Author: Cheree Alsop
Date: 2012-11-03 04:00:00+00:00

The Million Dollar Gift

By Cheree L. Alsop

Copyright © 2012 by Cheree L. Alsop
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination.  Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN

Cover Design by Andy Hair
www.ChereeAlsop.com

To my husband, Michael Alsop,

Whose love helped make

This Christmas story possible.

To my family for filling every

Corner of our home and lives

With laughter and joy.

I love you!

Chapter 1

Chase rolled over slowly. The motion awoke the pain in his bruised muscles and he stifled a groan. They would be back. Torn’s men didn’t give up so easily. They must have gotten distracted by something. He pushed to his feet and brushed off the grimy snow that clung to the garbage and dirty pavement. It would be best to be gone by the time they returned. He began to backtrack down the alley when a scream stopped him in his tracks. The distraction.

Chase hesitated. Pain coursed from his right knee where a kick had caught it. He could already feel it swelling. His head throbbed from the numerous punches it had intercepted, and a sharp pain ran through his side with each breath. There was something sticky on the side of his face from his forehead and he feared the darkness of his vision was more from the blows to the head than the rapidly falling night.

No one would blame him for running; in fact, no one would even know. That’s what comes from getting caught in the bad part of the city. It was each person for him or herself, and no one cared what happened anyway. He took another step away, a step toward his escape. A second scream sounded. Chase’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath, then cursed softly at the pain in his ribs. The air fogged white when he breathed out. He turned back.

“Help!” the yell was muffled but feminine and under definite duress.

Chase ran down the alley toward the sound. He limped on his injured knee, cursing his own stupidity for actually searching for the guys that had done this to him. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of the voices.

“Hold still, stupid girl!”

“Leave her alone!” a young boy’s voice called, followed by the sharp sound of a slap.

“Keep him over there!”

Chase slowed when he neared the corner; self-preservation screamed for him to go back. They’re being hurt because of me, he reminded himself. He was amazed at his own twisted sense of honor. He gritted his teeth and stepped into the fading light of the dead-end alley.

“Let them go.” The words sounded gravely from his dry throat.

Surprised, the three men backed away from a young woman and a small boy Chase guessed to be about six. Then, seeing their original victim, they began to laugh.

“You must be a glutton for punishment,” the first man, Jax, said to Chase. He grabbed the girl again and twisted one of her arms tightly behind her back. She winced, her eyes on the young boy.

“Torn said to make you pay, but he forgot to mention you were stupid!” another man said, taking a step toward Chase.

Chase tensed. “Let them go,” he repeated. “You’re here for me, not them.”

Jax chuckled, a deep, haughty sound. “Correction. We were here for you, and we will finish you at our leisure; but currently, we are enjoying ourselves with this delicacy James found on Fifth Street.” He shoved the woman against the wall and eyed her up and down.

“Leave her alone,” Chase growled. He took another step forward.

This time when Jax turned back to Chase he pulled out a wicked-looking knife. Chase stopped. “You may be foolish enough to get tangled in Torn’s web,” Jax said, his gleaming dark eyes bored angrily into Chase’s, “But this doesn’t concern you. Walk away while you still can.”

The girl took the opportunity of his distraction to run to the corner where the boy knelt in the dirty snow. Jax glared at her. At a snap of his fingers, one of the other men grabbed her and hauled her back over. When she struggled, Jax slapped her.

Anger filled Chase with adrenaline. They caught him by surprise the first time; now, with other lives on the line, he didn’t plan to go down so easily. He picked up a broken table leg from the litter on the alley floor and ran forward. The man closest to him had turned to watch the girl. He spun at Chase’s footsteps but was too slow. The table leg caught him along the side of his head and he crumpled silently to the ground.

The next man was ready. He ducked under Chase’s swing and punched him in the stomach. Chase doubled over; the man elbowed him in the back and Chase fell to his knees gasping for air. The man brought back his leg to kick Chase in the stomach, but Chase turned and smashed him in the groin with the table leg. The man fell to the ground, his eyes wide with pain. Chase used the table leg to push himself back up.

“We should have killed you when we had the chance,” Jax said.

Chase nodded grimly. “Yes, you should have. Lucky for you, I called the cops before I came back here.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You lie.”

Chase shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “You can hang around to find out.”

“And why would it be lucky for me that you called the cops?”

Chase allowed himself a grim smile to belie his thundering heartbeat. “They’ll keep me from killing you.” He kept his expression calm and hard, praying that the man wouldn’t call his bluff.

At that very moment, a siren sounded in the distance. Jax looked from Chase to the girl, and then to his men. He shoved the girl away and grabbed the closest man’s arm to pull him to his feet. “We’ve gotta go.”

Chase’s chest heaved as he watched them pick up the third man and disappear around the end of the alley. A few minutes later, they heard the growl of a car engine followed by a squeal of tires as the men sped away.

The girl was already next to her brother, checking him quickly over for injuries. “Are you okay?” Chase asked quietly.

The girl straightened and stood in front of the boy. “Stay back,” she warned, her green eyes sharp with anger and humiliation.

Fog formed from her breath, reminding Chase of the cold that now seeped into his bones as the adrenaline left his body. His knees threatened to buckle. He backed to the alley wall and leaned against it for support. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She eyed him suspiciously. In the dim light of the alley, Chase guessed her to be only a year or two younger than his own twenty-three years. Her long, straight brown hair was pulled back into a simple pony tail, but strands had come loose during her struggle.

She wore a green long-sleeved tee shirt with a khaki jacket and blue jeans. The boy, her brother he guessed, wore a light blue tee-shirt, a blue jacket, and khaki pants stained from the filthy snow. He held his sister’s hand tightly, his green eyes wide under tousled towhead blond hair. It was clothing for a quick trip out; they obviously hadn’t planned to stay this late.

The young woman pulled her jacket closer, her gaze changing from suspicious to critical as his part in the evening sunk in. “When was the last time you ate a decent meal?” she asked. Her voice was almost steady, her expression hard in order to hide the terror of the past few minutes.

The question took Chase by surprise; a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “A while,” he responded. A slight frown pursed her lips. He glanced at a broken mirror leaning sideways against the far wall, seeing himself as she saw him. His clothing, once bought at Charo’s Finest, was torn and dirty, the white shirt tie-less and missing buttons, and the gray, used-to-be suit pants ripped at the knees and crumpled from sleeping in odd places over the past couple of weeks.

He had a month-old beard, and his black hair was longer than he usually kept it and hanging in front of his blue eyes. One eye already sported a growing black circle while a gash above his left eyebrow was clotting with dark, dirty blood. He touched it gingerly, then winced at the memory of a boot to the face before he blacked out earlier. He wouldn’t trust himself in this shape, he realized. He shoved his hands in his pockets, then took them as his swollen knuckles throbbed angrily. Weariness filled him and he leaned against the wall again.

The girl edged past with her brother’s hand clutched tightly in her own. She was scanning the alley, her brow creased.

“What are you looking for?” Chase asked curiously.

“My purse; I have a cell phone,” she explained. She threw him a challenging look. “Unless, of course, you really did call the cops.”

Chase shook his head, then put a hand to it as the world continued to spin. “No. I’m just glad they believed me. I’m not so sure I could have handled Jax again. Of course, it’s not like I did so well the first time.” He gave a wry smile, then glanced up to see her staring at him incredulously.

She met his eyes for a minute, then turned away. They disappeared around the end of the alley still searching in the snow for her purse. Chase sighed, then pushed off the wall and limped slowly after them. It wouldn’t do to be waiting around if Torn’s men decided to grow brains and realize he didn’t have a phone to call the police with.

“Dad, it’s me. No, we’re okay. I’ll tell you about it when we get home.” She held her purse, a small, white thing that had been thrown carelessly into a pile of garbage at the mouth of the alley. Both she and the boy looked calmer now that safety was in sight. “No, Dad, don’t come out here. I’ll get a cab. Don’t worry, we’ll be home soon. I love you.” She hung up the phone looking relieved and smiled down at her brother. “Matty, let’s go home.” The boy nodded excitedly. She dialed another number and gave the address of the street sign they stood under.

When she saw Chase watching them, her brow creased almost imperceptibly. “Do you have somewhere to go? You need to get your head looked at.”

In more ways than one, Chase thought. “I’ll be fine,” he said aloud, though the dark spots dancing in his vision threatened otherwise. He limped slowly toward the street light they stood next to at the mouth of the alley. The light made a circle in the thin layer of snow that covered the sidewalk. In the light the snow looked clean, pristine even, but when the sun rose, the few rays that reached between the decrepit buildings would reveal the dirt and debris that never left the derelict side of the city.

She shook her head, her frown deepening. “No, you won’t.”

Chase’s brow furrowed in exasperation. “I can take care of myself.”

She made a show of looking him up and down. “I can tell,” she replied. “You’d better come with us.”

Surprised, Chase brushed his hair back from his eyes. “With you?”

She shrugged. “My mom’s a nurse. She’ll take care of you.” Chase wondered if that was supposed to sound as ominous as it came out. “Besides,” she continued, “we can’t leave you here in your condition after what you did for us.”

Her tone left no room for argument. The boy, Matty, looked from one to the other. He smiled at Chase, obviously used to his sister’s obstinate ways.

“Um, okay?” Chase said as more of a question than an agreement. He was confused as to what he had just accepted, and the pain-filled fog in his throbbing head wasn’t making things easier.

“Good,” she replied. She took Matty’s hand again and waited for the taxi. After a second, she turned back. “I’m Clara,” she said, “And this is Matty.”

“Chase,” he replied. “Pleased to meet you.”

She gave him an exasperated look and turned away as though she didn’t know how to deal with him.

Chase smiled and leaned wearily back against the wall to wait for their ride. He didn’t know what he would find when he got there, but it had to be better than a stone bench and another cold, sleepless night.

The taxi pulled up a few minutes later and the driver had the sense not to ask what they were doing at the worst part of the city. Clara motioned for Matty to climb inside first; she followed and waited for Chase. He was about to refuse, then a sound in the alley made him change his mind. He climbed in slowly, favoring his injured knee.

Clara gave him another appraising look and pulled a handful of tissues from her purse. She pressed them to his head and he grimaced, then put his hand up to hold the tissues in place. His fingers brushed hers and she pulled her hand away quickly. A faint blush colored her cheeks. He gave a small smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. She turned toward Matty and Chase leaned his head against the window.

“Do you often invite strange guys to your home?” Chase asked a few minutes later. He glanced at her sideways from half-closed eyes.

A smile tugged at the corner of Clara’s mouth. “Only strange men who save my brother and I from bad people.”

Chase nodded and closed his eyes again, resting his head back headrest. “Fair enough. I guess you can assume I mean you no harm or I would’ve just let Jax take care of it.”

“Exactly.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

They eventually pulled up to an older house at the end of a cul-de-sac. The house had its own style separate from the others that filled the neighborhood. The sprawling, snow-covered lawn revealed a big, wrap-around porch, a mailbox shaped like a swan, children’s toys, a wagon, and various lawn ornaments peaking from the snowy blanket, and an elaborate cement doe in a corner surrounded by what would be tulips in the spring. The neighborhood was surprisingly quiet and comfortable nestled in the heart of the community.

When Chase stepped gingerly out of the cab, he glanced back over his shoulder to see the looming buildings like sentry giants keeping watch over the residential streets a few blocks away. But instead of feeling claustrophobic, the effect was almost peaceful, safe amid the hustle of the never-sleeping city.

A bout of dizziness swept through his thoughts and he leaned against the taxi for a moment to get his bearings. The pounding in his head had increased until he could barely think. He knew he shouldn’t stay at Clara’s house, but with the state of his thoroughly pummeled body and sore knee, he wouldn’t get far. A cold breeze swept down the street and a shiver ran up his spine. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Clara paid the taxi driver without looking at Chase; he felt a faint twinge at not being able to cover the fare. The front door to the house opened as the cab sped away.

“Clara, Matty! Thank goodness you’re safe!” A tall, balding man came running out the door pulling on a green and yellow jacket; a big white dog followed barking happily. The man reached them before he had his jacket all the way on; he let it hang forgotten off one arm as he threw his arms around his children. The dog, a white German Shepard mix, bounded around the trio with a used-to-be-yellow tennis ball in its mouth. Its tail wagged so fast Chase wondered that the dog didn’t lift off the ground. After about two seconds of being ignored, it bounced over to Chase and tried to give him the ball.

“We were so worried! Penny called everyone; she was so upset. They’re all on their way over,” the man said. He dropped to one knee in the snow and checked Matty over to make sure he was alright.

“We’re okay, Dad,” Clara said with a valiant smile. “We’re just shaken up, that’s all.”

“Is that true?” he asked, his eyes going back to Matty.

The boy nodded. “Chase saved us!” he said. He pointed at where the dog was still trying to get Chase to take the slobbery tennis ball from its mouth. Chase looked paler than he had been in the alley.

“Bailey, no. No ball!” Clara scolded.

“Who’s this?” their father asked, noticing Chase for the first time.

“Dad, this is Chase. Chase, this is my Dad, Matt Clark. Chase saved us from those men.” Clara gave Chase a true smile, her green eyes lit with gratitude.

Chase’s thoughts were hazy. He forced them to align and lifted his hand to meet Mr. Clark’s hearty handshake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, son! I don’t know how I can ever repay you for what you’ve done.” He glanced quickly over Chase’s appearance; his eyes widened when he noticed the blood on the young man’s forehead. “You need to go to a hospital.”

Chase shook his head quickly, then raised a hand to it when dizziness made his vision swim. “No hospital. I’m fine, I swear. I should be going.”

He turned, but Mr. Clark threw an arm around Chase’s shoulders and directed him back toward the house. “Come in, come in. Penny will have you right as rain in no time.” Chase didn’t have the energy to protest. They started up the wide steps to the front door, Clara and Matty in front. It was obvious Mr. Clark didn’t want to let them out of his sight. “Now, what did you say your name was?”

“Brockson, sir, Chase Brockson.” Black spots started to dance at the edges of his vision. He swept his hair back from his eyes in an effort to clear them.

“Any relation to the Mr. Brockson?” Mr. Clark asked interestedly.

“Some,” Chase replied vaguely.

When it was clear the stranger wasn’t going to elaborate, Mr. Clark pulled open the door and ushered them all inside. “Penny! The kids are home safe and I’ve someone here who needs your TLC!” Mr. Clark yelled.

“Oh thank goodness; I was so worried!” came the response from up the hallway.

“There now,” Mr. Clark replied with satisfaction. “Everything’s going to be okay.” He hugged Clara and Matty again, then gave Chase a relieved smile. “I don’t know how we’re ever going to repay you for this, but Mrs. Clark will fix you up.” He looked closer at Chase and concern colored his face.” Are you okay?”

Chase tried to reply, but the spots in his vision grew bigger. He stumbled and felt Mr. Clark’s steady arms catch him before he blacked out.

Chapter 2

“Mr. Brockson?”

Chase’s mind surfaced as though he’d been swimming in a deep, dark pool. The first thing he felt was pain, a dull, throbbing pulse from his knee, a sharp stab in his side whenever he took a breath, and a tremendous headache centering around his left eye where he’d been kicked. He could feel bandages across his brow and wrapped snuggly around his knee. The sterile tang of antiseptic registered and the events of the evening rushed back. He reached up slowly and touched the cloth on his forehead.

“I’m glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?” Chase recognized Mr. Clark’s mellow, clear voice.

“Like I ran with the bulls in Pamplona and the bulls won.”

Mr. Clark chuckled. “I’m glad to see you have a sense of humor after that beating.” His voice took on a more serious tone. “I don’t know how to thank you. To go back in the shape you were in and put your life on the line for strangers. . .” He paused and his voice grew softer. “You don’t know how much it means to us to have Clara and Matty back safe.”

Chase didn’t know what to say. He opened his eyes, grateful for Mr. Clark’s foresight in keeping lights off as even the faint gray that trickled through the blinds across the window made his headache pound. He tried to sit up, but his head spun.

Mr. Clark’s firm hands eased him back down. “You need to rest. If you’d been out much longer, I would have taken you to the hospital regardless of your views against it.” His tone was fatherly.

Chase closed his eyes against the slowly spinning room. “How long was I out?”

“Through half the night. Penny suspects you have a mild concussion. It’s four in the morning.”

Surprised, Chase glanced at him. “You must be tired.”

Mr. Clark shrugged. “Sleep’s overrated. Except for you; you need as much as you can get. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He rose from the wooden chair he’d been sitting in and stretched tiredly. “Get some more sleep. Penny put a clean change of some of Daniel’s more conservative clothes in the bathroom for you to wear if you want to shower later.”

Chase knew by Mr. Clark’s tone that he thought a shower would be a good improvement. “Could I borrow a razor?” he asked quietly.

“There’s already one waiting for you,” Mr. Clark replied with obvious approval in his voice.

Chase attempted to roll onto his side, then thought better of it as pain shot up from his ribs. Mr. Clark reached the door and turned back to close it behind him. “Thank you, Sir,” Chase said just loud enough for him to hear.

Mr. Clark turned back, a mildly surprised expression on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, then nodded instead. He pulled the door shut behind him.

***

The next time Chase awoke, late afternoon sunlight was streaming in through clean, light green curtains. He sat up slowly and glanced around. He was in a small bedroom. He wondered vaguely who he had ousted from their room. The carpet was dark blue and well-worn in some places, but spotless. A matching dresser set sat against the opposite wall with a variety of family photos, a little league football trophy, two blue and orange Broncos baseball caps, a pair of rolled-up socks, and a handful of change complete with pocket lint on top. There was a poster of Kurt Cobain on one wall, and one of Metallica near the window.

He eased his legs off the edge of the bed and winced when a shooting pain ran up from his injured knee. He pulled the tattered pant leg up, hesitated, then slowly unwound the ace wrap he found there to reveal his knee already swollen with black, purple, and green bruises along the outside. He bent it experimentally and gritted his teeth at the fresh throb of pain.

Satisfied that he hadn’t broken anything, Chase eased to a standing position. He wove at the sudden movement and steadied himself with a hand on the bedpost. His head ached, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the night before. Clenching his jaw, he was able to hobble across the floor to the open bathroom with only moderate nausea. The bathroom had two entrances. The second was locked, which he assumed with a surge of gratitude was to keep anyone from disturbing him. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub, already exhausted from the expended energy and alarmed at how quickly his strength left.

The bathroom, like the bedroom, was spotlessly clean. Black and white tiles lined the floor and above the sink, countered with light green towels and a soap and toothbrush holder that sported smiling, dark green frogs. A frog-shaped rug surrounded the base of the toilet, and a frog sticker on the mirror, faded and almost colorless from numerous cleanings, reminded him that brushing his teeth was ‘toadally awesome’.

He smiled when he saw a still-packaged toothbrush sitting on top of a folded, faded blue tee-shirt, washed out blue jeans, and a fresh pair of socks. True to his word, Mr. Clark had left an electric razor plugged in next to a comb and deodorant.

Chase stood and undid the gauze wrapped snuggly around his head. Beneath the clean cloth, butterfly bandages were spaced evenly across the gash on his brow. The blood had been cleaned from his cheek, but he could still feel its grittiness in his hair.

He turned on the facet in the bathtub and waited for it to warm. He ran his fingers through the water, feeling the minute temperature change and wondering when the last time was that he’d had a good shower. An image of his father surfaced in his mind; he shook it quickly to clear the memory, then put a hand to his forehead when the movement brought a strong reminder of his headache. He twisted the knob to bring the water to the shower head and stepped over the side of the tub.

Warm water streamed into his hair. He ran his fingers through it so that it laid back instead of across his forehead in an effort to keep the water from ruining Mrs. Clark’s bandaging. His jet black hair was normally straight, but the ends curled at the base of his neck from being longer than he was used to. Working shampoo to the roots, he could feel hidden bumps and bruises left by Torn’s men.

The thought of his near proximity to death made Chase’s blood run cold. He reached down and turned the hot water higher to chase away the chill that ran up his spine. He might have saved Clara and Matty, but by being there, they, too, had saved him.

The thought that he didn’t deserve all of this kept running through his mind. He, a dirty, bedraggled stranger, had been welcomed into this cozy home, been bandaged, clothed, and now given the opportunity to clean the grime of the city streets from his body. He wondered why they trusted him, and why Clara hadn’t just left him in the alley in the first place. It would have been so easy.

He leaned his forehead against the cool tiles careful not to put pressure on the gash. He wouldn’t trust himself, he thought grimly. After all he’d done, he didn’t deserve this caring treatment. “I deserve the street grime,” he whispered and shut his eyes tight. He pounded a fist softly on the wall, telling himself he should leave and never come back. A sharp throb ran through his swollen knuckles. He didn’t belong in a home with a loving family, especially so close to Christmas.

That thought came like a fist closing around his heart. It was almost Christmas, only a week away now. He finished washing and no longer relished the feeling of being clean. He would leave at the first opportunity.

He dried off with a huge, fluffy blue towel that waited on the other side of the sink. A glance in the mirror showed more bruises along his back and deep purple bruising across his ribs on the right side. He touched the aching place carefully, wondering if his ribs were broken or just cracked. He pulled the blue tee-shirt on and gritted his teeth at the pain in his ribs when he lifted his arms above his head. He then sat on the edge of the bathtub and re-wrapped his swollen knee before pulling on the pants. They were a bit short, but fit fairly well.

He rose carefully and limped to the sink. Steam from the hot shower covered part of the mirror, revealing the words, “Martin rules all”, written with a finger. Chase studied his reflection, his brow creased in disapproval. He looked far older than he had a month ago. Dark, sleep-deprived circles lined both eyes while his left one was also rimmed in a black bruise below the gash. His month-old beard was thicker than he thought.

He reached for the electric razor despite the pointlessness of shaving if he was just going to leave. If it meant something to Mr. Clark, he could at least do that. It felt good to clear his cheeks again. The jaw revealed was strong and stubborn, his father’s jaw. He sighed, set the razor down, and gathered up the fallen hair with toilet paper. He then brushed his teeth, relishing their clean, smooth feeling.

A quick search revealed grocery sacks under the sink for use in the small garbage can. He placed his dirty clothes in the bag, hesitated, then wrapped toilet paper around the toothbrush and put it in the bag, too. He doubted anyone would mind its absence. He put the bag by the door so he could grab it when he left.

After tidying up the bathroom, Chase ran a quick hand through his hair. It stubbornly fell in front of his eyes again. Steeling himself, he unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway. Immediately, scents of pot roast, fresh rolls, and homemade mashed potatoes tickled his nose. His stomach growled, reminding him that it had been more than a few days since he’d had a decent meal. Before he knew what he was doing, he followed the tantalizing smell to the dining room, leaning heavily against the wall to keep the weight off his bad knee.

He stopped awkwardly at the open door. At least a dozen people sat around a long, well-worn but lovingly polished table with pull-out eves in place. Three children, Matty included, sat at a smaller table in the corner making interesting pictures out of their mashed potatoes and peas. The adults laughed and joked amid passing heaping plates of still-steaming food.

At Chase’s appearance, the group grew quiet. Nods and warm smiles beamed at him wherever he looked. Almost desperately, he sought out Mr. Clark at one end of the long table.

“Good to see you up and about,” Mr. Clark said with satisfaction. “You clean up well.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Chase replied. He could feel everyone looking at him and fumbled his words. “I-uh. Well, I’d better get going.”

Mr. Clark’s eyebrows rose. “Going?”

Chase nodded. “I appreciate the hospitality you and your family have shown to me, but I really shouldn’t impose on you any longer.”

A rotund, highly spirited woman with short blond hair jumped up from Mr. Clark’s right side and hurried toward Chase. “Oh, nonsense,” she said, clucking her tongue. “We’ve enough food to feed an army, and I’ll bet by the looks of you that it’s been a while since you’ve had proper nourishment.” Upon reaching him, she took his arm and led him limping around the table to a vacant seat on Mr. Clark’s other side. “We won’t be sending you out in this shape no how,” she said in a tone that left little room for argument.

Chase hesitated, saw that he had no choice, and sat down. Bewildered, he glanced over and met Clara’s eyes. She was smiling with one corner of her mouth higher than the other, as if she knew the awkwardness of the situation and found it amusing. At his puzzled frown, she shook her head and indicated the food. “Eat,” she mouthed.

Chase’s stomach growled again, bringing his attention back to the food in front of him. During his brief, wordless exchange with Clara, Mrs. Clark had taken the opportunity to fill his plate with more food than he could eat in a week. Talking had already resumed around the table. After glancing around again, Chase picked up a buttered roll.

The conversation was pleasant and charged with the sarcasm and wit of a family that took little offense at anything. Chase listened to an exchange between an older gentleman he guessed to be Clara’s grandfather and a boy who looked like a decades’ younger clone of Mr. Clark with light brown hair and a patient smile. They argued good-naturedly about the differences between acting in movies from the past and in the present.

Clara joked with the boy seated next to her. Chase guessed he was close to seventeen. He had dyed his blonde hair black and styled it in moussed spikes. He wore black clothes, had black painted fingernails, a ring in his bottom lip, several in one ear, and silver chain around his neck with a simple circle on it.

The couple next to Chase turned out to be the Clarks’ neighbors, the retired Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, who would be leaving the next day to spend Christmas with their son and daughter-in-law in Los Angeles. They were busy telling Mr. and Mrs. Clark about their plans for a trip to Rome over the summer. The two other children at the kids’ table with Matty were the Stevens’ grandchildren who would be flying back with them.

Bailey, the big white dog, sat almost patiently near Mr. Clark licking his chops at the scents that wafted from the table. Occasionally, Mr. Clark tossed the dog a scrap as a reward for his patience. Mr. Clark saw Chase watching and fired his fingers at the dog like a gun. The dog immediately flopped onto his side, death simulation complete with a lolling tongue hanging out of his mouth. After half a second of holding the position, Bailey was on his feet wriggling with excitement at properly carrying out the trick. Mr. Clark laughed and tossed him a generous piece of meatloaf.

“I don’t make my special meatloaf for it to be turned into dog food,” Mrs. Clark scolded, clucking her tongue, but the smile in her bright green eyes negated any truth to the scolding.

“This is a wonderful meal,” Chase told her sincerely. “Thank you for having me over.”

“It’s the least we could do,” Mrs. Clark replied, pleased at the compliment. Her green eyes twinkled.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing you were there to save Clara and Matty.”

The atmosphere changed and Chase looked up. The brown haired boy, Martin, who had been talking to Grandpa Clark was the one to speak. The teenager smiled amiably at Chase, but Chase could tell that it was a topic the Clarks would rather not talk about at dinner.

Chase glanced quickly around and saw that all eyes were on him except Clara’s; she studied her empty plate, her expression unreadable. Chase sat up, ignoring the twinge in his side. “Actually,” he told the boy with a serious expression. “She was handling herself pretty well there. I was more afraid for the bad guys than her. Right, Matty?” He winked at the boy.

Matty grinned. “Clara was going to whoop ‘em!” he replied.

Everyone laughed and Mr. Clark turned back to Chase. “Well, we’re very fortunate you were there, Mr. Brockson. We are in your debt.”

“Please, call me Chase, Sir,” Chase replied, embarrassed. “And I really didn’t do much, honest.”

“Well, Chase,” Grandpa Clark said, “It’s good to know there’re still some heroes left in this crazy world.”

A pit grew in Chase’s stomach. He dropped his eyes. “I’m no hero, Sir. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.” He brushed his hair back from his brow, feeling the butterfly bandages beneath his fingertips. The pit in his stomach grew heavier when he thought about how close he had come to being killed. It was his fault Torn’s men were there in the first place. Clara and Matty wouldn’t have been in danger if it wasn’t for him.

He glanced up and met Clara’s eyes. They were puzzled, searching. He looked away, angry at himself for staying, for intruding on this unknown, caring family, and for letting down his carefully constructed walls, even if just a little bit.

“Dad, can Chase come with us to find our tree tomorrow?”

Chase looked up, surprised. It was Matty who asked. “I want a huge tree!” the young boy said, jumping up on his chair and reaching his fingers as high as he could to demonstrate just how big it needed to be.

“We should get a fake one,” Martin said with a glance at his dad. “We won’t be killing a tree and there’s less mess to clean up.”

“It wouldn’t be Christmas without the fresh smell of pine in the house,” Mrs. Clark replied with a smile.

“Bailey wouldn’t get covered in sap,” Grandma Clark pointed out. She smiled at Chase. “He always sleeps under the tree, and we have the darndest time getting the sap out of his fur.”

Daniel, the black-haired boy next to Clara, laughed. “He looks like a deranged tree ornament when the bulbs get stuck to him.” The others chuckled at the memory.

Chase shifted uncomfortably. He was a stranger amid a family of friends. He regretted the decision to stay for dinner.

“Can he?” Matty pressed, bringing Chase’s attention back.

Mr. Clark shrugged. “It’s up to Chase.” He looked at the young man, his eyes questioning.

They were all looking at him. Chase glanced at Matty’s eager expression, his green eyes, a shade lighter than Clara’s, sparkling with anticipation. Chase looked away and shook his head. “I don’t really celebrate Christmas,” he said uncomfortably, the pit in his stomach making him nauseous.

A hush fell around the table. “How can anyone not celebrate Christmas?” Daniel asked in amazement.

Mr. Clark frowned at his son. “We mind our own business in this family, Daniel.” He turned back to Chase. “It’s more of a fun outing than anything else. We pick out a tree at Brecker’s Farm, get ice cream at The Barn, and catch a movie, sort of a Clark family tradition.”

“We’d love for you to join us,” Mrs. Clark said with a beaming smile. “You’re practically part of the family after what you did. Besides, you’ll get to meet our daughter Ilene and her family.”

He saw Grandma and Grandpa Clark nod out of the corner of his eye. He should say no; he knew he should. But Mrs. Clark’s words made him hesitate. How would it feel to be part of a family like this, if only for a little while?

“Please?” Matty pleaded.

“We do have a good time,” Martin said.

Clara nodded, an encouraging smile on her face.

Chase battled briefly with what he should do and what his heart truly wanted. For once, though he couldn’t explain why, he let his heart win. “Okay,” he finally agreed.

“Hurray!” Matty yelled.

“We’ll get you Daniel’s old pair of crutches. I saved them in the attic in case he decided to try flying from the roof again,” Mrs. Clark said cheerily.

Martin leaned closer. “I think he was high,” he whispered to Chase loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Martin!” Mrs. Clark scolded.

Chase glanced at Daniel. The boy shrugged, unconcerned. Clara ruffled his hair, then gave Chase a boys-will-be-boys roll of her eyes.

“Well,” Mr. Clark said, pushing himself up. “Anyone for a game of cards?”

The others agreed and started clearing off the table. Chase rose to help them, then staggered as a wave of lightheadedness swept through.

“Easy now, tiger,” Grandpa Clark said. The older man caught him under an arm and helped him limp slowly into the adjoining living room. He eased Chase into an overstuffed chair next to the comfortably burning fire, then sat down in a mismatched chair opposite him.

Chase rested with his eyes closed for a moment to regain his bearings. When he opened them, Grandpa Clark was staring into the fire humming a tune to himself. Chase smiled when he recognized the song from Coldplay.

Grandpa Clark smiled back. He was mostly bald, a bit shorter than Clara’s father, and his face was tanned and lined with the wrinkles and age marks of a well-lived life. Laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes when he smiled. “They don’t let me play anymore,” he said. At Chase’s surprised look, he lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I count cards.” He grinned. “I make a killing in Vegas, though!”

Chase laughed, then held his side at the unexpectedly sharp jab of pain.

Grandpa Clark’s brow creased. “They got you pretty good, didn’t they?”

Chase gave a half smile. “I wish I could say I got them just as good, but they had the jump on me.” His voice lowered. “It was luck that made them leave Clara and Matty unharmed.”

Grandpa Clark sat back in his chair, his gaze distant and thoughtful. “What some of us attribute to luck, others feel is help from a different source.”

Chase frowned and shook his head. “I don’t believe in God.” His voice was touched with bitterness.

Grandpa Clark glanced at him. “To each his own,” he replied.

Chase closed his eyes, soaking in the warmth of the fire. He could hear the others around the table in the dining room. Someone must have made a big move because boos and laughter erupted along with a cheer of triumph from one of the boys.

He allowed himself to take it all in, the scent of fresh ginger bread men just pulled from the oven, cinnamon and pine from the potpourri simmering on the stove, the crackle of the fire causing orange lights to dance in front of his eyelids, the laughter and good-natured teasing of a loving family; above it all, the sense of security filled places he hadn’t realized had been empty for a long time. He tried to hold it all in, to store it in his memory for when it would be gone, a time he knew would be all too soon.

“You did the right thing.” Grandpa Clark’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Chase opened his eyes and nodded, assuming he meant fighting off Torn’s men.

“In coming with the family tomorrow,” Grandpa Clark continued. “You’ll have a good time.”

Chase didn’t know how to respond. He was already wondering why he accepted, and doubted if he should truly go along. There was still time to leave. He glanced out the curtained window, then sighed as the shadows of snowflakes spiraled within the light of the street lamp.

“Cold night to be out.”

Chase glanced quickly at Grandpa Clark, but the old man’s eyes were closed and his face was turned towards the warmth of the fire. Chase hesitated, then spoke his thoughts aloud. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said softly.

Grandpa Clark opened his eyes but didn’t look at Chase. He stared at the fire with a gaze that was serious and thoughtful. “You saved this family when you saved Clara and Matty. Each member of the family is each other’s greatest blessing. You deserve to be here because you gave us back something that could never have been replaced.”

“But I’m not a good person,” Chase admitted to himself and Grandpa Clark. For some reason, he felt he had to make Grandpa Clark understand. The Clarks had all been so kind and caring to him, tending his wounds, giving him a bed to sleep on and clean clothes to wear, and feeding him the best meal he’d had as far back as he could remember. He rubbed his brow, troubled, tracing the bandages there.

Grandpa Clark sat forward, his arms on his knees and his hands clasped together. He studied them in silence for a small length of time, his eyebrows creased. When he finally looked up and met Chase’s eyes, his clouded blue gaze was frank and honest. “Son, I truly believe that there are no bad people in the world, just bad choices. We choose the path we walk, and by doing so, we choose our final destination.” He gave a small smile. “There are places along each path where we have the opportunity to change our direction, but again, it is our choice.” His smile fell slightly. “I walked down my own hard paths in the past, and I thought I couldn’t change, that my future was already laid out for me.”

“What did you do?” Chase asked quietly. He propped an elbow on his knee and rested his head in his hand; the dull throbbing of his headache was starting to grow.

“I met Mrs. Clark; well, Ms. Molly Clara Hampton back then.” He smiled softly, looking years younger. “For her, I would have changed my entire universe because she believed in me.” He indicated the dining room. “You have a group of people in there who believe in you, too, but this is your choice. Only you can decide which path to take.”

Chase stared into the fire, the flames chasing themselves in circles like the thoughts in his head.

Chapter 3

Later that evening, Mr. Clark and Martin helped Chase back to the bedroom. “I can sleep on the couch,” he protested.

“Grandma and Grandpa have the couch,” Mr. Clark replied. At Chase’s stare, he laughed. “It’s a hide-a-bed with the best pull-out mattress money can buy. They call it their home away from home.”

He helped Chase sit down on the bed, then handed him the clean pajamas Mrs. Clark had supplied from the closet. “Have a good night. Don’t worry about getting up early to catch breakfast. Everyone’s on vacation except me.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “I’ll be at the clinic for two more days, but I’ll catch you guys at Brecker’s Farm tomorrow afternoon.”

“Night, Dad,” Martin said.

“Night, son.” Mr. Clark replied. He nodded at Chase. “Get some sleep. You look like you could use a week or two.” He left whistling the tune from Leave it to Beaver.

“I feel bad taking your room,” Chase said after Mr. Clark had gone.

“Don’t worry about it,” Martin replied amiably. He gathered up his pajamas and a comic book. “I get ousted every Christmas. That’s when everyone comes to visit.” He shrugged. “Besides, when I bunk out in Daniel’s room, we stay up playing Halo and Ghost Recon all night.” He glanced at Chase. “You play?”

Chase shook his head, then regretted the action as the pounding in his head increased. “Never tried.”

“You’ll have to join us sometime. Dan’ll teach you the moves. He’s a killer at first person shooters.” He paused. “Daniel’s a good guy, you know?”

Chase nodded. It was obvious this was important to Martin. “I can tell.”

Martin smiled. “Good. ‘Cause some people don’t get him, but he’s great. I just didn’t want you to have the wrong impression.”

“Thanks,” Chase replied. “I’ll take you up on the game offer sometime.”

Martin nodded, said goodnight, then disappeared from the room.

Chase pushed slowly back to his feet, eased the pajamas over his bruised body, then settled back onto the bed. His knee ached above the level of the aspirin Mrs. Clark had given him, but it helped ease his headache to a minor throb behind the bandages she had rewrapped on his brow. He sunk quickly into a dreamless sleep of a moonless night with a patter of rain all around him.

***

When Chase awoke, the clock on the dresser showed 1:49 a.m. He knew he should go back to sleep, but memories kept flashing through his mind, memories he’d rather not face. His mouth was dry, so he rose from the bed with the goal of heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out when he put weight on his injured knee. He sucked his breath in and hobbled slowly to the door, leaning on various items in Martin’s room to ease the weight on his leg as much as possible. He opened the door and hobbled painfully down the hallway.

By the time he reached the kitchen, Chase was worn out but triumphant at his small achievement. He filled a glass with water, sat at the table, and sipped it with a small smile. He refilled it a second time, then rinsed the glass, washed it, and set it on the sideboard to dry.

Quiet commotion from further down the hall caught his attention. Making his way to it, he listened a moment. Gunfire followed by shouting and laughter heralded that Martin and Daniel were still up playing games. Chase knocked on the door before he could second-guess his decision. He heard the game pause, then Martin opened the door.

“Awesome!” he said when he saw Chase. “Hey Dan, we’ve got another player,” he called over his shoulder. He stepped aside to let Chase enter.

Chase had never seen two rooms more opposite than Martin’s and Daniel’s. Where Martin’s room was simple and tidy to a fault, every space in Daniel’s room was occupied. Martin’s two posters were outshone by posters, album covers, and pencil and ink drawings from the floor to the ceiling and even covering the ceiling in some places. In one corner, a black light illuminated an entire solar system suspended from fishing line. Two banana chairs sat on a black rug with a white crescent moon in the middle that face a television stand with a game system underneath it.

Daniel, sitting in one of the banana chairs, hefted an extra controller. “The more, the merrier.”

He tossed it up and Chase caught it, eyeing the numerous buttons suspiciously. “You guys are going to kill me a million times before I get the hang of this, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” Daniel agreed. He watched Chase ease himself painfully to the ground. “You want to sit on one of these chairs?” His tone indicated he thought it would be a bad idea.

Chase agreed. “I don’t think I’d be able to get back up.” He patted the surprisingly comfortable carpet. “Besides, this is the best seat in the house.”

Martin laughed and sat down in the other chair. “It’s all yours.” He glanced at the screen, then back at Chase. “Uh, we already took the honor of creating your profile when you said you’d come play.”

Chase couldn’t help but laugh. His new profile screen was neon pink with the name ‘Thug Slayer’ proudly emblazoned across it. “Thug Slayer?” he asked.

Martin grinned. “Daniel came up with it. He thought it was better than Man Who Chases Away Bad Guys.”

Daniel laughed and Chase nodded appreciatively. “Yes, much better.” He studied his controller for a moment, then gave up the hope of ever learning the controls. “Okay, let the dying begin.”

Between various, gruesome deaths in which he, too, was his worst enemy, Chase found himself in a more conversational tone than normal. “You like the Broncos, huh?”

Martin nodded, firing a well-timed missile at Chase and blowing ‘Thug Slayer’ off a ledge. “I haven’t missed a game since Payton got on board.”

“He’s a good guy,” Chase agreed. “As nice in person as he is on television.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “You’ve met him?”

“Shook his hand once,” Chase replied.

Daniel glanced at him after nailing Thug Slayer in the head with a sniper rifle. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to you than meets the eye?”

Chase leaned back against the side of the bed. “I think you could say the same thing about anyone,” he said evasively. He scrambled his character desperately toward a bazooka only to get sliced from behind by Daniel’s Shadow.

“True,” Martin agreed thoughtfully. “No!” he shouted when Daniel bombed his hiding spot with a well-thrown grenade.

Chase pulled the trigger while holding his breath, then let out a yell of triumph when the bullet got Shadow.

“Lucky shot!” Daniel said begrudgingly.

“Definitely,” Chase agreed. He set down his controller, tired and more than ready to end on the one kill he’d had all game long. “I hate to say it, but I think I need to retire.”

“Stopping while you’re ahead?” Martin teased. He paused the game with a smile.

“Well, seeing you’re both about two zillion to one, I’d have to say yes,” Chase replied.

Daniel rose unexpectedly and helped him to his feet. “Thanks for playing, man. It was fun.”
Chase smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed killing me.”

“Definitely,” Daniel replied. He was only half-joking when he continued, “You’ll have to come back so we can kill you again sometime.”

“Oh, don’t think you can keep me down now. You’ve created a monster in Thug Slayer. I’ll never surrender.” Chase laughed, then winced at the accompanying stab of pain. “Someday, I may actually win.”

“You already did,” Daniel replied in a serious tone. At Chase’s questioning look, he continued, “Thank you for what you did for Clara and Matty. That took guts.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Martin said.

Chase shifted on his good leg and wondered how to respond when a knock at the door saved him. It was two short taps, one long one, and two more short ones.

“Come in, Clara,” Daniel said.

She opened the door and poked her head in. “Just seeing if you guys were still up. I made some . . . .” She fell silent at the sight of Chase. Her long brown hair had been freed from its ponytail and now hung around her slightly mussed. She brushed it back self-consciously.

“We’re teaching him how to play. The guy’s sadly lacking in the primary education of our generation,” Daniel said.

Clara rolled her eyes. “I’m glad you feel obligated to give it to him,” she replied, her smile teasing. “But you’d better quiet down or you’ll wake up Mom.” She met Chase’s gaze, her tone growing serious. “And you know what she’ll say if you’re keeping our guest from getting the sleep his needs to recuperate.”

“We didn’t make him come in here,” Martin argued. “He chose to come on his own.”

“I highly doubt that,” she replied skeptically.

“I did,” Chase said. He wondered why he felt like he should be apologizing. “I couldn’t sleep, and,” he winked at the boys, “was sadly ignorant of my lack of education.” He sighed dramatically. “Of course, if my performance means anything, I am still sadly lacking. Thug Slayer bids you adieu until a later time.” He gave them a formal bow which they returned with mock solemnity before he left the room.

“Your brothers are great,” he said to Clara after closing the door.

“I know,” she agreed. “I’m lucky to have them.”

“Yes, you are,” Chase replied. He felt her questioning glance, but didn’t feel like expounding. He limped slowly down the hallway trying not the show the pain that was coursing up his leg.

“It’ll get better,” Clara said as if she could read his thoughts.

“What?” Chase asked cautiously.

“Your knee,” she replied. “It’ll get better, but it’s normal for it to feel worse before it starts to ease up.”

“You know this from experience?” Chase asked. He paused at the kitchen to ease the feeling of nausea the pain in his knee was creating.

She nodded. “I twisted my knee playing softball about two years ago.” She frowned slightly. “Of course, I don’t know if it’s different when you’re kicked.”

“Me neither,” Chase said. She threw him an incredulous look and he shrugged. “I’ve never twisted my knee playing softball, so I’ve nothing to compare it to.”

Her brow creased, a half-smile on her lips. “You’re not crazy or anything, are you?”

Chase shook his head. “Just tired and recovering from a concussion.”

“Well, if that’s all,” she replied with a quiet laugh.

He limped forward again. It felt like his arms and legs weighed ten tons apiece.

“Do you need help?” Clara asked with a note of worry.

Chase shook his head, then stumbled and caught himself against a doorframe. Without a word, Clara ducked under his arm and helped him slowly up the hall to his room. He sat down on the bed with his head in his hands. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I feel like I’m swimming through tar right now.”

“You need sleep,” Clara replied. She studied him from where she stood by the window. She told herself not to care, not to get caught up with someone involved in his kind of trouble, but something about him made her heart twisted unexpectedly in her chest. He seemed so lost and alone. She had never met anyone like him.

He nodded wordlessly. He heard her turn to leave and forced his head up. “Clara?”

She turned back.

He pushed the hair from his eyes. “I’m not what you think I am,” he said quietly. He fumbled for the right words, his mind sluggish with the need to sleep. “I appreciate this, all of it. I just,” he shook his head. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Sleep,” she replied, her tone encouraging as if she was trying to get a sick child to drink water. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Chase nodded and settled back on the bed. She closed the door and he listened for her footsteps to fade away, but he didn’t hear them. She stood outside the door lost in thought; it was after he had been asleep for quite a while that she finally turned and walked back down the hall.

***

The next morning, which the clock on the dresser proudly heralded to be 11:35 a.m., Chase limped into the bathroom to find Daniel’s old crutches waiting for him. Some bored individual, which Chase assumed to be Daniel, had drawn intricate pictures of dragons, demons, phantoms, skulls, and flames along the entire length of the metal on both crutches.

He studied the pictures, amazed at their detail and clarity. He wondered if Daniel had ever tried his hand at tattooing, then tried to imagine the Clarks’ reaction if he suggested it. He set the crutches back down and prepared for his shower.

It was much easier to make it down the hall with crutches than it had been last night. Martin laughed when Chase sat down at the table, for he and Daniel had just woken up also. They had generous helpings of eggs, bacon, and toast on their plates, and were making valiant efforts to put it all away in case of a sudden famine.

“Well, Mr. Brockson, you look like you’re feeling better today,” Mrs. Clark said cheerily upon his entrance.

“I feel much better,” he replied honestly. “And please, call me Chase. Mr. Brockson makes me sound. . . .”

“Old?” Daniel interjected helpfully.

“Like someone I’m not,” Chase replied, trying to smile despite the sudden tightness in his throat. He cleared it and looked at the feast on the table. All manner of eggs, scrambled, over-easy, over-hard, poached, and hard boiled sat with bowls of hash browns, bacon, French toast, pancakes, ham slices, toast, jelly, peanut butter, syrup, and orange juice. “This is an amazing breakfast, Mrs. Clark.”

She handed him a plate. “Everyone likes something different, and I enjoy the chance to make everyone’s favorites over the holidays.” She winked at him. “We’ll just reheat the leftovers tomorrow. Eat as much as you’d like. Heaven knows you could stand to gain a few pounds.”

“Thug Slayer takes health advice from over-protective mother,” Daniel said in a tone of a zealous news reporter.

Mrs. Clark cast him a half-serious stare. “Well, if you didn’t keep him up half the night playing your video games, he’d probably recuperate quicker.”

“He’s the one that came to us, not the other way around,” Martin protested.

“This is like déjà vu,” Daniel said with a half-smile. He rose from the table and saluted Chase. “Farewell, Thug Slayer. We’ll see you at the cruel harvesting of living plant matter for the sake of a single day’s joviality.”

“He means that we’ll meet you at Brecker’s Farm to pick the Christmas tree,” Martin piped in. He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door and Daniel picked his up from where it lay crumpled on a pile of shoes.

“Where are you going?” Mrs. Clark asked.

“To Jerry’s. We promised Rod we’d meet him over there,” Martin replied. At their mother’s continued stare, he reassured her. “Jerry’s parents are there. We won’t get into any trouble.”

She nodded, her lips pursed. “Drive carefully. The roads have been plowed, but there’ll still be ice on the bridges.” They were already out the front door, but she called after them, “Don’t go over 25! Watch out for pedestrians!”

She shut the door and clucked her tongue. “All I need is for them to run somebody over.” She seemed to remember that Chase was there and smiled at him. “I’ll be off to the market for dinner tonight. Samuel, Ilene, and the kids will be meeting us at Brecker’s, so I want to get something started before we leave. Please make yourself comfortable here.”

She gave him a warm smile. “I’d invite you to come with me, heaven knows I could use another pair of hands, but you’ll probably want to rest that knee before we go to the Farm. There’s always a lot of walking when everyone starts getting opinionated about trees.” She laughed to herself as she put away the bowls and leftovers from breakfast.

Chase rose and began to wash the dishes in the sink.

“Guests don’t do chores in our home,” Mrs. Clark said.

Chase shook his head. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for the wonderful meals.”

“Growing boys need to be fed,” Mrs. Clark replied with a serious glance at him. “And you look like you’ve skipped more than a few meals in the past.” She smiled, her tone lightening. “Besides, one or more of Martin’s friends always show up unexpectedly, so we’re used to additional company.”

Chase laughed, then tried to hide a wince at the pain in his ribs. “You have a good attitude.”

“I’ve been blessed with a good life,” she replied. She frowned. “Your ribs bothering you?”

“A bit,” Chase admitted.

“You were practically one big bruise when Clara brought you home. Those guys meant business.”

He could hear the worry in her voice and changed the subject. “You said that Martin’s friends come over all the time. What about Daniel’s?” He set another clean plate on the towel she had spread along the countertop.

“Martin’s friends are sort of Daniel’s now, too. They’ve kind-of adopted him into the circle, I guess you could say.”

Chase glanced at her, taken off guard by the sadness in her voice.

She smoothed plastic over the top of the bowl of scrambled eggs and continued quietly, “Daniel lost his best friend, Ryan, two years ago in October. They’d all gone out to a party Halloween night, only Daniel and Ryan snuck off to a different party even Martin didn’t know about. The older boys at the party thought it would be fun to get the two younger boys drunk. They were fifteen at the time.”

She sighed and sat down at the table, cleaning it with a wet rag while she talked. Chase turned the water off and leaned against the sink to take the weight off his leg.

“I know it probably wasn’t the first time they’d tried alcohol, but someone slipped something into Ryan’s cup. He started to vomit. Daniel tried to get them to call an ambulance, but by the time they believed something was wrong, it was too late. Ryan died in Daniel’s arms on the way to the hospital.”

She traced a pattern on the wooden table top with the wet rag. “It took him a year to start being himself again. He and Martin began to spend more time with each other.” She gave a small smile. “We were so relieved when Daniel finally accepted Martin’s invitation to hang out with Jerry and Rod. He’s done a lot better since.”

Chase shook his head. “What a horrible thing for a young boy to go through.” Memories tried to push their way to the front of his thoughts, but he shook his head again to clear it. His hair fell in front of his eyes and he pushed it back.

“Do you usually have your hair that length?” Mrs. Clark asked in a tone that was carefully neutral.

Chase smiled, aware that she was trying not to offend him. “No,” he admitted, running his hand through it again. “It’s been a while since I’ve had it cut.”

She nodded. “I thought so. Clara’s not a bad hand with a pair of scissors. I’ll mention it to her.” She glanced at her watch, then rose quickly. “Goodness, I could stay here chatting the day away! Of course, then we’d have to order pizza or something.” She gave a martyr’s sigh. “I think Daniel keeps Dominos on speed dial just in case.” She shrugged into her fluffy beige coat, wrapped a purple scarf around her neck, and reminded Chase to make himself at home before she disappeared out the door.

Chapter 4

Chase wandered slowly from room to room. He didn’t touch anything, he simply enjoyed the evidence of a well-lived in, and loved in, home. He stood outside of Clara’s room the longest, drawn to the comfort of the space she had created for herself. She had pictures of her friends and family on the walls, not normal, posed pictures, but pictures of them laughing, building a sandcastle at the beach, chasing each other on roller skates, riding on a roller coaster with everyone’s hands up, a Christmas morning when they were much younger, and of her holding Bailey when he was a puppy.

Dried flowers hung from a decorative shelf between the two windows and on the shelf sat a carved, white stone turtle, a vase with a plastic yellow rose, and a horseshoe tipped to hold good luck. A huge, red rose-colored down comforter had been pulled hastily over still-rumpled sheets, and a worn teddy bear poked out amid the pillows. A pair of pink fuzzy slippers sat where they’d been kicked off on the soft beige carpet. A rocking chair waited in one corner by a window, a white sweater thrown across one arm and a book on the seat. A closer inspection showed the book to be Alexander Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo.

Surprised, Chase studied the small bookshelf on the other side of the bed. The top row held well-thumbed paperbacks with creased spines that told of many re-reads. Pride and Prejudice sat on top of the shelf, a bookmark marking worn pages.

The picture frame next to the book held his attention. It was one taken a few years ago of the entire Clark family, Mr. and Mrs. Clark, Clara, Daniel, Martin, Matty, and an older girl Chase hadn’t met but assumed to be Ilene. They were all laughing as if someone had told a joke. By the direction of Mrs. Clark’s rolled eyed, Chase guessed it was Daniel. They all looked so happy, so at peace with each other. Daniel’s hair was blond like his mother’s and he wore a light green shirt. This would have been before he lost his friend, Chase reminded himself.

He continued down the hall searching for a distraction to take his mind away from the path it wanted to travel. As if reading his thoughts and providing him with exactly the opposite of what he wished, he entered the living room to find photo albums spread out on the coffee table in disarray. The first one was opened to pictures of the Clarks dressed up for Halloween. Chase sighed and sat down on the couch, but it was a long time before he turned the page.

When Clara walked into the room, Chase had one of the albums open to some of the early pictures of when Clara was about nine and Daniel and Martin were six and five. Clara had a small brown rabbit in her lap and the boys were petting it. She was smiling and her dimples showed. Both boys looked overjoyed with the rabbit; Martin’s grin revealed a missing front tooth.

The next picture was a close-up of Clara looking into the camera with a half-smile on her lips. The glow in her green eyes said that she had the world at her feet and was confident about every step she would take.

“Mom loves her photo albums.”

Chase turned, startled. “I’m sorry, I-“ He rose. “Would she be angry that I was looking at them?”

“On the contrary,” Clara replied with a light-hearted laugh. “She’d be overjoyed, and then proceed to tell you the story behind each picture, and in full detail.” She looked at the open page and her expression turned thoughtful.

“I really didn’t mean to pry,” Chase apologized.

“You didn’t pry,” Clara replied. She picked up his crutches and handed them to him, smiling slightly at Daniel’s artwork. “C’mon. Eric’s waiting for us in the truck.”

“Who’s Eric?” Chase asked casually.

“My boyfriend,” Clara replied. She picked up another of Daniel’s crumpled coats and handed it to Chase.

He put it on quietly and pretended not to notice her watching him.

A stocky, blond-haired man of medium build met them halfway up the walkway to the house. He held out his hand to Chase, his expression one of genuine gratitude. “It’s good to finally meet you. I owe you my thanks for saving Clara. That took a lot of guts.”

Chase shook his hand. “You’re welcome,” he said. “But I still think she could have handled those guys herself.” He threw Clara a glance and she smiled back.

“Regardless,” Eric replied, “I will forever be in your debt for bringing back my girl safely.”

Chase didn’t know what to say. He eyed the big blue F-150 behind Eric dubiously. “Is that your truck?”

“Yep!” Eric replied proudly. He walked to it and patted the door like a cowboy petting a trusty steed. “Good ‘ole Blue.” He laughed and winked at Clara. “Or should I say New Blue? I haven’t had it that long.”

“Eric is an architect,” Clara explained. “One of the construction workers accidentally dropped a steel beam on his last truck and pretty much totaled it. It took a long time to convince the insurance it was an accident.”

“Yeah,” Eric put in. He opened the passenger door for Clara and gave her a hand to get in. “As if I’d do that to my truck on purpose. It was old, but still ran. My dad’s a mechanic, and I’ve picked up a lot from him, so I’ve been able to keep it running fairly well.”  He shrugged and pointed toward the engine. “The new guys, however, are a whole different beast. I’ll have to take it to the shop if it ever breaks down.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine paying for repairs on a truck.”

Chase levered himself up with his good leg and swung the injured one in, saving them both the embarrassment of Eric offering to help him up. As if relieved, Eric gave him a nod of approval and tossed the crutches in the back.

“Sorry,” Clara said when the door was shut. “I didn’t think about how hard it would be to get in a truck with your knee like that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chase replied. “I’ve survived worse.”

She was about to say something when Eric opened his door and climbed in. “To the Farm?”

“To the Farm,” Clara replied.

During the trip out of the city, Chase found himself liking Eric’s easy-going conversation and laid-back manner. They talked about the NFL until Clara made them turn the radio on, then they made fun of the sappy love songs until she turned it off again.

“Boys,” she said. She shook her head and fought off a smile at their heartfelt rendition of Unchained Melody.

They had just started Bohemian Rhapsody, complete with background vocals, when Eric pulled up next to a sign that proudly proclaimed, “Brecker’s Farm- we have the perfect tree for your Christmas!” Rows of cars were parked on the make-shift parking lot which served as a corn field when the snow cleared. The snow was starting to fall again and Chase bet that half the cars would have to be pulled out. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw a man sitting in a tractor ready to assist when needed.

The Clarks met them just inside the gate, bundled almost past recognition in coats, gloves, hats, and scarves. Mrs. Clark excitedly introduced Chase to Ilene, Samuel, and their three children, Isabelle and Kavin, ages seven and six, and the baby, Paige.

“It’s good to put a face to the name,” Samuel said, shaking his hand. “Mom told us what you did.”

“Good to meet you,” Chase replied, smiling at Samuel’s hearty handshake.

Ilene surprised Chase by giving him a tight hug. “Thank you for rescuing Clara and Matty. You’re a guardian angel!” She stepped back and looked him up and down critically, then clucked her tongue like her mother. “And cute!” She turned to Clara accusingly. “You didn’t tell me he was cute!” Chase looked down at the ground and smiled past the faint blush that colored his cheeks.

“Ilene,” Mrs. Clark scolded. She ushered them down the first row of trees.

Ilene slipped her free arm through Samuel’s with Paige on her other hip. “Don’t worry Mom, I’m happily married.”

Chase knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed Ilene’s untactful inflection on the word ‘I’m’, but he concentrated on placing his crutches carefully in the snow and pretended not to notice.

“It’s about time you pop the question,” Ilene pressed Eric.

“Clara would make a perfect mommy!”

“Ilene!” Clara said. She sounded exasperated but not surprised. Apparently they’d had this conversation before.

Paige stated to fuss and Mrs. Clark took her with the enthusiasm of a loving grandmother who has missed her grandchildren. Ilene kissed Samuel and then grabbed Clara’s free hand. With a laugh, Clara kissed Eric’s cheek and then ran off with her sister through the trees, both of them laughing like little girls.

Samuel and Eric just shook their heads. “Girls,” Samuel said with a shrug.

“Up here, up here!” The shout came from Martin. He and Daniel had moved on ahead to scope out the good trees before they were taken.

The group moved good naturedly toward them. Mr. and Mrs. Clark talked baby talk to Paige, who was delightedly tickling Mrs. Clark’s nose with her purple scarf. Samuel and Eric turned from their one word bonding about the sisters to a discussion of the most recent slasher movie in theaters. Chase followed behind as well as he was able to with crutches in the unshoveled snow. All three of the children attached themselves to him after Matty’s spirited retelling of their rescue in the alley. Grandma and Grandpa Clark brought up the rear hand in hand, walking in comfortable silence along the tracks of the others.

The first tree was deemed too shabby by Mr. Clark, and they moved on to find another one. The next had too many branches, though Chase couldn’t see much difference between it and the first. The third was too short by Matty’s standards, and Martin and Daniel were already arguing over a dead branch on the fourth pick before they even got there.

By the tenth tree, the children dragged Samuel and Eric off to play ninjas, Paige had drifted off to sleep in Mrs. Clark’s arms, and Chase had fallen back with Grandma and Grandpa Clark. The crisp air, laden with the scent of pine, swept him back to memories of Christmases when he was very young. Chase tried to keep them in the background. “You must be proud to have such wonderful posterity all around you,” he noted.

Grandpa nodded. “Very. When you get our age, your children are all that matter. Right, dear?” He squeezed his wife’s hand.

She smiled at Chase, white curls escaping the shawl on her head. “It’s the love,” she said in a voice that wavered slightly. “Surround yourself with love and you will always be happy. That’s what life’s really about.”

Grandpa Clark glanced at Chase. “But to love others, you must first love yourself. You can’t have one without the other.” His wise eyes caught Chase’s and Chase turned his gaze to the trees ahead of them.

They walked on in silence for a while. Chase listened to the crunch of the snow under their feet. Soft, white flakes drifted slowly down to coat hair, hats, shawls, and scarves in a blanket of white. Clara and Ilene returned, followed by Samuel, Eric, and the kids. Eventually, Martin and Daniel dropped back with the group.

They wandered through the trees in amiable silence, a group separated from those around them by the comfort and camaraderie of companionship. Chase realized that going to Brecker’s Farm wasn’t a trip so much for the tree, but more for reaffirming family bonds, rebuilding relationships, and remembering each other outside of the chaos of normal day to day living.

In realizing that, he also realized how rare it was for them to invite a stranger on their trip. Eric had obviously been with Clara a long time; the kids joked with him and the adults conversed with familiarity. But Chase was a stranger, a stranger who, through some strange twist of fate, had been put in a place to help their loved ones. But a stranger, still. He stood on the outside and watched them joke and laugh, teasing with familiarity and good-natured sarcasm. There were scuffs, like in any family, but they got over them quickly and didn’t hold a grudge.

Chase felt torn. Half of his thoughts screamed for him to turn his back and run, to leave it all behind and never look back. The other half, though, clutched desperately to the shred of hope that he could possibly be included and could perhaps share the tiniest moment of time with this family. It begged for him not to ruin it.

But he slowed, reminding himself that he didn’t belong. He was just a stranger whose trouble had tangled up an amazing young woman, her younger brother, and their loving family. This happiness wasn’t for him. He didn’t deserve it.

He let the others get ahead as his crutches crunched in the snow. He wondered if he should leave while they were distracted. He had almost decided to go when Clara looked back at him and smiled. In the fading light of the winter evening, Chase saw the little girl in the picture who was on top of the world. And he realized at that moment that he would give anything just to share a bit of her world.

***

The line of cars back to the city was filled with the happy, exhausted, and partially frozen family. Daniel had traded Chase places, though he protested that getting up into the truck didn’t hurt that much. He now rode with Martin in Mrs. Clark’s black Neon, which had to be towed from the snow by the tractor. Chase suspected by Martin and Daniel’s enthusiasm at the towing that they’d gotten the car stuck on purpose.

Eric, Clara, and Daniel followed behind with the Christmas tree tied securely in the back of the truck. It looked suspiciously identical to the first tree that had been rejected. Mr. and Mrs. Clark, Matty, and Grandma and Grandpa Clark rode in Mr. Clark’s older SUV, and Samuel and Ilene brought up the rear in their car.

Martin, thrilled and a little nervous at being the leader, drove cautiously 3 miles per hour under the speed limit to make sure everyone kept up. Once, the truck behind them honked and Chase looked back to see Daniel waving for them to go faster. Martin merely grinned and continued on at his same determined speed.

“So what do you do?” Chase asked him curiously.

“Do?” Martin replied with a sideways glance, careful not to take his attention off the road.

“Yeah, like hobbies,” Chase pressed. “What do you do with your free time when you’re not slaying all evil-doers online?”

Martin smiled at the comment, then grew thoughtful. “Well, my friends and I play our guitars sometimes.”

“Really? What kind of guitar do you have?” He sensed the sixteen-year-old’s enthusiasm for the topic.

“An Ibanez, a red one,” Martin replied. “Only, I’m saving my money for this awesome black Schecter at the music store.”

Chase nodded with a smile. “There’s nothing like playing the guitar. My favorite was a PRS I-“

“Wait a minute!” Martin cut him off, taking his foot off the gas at the same time. He realized he’d done it when Daniel leaned over and honked the horn of Eric’s truck again. “You have a PRS?” he asked, speeding up.

“Had,” Chase corrected. He gave a sigh that wasn’t feigned. “My dad gave it away when I was about your age, told me I was wasting my time.”

Martin was mortified. “Your dad gave it away?” At Chase’s nod, he opened his mouth and then closed it again, searching for words. Finally, he settled with, “Man, that must have sucked.”

“Hard core,” Chase replied; the memory brought back the fist-to-the-gut feeling he’d had when he realized the guitar was gone. His music had been his escape, the one thing that truly belonged to him. He shook his head to clear the empty feeling. “So, maybe we could play sometime. It’s been a while, but I think I could pick it back up.”

“Awesome!” Martin’s enthusiasm returned. “There’s a Jackson in the garage. Daniel gave up playing when. . . .” He fell silent.

Chase watched him shake his head to chase away memories. “That must have been hard on both of you.”

Martin nodded. Chase was about to change the painful topic when Martin continued, “Ryan was a good friend and it was hard to lose him, but that wasn’t the hardest part.” He glanced at Chase, wondering if he should continue. Chase waited quietly for him to decide.

After a few moments, Martin took a deep breath. “The hardest part was losing my brother when we lost Ryan.” His brow furrowed and voice grew softer. “Daniel was like a zombie for months. Mom and Dad couldn’t get him to go to school, hang out with his friends, or even leave the house. He practically never left his bedroom. It was like something snapped in him when he watched Ryan die, like not being able to do anything about it made him so angry at everything he didn’t know how to control it.”

“What made him start coming out again?”

Martin shook his head. “I don’t know.  He just came to eat in the dining room with us once, and then the next night, and the next. He didn’t say much, but it was like he needed to remember that we existed.” He gave a small smile and ran a hand through his wavy, light-brown hair. “Then he asked me to play video games one night. We stayed up the whole night playing. Mom didn’t even care.” He looked at Chase. “I think she was just relieved to see Daniel coming back to himself.

“He’d missed so much school that they had to hold him back, which worked out because then he was in my grade. After a while, he started hanging out with my friends Jerry and Rod.” Martin frowned slightly. “He’s not back to his old self. He’s kind-of like a different person than before it all happened. He has strange views about death and what happens when you die, but he stopped telling me about them when he could tell I just didn’t understand. But I tried, you know?”
Chase nodded. “You’re a good brother,” he said with sincerity.

Martin sighed as he pulled into the parking lot of a small family diner. “I just wish I could help him get back all the way, like he was before. I want him to be able to forget what happened to Ryan.” He turned off the car and met Chase’s gaze; his expression was anxious. “Do you think that’s selfish?”

Chase shook his head. “Not at all. You want your brother to not feel the pain he’s holding inside.”

The teenager nodded. “I wish I could take it from him and carry it myself if it would help him.”

Chase didn’t know how to reply. He wondered how someone so young could be so mature. He gave Martin a reassuring smile. “You’re helping him in ways you can’t even imagine just by caring so much. You’re a good brother and a good friend. I wish everyone who’s been through what Daniel has had someone like you to keep their head above water.”

Martin smiled, relief showing in his clear blue eyes. Someone tapped on his window and he jumped, then laughed. Mrs. Clark motioned for them to go inside the diner, rubbing her arms to demonstrate how cold it was outside. Martin nodded, gave her a thumb’s up, and took his key out of the ignition.

Chase moved to open the door when Martin turned back to him. “You know what, Chase? I like having you here. You feel like one of the family. A brother or cousin or something that’s been gone a long time.” He opened the door and stepped out.

It was a minute before Chase could follow.

Chapter 5

To remedy their still-thawing state from choosing a Christmas tree, Mr. Clark ordered a round of hot chocolate instead of ice cream and they made themselves comfortable in a booth with a table pulled over as an extension. Grandpa Clark pointed out that the tree they had chosen was very similar to the other thousand trees they had rejected, and Martin jumped in to defend his choice.

They all laughed at his detailed description of the tree’s perfect number of branches, pine needles, and even the right amount of tree sap to give it that woodsy smell but not overpowering enough to disturb Bailey; Grandpa wondered if they should have gotten a smellier tree for just that reason.

Chase sipped his hot chocolate and listened to them argue good-naturedly about whether pine sap was good for the dog’s fur. Mom felt Bailey was shinier after adventures under the tree, while Clara pointed out that it was hard to tell with his hair half-scrubbed off. Chase sat back and let the conversation roll over him. The cocoa felt warm in his stomach and he found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

His head dropped and he jerked it back up only to find Clara smiling at him from across the table. “Tired?” she asked with a grin.

“A little,” he admitted. Truth be told, he felt exhausted; crutching around in the snow after a mild concussion resulting from the worst beating of his life left him with little reserves to draw from.

He saw a hint of concern in Clara’s eyes and she studied him closer. “I think Chase needs to get some sleep, and I’ve got some things to do at home,” she said to the others.

“I can drop you guys off with the tree,” Eric offered. “I promised my mom I’d be home for dinner tonight anyway. Her sister’s in town and they need me to watch the kids.”

“Aw, you guys aren’t going to the theater with us?” Mrs. Clark asked, clearly disappointed.

Clara patted her mom’s shoulder. “I think I’ll survive if I miss another Santa Claus movie. We’ll probably rent it next Christmas anyway. Besides,” she indicated Chase who was valiantly draining his hot chocolate in an effort to wake up. “Don’t you think Chase could use some more sleep, and without Daniel and Martin keeping him up?”

“Hey!” the brothers protested.

Mrs. Clark looked closer at Chase who felt embarrassed at the sudden scrutiny. She nodded. “You do need your sleep, dear. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes and look like you’re going to drop any second.” Nurse Clark took over and she gave orders to her daughter. “Make sure he goes straight to bed and if he has trouble sleeping again, make him some warm milk.”

Mr. Clark nodded to Chase. “She knows what she’s talking about. She’s in charge of the whole ICU at the hospital.” There was a note of pride in his voice at his wife’s accomplishment.

The others said goodbye and promised to head home right after the movie. Grandpa and Grandma Clark both reminded Chase to get some more sleep. Samuel shook Chase’s hand while Ilene gave her sister a farewell hug. They promised to come over the next day for ice skating. Mrs. Clark gave Chase a hug and everyone called farewells until they were out the door.

“Boy, if this is what it’s like when you’re going to see them again in a few hours, I can’t imagine what kind of farewell you get when you’re gone for more than a day!” Chase said when the door closed behind them.

“They have a parade and everything,” Clara replied, laughing. “My family believes that the more heartfelt the goodbye, the sooner you’ll be back.”

Eric opened the door for Clara and helped her up, then shut the door behind Chase after he levered himself onto the seat. Eric tossed the crutches in the back with the tree, then climbed in on the driver’s side. The truck engine rumbled to life and he backed out slowly. After a minute of comfortable silence, he flipped on the radio and switched it to one of the numerous Christmas stations.

“I’m in a Christmas mood after looking for trees in the snow. It makes me want to see the lights or something. What do you think?” Eric asked them.

Chase felt Clara glance at him as he stared out the window pretending he hadn’t heard. “Um, I think we’ll pass this time. I really do have some things to do at home,” Clara said.

“Okay,” Eric replied without offense. “It would probably mean a lot to my mom if I get home on time anyway. Maybe next trip, huh Chase?”

“Yeah, next time,” Chase said, trying to sound positive.

Eric turned up the Christmas music and began to sing surprisingly well to a rendition of The Little Drummer Boy.

***

Chase and Clara waved to Eric as he pulled out of the driveway. The tree, wrestled into the house by Eric without the need of help from Chase or Clara, sat in its stand with bare branches to await the boxes of ornaments Mrs. Clark had eagerly set out.

When Eric’s truck was out of sight, Clara turned to Chase. “So, tell me how anyone could truly not like Christmas.”

Chase felt his stomach tightened but forced himself not to react. “You really want to know?” he asked as casually as he could.

Something in his tone caught Clara’s attention. She grew sober when she realized by his expression that it was something he normally didn’t tell anyone. She hesitated, then nodded. “I really want to know.”

Chase crutched over to one of the chairs by the big living room window. The curtain was open to reveal big snowflakes starting to drift down from the cloud covered night sky. He leaned back in the chair and rested the foot of his injured leg on the window sill. Clara took the seat across from him, her eyes on his face.

Chase rubbed the bandages on his forehead, trying to think of where to start and how much to tell her. He stared out the window, his eyes on the warm glow of lamplight that made dark shadows of the flakes. He took a steeling breath. “I was ten when it happened. Father and I were at home putting the final presents we’d wrapped under the tree when the phone rang.”

Chase kept his gaze outside, his face carefully expressionless. “He answered it with a smile on his face, but in less than two seconds, I remember the smile vanishing, replaced be a haunted look that never went away.”

His swallowed, his blue eyes deep and sad. Clara saw the ten year old boy in his face and heard the pain in his voice despite his efforts to hide it, “When he hung up the phone, he simply stared at the wall. He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t ask. After seconds that felt like hours, he grabbed his keys and left out the front door. I had to run after him to keep from being left behind.”

His jaw tightened. “He drove us to the hospital. I remember ambulance lights cutting through the falling snow and thinking how out of place they seemed on Christmas Eve. Father walked past everything and through the emergency room doors as if the rest was invisible. He told the nurse, an older woman at the counter, his name, and I remember seeing her eyes widen. She had beautiful, bright blue eyes.” He glanced at Clara, forcing a smile to his face. “It’s funny how details like that can be so clear, even after thirteen years.”

She nodded with her eyes on his and he forced himself to continue. “She led us through some big double doors and down a long hallway. She didn’t say a word. She took us to a young doctor in blue scrubs and told him something I couldn’t hear, then she left as if she was eager to get away from something so depressing on Christmas Eve.”

He took a deep breath, then leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, his hair falling between his fingers to hide his eyes. He could see it all again and could hear the doctor’s distant voice. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brockson, but we couldn’t save them.”

Dad fumbled his words, the only time Chase ever remembered hearing him fumble over anything. “But, but they said to come quickly, th-that there might be a chance. I don’t understand. . . .”

The doctor nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing else we can do. If they had gotten here earlier. . .” His voice trailed away.

Dad walked in a circle in the hallway shaking his head. His hands shook and he clasped them tightly behind his back. He stopped by the doctor again looking as though it took all of his strength to do so. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

The doctor rubbed his buzzed hair. “The details are still a bit sketchy until the police report comes in, but accounts say that a drunk driver hit them and their car spun off a bridge into a canal, landing upside down. With the water rushing past, they couldn’t get the doors open. The canal was deep from the falling snow we’ve had for the past few days, and water filled up the car.” He lowered his eyes to the blue speckled tile floor. “I’m sorry to say that they all drowned before the medics arrived.”

Dad shook his head again, his eyes wide and jaw clenched. “Was there no one who tried to help?” he forced out.

The doctor nodded. “People jumped in, but the current was too strong. I’m sorry, Mr. Brockson.” He set a hand on Dad’s shoulder, but Dad shrugged it off and turned away. He stared into space looking as if he’d suddenly aged thirty years.

When the doctor spoke again, he really did sound sorry. “I need someone to give a positive I.D. on the bodies.”

Dad looked back at the man with true hatred on his face. He didn’t speak and the doctor didn’t press him. Then his eyes fell on Chase. “Go with the doctor, son.”

Chase shook his head like he had on that day. “Go, Father said again. I had no choice. There was no one else.”

“They wouldn’t make a child do that!” Clara said in horror.

Chase’s eyebrows drew together. “There was no one else, and the doctor was tired and ready to be done with his day so he could join his family for Christmas Eve. I followed him through the door. The first thing I remember was that it smelled like rain in that room, you know the smell that fills the air before a big rainstorm?”

He closed his eyes.  “Then I saw them. Mom, my older brother Jason, my younger brother and sister Andrew and Elizabeth, and baby Sara.” A tear escaped from his closed eyes and traced its way slowly down his cheek. “I wanted to go to them so badly, to hug them and ask them to come home. I kept believing that they would wake up and everything would go back to normal.”

He took a shaking breath, “But I couldn’t go to them. I felt like my feet were stuck to the floor. And it was because I knew they weren’t there anymore. I could feel it somehow, like an absence where their souls should have been. The doctor asked me if it was them, and I nodded and just left the room. There wasn’t anything else to say.”

He brushed away the tear, then stared at the streak of wetness it left on his finger. “Father knew by my face that it really was them. He rumpled my hair, the very last time he ever touched me, and we left the hospital.”

“What did you do?” Clara breathed after several minutes had gone by.

Chase’s eyes hardened slightly. “Father carried the Christmas tree and wrapped presents to the corner for the garbage collector, and that was the last time we ever celebrated Christmas. He arranged for closed-caskets, a private funeral, and forbade anyone to say anything at it. He then shipped me off to a boarding school three days later.”

Clara shook her head, her eyes lowered. “That’s awful. I don’t know what I would have done.”

Chase gave a humorless laugh. “I was kicked out or flunked out of every boarding school he put me in. In the end, I ran away.”

“Did you ever go back?” Clara asked as if she couldn’t stop herself.

He nodded. “Eventually. I joined his company, but got caught up in some bad things.” He glanced at her to judge her reaction. “I had a knack for gambling. I got involved with some pretty bad men. Father found out about it and threw me into the streets. He didn’t care what they would do if they caught up to me.” He studied the streetlight. “For me it was the last straw and I gave up. It was a month before they found me. And that’s pretty much where we met.”

Clara’s voice was soft. “So those men were sent to kill you.”

He nodded again, even though it wasn’t a question. “They would have, if it wasn’t for you and Matty. It was me being there that put you in danger.” He rose and stared out the window. “I’m not the hero your family thinks I am. I’m not a good person. I shouldn’t be here polluting your home with my presence.”

“But you came back.”

Chase turned and looked at her, his gaze questioning and dark with self-loathing.

“In the alley, she continued, her eyes holding his. “You could have left us there and escaped, but you came back.”

“I couldn’t let you suffer for what I did,” Chase replied.

“And that’s what makes you a good person.”

Chase shook his head. “I’m not a good person at all. There’s nothing good about me. That’s why I wasn’t able to go with them.” He stopped and clenched his jaw, avoiding her gaze.

Clara rose and put a hand on his shoulder. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” he replied quietly without looking at her.

They stood there in silence until Chase shifted his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I shouldn’t have told you. I need to leave.”

He turned, but she caught his hand before he could reach for the crutches. “No, don’t go,” she said. Her voice carried a note of pleading.

“I don’t belong here,” Chase replied, staring past her.

“How do you know?” she challenged.

When he looked at her, he’d already made up his mind to leave, but she shook her head, begging him to give them a chance. “Please,” she finally said so quietly that he would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching her.

He opened his mouth to say no, then shut it again. He couldn’t refuse her after all the Clarks had done. And that aside, he realized he couldn’t refuse her anything. He didn’t want to agree, but he could never hurt her. He nodded, then brushed his hair back from his eyes.

She smiled at him, a true, heartfelt smile that touched her eyes and made it look like her soul was shining through them. Chase’s breath was stolen by her simple, unassuming beauty. He doubted she knew how pretty she was, and that made her even more beautiful if that was at all possible.

Without warning, she reached up to his face. He shied from her touch before he could stop himself, but she pretended not to notice. She touched the bandage on his forehead, then ran a hand through his hair. “Let me give you a haircut.”

Surprised, Chase almost laughed. “You want to cut my hair this late?”

She shrugged. “Why not? We have time and I have scissors. Besides, Mom said you don’t usually wear your hair this long.” She led the way to the kitchen and he had no choice but to follow.

Clara pulled a chair out to the middle of the linoleum and gestured grandly as though she was leading a king to his throne. Chase sat down and wondered why he felt nervous.

She put a cape around his shoulder to keep the hair from his clothes. “I took Cosmetology in high school,” she said with a small laugh. “You can relax.”

He let his head tip back as she soaked his hair with water from a spray bottle. He wondered why he felt so vulnerable as she ran soft fingers through the strands, checking the lengths. She walked around to the front and combed it forward and then back. She met his eyes and paused with her hand by his cheek. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he forced himself to reply. He closed his eyes.

She hesitated a minute longer, then ran a comb through the long black strands. Chase willed his body to relax, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he pushed everything else aside, all his anger, frustrations, fears, and sadness, and gave himself up to just being there, to feeling the touch of someone who cared, though he couldn’t answer why anyone would care about him after what he’d told her.

She slid her fingers up, measured, cut, then moved on to the next lock. The quiet snip of the scissors, their soft breathing, and the ticking of the clock above the stove were the only sounds in the kitchen. When the snipping finally stopped, it seemed unusually quiet. Chase forced his eyes to open. He felt dazed and more relaxed then he’d been in a very long time.

Clara stood a few feet in front of him with her arms crossed, judging his haircut critically. Chase couldn’t help the small smile that came to his lips. “Do I pass muster?”

She laughed and nodded. “You’ll do. I left it a bit long, but it looks good with your blue eyes.”

Chase was surprised when she blushed and turned away. She removed the cape, then began sweeping the hair on the floor into a little pile which she brushed into a dust pan. She then dumped it in the garbage can under the sink.

Chase rose to his feet with a hand on the back of the chair to keep the weight off his knee. “I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“Me, too,” she replied. She looked back at him with a smile. “It’s amazing how finding a tree can be so draining.”

“I think we covered the entire lot about three times,” Chase replied.

“And ended up with the first tree we saw,” Clara finished. They both laughed. “You’ve got to love my family,” she said with a smile and a shake of her head.

Chase nodded without a word. Clara met his eyes and hers were sad. “I’d better go to bed,” he said with a small smile. She nodded and he limped slowly across the kitchen.

“Chase?”

He wondered why her saying his name caused his heart to skip a beat. He took a breath, then turned at the doorway. “Yes?”

She hesitated.

“Go ahead,” he prompted gently.

“Is it- is it okay if I tell my family what happened, you know, to your family?”

He nodded and saw her shoulders relax. “They deserve to know about the stranger they’ve welcomed into their home,” he said, his chest tight. He turned and left the kitchen.

Chapter 6

The dreams were vivid that night. Chase tossed and turned as memories swam through his head. He saw Jason, his older brother, working on the old Mustang out in the garage that Father had bought for them to put together. Jason always let Chase sit in the front seat and pretend like he was driving. He even let him rev the engine once they had it all together.

In the memory, Jason stood up and wiped his hands off on a white rag; he had a smudge of grease across one cheek. “What do you think, Sport? When you’re old enough, you can take it out on your first date.”

The memory changed and he watched his dad accept money from a man in leather pants before he loaded the car onto a flatbed. Dad’s face was tight, expressionless; he never looked at Chase anymore, never really saw him. Chase felt like a ghost.

In the next memory, he was in the backyard with Andrew and Elizabeth. They were playing army, Andy and Lizzy crawling after him as he led the way among the fruit trees at the end of the yard. They wore camo clothing that Mom had bought, complete with black and green paint on their faces. “Where are we going, brudder?” Lizzy asked.

“To fight the aliens,” Andy told her excitedly. “Chase knows where they’re hiding, right Chase?”

“Right,” Chase agreed. He radioed their position on his plastic walkie-talkie and signaled for them to move forward.

“I’m scared,” Lizzy said.

“Don’t worry, Liz. Chase’ll protect us.”

Chase gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “They’re not real aliens, Lizzy. I’ll make sure we all get through safe, okay?”

She nodded, her blue eyes large and trusting amid her curly black hair.

The memory rolled over to one of the fruit trees a year ago. They were wild and fruitless with branches littering the ground. It had been years since anyone had even looked their way. Chase still remembered how the scent of ripe peaches had filled the air when they crawled beneath the trees.

The next memory was of Mom and baby Sara, ten days or so after she was born. Chase stood in the doorway to Sara’s room. He had awoken at her crying, and found Mom rocking her quietly in the varnished rocking chair she’d rocked all of them in at that age. The lights were dim. Mom hadn’t seen him yet, so he lingered.

He could hear her singing a soft tune so quietly that he couldn’t make out the words, but he already knew it by heart. It was the lullaby she sang to him whenever he couldn’t sleep, a song she had made up about a little lost lamb finding its mommy. “Don’t worry little lamb, Mommy is here; by your side I will always be. I’ll hold you close, and keep you safe; for so precious you are to me.”

The memory changed again, and he found himself looking at the closed nursery door. A lock had been fastened to the frame and he couldn’t open it. In his mind’s eye, he saw the rocking chair sitting still and covered in layers of dust with an empty crib in the middle of the room.

This time, when the memory changed, he found himself standing in a cold, dark hospital room. Covered bodies lay on the beds, bodies who had been so alive earlier that morning around the breakfast table. Mom was planning to go out and get one last gift, something she had ordered for Chase. The other children wanted to go, so they all left with the promise of a wonderful Christmas Eve dinner when they got home.

“I love you; drive safe,” Father had said, kissing Mom.

“I will. I love you, too,” she replied. She bent down and kissed Chase on the top of his head, then disappeared through the door and out of their lives forever.

“Mom?” Chase called out in the cold hospital room. He touched the top of his head where she had kissed him, and the tears started running down his face.

Chase woke, his chest heaving as though he’d been sobbing. The clock on the mantle showed 7:23. Morning light streamed through the green curtains. He forced himself out of bed and into the shower, trying to shake the dreams from his thoughts. He shaved, pulled on the clothes Mrs. Clark had thoughtfully cleaned, then limped slowly down the hallway.

Lights were on in the kitchen. When he neared, he heard Clara talking. Somebody answered, and then another. It sounded like the whole family was awake. Chase was about to step into the light when he heard what Clara was saying. She was telling them about the car accident and how his family had been trapped under the water.

The memories from the night before hit Chase like a ton of bricks. He staggered backward until he touched the wall. His knee gave out and he slid to a sitting position. With his head on his knees, he listened to Clara’s softened retelling of his horrible story. He ran a hand through his hair, pausing where Mom had kissed him for the last time. The tears started to roll down his cheeks; when they started, he couldn’t get them to stop.

It had been thirteen years since he’d allowed himself to feel anything beyond anger and loss. Now, exposed, he felt like there was a gaping hole where his heart had been, as if he’d lost his family yesterday instead of so long ago. The pain was excruciating and he held his arms tight around his knees as silent sobs wracked his body.

When Chase finally pushed to his feet, the tears had stopped. Though there was still an aching, gaping hole in his heart, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a darkness that had been lightened slightly after facing the sorrow instead of letting it consume him. He limped back to the bathroom and washed his face with cool water. He stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments, then turned and limped back down the hall. He took a steeling breath, then stepped into the light.

“Oh, Chase,” Mrs. Clark exclaimed. Her eyes were puffy and she had tears on her cheeks. Before he could move, she threw her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. “We’re so sorry.”

Chase looked around the table. Grandpa and Grandma were holding hands under the table and Grandma’s eyes glistened. Daniel was staring at his hands, his face expressionless. Martin gave Chase a smile, though his brow was creased. Clara had evidence of tears on her cheeks. He held her eyes the longest. She gave him a slight smile, and he returned it.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “But I’m okay.”

Mrs. Clark pulled back. “Are you sure? You poor boy. Your poor family.” Her tears started again and she buried her head against his chest.

He patted her back. “You don’t know how much it means to me to have been allowed to spend this time in your home.”

“Really?” Mrs. Clark sniffed, stepping back to see his face.

Chase nodded again. “Really. You guys are wonderful. I don’t know how I could ever thank you.”
“You could stay for Christmas,” Mr. Clark said. Everyone fell silent, their eyes on Chase.

The word Christmas brought a pit to his stomach. He shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t. Christmas is a time for family, and I-”

“You are family,” Grandpa said firmly. Nods around the table confirmed the statement.

“Oh yes, dear. You’re just like one of our own. We’d love to have you stay,” Mrs. Clark pressed. “We’ve more than enough room, and it would be empty without you.”

A knot formed in Chase’s throat at her words. He frowned past it, his brow tight. He couldn’t stay. It just wasn’t feasible. He should leave them to their holiday celebrations.

Matty, who had come to the other kitchen door without them noticing, rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “We have the bestest Christmases ever,” he said. “You’d have to love Christmas with us!”

In that moment, Chase saw little Andrew standing there with his shock of black hair, rubbing his eyes with his favorite blue blanket. Chase’s little brother nodded encouragingly. Chase closed his eyes against the prickle of fresh tears. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Mrs. Clark hugged him again and steered him to the table next to Grandpa. She proceeded to heap an assortment of breakfast foods on his plate, then sat back down next to Mr. Clark and squeezed his hand. Talking began around the table about the day’s plans.

“We’re meeting Samuel and Ilene at the skating rink at 5:00. For those of you who want to help, we’ll be decorating gingerbread men for the neighbors while Dad’s gone,” Mrs. Clark said.

“I want to decorate!” Matty said excitedly. He sat next to Clara and had syrup on his cheeks from the pancakes she was cutting up.

“I’ll take a nap,” Grandpa said. He winked at Chase. “With Grandma.”

“Ew,” Martin and Daniel exclaimed together.

“Dad,” Mrs. Clark scolded with a laugh.

“Too much information,” Mr. Clark said, chuckling. “We should have gotten two single hideabeds instead of one queen.”

“And ruin a perfect Christmas?” Grandpa replied.

Grandma laughed and patted his arm. “Now, now, dear.”

“We’re going to Jerry’s to get away from all this mushy stuff,” Martin said, rising. Daniel rose with him, but his eyes were on Chase, studying him. When Chase looked up and met his eyes, Daniel turned away to get his coat.

“Come back in an hour if you want to decorate,” Mrs. Clark said.

Mr. Clark pulled on his coat. “Frost some cookies for me.”

“Yeah!” Matty echoed.

“Always,” Mrs. Clark replied in a singsong voice.

***

Chase was relaxing on the couch in front of the fireplace when a hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to find Grandpa Clark watching him.

“Want to go for a ride?” the older man offered.

The thought of getting out in the fresh air and clearing his head from the emotional night and morning was a welcome one. Chase rose and Grandpa Clark handed him a black coat with patched elbows.

“No one will mind if I use this?” Chase asked.

Grandpa Clark shook his head as he doffed a long green coat and wrapped a brown and yellow scarf around his neck. “They’re community coats, as most things are here. Everyone shares.” He put a worn felt hat on his head and led the way to the door.

“I like that,” Chase said. He didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until Grandpa Clark threw him a questioning look. “I-I mean,” he stumbled over his words, suddenly embarrassed. “It must be nice that so many people get along well enough to share everything.”

Grandpa Clark tipped his head in agreement. “You’ve happened into an unusual family, son, but it’s a good one. There are tiffs now and then, but there’s love within these walls.” He patted the brick wall beside the front door affectionately, then led the way down the stairs. He opened the passenger door to a small silver sedan and waited for Chase to get settled before he shut the door and slipped the crutches in the back seat.

Grandpa Clark drove them along a little-used road with cracked pavement that eventually turned into snow-covered dirt. He steered the sedan along the rural road with the ease of someone who had taken the same path so many times each turn had become a habit. They wound through the foothills until the dirt road faded into little more than two tire paths through the white powder. Grandpa Clark followed the path to the edge of the hill, then shut off the engine.

Chase climbed out and limped gingerly to a low, worn brick wall that marked the look-out point. The top of the hill behind them was flat and broad. In front of the wall, it sloped down to give an expansive, spectacular view of the valley. Wind tangled in Chase’s hair. He breathed deep of the fresh, crisp air, filling his lungs as full as he could before he let it out again. He couldn’t remember the last time he had visited a place so beautiful.

“This is amazing,” he said softly.

Grandpa Clark leaned against the low wall. “It’s my favorite place in the whole world. In fact,” he pointed near Chase’s left side where the wall ended and a patch of unbroken snow lay. “That’s where I proposed to my wife, and it’s also where my son proposed to Penny.” His breath of satisfaction fogged in the air. “This spot marks the beginning of a million amazing memories.”

Chase smiled at the look on his face. “Thank you for taking me here,” he said, touched.

Grandpa Clark gave him an understanding smile. “You looked like you could use a few good memories.”

Chase nodded and turned back to the view, his mind captured by the small houses below nestled comfortably amid the frozen streets. Smoke drifted from chimneys and several specks worked to clear their sidewalks of snow. Skyscrapers loomed beyond, brooding and still in the crisp light of day. The city looked peaceful and complete, something he had never imagined until now. It was as if everyone had a place and a purpose. Each speck was cared for and loved, each home a place for family. Chase’s heart gave a sudden, aching throb.

“I brought you here to show you that good things can start from the simplest of places,” Grandpa Clark said as if he guessed Chase’s thoughts. “You’re not alone, no matter how you might feel.”

Chase was silent for several minutes before he took a calming breath. “When my family died in that accident,” he began. His throat tightened. He swallowed and continued, “I felt truly alone. Life floated on around me unchanged, but I couldn’t look anywhere without something reminding me of my mother, or my sisters or brothers.”

“How about now?” Grandpa Clark asked gently.

An unbidden smile touched Chase’s lips. “My mother would have loved this view.”

Grandpa Clark nodded. “My Molly loves it so much. Since the day we got married, I’ve been promising I’ll build her a home here.” He chuckled. “It’s been fifty years and she still replies by saying I’d better hurry and learn carpentry.”

Chase smiled at the love in his voice. “She’s a wonderful lady.”

Grandpa Clark nodded, then he indicated the sign on the other side of the wall. “Unfortunately, this place is soon to be bought up for high rises and apartment buildings. The city has plans to expand development within the next year if they find some buyers.”

Chase saw the ‘For Sale’ sign he was talking about, then noticed several other yellow signs poking through the snow along the hillside. “They’ll get quite a view.”

Grandpa Clark nodded. “This is a view that can change your life.”

Chase watched him quietly, knowing by Grandpa’s tone that he had more to say. There was clarity in the older man’s eyes and a certainty that went with living life and learning the lessons instead of letting them pass by. He knew he needed what Grandpa Clark had to teach.

Grandpa smoothed a hand along the brick wall to dust away the snow. He glanced at Chase. “I wasn’t worthy of Molly by a long shot, but I didn’t let that stop me. I had to push aside reason and fact and go with my heart, and I’ve never looked back.”

Grandpa Clark rubbed his eyes as they filled with moisture. “Chase, son, this is the place where one decision changed my entire life. I took my shot, and it was a long shot, trust me, but it was worth it.” He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “She was far above me and I didn’t deserve her, but I chose to look past my own shortcomings and try to accept the potential she saw in me.” He met Chase’s eyes. “I have been the happiest man on earth for fifty years because of one decision that changed my life.”

Chase didn’t know what to say. Grandpa Clark’s words hit so close to home he couldn’t respond. He shouldn’t stay with the Clark family. He wasn’t worthy to sleep on their porch, let alone be a welcome member in their home. He should leave and let them enjoy their holiday together, but something kept him there.

Grandpa Clark nodded as if he knew the whirlwind of Chase’s thoughts and turned back to the car. They drove down the road in comfortable silence. Chase thought about Grandpa Clark’s words the entire way. When they pulled up to the Clark home, he couldn’t help the slight longing he felt to belong to it. He got out of the car and crutched slowly to the door. Part of his mind said he should leave before he got too involved, but the other half longed to experience what a few days with the Clark family could be like.

Grandpa Clark checked the swan mailbox, then walked up the steps with a handful of card-shaped envelopes oblivious of the war inside Chase’s mind. He opened the door and turned back with a warm smile. Despite his misgivings, Chase limped back into the gingerbread-scented home.

***

At Mrs. Clark’s urging, Chase went with them to the skating rink though he knew there wouldn’t be much for him to do. He ended up having a great time reffing a game of balloon broom hockey from the sidelines while he held little Paige. It only took him about two seconds to convince Ilene to let him hold their little girl so she and Samuel could play. Even Grandma and Grandpa Clark laced up some skates and glided slowly around the outside of the rink while the others enjoyed their game.

A few hours later, Ilene and Samuel left to take the children for Christmas photos. Chase was lying back on the bench in the players’ box when the gate opened and Clara limped in. “Are you okay?” he asked, sitting up quickly.

She nodded, but when she stepped on her right foot, her expression said otherwise. Chase helped her to the bench and knelt down, hiding a grimace from the quick stab of pain in his knee. He proceeded to unlace her skate and gently remove it. “What happened?”

Clara shook her head, laughing at herself. “Dad and the boys get pretty competitive in broom hockey, but I blocked their shot!” She sighed, “Then Mom accidentally tripped me even though we’re on the same team. The guys versus girls challenge might not be the brightest idea, but somehow we end up doing it every year.”

Chase laughed, “You were fine with Ilene there.”

“Yeah,” Clara agreed, grinning. “She shows everyone up when it comes to aggression.”

Chase nodded in agreement. He prodded her ankle gently with her heel resting on his knee. She winced a couple of times.

“What a stupid way to get hurt, huh?” she asked, followed by, “Ouch!” when he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

Chase shook his head with a wry smile. “There are worse ways.” He rose gingerly and sat on the bench, motioning for her to lie down while he worked on her foot. Before she could, though, he took off his coat and handed it to her. “A pillow for your head,” he explained, turning his attention back to her ankle.

She took it and settled back. After a few moments of silence, she said, “You’ll freeze out here without a coat on.”

Chase looked at her with a smile on his face. “There are worse ways to be cold,” he said. He massaged her foot slowly, working out to her toes, then starting above the ankle and massaging downward. Clara was quiet; he could feel her watching him as he worked, but he didn’t dare look up to see her expression.

“You okay, babe?”
Chase glanced up. Eric had skated over and was leaning on the railing. Chase kept his face expressionless. He had forgotten Eric was on the ice, and wondered what he thought of them together.

Clara simply nodded. “Yeah, I just twisted it a little, that’s all.”

Eric nodded. “I’m playing on the girls’ side until you get back. Me and your mom are kicking some trash!” He looked at Chase. “Get her better. We need her if we’re going to take on the Terrible Trio.” He laughed at the team name Mr. Clark had chosen.

“Will do,” Chase replied. Eric skated off, his broom over his shoulder. “Nice guy,” he said quietly after a few minutes of silence had passed.

Clara nodded. “Yep,” was all she said.

Chase could feel the strangeness in the air. He changed the subject, testing the range of motion of her ankle. “My clinical impression is that you have a mild sprain, but I’ll refer you to Nurse Clark for further diagnostics if you’d like.”

Clara sat up, a slight smile on her face. “No, I think you’re right, Dr. Brockson. I’m just glad they don’t have to amputate.”

Chase shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Well, we could, just to be safe.”

Clara laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. She handed him back his coat. “Put this on before you freeze.”

Chase obeyed. “Well, there’s one positive thing out of this,” he said in a serious tone.

“Oh, really?” What’s that?” Clara asked curiously.

Chase grinned. “We already have crutches.”

She laughed and stood up, testing her ankle. She looked at him, surprised. “Actually, it feels a lot better. Thank you.”

“Any day, m’lady,” Chase replied with a half bow. “But I’d recommend icing it when you get home.” He then looked around. “Actually, you already had it on ice. That’s where this whole problem started. I’d better advise against it.”

Clara opened her mouth in offense. “Are you calling me a klutz?”

“Are you standing there with a sprained ankle?” Chase countered.

She folded her arms and tried to keep the smile from her face. “Mom tripped me.”

Chase pursed his lips thoughtfully. “That’s a new one,” he said, fighting to keep from smiling as well.

Clara laughed and sat back down. “You know,” she said after a few minutes of comfortable silence had passed. “You’re fun to hang out with when you’re not so solemn.” She glanced at him quickly, concerned she’d hurt his feelings. “Is that okay to say?”

Chase nodded. A warmth touched him at her words that was better than any coat. “You can say whatever you’d like. I don’t get offended easily, and I value your opinion.”

“You do?” she was surprised.

“Greatly,” Chase replied. They sat together on the cold bench until the others were worn out and ready to go home. Though Chase offered her his crutches again, she refused them with a laugh and limped out to the car with Mr. Clark’s help. Chase sat in the back of Mrs. Clark’s car and watched Eric lift Clara up into the truck. She glanced back at him and when she found him looking at her, she smiled and twiddled her fingers in a small wave. He watched them drive off feeling more confused than ever.

Chapter 7

On the way home, Chase and Martin started talking about guitars again. When they finally reached the house, Martin motioned for Dad not to park in the garage, then he practically dragged Chase inside. He kick-started a large, obviously well-used space heater in an effort to start warming up the area. When he flicked on the light, Chase saw three guitars in the corner by a trio of worn amps. Martin picked up a red, scuffed Ibanez. “They’re not much, but they play.”

“What more do you need?” Chase asked, and was rewarded with a grin from Martin. The teenager handed him a blue Jackson with a tie-dye peace sticker near the pickups. Chase flicked on the amp and tuned it by ear.

Martin did the same. He pointed at the bass guitar left in the corner. “That’s Jerry’s. We jam here since his parents kicked us out for being too loud.”

“That’s cool your mom lets you play in the garage,” Chase said, impressed.

Martin nodded.

“How do you do it?”

Chase and Martin both turned to find that Daniel had entered the garage and was sitting on the cold steps watching them.

“Do what?” Chase asked. It was obvious by Daniel’s frustrated stare at the floor that what he was asking was important to him, so Chase didn’t push the subject when it took a few minutes for the seventeen year old to reply. He took his time and toyed with the strings, testing his tuning. Martin was quiet and kept his attention on his guitar. He had picked up a rag and, taking a seat on his amp, began to shine it.

Daniel kicked at a small clod of dirt with his toe, then ran a hand through his dyed black hair. “How do you act so normal,” he finally said in a tone that was filled with pent-up anger. “How do you pretend like nothing happened when your whole family died?” He rose and paced in front of the stairs as if the frustration he felt made it hard to sit still. “How can you just forget them and act like nothing happened?” He finally stopped and stared at Chase accusingly, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon.

Chase felt the wall rise up inside him, the partition he had created long ago to protect himself from the same memories Daniel fought. He forced it back down and as he ran a hand along the guitar’s smooth blue frame, he felt the emotions assail him again as mercilessly as if his family had been taken yesterday. The feelings flowed through him, threatening to burst his careful composure.

He closed his eyes and began to play the guitar in his hands. His fingers worked slowly at first, remembering the feeling of the cool strings and the gentle hum of sound through the painted wood. He took a breath and let it out slowly, sending his emotions into the guitar and letting the music unfold. He played the sounds of his sorrow, his agony, of being lost and alone, forgotten and abandoned, a child no longer but unable to control his life.

The music flowed in heartbreaking waves that mirrored the anguish and despair he kept at bay. His fingers were raw by the time he stopped, and the last notes whispered around the room in haunting memory.

Chase opened his eyes, suddenly aware that he wasn’t alone. He met Martin’s awed gaze. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever-“

“Comfortably Numb,” Daniel cut his brother off in a voice just above a whisper. “The solo from the live version.”

Martin nodded, suddenly recognizing it. “Pink Floyd. I’ve never known anyone who could play that.”

Chase’s eyes shifted to Daniel’s. “I’ve never forgotten,” he said past a tight throat, “And I could never pretend that nothing happened.”

Caught off guard by Chase’s honesty and haunted, bare tone, Daniel lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

Chase shook his head. “Don’t apologize; you have nothing to be sorry for.” His own brow creased and he met Daniel’s eyes. “Most people who say they know what you’re going through don’t, but I do. When my family died, I put my father through heck. I broke every rule and got kicked out of every boarding school he sent me to.” He shook his head. “It was only later that I realized I was doing it because I was mad at him for pushing me away and shutting out the last remaining shred of family we had in each other. I was hurting and I had nowhere to turn.”

Chase touched the nicks in the guitar’s frame, his chest tight. When he continued, his voice was quiet. “It was only a long time after that I realized why my dad pushed me away.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Out of all my siblings, I was the one who looked the most like my mother. He had to keep me away because when he saw me, he saw her and it brought the hurt back all over again.”

“What did you do?” Martin asked.

Chase sighed. “I pushed all the feelings deep inside, the pain, sorrow, and loss that I couldn’t face by myself, but had no one around to help me cope. I stopped feeling anything but anger and frustration.”

“How did you get out of it?” Daniel asked quietly.

Chase shook his head. “I didn’t. I let it destroy me. I lived without caring about what I did or the consequences of my actions. I made some pretty horrible choices and pushed my father’s buttons until he literally threw me out in the street with nothing.”

Chase studied the reflection of his hand on the face of the guitar, his eyes distant. “I didn’t feel anything until I heard your sister scream.” He stared at the guitar, seeing that moment with perfect clarity. “I had two choices. I could either escape from the three men who would be back to kill me when they were through with Clara and Matty, or I could go to the source of the scream and face the consequences.”

Chase smiled wryly. “I’ll have to admit, escaping with my life seemed pretty close to the right decision. I even started walking away.” His tone grew softer. “But something stopped me. It was as if a voice said in my head, ‘Chase, you get one shot to make something of this sad charade you call a life. Walk away now and risk nothing, or go back, risk everything, and do something worth while for once.’”

Martin, and even Daniel, laughed with him.

Chase spread his hands. “So here I am, or at least all that’s left of me.” He looked at Daniel. “I’ve never forgotten. The loss of my family beats through my veins every waking moment and haunts my sleep as soon as I close my eyes.” He shook his head. “That’s not a good way to live, and I don’t think my family would be proud of what I’ve done and who I’ve become.”

Daniel was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, Chase had to lean forward to hear him. “Then what do I do?”

“Live,” Chase replied. “Don’t stand still and watch your life go by as I did. Live for Ryan, for his memory, and for his life. He wouldn’t want you to destroy yourself in his absence.”

Daniel’s eyes filled up with tears. “But how?”

“Play, love, laugh, feel, sing,” Chase said. He rose and put a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Do all those things you did with Ryan, so that you don’t forget the joy that can come from it. You’ve got to let the hurt out so you can feel again. And when you move on, you’ll realize that’s exactly what Ryan would want you to do.”

“I don’t want to forget.”

Chase bowed his head in understanding. “You won’t. It’s part of you whether you like it or not. Our pain makes us who we are just as much as every other experience we have. You’ll never forget, but you can live without forgetting.”

Daniel nodded, his eyes on the floor. Tears dripped slowly from his chin onto his black tee-shirt. He wiped them from his cheeks with his hand.

“Do you need a moment?” Chase asked gently.

Daniel nodded and turned away without a word.

Chase ran his fingers down the blue guitar’s strings. Martin took his cue and strummed his guitar with practiced fingers. Chase fiddled through chords for a moment, then started to quietly sing the verse that had been running through his head. “The words I’d say, aimed at her picture in the frame, lost in every little slope, brings you to life as I hold your hand in my mind. And what is real? Real are these feelings that I feel as I dream of you dancing in my arms, falling in love.”

Chase kept his face expressionless when he heard the bass kick on behind him. Daniel picked up the notes easily, playing the chords with barely a mistake. Chase kept singing, “What is love? You give it away every time you look my way. You see my soul, and I realize it’s no longer mine but yours since the first time I looked into your eyes.” Martin began a solo while Chase and Daniel kept the rhythm.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Chase’s attention. He looked up to see Mr. and Mrs. Clark and Clara standing in the garage doorway watching them. Tears were sliding down Mrs. Clark’s face as she watched her son play the guitar for the first time in two years. Mr. Clark met Chase’s eyes and mouthed the words ‘thank you’, his own gaze bright. Chase nodded and kept playing in time to the brothers’ rhythm.

***

Later that night, long after he, Martin, and Daniel had played themselves to exhaustion, Chase made his way out to the porch to catch some fresh night air before bed. The old grandfather clock in the living room tolled one in the morning as Chase walked quietly past. He fought back a smile at the sight of Grandma and Grandpa Clark fast asleep in the hideabed. Grandma had her head on Grandpa’s shoulder, and he held her close even in sleep with a hand wrinkled and worn with age around her shoulders. Chase was careful to shut the front door behind him quickly to keep the crisp winter breeze from disturbing them.

He settled on the porch swing with a sigh of relief. It had been a long, strange day. His knee throbbed less, but his heart ached more. He rested his head in his hands, wondering if he would ever really understand what he did when he forced himself to go back down the alley that night.

The scamper of not-so-dainty feet heralded the arrival of Bailey whose amazing radar had somehow alerted him that there was a person on the porch amiable to a game of fetch. Chase looked up, surprised that there was a dog willing to chase a dirty tennis ball through the snow at one in the morning. The white German Shepherd dropped the ball at Chase’s feet, then nudged it with his nose as if he questioned Chase’s ability to understand his first hint.

Chase picked up the ball, winced when his ribs reminded him to be careful, and stood up. He looked out across the dark, snow-covered front lawn, then back at Bailey. “You sure about this?” he asked.

The dog woofed in response, his tail wagging wildly with anticipation.

“Okay,” Chase replied. He heaved the ball out across the lawn and into the cover of darkness.

With surprising agility for a dog so big, Bailey leapt off the porch clearing all of the stairs and galloped through the snow after the ball. Chase sat back down to await the inevitable return.

Bailey brought the ball back three times and was searching for the fourth throw. Chase was debating whether he should disappear before the dog returned when the front door opened. Turning, he saw Clara walking toward him, a blanket in her arms.

“Are you trying to freeze to death?” she asked. She sat next to him and spread the blanket over them both without waiting for his answer.

Bailey returned with the snow covered ball held triumphantly in his mouth. He gave it to Chase, then trotted to the edge of the porch, his ears pricked expectantly. “I’m indulging in something I’ve never done before,” Chase replied with a sheepish grin before he chucked the ball back across the lawn.

“You’ve never played fetch?” Clara asked in surprise.

Chase sat back down, hid a smile when she insisted on covering him with the blanket again, and shook his head. “My father wasn’t much of an animal person.”

“Oh,” Clara replied. They were quiet for a few moments, then she said, “You did an amazing thing for Daniel. I can never thank you enough for that.”

“Daniel is a good person,” Chase replied.

“So are you,” Clara pressed.

Chase shook his head, stood up, and walked to the porch railing. He stared out at the starlit darkness. His breath made small clouds in the winter chill as he fought back all the bitterness, self-deprecation, and guilt that rose at her comment. He was so lost in his fight for control that he jumped when she touched his arm. He looked at her, his expression bare and vulnerable.

“Was that song about me?” Clara asked quietly, looking up at him. Her green eyes caught the twinkle of the stars and glittered brightly.

Chase stared at her for a moment, then turned away and ran a hand through his hair to clear his mind. “Yes,” he finally said so softly that she barely heard him. She was quiet for a minute and he listened to her soft breath behind him. In that moment, he wanted to stand there forever just knowing how close she was, how important it was that she hadn’t walked away when he told her the truth about the song even though his mind screamed for him not to. He couldn’t lie, not to her.

“Chase?”

He turned back slowly, hesitantly, his blue eyes cautious.

She smiled and reached up to brush the hair back from his eyes with a gentle touch. “That’s a good haircut,” she said softly in a teasing tone.

He nodded with a slight smile. “She knew what she was doing.”

Clara nodded. “Yes, she did.” She tipped her chin up and kissed him, catching him off guard.

He froze for a moment in surprise, then returned the kiss. He wove his hands in her long brown hair and held her close, their blanket falling unnoticed to the ground.

After a few minutes, Bailey returned and tactlessly thrust his wet nose, complete with the snow-covered tennis ball, between them. Clara let go of Chase and laughed. She picked up the ball and patted Bailey’s head with a warm smile on her face.

Chase watched her, mixed feelings warring in his chest. “I’d better go.”

Clara’s smile fell. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

Chase shook his head quickly. “No, not at all,” he replied. He gave her a small, shy smile. “It was wonderful, actually.” At her returning smile, he dropped his eyes and shook his head again. “I promised myself long ago that I’d never get involved with anyone, never be part of a family again.” He met her eyes, his own full of pain. “It really did destroy us, having them taken like that. It makes you question things like God, hope, and even love, because what good is love if all it does is tear your soul apart when it’s taken away?”
She touched his arm softly. “But what good is a life without love?”

He turned his face from hers. “A safe life,” he said finally to the empty night beyond the porch.

She stood quietly behind him. Snowflakes drifted down from the clouding night sky. Bailey woofed impatiently and Clara tossed the ball into the yard. The big dog leaped after it, his claws scraping along the porch before he jumped into the snow.

Clara turned so that she stood next to Chase watching the big flakes settle to the ground with a barely audible whoosh. “But is it a worthwhile life?” she asked after some time had gone by. It was a question both knew she didn’t expect an answer for.

She shivered. Without a word, Chase picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. He hesitated, then put his arms around her. She leaned against his chest. The scent of the peach shampoo and sweet pea lotion she used touched Chase’s nose. He closed his eyes, his heart pounding. “I’m not good at this,” he said finally.

He heard her give a faint chuckle. “Saving my life and my brother’s was a good start,” she said. “The rest is just frillery.”
“Frillery?”

She nodded. “Like ornaments on trees and lights on houses; it’s fun and all, but it’s just frillery compared to the true meaning of Christmas.” She turned in his arms so that she faced him. She had a small, worried frown on her face as if afraid she had offended him. “I forgot you don’t like Christmas.”

Chase smiled down at her. “Actually, it doesn’t seem so bad this year.”

He was rewarded with a glowing smile. She laid her head against his chest. “Really, why is that?” she asked. He detected a hint of teasing in her tone.

“Oh, I can think of a couple reasons,” he replied.

She smiled again and leaned against him. He held her in comfortable silence. They watched the snowflakes fall softly in the night. A gentle wind toyed through the porch light, sending flakes in a miniature whirlwind about their feet. Chase held Clara closer. She loosened his hold gently and put the blanket around his shoulders, then stepped back into the warmth of his embrace. He held the blanket close, surrounding them both in a warmth that shut out all cold.

***

When they went to bed a few hours later, the sun was just starting to lighten the sky. Thick, grey clouds held the promise of more snow before evening and fought to keep the early sunlight from reaching the new snow of the night.

When Chase settled onto his bed, he wasn’t tired at all. Conversations from the night kept playing themselves over in his head, but most of all, he kept seeing her smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and the pink hue of her cheeks from the bite of the night’s chill. He found himself loving the way she became so animated when she got to a particularly exciting or important part of a story she was telling.

She kept asking to hear about him, but when he was reluctant to tell her, she relented and answered his questions about her instead. He was amazed at the fact that she had gotten through school with high marks and actually enjoyed it. He asked her about her friends, and smiled again at the thought of her blush when she told him about her first crush.

She avoided telling him about Eric, though the thought of her boyfriend lingered in the back of Chase’s mind. He felt like he was intruding and had to keep reminding himself that she was the one who had kissed him. The taste of that kiss still lingered on his lips, haunting him.

In a flash, he saw one of the few memories he had of his parents. His mom and dad had just tucked Chase and Andy into bed in the room they shared. Mom flipped the lights off and Dad surprised her with an unexpected kiss. Chase could see their figures silhouetted in the doorframe; it made him giggle when it happened, but now it grabbed his heart with icy claws. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, his jaw clenched tight.

Chapter 8

They wandered with the whole family at the mall the next day, walking down the long, seemingly endless hallways. Matty, Isabelle, and Kavin chased each other in circles around the group of adults. Clara took Chase’s hand, surprising him by her openness around her parents, but they didn’t seem to notice.

When the group wandered after the children through a Christmas display complete with live penguins, a small reindeer, and several fake elves, Chase waited at the entrance. To his surprise, Grandpa waited with him.

“Don’t like penguins?” Chase asked.

“Allergic to reindeer,” Grandpa replied.

They watched the droves of excited children and stoic parents file past in anticipation of the hearty Santa Claus who waited at the end of the display with a willing ear and candy canes for the good little girls and boys, and probably the bad ones, too.

“I’m glad you and Clara are getting along so well,” Grandpa said without prelude.

“She’s amazing,” Chase replied. He glanced at Grandpa out of the corner of his eye.

“She’s special; my favorite grandchild actually.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Grandparents aren’t supposed to have favorites, but she’s so genuine and caring. She used to crawl up on my knee and we’d read stories together for hours when she was little.”

Chase smiled at the thought. “That must be where her love for books started.”

Grandpa nodded proudly. “My little novice.” He then sighed and shook his head. “But she seems stuck right now. In high school, she had so much direction and ambition. She wanted to go to college, get married, earn a degree, raise a family, everything a young girl aspires to.” His white eyebrows lowered, troubled. “But after high school, she couldn’t decide where to go. When Daniel’s friend died, she felt she couldn’t leave him, and then she just lingered. Eric lingered with her, ever faithful by her side.” He glanced at Chase. “You know that he asks her to marry him every Christmas?”

Chase’s heart slowed. “Really?”
Grandpa shrugged. “But she always says no. She told me once that she wants to, mostly, and that it makes sense. Eric is successful working with his father and is very dependable, but something holds her back.” He nudged Chase with his elbow. “Maybe that something is you.”

Chase laughed incredulously. “You mean you think she kept saying no because she knew some homeless guy in an alley would save her and then be hopelessly drawn to her even though he had nothing to offer?” He shook his head, a tight pit in his stomach. “I don’t think so.”

“She ended it with Eric,” Grandpa said gently, watching his reaction.

Chase froze. “She did?” His head whirled with the implications. “But why? What happened? I thought they were a couple.” His voice lowered, “I didn’t want to ruin anything.”

Grandpa held up his hand to stop Chase’s questions. “Whoa, now. This was nothing you did. Their relationship was on the rocks before you came into the picture.” He shrugged. “I guess you can say you just helped the inevitable along quicker.”

Chase dropped his gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Grandpa Clark laughed and shook his head. “I’m not! She’s felt stuck for so long; now she says she feels like someone just gave her wings.”

“She could do anything, be with anyone,” Chase said quietly.

“I know,” Grandpa replied, his eyebrows raised. “And she chose you!”

A sinking feeling washed over Chase. “She deserves better,” he admitted out loud.

Grandpa Clark studied Chase’s solemn expression for a moment, then led him over to one of the nearby benches. “Sit down, son,” he said, patting the empty seat beside him. Chase sat down, his eyes on the entrance to the Christmas exhibit. “Chase.” Grandpa waited until Chase met his eyes. “Our women might deserve better men, but they chose us. I struggled with this for a while with my Molly, also. But eventually, I realized that the best thing I could do was to be the one she deserved. I’ve worked at that my whole life, and we’ve been very happy.”

Chase thought about it for a minute and was about to reply when Matty came running out of the entrance to the display, his face white. They were both rising when he spotted them. “Grandpa, Chase, come quick. Something’s wrong with Dad!”

***

At the hospital, everyone was solemn and silent. Clara sat by Chase and held his hand as though it was the only thing keeping her from breaking down. Mrs. Clark sat between Ilene and Grandma, tears running down all of their faces. Grandpa and Sam talked quietly on the couch while Daniel and Martin stood by the waiting room door watching for the doctor. Matty waited stoically with his brothers, his hand clutched in Daniel’s. Daniel seemed more withdrawn than Chase had ever seen him. He knew without asking that this was the hospital where they had brought Ryan.

When the doctor finally arrived, the family grouped around him anxiously. “Matthew Clark is having some problems with his heart that could be potentially life-threatening,” the doctor said.

“What happened?” Mrs. Clark asked, her face pale.

The doctor glanced at the children, then continued, “He’s had a heart attack and is being prepped for surgery as we speak. We’ll know better what we’re dealing with in a short while. I’ll send a nurse out with an update when we have more information.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Mrs. Clark said, her hands knotted together as she fought to retain her composure.

The doctor nodded and left.

“Open heart surgery?” Daniel said the second the doctor was out of sight. His voice was laced with anger. “They’re cutting him open to see what’s wrong with his heart. Shouldn’t they know what’s happening by now?”
Matty ran to Mrs. Clark’s side and buried his face against her waist. “Daniel,” Mrs. Clark said with a gentle shake of her head.

Daniel sat down with his arms crossed to glare at the floor.

“Your father will be fine,” Mrs. Clark reassured her youngest son. She smoothed down Matty’s unruly hair. “He’s very tough.”

“Anyone can be tough until someone’s cutting at their heart with a knife,” Daniel muttered.

“He’ll be okay,” Sam reassured them. “I did my internship here, and Dr. Rassman is the best heart surgeon in the state.”

“You hear that, Matty,” Martin said. “Dad’s going to be alright.”

Matty nodded, but wouldn’t let go of his mom. She sat down on the couch and pulled him onto her lap. The others settled back down as well, prepared for a long wait.

Eventually, Matty fell asleep with his head pillowed against Mrs. Clark. Daniel was sprawled out on the chairs he had pulled together and was staring at the ceiling. Ilene kept Isabelle and Kavin occupied with some cars she pulled out of her seemingly bottomless purse, while Grandma held Paige as she slept.

Clara leaned against Chase and rested her head on his shoulder. She had tried two or three times to read the magazines on the table in an effort to keep her mind occupied, then finally gave it up as fruitless. She now toyed with the zipper on Chase’s borrowed coat.

“Do you think a loan would be the best way to go?” Chase overhead Sam ask Grandpa from their seat by the small television. Neither watched the football game replay of two defensive linemen sacking a quarterback.

“Not a loan,” Grandpa replied. “It’s the interest that kills you if you go that way. We’ll just have to set up a payment plan.”

Sam sighed worriedly. “Surgeries like that are going to be expensive, and who knows what else they’ll need to do once they get in there.”

Grandpa nodded. “They’ll do whatever is needed as long as Matthew gets out alright. That’s all that matters.” At Sam’s nod, he lowered his voice. “Let’s not mention bills to Penny. She’s got enough on her plate right now.” Sam nodded again in and their voices grew quieter.

Chase sat for a few minutes outwardly calm, but inside his thoughts flew. He eventually made up his mind and, apologizing to Clara, stood up. He walked over to Mrs. Clark. “I’ve got to excuse myself for a short while,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t think him rude. He could feel the others watching him.

“Go right ahead, my dear,” Mrs. Clark replied. “And take good care of yourself.” She motioned for a hug and when he leaned down, careful not to disturb Matty, she gave him a tight embrace.

He met Clara’s eyes and held them for a moment. “I’ll be back,” he told her. She nodded and gave him a valiant smile.

Grandpa Clark rose and walked him to the door. “We’ll see you soon,” he replied, giving Chase a firm handshake.

Chase turned and left through the door, but as he went down the hall, he overheard Daniel say, “He won’t be back. Just you watch. He has no reason to stick around, anyway.”

Clara replied, but her words were too soft for Chase to hear. He forced himself to keep walking and not go back.

***

The mansion felt familiar yet strangely hollow when he was ushered in by the doorman. Chase took a steeling breath, then walked along echoing hallways toward his father’s office, hallways that had never before felt so vacant. He stopped outside the open door, though he knew the gate guard and the steward would both have alerted his father to his arrival.

“Enter,” came the not-so-friendly command.

Chase’s jaw clenched, but he did as he was bidden. Never before had the cherry wood desk, marble inlaid floor, arching windows, and adjoining library appeared so gaudy and pointless. The portrait of Chester Andrew Brockson, Senior, Chase’s grandfather for whom he was named, now loomed boastful and pathetic instead of haughty and proud as Chase used to see him. He, too, had lost his family, but not to a tragic accident. They had left him when it became apparent that money was worth more to him than they were.

Chase’s father was the only one who had a knack for business, and so had inherited the company when Mr. Brockson, Sr., had passed away. He then not only made it profit, he turned it from a million-dollar business into a multi-billion dollar one his first year running it. Until the death of his family, though, he had always been able to keep business separate from family, and less important. He truly had been a good father until that day changed their world entirely.

“Sir,” Chase said quietly. He ignored the urge to straighten his shirt and wished he wore a tie.

Mr. Brockson turned from his studious overview of the snow-covered gardens and lawn below his window. “Well, if it isn’t Chester A. Brockson, the Third,” his father said with a slight incline of his head.

“Chase,” Chase corrected him for the millionth time. After the death of his family, he had wanted more than anything to be nothing like his namesake, so he changed his name despite his father’s stern disapproval, which made it all the more satisfying.

“Chester, it is good to see you home safe and sound,” Mr. Brockson continued, ignoring him. His tone had a bite to it as though it really wasn’t good to see his son again.

“No thanks to you, Sir,” Chase replied. He could feel his chest tightened the way it always did when he argued with his father, which was every time they spoke.

Mr. Brockson gave an unconcerned shrug. “You got yourself into that mess; you can get yourself out of it.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose you’ve come asking for money.”

Bile rose in the back of Chase’s throat. He forced his words past it. “For me, never. There is no way I would ask you for money to save my own life, which it almost amounted to this time.”

Was that a flicker of emotion in his father’s eyes when he took in the fading bruises and obvious limp of his son? Chase shook it off as a figment of his imagination and pressed on. “I was at the end of my rope and a family took me in. They tended my wounds, fed me, clothed me, and one of the sons even gave me his own bed to sleep in. I owe them my life, and now there’s a chance I can pay them back.”

“You mean I can pay them back,” his father cut in haughtily, turning back to his windows.

Chase gave a curt nod and continued, “Mr. Clark, the father, is undergoing emergency heart surgery as we speak. They don’t have the money to pay for it, but they don’t have a choice. He’s an exceptional person and the head of an extraordinary family. He needs help and you can give it to him.”

Mr. Brockson stared out the windows for so long Chase thought he wasn’t going to reply. Chase turned to leave.

“Wait.”

It was another command, but Chase’s heart lifted as he turned back. At the look on his father’s face, though, he knew there was no hope.

“You come crawling back looking for money,” Mr. Brockson began, his voice deep and final. “When your mother died, she took all that was worth anything with her and left me the garbage.

Chase’s blood ran cold.

“You never could do anything worthwhile with your life,” his father continued. “Why do you think you and I didn’t die with the rest of them? We weren’t good enough.” His voice cracked, but he said louder, “We weren’t good enough to even die with them.”

Chase’s heart started to pound. “You’re wrong,” he shouted. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

“She’s dead, the kids are dead, and I’m alone because I wasn’t worth taking,” Mr. Brockson concluded hotly.

“You’re wrong,” Chase repeated. He forced himself to calm down, for his thoughts to clear. For the first time in his life, he saw the way things really were. “Father, it was an accident. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, and nobody chose for it to happen that way. We didn’t die because we weren’t in the car. That’s all. Mom and the others leaving was the worst thing that could have happened, but we chose to let it destroy us.”

Chase’s brow furrowed. “I was ten, Dad. I needed a father, and you needed a son, but you sent me away because I reminded you of her.” Another flicker passed through his father’s eyes, more definite this time. “You destroyed us, not her leaving. We could have leaned on each other, but you chose to push me away.” His voice lowered. “Well, I’ve got news for you, Father. I’ve learned how to lean on myself. I don’t need you anymore.”

He turned and walked to the door. When he paused and looked back, Mr. Brockson had returned to the window. “If you can’t see a worthy cause when it’s presented to you, then I want nothing more to do with you or your money.” Chase left the room without another glance.

***

The Clark family welcomed Chase warmly when he arrived back at the waiting room. He realized by Mrs. Clark’s expression and Matty, Ilene, and Martin’s hugs that they truly hadn’t expected him to return. Grandpa and Grandma Clark beamed with smiles, and Sam gave him a handshake and a slap on the back. Daniel, on the other hand, sat aloof in a corner and acted as if he didn’t noticed Chase’s return at all. Chase knew to give the boy his space.

When Clara gave him a tight hug, he whispered in her ear, “I need someone to talk to.”

“I’m a good listener,” she replied quietly with a small smile; but the expression in his eyes drew the smile into a worried frown. “What happened?”

Chase shook his head. “Not here.” He led her into the hallway. “Care for a chat on the roof?” At Clara’s nod, they walked to the stairs.

***

Chase paced the roof for a moment trying to decide where to start. He could feel Clara watching him and wondered what she thought, and if she had also doubted he would return. He shook his head and took a steeling breath. “You remember when your dad asked me if I was related to the Mr. Brockson, business tycoon Chester A. Brockson, II?” he asked, turning to face her.

Clara nodded.

“Well, he’s my father.” Surprise showed on her face followed by questions. He held up a hand to stop them before they started. “Please wait until I finish,” he urged gently. “Then I’ll answer any questions you have, I promise.” At her second nod, he told her about his visit home. He forced himself to repeat his dad’s cutting words; they tasted bitter in his mouth. He fought past the emotions and told her how he left and promised never to return.

Clara was quiet when he finished. His heart pounded again at the remembered hostility in his father’s voice. The words seemed to cut doubly deep the second time, wounding him where the walls used to protect him. Clara was staring unseeing off the roof, her expression troubled. She looked horrified at his father’s words, almost on the verge of tears. Now, she seemed to be searching for the right thing to say.

She turned back to Chase and took one of his bare hands in her mittened ones. “I need you to hear me out before you say anything,” she said, her green eyes pleading with him.

He nodded. “I will.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching the fog that briefly clouded the air before it disappeared. “I think you need to go back there.”

Surprised, Chase tried to protest, but she held up a gloved hand and stopped him. She shook her head. “The money doesn’t matter. My family will make due. We always have. We’ll get through this alright. It’s you I worry about.”

“Me?” Chase’s eyebrows rose. He brushed his hair back from his eyes. They were in turmoil, a deep ocean blue clouded in the cold day.

“Yes,” Clara confirmed. “You. You’ve been through so much and your father, too.” She held up a hand against the way his expression darkened when she mentioned his dad. “Hear me out,” she urged. “It’s Christmas, the hardest time of the year for both of you. It’s normal for tempers to rise and words to be said that hurt. You’re both trying to shield yourselves from more pain. You figure that if you push away that final person linked to your family’s tragedy, you’ll be protecting yourself. But what you don’t see is how much you need each other; now more than ever.”

At her pause, Chase forced a small smile. “And why is that?” he asked quietly.

“Because it’s Christmas,” she replied gently. He lowered his eyes and she reached up to brush the hair back from them, her mitten soft against his cold skin. “He needs you now more than ever.”

“Why me?” Chase asked softly, the bitterness gone from his voice and replaced by defeat. “What he said today proves that he doesn’t care.”

Clara shook her head. “No, it proves that he does care, very much. He said those things to push you away so that he doesn’t lose you when he least expects it, like he did with the rest of your family. By pushing you away himself, at least he can feel like he’s in control of that loss.”

Chase studied her, surprise in his eyes. “You think so?”

“Yes,” she replied. “That’s why he was so cruel. He cares about you and knows how he raised you was wrong. He knows he’s going to lose you, but needs you. You’ve got to go back there. I almost lost my father today; don’t risk losing yours.”

Chase nodded, surprised at the way her words warmed him, soothing a balm over the raw edges of his heart. “Friday is Christmas?”

“Yes.”
“I’ll go tomorrow, Christmas Eve. That’ll give me some time to think about what to say.”
Without warning, Clara wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

Chase held her and ran a hand through her hair. “What’s this for?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Because I love you,” Clara replied.

Chase paused, staring down at the top of her head. His heart pounded louder, but for a different reason this time. It almost hurt, but not quite. He finally whispered into her hair, “I love you, too.”

Chapter 9

When the doctor announced that Mr. Clark had pulled through the surgery and was doing well, the tension in the room released like a needle popping a balloon. Matty, Isabelle, and Kavin began to make a tower out of the blocks in one corner, while Chase, Grandpa, Sam, and Ilene turned their attention to the rerun of the football game.

Ilene kept calling to Clara to point out the cute football players whenever they showed the sidelines, then slapped Sam on the shoulder when he whistled at a particularly cute cheerleader in white and blue. Grandma crocheted a yellow and pink blanket for Paige, while Clara rolled her yarn into convenient balls. Mrs. Clark sat back and watched it all, relief plain on her face.

As night drew closer and the doctor announced that Mr. Clark was resting now and probably wouldn’t be receiving visitors for a while, Chase and Clara took Daniel, Martin, Matty, Isabelle, and Kavin back to the house. The kids were thrilled at the prospect of a sleepover. Martin and Daniel, both now in good spirits, made them popcorn and microwaved s’mores while Clara and Chase set up a blanket fort in Matty’s bedroom. The kids then settled down to watch Ninja Turtles in their hideout.

“Kids,” Daniel said with a dramatic sigh. He flopped into a chair next to Clara by the fire.

Chase and Clara both laughed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve built a fort,” Chase said, stretching his knee slowly toward the fire.

Martin grinned at him. “You’re not that old,” he said.

Chase smiled. “I guess I feel old.”

“Age is relative,” Daniel replied.

Chase nodded. “I agree.” He rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. “But I still feel old.”

Daniel laughed, surprising them. “I remember sitting by this fireplace waiting for Santa to come. I kept telling Mom he wouldn’t be able to slide down the chimney with the fire going.”

Chase chuckled. “What did she tell you?”

“That his clothes were fireproof,” Martin replied, remembering. “Then we put more logs on the fire to give him a challenge.”

“Speaking of fire,” Daniel said. He jumped up and ran to the kitchen.

In a few seconds, Daniel returned with the bag of marshmallows, a pack of graham crackers, several chocolate bars, and various pointed metal utensils to use as roasting sticks.

“Awesome,” Martin said, taking a meat skewer and poking it through four marshmallows.

Clara selected a barbecue prong, while Chase accepted the fondue fork. Daniel, thrilled with the chance to try something daring, proceeded to skewer six marshmallows along the tongs of a metal spaghetti spoon. He held it over the flames with a reckless grin.

“This,” Chase said, indicating the roasting marshmallows with a tip of his head, “Is something I’ve never done.”

“We used to do it a lot,” Martin said. “The best was when Dad used to bring out nuts, and bananas, and coconut, and stuff so we could experiment.”

Clara nodded. “My favorite was chocolate, peanut butter, and marshmallows.”

“I liked strawberries, bananas, chocolate, and marshmallows,” Daniel said, turning his spaghetti spoon so the six marshmallows toasted evenly.

“Remember when Mom and Dad would try to see who could toast their marshmallows the best?” Clara asked. They all laughed.

“Mom can get competitive when it comes to marshmallow roasting,” Martin told Chase.

Chase tried to picture Mrs. Clark competitive. Clara glanced at him as if suddenly remembering where he was from. She mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

Chase shook his head. “Don’t be,” he said. “I like hearing your memories. It’s nice to imagine.”

She nodded. “It was good to be there. Mom and Dad are wonderful parents.”

Bailey trotted into the room and plopped down on the rug between them. The ever-present slimy tennis ball rolled from his mouth to rest on his front paws. He settled his chin on it contentedly.

“Do you ever get it away from him?” Chase asked curiously.

“Only when Mom buys a new one, which she does whenever Bailey’s current one turns black and gross. She’s afraid he’ll catch some strange, rare disease from the build-up of slobber, dirt, and who knows what,” Daniel replied. He tried to swipe the ball from under Bailey’s chin, but the dog was faster and danced away with it in his mouth. He then pranced back and dropped it in front of Daniel so he could throw it.

“Now look what you’ve started,” Martin said.

Daniel pretended to throw the ball, then hid it behind his back and grinned when Bailey went looking for it. “That’ll give us a break. Hey!” He tried to blow on his burning marshmallows, but they were a charcoaled lost cause.

***

Chase went to bed that night with a renewed conviction to see his dad and try to resolve at least a few things. He already knew what they had missed out on as he grew up watching his few friends with their own fathers, but now he realized how much more there was left to do. There was still time to fix it, to repair some of what was lost, if only a small part.

When he awoke, the fact that it was Christmas Eve filled him with trepidation as it did every year. He took a fortifying breath before climbing out of bed, reminding himself that this Christmas Eve would be very different than any of the others. He rose, showered, and made his way down the hall. He paused at the clamor in the living room.

“A limo!” he heard Kavin exclaim.

“Cool!” Matty and Isabelle echoed.

Someone was talking at the front door. “Chester Brockson? I think you have the wrong house.”

Chase’s heart froze at the name.

“I think he means Chase,” he heard Daniel mutter in an undertone.

“Chase?” The man must have nodded, because he heard Martin say, “Yes, of course he’s here. Let me go get him.” He turned around to yell, then paused at the sight of Chase in the doorway. “Chase, this man is looking for you,” he said with a worried frown as though concerned that the man was sent by the mafia or something.

Chase inclined his head. “Morning.”

“Mr. Brockson, Sir?” the man asked.

Chase nodded, feeling stares from Daniel, Martin, and the kids.

The driver nodded, satisfied. “Your presence is required, Sir,” he said, indicating the limousine parked by the sidewalk and very out of place amid the vans and economy cars of the neighborhood.

“Let Clara know I’ll meet you guys at the hospital later,” Chase said to Daniel and Martin. He ruffled Matty’s towhead hair, then followed the driver to the car.

He didn’t ask and the driver didn’t provide any information. The pit in Chase’s stomach grew the closer they got to the mansion. It was with growing conviction that he realized the truth. It was too late. The cars in the driveway confirmed his suspicions.

Henderson the steward met him at the bottom of the stairs. “He was hoping you’d come,” he said. He bowed his head. “He was a good man.”

The pit in Chase’s stomach turned into a gaping hole. He was truly too late. He followed wordlessly, nodding at the black clad people in the hallway. He wondered briefly if they’d actually taken the time to dress for the occasion, or if they just happened to be droll and black-suited by chance.

“He asked me to give you these,” Henderson said. He handed Chase two envelopes. Chase accepted them automatically, his eyes on the towering doors in front of him. “Would you like a few minutes alone?”

Chase nodded and Henderson pushed open the double doors to his father’s room. Even well-lit, it already felt like a tomb to Chase, a soulless memorial to the vacant body on the king-sized bed.

The doors shut resoundingly behind him, a tone of finality in their echoes. Chase forced himself to walk to his father’s side, then made his eyes drop to his father’s face. His father looked different, softer somehow. The lines of worry were gone from his brow and a slight smile touched the corner of one lip as if in death Mr. Brockson had still found a way to prosper from a business venture. He looked smaller, fragile, no longer the powerhouse that commanded Chase’s respect and sometimes fear. Chase touched one of his father’s hands. They used to be so strong, but they were worn now, and cold.

“You built better jobs with these hands, designed new networking systems, business management protocols, and even sky scrapers.” A tear escaped. “But they’re all just things, things you touch but don’t touch you back.” He rubbed his eyes with one hand.

When he opened them again, he realized he was still holding the two envelops Henderson had given him. He knew the handwriting on them by heart. The first had his name on it, while the second was addressed to Mr. Matthew Clark. Chase stared at it, puzzled, then put it in his jacket pocket. He studied the one addressed to him, hesitated, then crossed to one of the big, curtained windows. Drawing back the thick maroon curtains, he let the sunlight wash over him like a mother’s gentle embrace.

He opened the letter. The handwriting was precise and clear, each letter well-defined in his father’s way to leave nothing to conjecture.

‘Son,

I leave you as a father should never leave a child, not knowing how much you have been valued despite the years of bitterness between us. Your words this evening kept repeating themselves in my head until sleep was out of the question. I guess that’s the only way a stubborn old man like me can realize the truth.’

Another tear slid slowly down Chase’s cheek. He brushed it away and stared unseeing at the tiny motes of dust dancing in the beams of sunlight from the window. He took a deep breath and focused again on the letter.

‘I call myself a father, but it is a title only. You never really had a father since we lost the rest of our family. I don’t know what else to say except that even though I was still here, I died when your mother did. She was always the best part of me anyway. I thought I owned the world, but all the power and money meant nothing to me after she was gone. I guess I just didn’t know what to do when that part was taken from me, us. There I go again, thinking only of myself. You were right when you said I chose to let losing your mother destroy me. Here I sit, a broken man, realizing I’ve been broken for thirteen years. The sad thing is that I don’t know how to fix myself, how to fix us, and I fear there is no time in which to do it.

‘I can feel that something is wrong inside me, and for my own selfish reasons (there I go again), I choose to let it happen. Son, all I want more than anything is to be with my dear, sweet Rosemary again. Please forgive me for leaving things unspoken. Just know that I love you, even if I never said it. You have turned into a better young man than I ever set you up to be. I never asked you to do anything for me, but my dying wish is for you to do one thing. Love. Find something, someone, to love with all of your heart and never let them go. Love can be your greatest strength or your greatest weakness. Learn from my mistakes and let it make you strong.

‘I’m going home, Son. I’ll give your love to your Mother. Farewell.’

Chase suddenly understood the small smile on his father’s face. It wasn’t a smile of victory, but one of peace. He had finally found what he had lost so long ago. Chase felt a brief, sharp stab of jealousy that was almost painful when he pictured his father somewhere with Mom, Jason, Andrew, Elizabeth, and baby Sara. They would be happy again, and he was alone. He let that feeling settle in his chest for a moment, consuming him in the emptiness of having no one who cared that he existed. But the feeling was wrong.

“I was alone,” Chase spoke out loud past the dark thoughts in his head, “But not anymore.” The surety he felt filled him with a fire of direction, of purpose. He had found more to do with his life than just living. Somehow he had stumbled into a new family, one that seemed to value his presence even though he didn’t understand why. He saw Clara in his mind’s eye as she had been the night they kissed, her cheeks red with cold, her green eyes bright like glittering snow.

“I found love, Dad,” he said quietly to the still figure. Air moved the curtains, playing shadows across his face. Chase swore he saw his father’s smile deepen. “I love you,” Chase whispered with the letter clutched tightly in his hand. He bent down and kissed his dad on the forehead, then left the room.

Chapter 10

The entire Clark family was in the waiting room when he walked in. The change from the day before was palpable. In place of solemn faces and downcast eyes, he was greeted with smiles and waves from the adults playing Rook at the table. Clara’s smile lit up the room when she saw him. Matty and Kavin shouted hello from the corner where they played with trucks Ilene had the foresight to bring, and to Chase’s surprise, Paige tottered up on wobbly legs. “Hi!” she said with an extremely proud grin.

Chase looked up at Ilene. “She just started saying ‘hi’ today,” Paige’s mother explained. She and Sam smiled fondly at their youngest child. “And since she’s started walking, we can’t get her to slow down.”

Chase scooped her up in his arms. “Well hi back, sweetheart,” he said. He hoisted her onto his shoulders, making her laugh.

Paige waived at the group. “Hi, hi!” she said, waving both of her chubby little arms.

He set her down by Ilene. “She’s learning so fast,” he said, taking an empty seat next to Grandpa.

Ilene beamed. “All our kids were ahead of their age groups.”

“They take after their dad,” Samuel put in. Ilene elbowed him.

Chase glanced at Grandpa Clark’s cards and grinned when he saw the Rook among them. “I can’t believe they let you play,” he whispered loudly.

“What they don’t remember won’t hurt them,” Grandpa replied in a loud, conspiratorial tone before he set the Rook card on the table; the accompanying groans and protests made him chuckle. “I can’t help it if I’m good,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

Chase laughed, exchanging knowing smiles with Clara who was across the table. “Welcome back,” she mouthed, her green eyes sparkling.

“Thanks,” he mouthed back. He rose and left the group to their card game.

Mixed emotions from the past few days kept running through his mind. The white hospital walls felt too close and sterile to contain his thoughts, and the memories of his last experience in the hospital threatened to close around him. Chase left the waiting room for the stairs to the roof.

The brisk evening air washed over him when he stepped through the door. He took a deep breath and let it clear the turmoil from his mind. He walked to the edge and leaned on the short wall, taking in the sky scrapers and busy life that rushed past him.

A few minutes later, the door scraped open. Chase was surprised to see Daniel step through. The teenager came over and leaned beside him, his breath fogging in the crisp air. They surveyed the busting crowd below in companionable silence, business men hurrying home to their families or microwave dinners, on-call nurses coming back to the hospital to cover for the overflow of accidents and illnesses from to the prolonged cold, homeless men and women heading to the shelter for soup and a warm bed, and various other citizens bundled from head to toe against the biting wind.

The open space brought clarity to Chase’s thoughts, but it forced other things to light with painful sharpness. He rolled them around in his mind until he felt like they were piercing him from the inside. He kept seeing his father’s handwriting on the letter, the words, ‘All I ever wanted is to be with my dear, sweet Rosemary. . . I’m going home, son.’

He saw the hospital room again, felt the absence of his family amid their still bodies, then saw them only hours before they bid he and Dad farewell. He saw baby Sara next to his mother on the bed. He felt a special bond with his little sister since the day Mom brought her home and asked him what they should name her; he still remembered the swelling of brotherly pride he felt when she used his suggestion.

It all built up inside him, threatening to shatter the calm he had felt since leaving his father’s room. “Do you believe there’s a heaven?” he asked suddenly, surprised to hear his own voice.

Daniel glanced sideways at him, then turned to look back at the street below. The silence thickened between them. Chase was about to apologize for his bluntness when Daniel’s answer surprised him. “I didn’t use to,” he said without turning.

“What changed your mind?” Chase asked. It was so important, all of the sudden, that at lease someone believed.

Daniel’s next answer caught him completely off guard. “You.”

Chase stared at him.

Daniel finally turned. He let out a slow breath. “I couldn’t pull out of it,” he began, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “Each day that went by, I felt myself losing more of Ryan, forgetting about him. I felt like if I kept going, I would lose him completely. He was my best friend. Best friends don’t forget each other.”

His voice cracked, but he pushed on. “I was going to hang myself in the garage one night about a month ago after everyone had gone to bed. I couldn’t take it anymore; no one understood when I did try to talk to them, and I was losing control. I had the rope ready and everything, one of Bailey’s old leads for when we went to the lake. But then I started crying so hard I couldn’t see the rope. I fell to my knees.” Tears filled his eyes. “For the first time since Ryan died, I prayed. I begged God to take me away from all this, from a world that didn’t change even though mine felt like it was over.”

His forehead creased. “Then I had this feeling.” He turned, his eyes on the empty windows across the street. “I felt it as clear as if someone said to me, ‘Be patient, you’re not alone.’” He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and glanced at Chase. “That’s all I needed, you know, to know that I wasn’t alone. Then you showed up and helped me understand I could live and honor his memory with my life.” Tears burned in Chase’s eyes.

Daniel’s voice cracked when he continued, “When Dad went to the hospital-“ He swallowed, then started again, “When Dad went to the hospital, I realized that while I’ve been mourning Ryan’s death, I’ve been missing my father’s life. All the precious moments are passing me by because I’ve been in such a dark hole that I can’t see them.” He gave Chase a small smile. “Thanks to you, I’m going to try to live again. I won’t miss making more memories with my family.”

Chase tried to smile back, but Daniel’s words struck him so close to home he could barely breathe past the knot in his throat. He blinked back tears.

Daniel frowned slightly. “Something happened today, didn’t it?”

Chase’s throat tightened, but he nodded.

Daniel’s voice lowered. “Mom forbade us to ask you about the limo.”

“She’s a wise woman,” Chase said quietly. “You’re lucky to have her.”

“You are, too,” Daniel replied with a smile.

Chase couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes, I am.”

“So, you like my sister?”

Chase laughed, grateful for the distraction to settle his emotions. “Forward today, huh?”

Daniel shrugged. “I think you’re the only one who knows all my secrets. You never judge the way I look or dress, and you practically saved my life when you rescued Clara and Matty. I just hope you feel you can be as honest and open with me as I’ve been with you.”

Chase laughed again softly. “Oh, no pressure, huh?”

Daniel grinned and shook his head. “None, whatsoever.”

Chase ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I like your sister.”

“More than like?” Daniel pressed. At Chase’s nod, he whooped, “I knew it! You’ll be the awesomest brother!”

Chase raised his hands. “Whoa, now! I’m new to having a relationship, but I know the most important thing is to not rush it. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

Daniel scooped up some snow and packed it. “Come on,” he said. “You two are perfect for each other. Things’ll work out.”

“I hope so,” Chase replied as Daniel threw the snowball at the building across the street. It hit a window, then slid down onto a pedestrian below. Chase and Daniel ducked behind the wall as an onslaught of verbal obscenities was aimed at them. They ran to the door and closed it behind the, laughing like school boys.

“Think he’ll come looking for us?” Daniel asked, breathless from laughter.

“Let’s not be here if he tries,” Chase replied. They ran down the stairs, their footsteps echoing behind them.

When they neared the waiting room, Martin’s voice rang out, “He’s awake! Everyone, come quick!”

Chase and Daniel met the rest of the family as they rushed into the hall. The group piled into Mr. Clark’s room. Mrs. Clark held her husband’s hand. He was pale, but gave them a winning smile. “They did a good job,” he told them. “And said I have the recovery rate of a thirty-five year old. I told them I was going to take that down a few more years.”

“Now don’t push yourself too hard,” Mrs. Clark chided, patting his hand.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Clara replied with a laugh. “You know he will.”

“You take it easy, Dad,” Martin said.

Mr. Clark laughed softly, then winced in pain. “Well, maybe now’s the time,” he agreed. “But I’d like to be home for Christmas.”

“We’ll hold Christmas for you,” Grandpa Clark said firmly. Everyone nodded.

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Matty said. “Santa will come back when you’re better.”

Mrs. Clark ruffled her son’s hair, her eyes shining brightly.

“Well, folks,” Grandpa said after a moment, “We should let Matt rest.”
Mrs. Clark nodded. “Your father needs his sleep. You can come back and visit him tomorrow.”

Mr. Clark bid them farewell, his eyelids already drooping drowsily from the medication. Mrs. Clark kissed him goodnight, then followed them out. They piled into the cars, Clara driving with Chase in the passenger seat despite his protests to give her mother the front.

Mrs. Clark planned to head back to the hospital after she saw everyone settled for the night, and said she enjoyed the chance to ride in back with Grandpa and Grandma Clark. Ilene, Samuel, the kids, and Matty followed them with the intent of finishing the game of cards they had started back at the house. Martin and Daniel took the lead, driving slowly along the icy roads.

Clara tuned to a Christmas station. She and Mrs. Clark sang loudly to ‘Let It Snow’. Chase glanced back and saw Grandma and Grandpa holding hands, content expressions on their faces. Grandma’s head rested on Grandpa’s shoulder, her eyes closed. Mrs. Clark sang the Christmas songs from the radio with relish. Her face shone at the recovery her husband had made. It was obvious she looked forward to joining him back at the hospital to make sure he was resting comfortably.

Chase turned back to the front and a smile stole across his face. Mr. Clark was going to be alright. The family was together, and he felt as if he belonged with them. Maybe Christmas had turned around after all.

He had just started to enjoy Clara’s singing when Martin slammed on his brakes in front of them. Clara stopped two feet from the Neon’s bumper, jerking them all forward. She was checking her rearview mirror to make sure Samuel stopped in time when a minivan slid across the bridge and slammed into Martin’s car with a horrible screeching thud.

The world slowed. Mrs. Clark screamed from the back seat. The black Neon spun, sliding on the ice that covered the bridge they were crossing. A truck hit the minivan, crashing it into Martin’s car again.

Chase could see Martin and Daniel’s panicked faces when their car hit the railing. A blue SUV slid across the ice toward the others. Clara screamed when it hit the minivan by Martin and Daniel, pushing it into them for the third time. The railing broke with a series of loud, angry snaps.

Mrs. Clark gave another scream. The black Neon teetered on the edge. Daniel tried to open the door, but it was smashed shut from the impact. His eyes, wide with panic and fear, met Chase’s as the car tipped as if in slow motion, then fell off the bridge. It turned in the air so that it hit the water on its hood fifteen feet below. Water and ice rushed up in a loud spray as if claiming the car.

Chase’s memories flooded forward, clouding his vision with images of his mother’s Lincoln upside-down in a canal, his family trapped as icy water flooded the interior.

“No!” he shouted. Chase tore off his seatbelt and opened the door, leaving his coat in the car. The icy air bit at his bare skin, but he didn’t feel it. He ran to the edge of the bridge where the occupants of the other cars were already congregating.

Chase heard the Clarks running behind him with panicked yells, but saw only the car upside down in the water. His thoughts contorted with panic and he saw the Lincoln again. A woman screamed and he heard his mother’s voice calling for help. Before anyone could stop him, he dove off the bridge.

The shock of the icy water forced the air from his lungs. Chase surfaced, coughing, and saw the black Neon only a few feet away. Taking a shaky breath, he dove again. He felt along the edge of the car to the shattered windows. The pitch black freezing water obscured his vision and stole the breath from his lungs. He forced his head and shoulders through the window, ignoring the icy stabs as the glass cut into his shoulder blades.

He groped around until he felt clothing under his fingertips. The body moved at his touch, then grabbed his hand hard. Martin was struggling to release the seatbelt. The teenager fumbled, his fingers growing numb in the icy water, but managed to push the release. Chase grabbed him tightly under the arms and pulled him through the window. They both kicked to the surface, their lungs screaming.

Someone was already in the water waiting for them. Chase heard sirens above, sounding the arrival of more help. “I’ve got him,” Samuel yelled to Chase. “Get Daniel!”

Chase let Martin go, took another deep breath through chattering teeth, and dove again. Every nerve screamed with knife-edged pain at the bite of the freezing water. It was all he could do to follow the car back down and force himself through the same window, hoping to reach Daniel’s seatbelt.

He was surprised to feel that the seatbelt was already undone. He reached for Daniel, his movements clumsy in the cold. He felt an arm, grabbed it with both hands, and pulled. Daniel came easier than he expected. Chase jerked back, hitting his head against the side of the window frame.

He let out his breath in a gasp. Water tried to force its way into his lungs. Chase gritted his teeth in protest and pulled again. Daniel didn’t fight as Chase eased him out through the window. Chase’s lungs screamed. He kicked toward the surface. Daniel hung limp in his arms, a dead weight.

Chase saw the hospital room again, his family lying quietly on the beds, the smell of rain in the air. He wanted to beg his mother to get up, for his brothers and sisters to climb off the hard beds and be alright again, but he knew no amount of begging would make them come back.

“Do you believe there’s a heaven?” he heard himself ask Daniel.

“I didn’t use to,” Daniel replied.

“No!” The protest burst out of Chase’s mouth from the last remaining air in his lungs. He couldn’t find his way up and struggled weakly with the weight of Daniel’s body. He had to make it. Daniel had to live. A prayer, the first prayer he had uttered since his family died, came from his heart with a rush of sincerity. “Please, I love him,” was all he said.

Firm hands reached down through the water and grabbed both he and Daniel. He felt himself lifted up and took a shuddering breath when his head cleared the water. He heard a gasp and looked over to see Daniel coughing weakly, his eyes half shut.

“Daniel,” Chase forced out.

“Hang in there,” Samuel’s steady voice replied. He and the paramedics pulled them from the icy water.

Mrs. Clark ran through the snow as the men carried Daniel from the water. Her hands touched his face, his chest. “Daniel, are you alright? Talk to me, Daniel, please!”

Daniel’s gave a weak thumb’s-up, his eyes still partially closed. Mrs. Clark burst into tears and grabbed his hand as he was loaded onto a stretcher.

“Chase!” Clara called. Her shoulders shook with sobs as she enveloped him in a tight hug. A paramedic threw a blanket over them both. Chase was shaking so hard he could barely lift his arms to hug her back. “You need to go to the ambulance,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I’d rather hold you,” he replied through chattering teeth.

She helped him toward the ambulance and Mrs. Clark met them halfway with another armful of blankets. Clara wrapped them around Chase’s shoulders and assisted him into the ambulance next to Daniel.

“Back to the hospital,” the teenager croaked weakly.

Chase laughed then coughed; his lungs burned with the water he had inhaled. He closed his eyes and leaned against Clara, letting her warmth chase away the worst of the chills.

At the hospital, they were rushed into separate rooms and treated for hypothermia. Chase’s cuts on his shoulder and the side of his head were stitched. Daniel had a large gash on his forehead from hitting the passenger window when they landed in the water that also required stitching. Martin had a few bruises from the seatbelt and the fall, but was shaken up more than anything. At Chase’s request, the nursing staff put them together in a big room.

Daniel, Chase, Martin, and Samuel shivered under their blankets. When the rest of the family was allowed to see them, Clara ran right up to Chase and threw her arms around him, kissing him soundly.

“Well,” Samuel said with a laugh, “At least there’s no question she cares about you!” Ilene slapped him on the shoulder, then kissed him even sounder than Clara had kissed Chase. “But I’m the most cared about,” he said breathlessly when she was done. They all laughed.

“Ew!” Matty and Kavin exclaimed together.

Mrs. Clark bustled around the room checking to see that they were being properly cared for. She paused at Chase’s side and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered with tears in her eyes before letting him go.

“Maybe we should have Christmas here since everyone’s at the hospital anyways,” Matty suggested persuasively.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Grandma Clark said. Grandpa Clark nodded, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Will Santa be able to find us?” Isabelle asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry, Santa’s magic. He can find every little girl and boy, right Mom?” Matty asked.

Mrs. Clark nodded with a smile. “Right.”

Chapter 11

That night Chase couldn’t sleep. The hum of the neon lights and the steady beeping of heart monitors invaded every thought. He finally sat up.

“You’re awake, too?” Daniel asked. He pushed up from his bed and shook his head to clear his mussed hair from his eyes.

“Too much excitement, I guess,” Chase replied quietly.

Daniel studied his hands for a moment. “That water was cold,” he said, then he looked at Chase. “I don’t know how you dared jump into it like that.”

Chase toyed with a fold in the colorful patchwork quilt Grandma Clark had brought when she deemed their thin white hospital sheets too chilly. “I couldn’t do it,” he said, his words almost too quiet for Daniel to make out.

“Couldn’t do what?” Daniel asked, puzzled.

Chase met Daniel’s eyes. “I couldn’t lose another family that way. I saw them in my mother’s car when yours landed in the water. I thought they were in there.” He closed his eyes to keep in the tears. “I couldn’t let you drowned like they did.”

The soft pad of bare feet across cold tile was followed by a crinkle of sheets when Daniel sat on Chase’s bed. The teenager threw his arms around Chase and hugged him tight. Chase returned the embrace. “You’re my brother,” Daniel forced out. “As much as Martin or my best friend Ryan, you’re my brother and we’ll always be family.”

Chase hugged Daniel close. “I’ve missed having brothers,” he replied with tears in his voice. Something released in his heart with an overwhelming sense of relief. Chase took a testing breath and realized that the painful absence he had carried with him since the loss of his family was gone. Now, instead of a gaping hole, hugs and laughter, smiles and love from his time with the Clark family made it overflow.

He took a deep breath and felt whole again and at peace. It was as though jumping into the water gave him back all he had lost. He could say goodbye to his family and not be alone. He had another family, others to love and who believed in the best of him. He would live for both families.

Daniel sat back and gave him a watery smile. “Now you’ll always have to put up with us.”

“Gladly,” Chase replied.

“Of course, that means putting up with Clara,” Daniel teased.

Chase grinned. “I think I can handle that.”

They fell into companionable silence and listened to the squeak of sneakers when one of the nurses passed down the hallway.

Daniel let out a slow breath. “We’ve spoken around it, but I don’t know how to thank you for saving my life and Martin’s.” His voice dropped. “You saved me twice.”

“You saved me, too,” Chase replied. At Daniel’s sideways look, he smiled. “If you don’t remember, my life wasn’t too peachy when your family took me in.”

“You were a mess,” Daniel said.

Chase laughed, “Thanks.”

Daniel gave a small smile. “I guess we can both be recovering messes together.”

“Deal,” Chase said. He held out his hand.

Daniel shook it with a laugh. “Look out world.”

***

The next day, everyone crammed cozily into Mr. Clark’s room for the makeshift Christmas. The guys, who had finally convinced the nurses that one night of monitoring after the accident was more than enough, were comfortable in their now dry and clean clothing as seen to by Mrs. Clark.

Chase watched the Clark children eagerly open their presents; he only regretted that he didn’t have a gift for Clara. She sat with her fingers entwined in his, her eyes emerald green from the Christmas sweater Grandma Clark had given her. The sleeves were a bit long and she wrapped her fingers in them under the blanket she shared with Chase. All four of the boys had a hard time getting warm since the icy cold river. Chase shivered slightly and she leaned into him with a contented smile.

Paige giggled when her new Elmo toy started to laugh. Matty and Kavin raced around the room with toy airplanes, while Daniel and Martin compared the video games Clara had picked out for them.

Mr. Clark, smiling the soft smile of one who realizes now more than ever the joys he holds, clasped a heart-shaped necklace around his wife’s neck. She bent low so he wouldn’t have to move far, then stood and gasped at its elegance. Christmas songs played softly over the intercom while nurses and doctors shared toasts of sparkling cider.

By evening, the kids played quietly in the corner with their new toys as their energy wound down. All of the adults wore the Christmas sweaters Grandma Clark had picked out and sat sipping eggnog and talking softly.

Chase wore the green and red checkered sweater that fit him like a balloon and felt more comfortable than he had in years. He decided it was time. He pulled the letter from the pocket of the coat next to his chair, stared at the handwriting on the envelope for a second, then handed it to Mr. Clark without a word.

“What’s this?” Mr. Clark asked in surprise.

“Oooh,” Matty said, “What could it be?”

Mr. Clark eased himself up straighter and Mrs. Clark fluffed the pillow behind him, her expression anxious. At Mr. Clark’s questioning look, Chase motioned for him to open the envelope. Mr. Clark did as he was bidden and took out a letter on fine stationary.

Everyone grew silent as he read the brief words once, then again. Chase could see the curves of his father’s meticulous handwriting on the Brockson Enterprises stationary. A knot formed in his throat when Mr. Clark finally read his father’s words aloud.

‘Dear Mr. Clark,

There will never be enough words to thank you for what you have done. All I can say is you have my gratitude for taking care of my son and for being there when I wasn’t. He is in charge of the company now and might need a bit of guidance from time to time, but he’s as sharp as a tack and I am sure he won’t let things go. It’s hard to realize I should have trusted him a long time ago, but it’s too late now. He has a good head on his shoulders and I’m sure he will do just fine. It’s a moment of mixed feelings and pride when you realize your child has far surpassed you in strength and maturity. He deserves the family we lost more than I, but as fate will have it, I’ll be the first to go home. Take care of your loved ones and please watch over my son. Again, I thank you. Please accept this token of my appreciation.

Sincerely,

Chester Andrew Brockson, II’

Mrs. Clark looked at Chase. “Sweetheart, what happened to your father?” she asked gently.

“He passed away two nights ago. He’s with my mom, now,” Chase replied. Tears filled up his eyes and he knew with a surety that what he said was true. His father was home.

“Oh, Chase.” The concern and love in Clara’s tone broke through the carefully constructed control that held Chase together. He leaned against her and she held him tightly, running a hand through his hair. Tears flowed down her face to mix with his, creating dark spots on his new Christmas sweater. He felt Mrs. Clark’s comforting hand on his back; Samuel gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry, son,” Mr. Clark said with sorrow clear in his voice.

Chase dried his eyes on his sleeve and looked around the room. Everyone was crying with him. “It’s alright,” he said. His heart felt lighter as if sharing his pain helped to ease it. He gave a small smile, thinking of Dad with his mother and his brothers and sisters. “He’s finally okay.”

“And so are you,” Mr. Clark said with a firm nod. “You’ve got another family now.”

“That’s right,” Clara replied, squeezing his hand and smiling up at him.

“A crazy, mixed-up, on the verge of insanity but love you the way you are kind of family,” Daniel put in.

“That’s the best kind,” Chase replied. Everyone laughed. He glanced over in time to see Mr. Clark pull the second item from the envelope. He stared at it, rubbed his eyes, then studied it again.

He looked at Chase. “Is this right?” he asked, astonished.

Chase nodded, a glow of contentment growing in his chest.

Mr. Clark stared at him for a moment, then back down at the paper.

“What is it?” Martin and Daniel asked at the same time.

Mrs. Clark leaned over and looked at it. Her eyes widened. “It’s a check for one million dollars,” she said, staring back at Chase. Clara and Ilene gasped.

“A million dollars?” Grandma Clark repeated. She and Grandpa Clark looked at each other in awe.

“Merry Christmas,” Chase replied, unable to keep the smile from his face any longer.

“A million dollars!” Daniel exclaimed. He and Martin exchanged a wide-eyed stare.

“We could buy a race car,” Matty shouted.

“We could put you through college,” Ilene replied.

“This isn’t possible,” Mr. Clark said. He shook his head. “We can’t take this.” The others quieted down around them.

Mrs. Clark nodded with a hand on her husband’s shoulder. She gave Chase a warm smile. “It’s too much, sweetheart.”

Mr. Clark tried to hand the check back to Chase. “We didn’t help you for the hope of a reward.”

“You couldn’t have,” Chase said. At Mr. Clark’s questioning look, he explained, “When you took me in, I looked like the last person on earth with a multi-billion dollar inheritance. Keep it, please. As a friend.”

Mr. Clark shook his head. Chase then gave a determined smile. “How about as family?”

Clara slipped unnoticed from the room, her head spinning as the reality of the check sunk in.

Mr. Clark looked at the letter again, then at the check. His eyebrows came together, but he nodded. “Only if you’re there to help use it.”

“Deal,” Chase agreed warmly. He noticed Clara’s absence and a fist of concern tightened around his heart. “Please excuse me a moment.”

He stepped into the hallway and hurried to the stairs. When he opened the door to the roof, she stood near the edge watching the snow drift gently to the street below. “Clara,” he said quietly.

Her face showed a mixture of emotions, and when he called her name again, she turned toward him reluctantly.

“Are you alright?” Chase asked. He stopped a few feet away in uncertainty.

She nodded, then shook her head. “Yes, I mean no, I mean I don’t know what I mean.”

He took another step toward her. “Is it about the check?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “You don’t need to give us your money,” she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes. “You’ve been through so many hard things, and yet look at all you’ve done for my family. It’s too much.”

He closed the space between them and took her arms softly in his hands. “Clara, look at me.”

Her green eyes met his and tears filled them. “How I feel about you has nothing to do with your money or what you’ve done for my family. All of that is just so. . . incredible that I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Forget about it,” Chase replied.

Confused, she met his gaze. “What?”

Chase pulled her close. “Forget about everything. I want you to push it all aside for a moment. Can you do that?”

She nodded with her head under his chin and her face resting against his chest. The snowflakes that had landed in her hair touched his skin in tiny spots of cold.

He took a deep breath and she listen to the air fill up his lungs. He let it out slowly and his heart pounded. “Now, do you love me?” He held her gently and continued, “Do you love the homeless wanderer who stumbled into your life and in doing so saved his own?”

She hugged him back fiercely, “I do, Chase. I love you so much that when you’re not around all I think about is when I get to be with you again. I love everything about you.” She looked up. “I don’t ever want to risk losing you again.”

He hugged her tightly. “You won’t ever lose me,” he breathed into her hair.

She nodded and held him just as tight.

When they walked quietly back into the room, everyone was still talking with shock about the check. “Chase, I can’t believe this,” Mrs. Clark said.

He grinned. “It’s my father’s doing. I know you’ll put it to good use.” He then gave a mysterious smile. “There’s one more present, but it’ll have to wait until Mr. Clark gets out of the hospital.” He saw Mr. Clark yawn tiredly. “Until then, we’d better give the poor guy a chance to rest.”

“And get over the shock,” Mr. Clark agreed, still staring at the check.

“Okay, everyone, let’s give your father some peace and quiet,” Grandpa Clark said. He ushered them slowly out of the room.

Chase and Clara were the last to leave. They followed behind Daniel and Martin who were already debating what the last gift would be. Closing the door behind him, Chase overheard Mrs. Clark say to her husband, “Oh, Matthew. This will cover all the hospital bills.”

“With quite a bit left over,” Mr. Clark agreed.

Chase smiled and shut the door softly.

Chapter 12

Chase drove half of the family with Daniel following close behind. The Clarks were all blindfolded except for Paige, who kept trying to take everyone else’s off. Long green grass now lined the dirt road instead of snow and brushed softly against the sides of the car. Wildflowers swayed in the morning breeze, spotting the landscape in patches of purple, yellow, and red. One lone white cloud drifted across the breathtaking blue sky. Aspens stood in small stands of white and gray against the green background. Their bright green leaves stirred as the car passed as if waving them welcome.

When Chase pulled up to the lookout, he suddenly felt nervous and worried that they might not like it. He opened the door and helped Clara out, then Mr. and Mrs. Clark, Martin, and Grandma and Grandpa. Daniel helped Sam, Ilene, and the kids over to stand beside them. When everyone was out, he nodded. “Okay, you can look.”

Blindfolds were removed and smiles of recognition appeared on several faces.

“It’s good to be here again,” Mr. Clark said.

Mrs. Clark’s hand slipped into his.

“Where are we?” Matty asked.

“This is where I proposed to your Grandma, and your father proposed to your mother,” Grandpa Clark explained. Chase watched Grandpa Clark survey the land around them with a smile. When he found the For Sale sign, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Looks like this land’s been sold,” he said, his eyes flickering to Chase’s. “Guess we’ll see apartment buildings and high rises come up soon.”

“That’s a shame,” Mrs. Clark replied with true sorrow in her voice.

Chase handed Mr. Clark a document. “This is for being there when I had nowhere else to go,” he said quietly.

Mr. Clark opened the paper, then looked at Chase again. “It’s a bill of sale.”

A grin spread across Grandpa Clark’s face. Grandma Clark grabbed his arm.

“You mean. . . ?” Mrs. Clark began.

Chase nodded. “All of this is yours. I have a crew ready to begin building as soon as you’ve designed your dream home.” Clara stared at him with her mouth open and eyes wide.

“Whoo-hooo!” Matty shouted. He ran a few feet away and stomped on the dirt. “Can this be where my room is?”

“We get to live here!” Martin exclaimed. He and Daniel gave each other a high-five.

Mrs. Clark laughed while Mr. Clark shook his head. “Chase, this is too much. After all you’ve done, you shouldn’t have.”

Chase gave him in incredulous look. “Mr. Clark,” he began, then he turned to include everyone else. “Clark family, you took me in and gave me the best Christmas I can ever remember and a family when I was completely alone. I want to give you the home of your dreams because that’s what you gave me.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “This land is yours, the deeds have been completed in your name, and I can’t think of any family more fitting to fill these hills with laughter and love.”

He slipped an identical piece of paper from his jacket and handed it to Grandpa Clark. “The adjoining lot is yours. I figure it’s time you and your wife had the chance to build that house you were talking about.”

“Oh, Chase,” Grandpa Clark said. He shook his head as though he couldn’t come up with words to express how he felt.

Chase took his offered hand and Grandpa Clark pulled him in for a hug. Grandma joined them and soon the entire Clark family was crammed together in a tight embrace. When they stepped back, Grandma and Grandpa Clark hugged each other with tears shining in their eyes.

Matthew ran through the long grass, then pointed at another Sold sign. “If we’re living here, who’s next to us?” he asked.

Chase’s heart began to pound. He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and dropped to one knee on the grass. Mrs. Clark’s hand flew to her mouth and sounds of surprise escaped Grandma Clark.

Clara turned to see what they were looking at, and when her eyes met Chase’s, they widened. Her expression was so soft and open that Chase’s breath caught in his throat. He held her eyes for a moment, then said, “Ms. Clara Isabella Clark, you’ve had my heart from the first day I met you. Will you be my wife?”

Martin and Daniel whispered excitedly to each other, but Chase only had eyes for Clara. The rest of the world fell away into silence. His heart pounded and air refused to fill his lungs as he waited for her answer.

Tears flooded Clara’s eyes, then a smile of such warmth and happiness spread across her lips that Chase had his answer before she spoke. “I will,” she said. She laughed, then raised her voice, “I will marry you, Chase Brockson; you have made me the happiest woman in the world.”

She fell into Chase’s arms. He hugged her tight and never wanted to let her go. He realized with pure joy that he wouldn’t have to ever again. He met Grandpa Clark’s eyes. The older man nodded with a smile of understanding. Chase had taken his shot and changed the course of his life; in his heart he knew it was the best decision he would ever make.

Thank you for reading Silver! I hope you enjoyed it. If you like werewolf books, I highly recommend reading The Silver Series. The first book in the series is here:

Amazon link for Silver

If you are in the mood for a different kind of adventure, try the space opera action adventure The Girl from the Stars:

Amazon link for Daybreak

Or if you are in the search for a new kind of werewolf series, try The Wolfborne Series here:

Amazon link for Defiance

BOOKS BY CHEREE ALSOP

The Silver Series-

Silver

Black

Crimson

Violet

Azure

Hunter

Silver Moon

The Werewolf Academy Series-

Book One: Strays

Book Two: Hunted

Book Three: Instinct

Book Four: Taken

Book Five: Lost

Book Six: Vengeance

Book Seven: Chosen

The Haunted High Series-

The Wolf Within Me

The Ghost Files

City of Demons

Cage the Beast

Ashes of Night

Heart of the Wolf Part One

Heart of the Wolf Part Two

The Galdoni Series-

Galdoni

Galdoni 2: Into the Storm

Galdoni 3: Out of Darkness

The Small Town Superheroes Series-

Small Town Superhero

Small Town Superhero II

Small Town Superhero III

Keeper of the Wolves

Stolen

The Million Dollar Gift

Thief Prince

When Death Loved an Angel

The Shadows Series

Shadows- Book One in the World of Shadows

Mist- Book Two in the World of Shadows

The Monster Asylum Series

Book One- The Fangs of Bloodhaven

Girl from the Stars

Book 1- Daybreak

Book 2- Daylight

Book 3- Day’s End

Book 4- Day’s Journey

Book 5- Day’s Hunt

The Pirate from the Stars

The Dr. Wolf Series

Book 1- Shockwave

Book 2- Demon Spiral

Book 3- The Four Horsemen

Book 4- Dragon’s Bayne

The Wolfborne Saga

Book 1- Defiance

Book 2- Ricochet

Book 3- Dark Coven

Book 4- Ghost Moon

The Prince of Ash and Blood

Game Breaker

Orion’s Fall

Find more books by Cheree Alsop here: Cheree Alsop’s Website

If you would like to join Cheree Alsop’s newsletter mailing list for new book releases and giveaways, please do so here: Newsletter Signup

Reviews are greatly appreciated as the best way for readers to find new books. If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review so that others can find it as well!

Amazon link to review The Million Dollar Gift

About the Author

Cheree Alsop is an award-winning, best-selling author who has published over 50 books. She is the mother of a beautiful, talented daughter and amazing twin sons who fill every day with joy and laughter. She is married to her best friend, Michael, the light of her life and her soulmate who shares her dreams and inspires her by reading the first drafts and giving much appreciated critiques. Cheree works as a fulltime author and mother, which is more play than work! She enjoys reading, traveling to tropical beaches, riding motorcycles, playing the bass for the band Alien Landslide, spending time with her wonderful children, and going on family adventures. Cheree and Michael live in Utah where they rock out, enjoy the outdoors, plan great quests, and never stop dreaming.