the angel’s golden curls. Dora was certain that what he did see were past Christmases playing like a movie in his mind.
“Putting the angel on the tree,” he said in a soft voice, “was always a big deal for my sister, the final touch. It was as if, until that moment, Christmas wasn’t really official. When I was little, Rosalie would lift me up so I could do it. As a teenager, she held the ladder while I put the angel in place.” He chuckled softly. “When I got taller than her, I told her I’d lift her up so she could put it up there, but she was always afraid I’d drop her into the tree, so I’d end up doing—”
His voice broke, and he stopped talking. Instead, he blinked repeatedly and glanced at the ceiling as if sending up an unspoken plea for help in understanding why his beloved sister had been snatched from him.
Aside from the overused, useless platitudes about destiny, it being Rosalie’s time and such, Dora could think of nothing to say that would bring him the peace he so desperately sought. The pain for him that sliced through her almost made her cry out. At a loss for anything else, she took his hand and squeezed it in silent assurance that she was there for him, and she understood.
“Maybe it’s time to start a new tradition,” she said softly.
Tony turned to her.
“Maybe it’s time for you to lift Penny up there to do the honors.” She smiled. “You know, passing on the duty to the next in line. Don’t you think her mother would like that?”
Tony shrugged and continued to rotate the tree topper in his hands. “Maybe,” he finally conceded grudgingly.
He stood and moved next to the tree. For a long moment he stared at the topmost limb, then moved away. He threw Dora a look that said I can’t , then he placed the angel gently on the coffee table and strode from the room.
Dora watched him go in silence, knowing he couldn’t bring himself to relinquish this one last tie to his sister. Allowing anyone else to put the angel on the tree would be like acknowledging that Rosalie was truly gone forever. How could she make him see that as long as Penny was here, Rosalie would never be truly gone? That every time he looked at that child, his sister’s face shown back at him?
Suddenly, Dora felt grave doubts about the success of her task. Was it one of futility? Would she ever be able to bring this family back together and establish a loving, close-knit bond between uncle and niece, or were they too badly damaged to ever allow true love back into their hearts?
CHAPTER 7
Tony sat alone in the construction shack, staring down at the blueprints for the houses his company was building that lay on the table before him. A sense of intense pride flowed through him. These were the kind of houses Tony had always dreamed of building—affordable housing for the common man.
They weren’t fancy houses, just small, square dwellings that consisted of a kitchen, bath, living room, and two bedrooms. Each structure was devoid of the deluxe accoutrements some of the homes his contemporaries constructed. When completed, the landscaping would also be minimal: two trees, a lawn, and a few bushes. When the houses were finished, they would provide homes for some of the poorer residents of the town.
Then his gaze wandered to a bit of pencil scratching on the corner of the paper, shaped oddly like a smiling face. Next to it was scribbled a name— Dora . As if on cue, the blueprints blurred and another image took their place. Tony blinked, trying to dispel the image, but it persisted.
He wasn’t surprised. This was how it had been every day since Dora had come into his life. He’d be concentrating on something and the smallest thing would send his thoughts spiraling off in her direction. And he didn’t seem to be able to stop it. Like right now when, instead of the blueprints filling his vision, Dora’s face shimmered in front of him. Her face appeared as it had been last night when
“Putting the angel on the tree,” he said in a soft voice, “was always a big deal for my sister, the final touch. It was as if, until that moment, Christmas wasn’t really official. When I was little, Rosalie would lift me up so I could do it. As a teenager, she held the ladder while I put the angel in place.” He chuckled softly. “When I got taller than her, I told her I’d lift her up so she could put it up there, but she was always afraid I’d drop her into the tree, so I’d end up doing—”
His voice broke, and he stopped talking. Instead, he blinked repeatedly and glanced at the ceiling as if sending up an unspoken plea for help in understanding why his beloved sister had been snatched from him.
Aside from the overused, useless platitudes about destiny, it being Rosalie’s time and such, Dora could think of nothing to say that would bring him the peace he so desperately sought. The pain for him that sliced through her almost made her cry out. At a loss for anything else, she took his hand and squeezed it in silent assurance that she was there for him, and she understood.
“Maybe it’s time to start a new tradition,” she said softly.
Tony turned to her.
“Maybe it’s time for you to lift Penny up there to do the honors.” She smiled. “You know, passing on the duty to the next in line. Don’t you think her mother would like that?”
Tony shrugged and continued to rotate the tree topper in his hands. “Maybe,” he finally conceded grudgingly.
He stood and moved next to the tree. For a long moment he stared at the topmost limb, then moved away. He threw Dora a look that said I can’t , then he placed the angel gently on the coffee table and strode from the room.
Dora watched him go in silence, knowing he couldn’t bring himself to relinquish this one last tie to his sister. Allowing anyone else to put the angel on the tree would be like acknowledging that Rosalie was truly gone forever. How could she make him see that as long as Penny was here, Rosalie would never be truly gone? That every time he looked at that child, his sister’s face shown back at him?
Suddenly, Dora felt grave doubts about the success of her task. Was it one of futility? Would she ever be able to bring this family back together and establish a loving, close-knit bond between uncle and niece, or were they too badly damaged to ever allow true love back into their hearts?
CHAPTER 7
Tony sat alone in the construction shack, staring down at the blueprints for the houses his company was building that lay on the table before him. A sense of intense pride flowed through him. These were the kind of houses Tony had always dreamed of building—affordable housing for the common man.
They weren’t fancy houses, just small, square dwellings that consisted of a kitchen, bath, living room, and two bedrooms. Each structure was devoid of the deluxe accoutrements some of the homes his contemporaries constructed. When completed, the landscaping would also be minimal: two trees, a lawn, and a few bushes. When the houses were finished, they would provide homes for some of the poorer residents of the town.
Then his gaze wandered to a bit of pencil scratching on the corner of the paper, shaped oddly like a smiling face. Next to it was scribbled a name— Dora . As if on cue, the blueprints blurred and another image took their place. Tony blinked, trying to dispel the image, but it persisted.
He wasn’t surprised. This was how it had been every day since Dora had come into his life. He’d be concentrating on something and the smallest thing would send his thoughts spiraling off in her direction. And he didn’t seem to be able to stop it. Like right now when, instead of the blueprints filling his vision, Dora’s face shimmered in front of him. Her face appeared as it had been last night when
Similar Books
