Losing Gabriel (7 page)

S
loan spent every free minute at Dawson's house during the holiday break. One night the three of them decorated a fresh evergreen tree that Franklin centered in the front window of the living room, where it could be seen by everyone walking or driving past. Holiday music played through the whole-house audio speakers, and a fire crackled in the room's brick fireplace, mixing the smoky scent of burning wood with the woodsy smell of the evergreen. They drank warm apple cider, munched on cookies, and wrapped the tree with endless strands of twinkle lights, yards of garlands, and an amazing assortment of colorful decorations.

The evening was like one out of a storybook, far different from the Christmases of Sloan's childhood, when Santa Claus was gift delivery from a social service organization or charity church group. Her mother knew how to work the system, so Sloan always got presents, but rarely what she wanted. “You just act grateful no matter what,” La Donna would tell her. The gifts were plentiful before Sloan aged out of cuteness. As she grew, the presents morphed from pretty dolls, toys, games, and puzzles to clothes that never quite fit.

“Hey, here's an ornament I made for Mom in first grade.” Dawson held up a circle with his school photo glued inside it. Gold paint flaked onto the rug.

Sloan studied the image of the dark-haired boy with the gap-toothed smile. “You haven't changed a bit.”

“I'm taller.” He grinned and dipped in for a kiss.

“These were Kathy's favorites.” Franklin opened an old egg carton, where gorgeous crystal snowflakes nestled in white tissue paper. Almost reverently he took each one out and looped their cords around the highest branches, and Sloan swore she saw his eyes glisten with a sheen of moisture.

After Franklin went upstairs, she cuddled with Dawson in front of the fire under an old quilt. He kissed her, savoring the taste of apple and cinnamon on her breath. “So tell me, Sloan Quentin, if you could have anything for Christmas, what would you want?” He'd already bought her gifts, using up three weeks' allowance. She was worth it.

“I want to
be
someone.”

He was expecting a flirty comeback like she usually gave when he teased with her, so her answer baffled him. He rose up on an elbow to search her face and saw that she was serious. Whoa. “You
are
someone. You're my girl.”

She regretted her answer. Somebody like Dawson, who had the best things in life, would never understand the hunger inside her, how it drove her, and she had no words to explain it to him. So she smiled and darted him a kiss. “Then how about the Crown Jewels?”

He saw her gaze flit away, and he knew she had shut him out.

She had little money and stressed over what to buy Dawson for Christmas but finally hit on an idea. She called Bobby, and during a long, cold afternoon in his garage, she recorded a mix of ballads and folk tunes, with Bobby on guitar. He downloaded the recordings to his laptop and took it home to balance the vocals and add layers of additional chords. Days later he appeared at the trailer park with a CD that had her photo pressed onto the front and handed it to her.

She hugged him. “Bobby! Thanks sooo much!”

“You sound great on it.”

“Couldn't have done it without you.”

“Made me miss our band.”

“Me too,” she confessed. “But I don't miss the drama with Jarred.” Cold seeped through the old trailer walls. “You ever hear from him?” She didn't know why she asked—maybe because creating the CD reminded her of how much she loved performing.

“Not for a while. I know he's hanging with some musicians in Nashville, playing some weekend jams, nothing big. He's always been good on the guitar.”

The talk of making music made her miss it even more. “And he's probably high,” Sloan added.

“Never sure about old Jarred, but he loves music. Kicked us into gear in middle school and made us into a band.” Bobby threw her a glance. “You look happy.”

She shrugged. “True story.”

Bobby offered a wistful smile. “Dawson's a lucky guy.”

Sloan shifted, suddenly self-conscious. “I like him. He's normal, and he's nice to me.”

Bobby nodded, his expression one of acceptance. He opened the trailer door backhanded and stepped out and down. “Well I should run. Have a good Christmas, Sloan.”

“You too.” She watched him walk to his car. “And thanks again.” She closed the door, leaned against it, ever aware that Bobby cared for her. She'd never given him any encouragement. He was a nice guy, but she felt only sisterly toward him. No chemistry. Zilch. Sloan quickly wrapped the CD, then called Dawson to come pick her up.

The seminar in the hospital's new auditorium about the Step-Prep program was so well attended that Lani was afraid she wouldn't make the cut. But most of the attendees turned out to be people already enrolled at MTSU, taking nursing and medical classes. Dr. Berke gave a welcome speech, outlined the basics, then turned over the podium to the head of nursing, Mrs. Trammell, who outlined the interview process, the immunization and health record requirements, the upcoming January training sessions, the mandatory service of up to fifteen hours a week during the volunteer phase, and the shadowing by a mentor during expected twelve-hour shifts throughout the program. Once completing the internship hours and classroom credits, the person would earn a diploma and be on an inside track for a job. None of the requirements made Lani want to back out. She wanted to be an RN. All that stood in her way was filling out the paperwork and acing her interview. Her heart squeezed in anticipation, her stomach churned with apprehension.
Go big or go home.
Wasn't that what athletes said?

As it turned out, Lani was only one of four high school students from the county to sign up for the 100 percent volunteer part of the new program. With such a small group, she felt better about being accepted. She quickly wrote her name on the “Call for Interview” list.

She hurried to the parking lot, where tall mercury light poles were wrapped with red and white foil to resemble giant candy canes. The temperature was dropping and a cold wind promising snow flurries made her teeth chatter as she ducked into her mom's car. She backed out of the parking space, in a hurry to get home. Her sister, Melody, was coming in for holiday break from Vanderbilt. There was a tree to decorate, cookies to bake, gifts to wrap. Christmas! Her favorite time of year. Tonight she and Mel would sit on her bed, drink hot chocolate, and talk
forever.