No Angels (Willow Creek Christmas)

2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Bianca

“Hey honey,” Mom calls from her spot on the couch as I toe off my shoes.

“Hey Mom.” She has chemo tomorrow, so I know she’s taking it easy this evening so she can gather her strength. “I was going to make potato soup for dinner, is that okay?”

She yawns. “That sounds delicious. If I can’t keep my eyes open, we’ll have leftovers tomorrow.”

“I saw Mike today. You never mentioned he was still here.”

Mom sighs and makes her way into the kitchen. She slides an arm around my waist. “I didn’t want to upset you. I always knew you wanted him to look at you as more than the neighbor kid with the braids hanging down her back.”

She’s always been able to see straight through me. “He was my crush all through high school. I thought he didn’t see me that way until he kissed me the night before I left.”

“Oh my. You’ve kept that secret close.”

I shrug as I set the cutting board on the island. “It didn’t mean anything. I was leaving and there was no point in dwelling on it.”

“Bee,” she chides. “I know you better than that. You purposely ghosted him didn’t you?”

I grab a red onion and when I slice it, it’s not the only thing that brings tears to my eyes. “I couldn’t afford to let him get to me, Mom. Broadway was always my dream. We called each other every week at first, but when I moved into the apartment with Cheryl, we lost touch.”

Cheryl was an understudy in the trenches with me and when I broke up with my first real boyfriend Greg because I found him in bed with our next-door neighbor, she made me move in with her. She’s my best friend and the one that convinced me I needed a break to get my stride back. I’m in Willow Creek because of her.

“You two were inseparable growing up, so I bet today was awkward.”

I snort. “That’s one way to describe it.”

“Was he angry?” She quietly asks.

“Yeah. But I think it’s because I hurt him.”

“Are you going to be able to work with him on the pageant without your past getting in the way?”

“I don’t know, Mom. It’d be easier to just avoid him.”

“You can’t runaway from your history, Bee,” she admonishes as she tugs the end of my ponytail.

I bite my lip and remind myself she’s just trying to be helpful. “He made it crystal clear how much he resents me for leaving.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t help that he’s the town heartthrob.”

I shrug. “I hadn’t noticed.” I hope my flush is only under the skin.

“I can tell when my daughter is fibbing. Any woman with eyes can’t help noticing that tall drink of water.”

I playfully smack her arm. “Please don’t tell me when you notice things like that.”

She rolls her eyes and chuckles delightedly. “I’ll never be too old to notice those things, but I promise not to talk about them too much.”

Once we’ve had our soup and she’s taken her medicine, I walk her to the bedroom on the main floor. It’s a lot harder for her to navigate the steep staircase to the second story, and this is our compromise. It makes sense because the downstairs bedroom has a bath right across the hall. Getting her to agree to even this small concession felt like I was negotiating the assault on Normandy.

When she’s burrowed beneath the mound of blankets, I drop a kiss on her forehead. “Sleep tight, Mom.”

“You too,” she murmurs. “And don’t let the bedbugs bite. If they do, take a shoe and hit them ‘til they’re black and blue.”

Her bedtime greeting takes me straight back to my childhood, when she and dad used to tuck me in. Before their divorce and all the uncertainty that followed.

“I’ll do that,” I tell her as I softly shut the door behind me.

I fall into my own bed, my thoughts racing. All the echoes of my childhood surround me. I’m lying on top of the same pink ruffled princess comforter and the walls are still plastered with pictures of my favorite emo bands. The owl finial Callihan gave me after he rescued me from the haunted house is resting on the white bookshelf in front of my battered copy of Anne of Green Gables.

I jump up and grab it, rubbing my thumb over the ears worn smooth by time. When I close my eyes I can still smell the crepe myrtle and feel the wet grass sliding over my ankles. I remember laughing up at him in the moonlight and the way the air was suddenly heavy between us. We were fourteen and it was the first time I realized I wanted to kiss him. I didn’t get my wish until it was too late to do a course correction that would’ve upended all my other dreams.

Mike Callihan always knew how to get under my skin and mash down my buttons. He has no right to question the decisions I’ve made about my career. Then or now.

I can’t believe Mom didn’t tell me he stayed in Willow Creek or that he’s the one who’s been helping her with everything. There’s a part of me that still feels guilty for leaving him behind. I didn’t even say goodbye because he might have convinced me that next to him was where I’d always belonged.

Which is why I didn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t take that chance.

The reasons I left don’t matter, because he’s not the reason I’m back. My career is a train wreck and my mom is stubborn about staying here. I need to figure out how I’m going to get back in the spotlight and convince her to move to New York. I’m subletting my apartment, but it’s a temporary solution.

Tonight is the first big rehearsal and I’m kicking myself for agreeing to do this. Mom is on the town council and she begged me to produce and direct the town’s Christmas pageant this year. When she told me I’d help stage The Best Christmas Pageant Ever , I couldn’t turn her down. When I left Willow Creek, I was cast as the villain of the story, even though I was nothing like Imogene Herdman. You won’t catch me smoking cigars in the bathroom, but I feel an affinity with her.

The aggressive knock on my office door startles me. The theatre is usually quiet until the kids start trickling in for evening practice around four.

“Come in,” I call.

The burly ginger guy my mom pointed out as the new town sheriff pushes the door open.

This is unexpected and like it always did when I engineered an epic prank as a kid and had to face the consequences when I was caught, my stomach drops to my knees. “Can I help you, Sheriff?”

Is he here to run me out of town because of public opinion? My mom’s a fixture in Willow Creek, and I’ve been fielding judgmental stares since I got back last week. The general consensus is I’m a terrible daughter and a despicable human being for letting her deal with her cancer alone. It wasn’t all my choice – she reassured me that she had a network of support and I shouldn’t worry. That she could easily find someone to ferry her back and forth from her appointments and sit with her after the chemo treatments.

“Ms. Cassidy, I have a favor to ask.”

He’s twisting his hat in his hands like he’s nervous. This is a first, so I decide to put him out of his misery. “Okay. What is it?”

“I’d like to make participating on the pageant part of the public service requirement for the Donaldson twins.”

“And you need my permission?”

His laugh is acerbic. “Not really, but I don’t want to create animosity.”

“Why would assigning them to me create animosity?”

He cocks his head. “I take it you haven’t met them.”

“No, but I wasn’t exactly a field of daisies growing up. It can’t be that bad.”

“They teepeed town hall and put something in the fountain in the square that makes the water look like a blood bath. We caught them on the surveillance cameras.”

I can’t let on how impressed I am by their ingenuity or how badly I want to know how they managed it. “Why make the pageant part of their punishment?”

“Well, my fiancé Emma told me she thinks they could use some churching to learn proper manners, and maybe if they have a bunch of parts to memorize they won’t have time to brew more mischief.”

That never worked for me. It always seemed like the busier I was, the more trouble I managed to find. “I could use some shepherds.”

“I’ll have their mom bring them over after school today.”

“I’ll be here to show them the ropes, and I think Mike is working on the set this evening.” He’s been avoiding me like the plague since our close encounter behind the curtains four days ago, so I’m assuming he’ll be here.

Sheriff Hayes nods again. “He’s used to their antics. He can help you keep an eye on them.”

The inclusion of the troublesome twins has me wondering how big their family is. What if there really is a clan like the Herdmans here in Willow Creek?

“Is it just the twins or will their siblings be joining them?”

The cop swipes his hand over his face. “Just the two of them, thank God. I don’t think Willow Creek could handle more than that.”

So I’ll get just a taste of the Herdmans, not the full cohort. “We’ll keep them in line. Maybe the play will teach them a lesson about the Christmas spirit.”

He ruefully shakes his head. “Not likely. They’ve been pranking it around town since they were in kindergarten. Their mom has tried everything.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you thank you. They sound like public enemy number one.”

“You definitely shouldn’t tell me thank you. You’re going to cuss up a storm behind my back once you meet them.”

The sheriff was right. The Donaldson twins are a menace. One of them already smeared peanut butter on the dressing room doorknob, and they’ve managed to make Mary and one of the angels cry. To top it off, the stepdaughters of the town’s tourism director are hanging on their every word and action with big, worshipful eyes. Farrah’s been one of the only friendly faces I’ve met since I got back and I don’t want to jeopardize that.

Mrs. Donaldson reminded me of Molly Weasley, just a little more frazzled. She was on her way to work the evening shift at the diner out on the interstate, and clasped my hands. “They have good hearts,” she reassured me before she left with a wave over her shoulder.

I don’t believe her yet. I’m debating how to tactfully separate them from everyone else when I sense Mike behind me.

“How ‘bout I teach them how to use a saw and a hammer?”

I close my eyes against the flutter of his breath against my nape and the way the timbre of his voice in my ear sends shivers down my spine. “That would be fantastic,” I mutter.

He glides his fingers down the back of my upper arm before he steps away.

“Jack and Jerry, you’re coming with me.”

“But we want to stay here, Mr. Callihan,” one of them protests.

“You can practice with everyone else later. Right now I need your help finishing up the sets.”

The three of them are walking away when Addie St. Simon raises her hand and waves it madly in the air. “Ms. Cassidy!”

“Yes, Addie?”

“Can Abbie and I work on sets too?”

This morbid fascination with the older troublemakers could prove very dangerous for the success of the play. “No. I need the two of you here. The angel choir could use your help.”

The girls have kept the toddlers occupied and escort them to the bathroom when necessary. They proudly informed me they just started babysitting and they’re trying to drum up business. Learning from the Donaldson twins isn’t the way to convince the town to trust them.

I clap my hands until I have everyone’s attention. The chatter dies off and I can see them squirming in their seats. “We only have three weeks until the show. I’m depending on all of you to memorize your lines. If you don’t have any lines, I’m depending on you to know where you’re supposed to stand and help out with the singing.”

Suzie Danzig raises her hand. She’s Mary and I already extricated her from a mess caused by the Donaldsons tonight. When one of them pulled her ponytail she spilled Kool-Aid all over her clothes. She immediately burst into tears. “Ms. Cassidy, I’ve already learned all of my lines.”

She’s an officious little girl who reminds me of Nellie Olsen from Little House on the Prairie . I’ve never been the kind of person impressed by brown nosing, so I discourage her simpering whenever I can. “That’s wonderful, Suzie, but most of your fellow actors haven’t. We all need to be patient with one another.”

“Yeah, brown noser,” Lance West interjects.

I wag my finger in his direction. “That’s enough. There’ll be no name-calling here.” Even if I share the sentiment.

“She’s such a goody two shoes,” he complains.

Lance is playing Joseph because his father’s the preacher. I can tell he’s one of those kids who resents his ties to the church and wants to walk on the wild side a little. He probably wasn’t given a choice about participating and I heard him offer the Donaldson twins fifty dollars to take his place.

I know he’s not happy to be here, but Joseph and Mary have to get along. The audience will be able to tell from their body language up on stage if they can’t stand each other. “Suzie deserves your respect as your fellow cast member. Apologize immediately.”

His expression turns mutinous.

I glare and cross my arms.

He rolls his eyes and turns toward his co-star. “Sorry, Suzie,” he mumbles.

By the time practice wraps up, I feel like I’ve been herding cats for hours. I’m not keen to make conversation, but Farrah Caldwell pulls me aside when she picks up her stepdaughters.

“I know we haven’t had the chance to talk, but I appreciate what you’re doing. The girls are really excited.”

“I appreciate their enthusiasm. And their help with the younger kids – they’ll make great babysitters.”

Farrah’s face lights up and she slides her hand over the subtle curve of her stomach. “We haven’t told them yet that they’ll have a new family member to practice on too.”

She’s glowing when she makes the revelation. “Congratulations,” I tell her. “When are you due?”

“I’m due in June. On our first wedding anniversary. It was a little unexpected, but we’re happy.”

“Well if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” I know next to nothing about kids, but I can always find something for them to do.

She laughs. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I wondered if you’d be interested in joining my friends and I for our monthly movie night. Since the holiday movie marathons have started, that’s how we’re spending this Saturday night.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I hedge. The more connections I make here, the harder it will be to walk away when I find my out. And I’ve never been good at female friendships.

Farrah lays her hand on my forearm. “Please consider it. Mike said you’ve been away a long time and I’m sure it’s hard.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’ll ask for now. If you decide to join us, we’re congregating at Taren’s. She and Zane run Hayes Orchard and Cidery and their farm is on the outskirts of town, off Brightmeadow Lane.”

I wave goodbye as she walks away. Maybe I will join them. Mom has her knitting circle on Saturday evenings, and she’s been nagging me to make friends.