet, bell-like voice, she spoke her lines, and Jesse reacted as if he hadn’t heard them a thousand times in the past two weeks.

      “Beneath the angel’s shining light, love was born on Christmas night.”

      Tenderness rose in his throat, enough to choke him.

      As he watched Jade, angel wings outstretched, join her class in singing “Silent Night,” he thought his heart would burst with pride. Such sweetness. Such beauty. And he’d almost missed it.

      Erin should have been here, too.

      He waited for the familiar pain to come, and was surprised when it didn’t.

      Jade caught sight of him somehow and her entire face brightened. Had she thought he wouldn’t stay?

      With a start, he realized how wrong he’d been to let his own loss and pain affect his child’s happiness and wellbeing. Huddled in his darkness, he’d let two years of Jade’s life pass in a blur while he nursed his wounds and felt sorry for himself.

      As the program ended and Jade was swept away in the thundering mass of first-graders, Jesse looked down. At some point during the play, he’d taken hold of Lindsey’s hand and pulled it against his thigh. How had that happened? And why didn’t he turn her loose now that the play was over? But with her small fingers wrapped in his, he was reluctant to let her go.

      “She was wonderful,” Lindsey said, eyes aglow as she turned to him.

      “The best one of all.”

      “Of course.” And they both laughed, knowing every parent in the room thought the same thing about his or her own child.

      And even though she wasn’t Jade’s parent, Jesse knew Lindsey loved his daughter unreservedly.

      Still holding her hand, and bewildered by his own actions, Jesse rose and began the shuffle out of the jammed auditorium and down the hall to the classrooms. There they collected Jade from the rambunctious crowd of first-graders and headed out the exit.

      “Excuse me.” A man about Jesse’s age stopped them as they started down the concrete steps. A vague sense of recognition stirred in Jesse’s memory. “I saw you earlier and couldn’t help thinking that I should know you? Did you ever go to school here?”

      Jesse stiffened momentarily before forcing his shoulders to relax. No use getting in a panic. Play it cool. “Sorry. I’m a newcomer. Moved here back in October.”

      The man tilted his head, frowning. “You sure remind me of a kid I went to junior high with. Aw,