Christmas in the Air by Irene Brand

Author:Irene Brand
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2005-04-07T16:00:00+00:00

Dana Corbit

To my dear friends Maija Anderson, Toni Brock, Joy Golicz, LuAnn Taylor and the two Melissas—M. Baxter and M. Lucken. I have been so privileged to know real, amazing women like all of you. I’m blessed to call you friends. Thank you for always believing in me and in my stories. My life and those stories are richer because of you.

It is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father has put in His own power.

—Acts 1:7

Chapter One

The world was filled with two kinds of people as far as David Wright was concerned. In the first group were the lucky jokers who actually learned from their mistakes. Those in the second group were doomed to repeat theirs with the regularity of a three-legged dog addicted to traffic hopscotch.

David would have preferred to include himself in the first group since rehabilitation was a cornerstone in his line of work. But as he stared down at the flared sleeves of his scratchy robe and rubbed at the itchy adhesive securing his grizzled beard, he saw the evidence that he was a card-carrying member of the group that never learned.

“David, are you ready?” Martin Rich called as he stuck his head inside the men’s room door at New Hope Church.

“Be right out.”

Bustling sounds filtered through the open door, carrying a whistled version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” Obviously, somebody was a lot happier than he was spending the last two days before Christmas in Destiny, Indiana, taking a fictional journey from Nazareth to Judaea. He wished Martin would close the door and shut out the holiday spirit. He wasn’t in the mood for it.

Instead, the lanky middle-aged banker stepped inside. In a Wise Man getup rather than one of his tailor-made suits, Martin looked as ridiculous as David did, though the older man seemed blissfully unaware of it.

“Here, let me help.” Before David had time to resist, Martin had stuffed an ugly striped hat on his head. “Now that really tops off the costume.”

David ignored the bad pun as he frowned into the mirror. “Gee, thanks.”

“No problem.” Martin paused to adjust his own Bethlehem-chic chapeau. “Destiny’s second annual live nativity scene would be a bust without you. If not for Joseph, who would get Mary to the inn on time?”

David shrugged. Who indeed? And he wasn’t talking about the Biblical story, either. No one else would have been gullible enough to be coerced into wearing this robe not once, but twice. He should have known better after last year’s performance, when an abandoned baby girl was discovered in the manger and chaos erupted. But he hadn’t known better, and now if the last-minute cast replacement was the worst thing to happen, he would consider himself blessed.

Martin pulled the door open again but looked back over his shoulder. “She got to you, too, didn’t she?”

David nodded, not bothering to ask who the she was when they both knew how persuasive Allison Hensley—now Chandler—could be when she set her mind to something.

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