“I’m sorry to hear that.” James didn’t believe it for a minute. Mary had her faults, but it took two to make a marriage, and Rick, despite being here for Abby’s pageant, seemed as oblivious as a rock. He’d barely said two words to Ian.

“When you left here Mary was fourteen. Your mother wasn’t in the ground six months. Now I’m not here to blame you or anyone, but your little sister was left to play daughter, mother, friend, and everything in between. And your dad was hurting. Bad. And the worse he got, the harder she tried. And in all these years, nothing has changed. He’s still angry, and she’s still trying to make him happy.” He paused and looked James square in the eye. “I couldn’t compete with that anymore.”

Noise from the main entrance drew James’s attention. He turned as a crowd entered the lobby and headed into the main theater. James was grateful for the distraction; he wasn’t sure how to respond to Rick. He wanted to understand the man’s point of view—as a Christian and a pastor, he should be able to turn the other cheek, be understanding—but Rick had walked out on Mary and the kids and taken up with another woman. Maybe Mary had been overly-attuned to their father’s needs, but was that a reason to abandon her? Honor your father and mother ran deep in James’s soul, and he was certain Mary had just as deep a commitment to their parents. Leaving her to pick up the broken pieces of all their hearts wasn’t fair.

Isn’t that what you did? James ignored the silent accusation that paraded through his mind. He hadn’t abandoned his sister; he’d grown up and moved away. That was a normal process of maturation, not a shirking of responsibility. He’d had a calling and a job. It was only right to take it.

He nodded towards the crowd, cueing Rick that it was time make their way back.

The main theater was already humming with conversation. It looked as though most of the town had turned out. James scanned the crowd and found his dad and Ian seated stage right and midway down the tiered rows.

The band finished playing an introduction as a young woman walked center stage to introduce the choir. The children filed out in rows, all looking festive and uniformed in black bottoms and white tops adorned with a single red Christmas bow edged in gold. They centered themselves on stage between two decorated Christmas trees and near-to-life-sized lighted ornaments of Santa, a snowman, and a candle.

The lone boy in the group—sans Christmas bow, but plus red bowtie—looked slightly uncomfortable surrounded by twenty-plus girls, and James had to smile. One day, that kid would thrill to be surrounded by so many females!

Cued and ready, the band played the opening strains of “Silent Night” and the choir began to sing. The lovely tune and the joyous words lifted to the rafters, the children’s voices blending to bring meaning that transcended their surroundings. They did pretty well for a group of young amateurs, their combined voices almost angelic. An automatic smile lifted James’s mouth. He watched his family from a distance, grateful for the moment to observe without interaction. He father was also smiling…actually smiling. The sight both warmed James and emphasized how little joy he saw in his father these days—years, for that matter. Losing their mother had profoundly changed him. James missed his dad, the one from before his mother’s death. His gaze traveled to his nephew.