Willy and Alvirah were coming up the stairs, Willy’s face wreathed in a smile of resignation. “Cordelia, it’s a week till Christmas. Believe it or not I had some shopping to do.”
“And I have made my last outing with the Gordons,” Alvirah said. “They practically threw me out today. They said they sensed that I wasn’t ready to make a move right now, and they gave me the names of some of their competitors I could call in case I wanted to keep looking for a co-op for the rest of my life.”
“Then we must accept that the good Lord doesn’t want us to be in business after January first,” Cordelia acknowledged. “And you mustn’t blame yourself, Alvirah. You haven’t left one stone unturned to try to prove Bessie’s will was a fake.” She turned briskly away. “Now let’s get started with the rehearsal.” Turning back to Alvirah, she lowered her voice and nodded her head almost imperceptibly toward Lenny. “That fellow there is Stellina’s father. Sit next to him. He’s trying to make a good impression on us, so I know he’ll talk to you. See what you make of him. I think he’s up to no good.”
Sister Cordelia was right. Lenny did talk-straight through the rehearsal, only interrupting his tale of how he gave up a good 1ob in the Midwest because he missed Star so much but couldn’t take her away from his beloved aunt, to make noisy and oddly inappropriate exclamations on how cute the children were. In the course of his ramblings, he told Alvirah about the pretty Irish girl he had married who had been Star’s mother.
“Her name was Rose O’Grady. We used to love to dance together. I’d get the band to play “Sweet Rosie O’Grady” when we were out, and I’d sing it in her ear.”
“What happened to her?” Alvirah asked.
“It’s something I don’t tell many people. She got postpartum depression so bad we had to have her hospitalized. Then…” Here Lenny’s voice broke, fading off. “They didn’t watch her carefully enough.” The last words were delivered in a dramatic whisper.
Suicide, Alvirah thought. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said sincerely.
“Nonna told Star her mama was sick and had to go far away, and that we probably wouldn’t hear from her ever again. I think we should have maybe told her straight out that her mama was dead, but Nonna keeps saying not yet,” Lenny explained, pleased to have gotten the scenario down so well.
There was one small glitch in the rehearsal when Rajid, the third wise man, dropped the jar that supposedly held the myrrh. “It’s all right, Rajid,” Sister Cordelia called as she saw tears gather in his eyes, and Sister Maeve Marie swooped in to pick up the pieces. “It was Just a little accident. No real problem. Keep going, all of you.”
Willy went to the piano. It was time for the closing scene in the pageant. “Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee.” He played and sang softly.
Stellina and Jerry looked up from their kneeling position beside the cradle, which was now in place. “Guardian angels God will send thee,” they sang, their voices young and sweet and true.
“That’s a nice song,” Lenny said. “It reminds me-”
“Sshh!” Dear God, can’t he shut up long enough to listen to his own child? Alvirah thought, now so irritated that if she had had duct tape handy she surely would have pasted it across his mouth. She noticed that Stellina’s eyes had flickered over to him when he spoke, but then turned away, as though in embarrassment.
She’s savvy enough to know her father’s a creep, Alvirah thought. That poor child. She actually looks a little untidy today. Her hair is tangled; usually it’s pulled back so neatly.
Untidy, but still beautiful, she thought: the curly dark-blond hair, almost waist length, the fair complexion and haunting brown eyes. Her expression is almost adult in its sadness, Alvirah thought. Why do some kids get such a bad break in life?
Lenny clapped loudly when the rehearsal was over. “Great!” he shouted. “Really great stuff! Star, your daddy’s proud of you!”
Stellina blushed and turned away, averting her eyes. “Your daddy’s proud of you,” Jerry mimicked as he got to his feet. “You’re such a good little Blessed Mother, ha, ha, ha.”
“It’s still not too late to get a new Saint Joseph,” Sister Cordelia warned the boy, thumping him on the head. “Now remember to bring your costumes to school with you Monday, children. You’ll get dressed here.”
“I’m going to pick up Star at school and take her home to put on her costume,” Lenny told Alvirah. “Her nonna can’t make it to the pageant, but she wants to see her dressed up. Then I’ll have to go to work.”
Alvirah nodded, absentmindedly, her attention focused on Cordelia as she collected the gifts the wise men were to present. The foil-covered chocolates made a realistic offering of gold, she thought. The painted bowl Cordelia had brought from the convent for the frankincense made a pretty offering. I’ll pick up another jar to replace the one Rajid dropped, she thought. Then she noticed Stellina take Cordelia’s hand and lead the nun to the side.
“Telling secrets?” Lenny observed, a tone of alarm creeping into his voice.
“Oh, I doubt that,” Alvirah said quickly. “I know Stellina has been asking Sister Cordelia and Sister Maeve Marie to pray for her nonna.”
“Oh, yeah,” Lenny said after a few moments. “I guess that must be what she’s doing.”
Gratified with the impression he thought he had made at the rehearsal, Lenny left with Stellina, explaining to everyone in earshot that he was taking her out for dinner. “Now that Nonna can’t be worrying about meals, I guess I gotta get me a cookbook,” was his parting comment.
On the way to McDonald’s, he asked Star if she had been asking the sister to pray for Nonna when she took the nun aside.
“I ask Sister that every day,” Stellina said quietly. Instinctively she knew that Daddy might not like what she had really asked Sister-that if Nonna allowed her to bring the silver chalice that had once belonged to her mother’s uncle, could Rajid carry it to the stable, to replace the jar he broke?
To her delight, Sister had said that would be fine. Star was sure if she begged Nonna, she would give her permission to bring it. And when Rajid puts it down by the cradle, I will pray that if my mother hasn’t gone to heaven yet, she will come to see me just once.
It was a wish and a hope that now had become almost a constant, urgent need. But a faith that was growing stronger and stronger seemed to promise Star that if the chalice could become a gift to the Christ child, her prayer would be answered.
Her mother really would come to her, at last.
26
Peter Lewis, Sondra’s grandfather, arrived on Wednesday afternoon. It was both a relief and a disappointment to her that Gary did not accompany him. “He’ll be here for the concert,” her grandfather said, “but he’s very busy and could not take the extra time. Besides, I think he is astute enough to know that in the days before an artist is performing in a major concert, she is better left alone with her music, and with as few distractions as possible.”
Sondra knew what her grandfather was implying. Gary Willis loved music with a deep passion and understood the strains inherent in an artist’s life.
“I’m glad he waited,” she said, “but I’m thrilled that you’re here. Granddad, you look spectacular.” It was an unexpected delight to her that her grandfather looked so well. Even though the signs of the arthritis were always visible in his swollen wrists and fingers, the triple bypass had restored color to his face and vigor to his appearance-things she had feared he had lost with age and illness.
When she told him how healthy he looked for his years, he responded, “Thanks, Sondra, but seventy-five is considered to be only the dawn of aging today. An unobstructed blood supply to the heart does wonders, although I hope that’s something you never need to find out for yourself.”
At least, Sondra thought, in an effort to draw some comfort from the situation, Granddad looks strong enough to take it when I tell him about the baby and what I’m going to do after the concert. But just thinking about it, she grew paler.
“And you look thin and troubled,” he told her crisply. “Is something wrong, or is it just the usual pre- performance nerves? If so, I’m disappointed. I thought I had cured you of that.”
