remembering their crazy, spontaneous walk through the snow, their impromptu snow-angels, their wish on the morning star. They weren’t little girls anymore. They didn’t believe in magic. There was no Santa Claus. There were no Christmas miracles.
“Congratulations.” Erica came over, still chewing her candy, and put an arm around Leah’s neck, giving her a long hug. Rob watched them, smiling. “Now we get to plan a wedding!”
Rob groaned. “Can’t we elope?”
“Are you kidding?” Both girls looked at him, aghast, and then they looked at each other and burst out laughing. Maybe there were no fairy godmothers or magic wands, but they had each other, and for the first time in weeks, Leah felt almost like her old self again.
Chapter Two
Erica would never have met Clay if Father Michael hadn’t volunteered her for the part of Virgin Mary in the Christmas Eve Nativity Scene. It was all Father Michael’s idea, a live-action nativity to replace the wooden carved figures that usually adorned the sanctuary. She only agreed because there were no lines, like a play. She just had to stand there holding a baby and put it in the manger and look serene. Considering the roles she’d played for the church in the past few months-although those had been much darker, and far more secret-she knew she could do this one with her eyes closed.
Besides, it was Father Michael who was asking, with those big blue eyes and that sweetly appearing smile, and how was she supposed to resist that? Father Michael said he wanted a young couple to play Mary and Joseph, and so one of the boys from St. Casimir had been brought in. Erica didn’t know Clayton Marshall Webber III from Adam, but they’d spent three weeks wearing scratchy wool costumes, chewing gum and having bubble-blowing contests-Clay carried Beech Nut Spearmint wherever he went-while Father Michael directed the wise men and argued with Father Patrick, who was completely against the whole shenanigans.
Father Patrick won the argument about the livestock-two lambs, a donkey, and a goat were sent back to the Eastern Market where they’d come from-but Father Michael had gotten his way with the concept of a “live” nativity, including Mary, Joseph, three wise men, and an angel. The angel was just Alice Kernighan dressed up in white robes, wearing a halo and standing on a pedestal behind them.
And of course, a baby Jesus.
“Whose baby is it?” Erica had asked, looking down at the sleeping newborn as Father Michael handed it over.
“Foster child,” he’d explained, tucking the swaddling blankets in around the baby’s face. “She’s just on loan.”
“She?” Erica had smirked, raising her eyebrows at him. “Jesus is a girl?”
“Don’t tell anyone.” Father Michael winked. “I picked this one because she’s so quiet. She has to sleep through the service.”
“Hmm.” Erica had looked at the sleeping infant. It was a cute baby with lots of dark hair, and Clay glanced over her shoulder at it.
“Hey, maybe Jesus was a girl,” Clay had speculated as Father Michael left them to go talk to Father Patrick about the last minute details of the Christmas Eve service. “Don’t they always show him with long hair? And those robes… could have been hiding anything under there.”
Erica had laughed in spite of herself and the baby in her arms had stirred but didn’t wake. In fact, she stayed quiet through the whole thing-quieter than Clay, who kept whispering all sorts of horribly sacrilegious things into Erica’s ear to make her laugh. She tried to just smile serenely and not meet his eyes, or she was bound to crack up. His last joke almost did her in-
Really, it was Father Michael’s fault she ended up sneaking out of the warehouse after her father and Leah had gone to bed, on Christmas Eve no less. She never would have taken Clay up on his offer if it hadn’t been for the way Father Michael frowned whenever she laughed at one of Clay’s jokes, and found a reason to separate them whenever Clay got too close. Once, Clay had been teaching her to Lindy Hop, and although Erica was about as graceful as a turtle in a tutu, he’d managed to get her to do the basics before Father Michael discovered they were tripping the light fantastic while he was chasing a goat down the hallway and called rehearsal off for the day.
She blamed Father Michael-and, as always, her incessant curiosity. Yes, she’d been trying to make him jealous, flirting with Clay. But she was also intrigued when Clay asked her to meet him, saying he had something interesting to show her.
It was Father Michael’s fault she agreed to meet Clay around the block from her house at two in the morning, slipping into his 1955 Chevy Sedan and messing with the radio while he drove them through the streets of Detroit, getting on the freeway and then off again, taking them for a long, uneventful drive into the country. And it was Father Michael she was still thinking about when Clay parked on a back road and turned to kiss her.
He smelled like Beech Nut spearmint and Aqua Velva, a heady combination, but he took his gum out before he kissed her, pressing it with his thumb against the dashboard when he leaned in to touch his lips to hers. It was a pleasant sensation and Erica let him gather her up, enjoying all his hard angles against her soft curves.
His tongue found its way into her mouth and she let that happen too, letting things take their natural course, the heat of their bodies, the fast pant of their breath steaming up the windows of his Chevy. Erica even dared to put her hand on his leg, sliding it up his jean-clad thigh until she found his erection, smiling when she heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Is this what you wanted to show me?” she whispered, rubbing her hand up and down, liking how it made her feel-powerful, in control. He was putty in her hands.
“Yowza!” Clay’s eyes widened in the dimness, looking at her with confusion and a little trepidation. Had he thought she was a good girl? That made Erica want to laugh. Good girls didn’t sneak out and meet boys in the middle of the night. “Easy there, Tiger. Come on, follow me.”
He opened the driver’s side door, even coming around to her side like a gentleman. The gesture was so sweet it made Erica feel like crying, and she climbed out of the car, hugging her coat around her. It hadn’t been snowing after midnight mass, but it was snowing now, coming down in big, fat flakes, settling in their hair and melting on their cheeks.
“Come on.” He climbed up onto the big hood of the Sedan, holding his hand out and helping her up. She sat beside him, looking puzzled. It was darker out here, away from the city. She could barely discern the shape of fields, the dim glow of windows in far away houses like rectangles painted on the night.
“Look up.” He pointed skyward, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head.
“At what?” Erica did the same, leaning back on the hood. The sky was a clear field of velvet, displaying so many stars it made her gasp in surprise.
“Amazing isn’t it?”
“So many!” Stars in the city never looked so close.
“When it snows, there’s no moisture in the air, so the sky is clear. No clouds.”
Erica glanced over at him. “How did you know that?”
“I paid attention in science class.” Clay pointed up and Erica looked again, seeing something streak across the sky.
“What was that?” She half-sat, squinting at the spot where she’d seen the stream of light, wondering if she was seeing things. “Is that a UFO? Or… oh my God! Are we being attacked?”
“Relax.” Clay laughed, pulling her back down. This time she settled close to him, putting her head on his chest. “It’s a meteor shower. The Ursids. See? That’s Ursa Minor right there.”
“Where?” Erica shook her head.
“See the big dipper?” He pointed and she followed the line of his finger.
The big dipper was easy enough to find. “Yes.”
“Okay, follow that over… that’s Polaris, the north star. Ursa minor is right between. That’s where tonight’s show takes place.”
