Nada.
That’s odd.
The two girls whisper about whatever it is before Hayley pouts, her arms folded over her chest as she stalks back to her seat.
I lean down to Maise. “What’s that all about?”
“Nothing.” She fidgets on her seat. The new dress she insisted on for the big event looks about as comfortable as a straitjacket. She tugs at the turtleneck and flops back.
“Guess I’m down to no friends again,” she mutters.
“Hey, wha?—”
“Good evening, everyone!” The lights dim as the microphone squeals, now clutched in the principal’s hand. “And welcome to our annual Christmas play. The children have been so excited for this. So, without further delay, I give youA Starry Christmas Night.”
She waves an arm to one side as she leaves the small, low stage that takes up the entire short end of the gymnasium. CC is going to miss it.
Dammit.
All her hard work, and she’s not here to see it.
The stage lights burst to life, illuminating the backdrop a beat later. It’s incredible. Gasps come from the crowd alongside whispers about who the artist was for the oversized painting. And more and more discussion arises about CC’s work as the lights fixate on the empty stage too long.
When—finally—a disembodied arm pushes a small child past the side curtain, people quiet down, shifting in their seats.
A small boy, around six, all but cowers in the center of the stage. When it looks like he’s about to cry, an older girl dressed as a fairy comes out and holds his hand. She nods, smiling down at him.
He pulls a small slip of paper from his elf pants and speaks.
“One night... long ago in the realm of the Christmas Fairy, something strange was a-afoot...”
Maisey sits up, hands clasped in her lap, gaze set on the stage like a kid getting her first glance at a candy store.
I check my phone again. My message still says unread.
Worry twists low in my gut.
But I flick Caleb a text. Maybe he can get her to answer. My ego isn’t bigger than my concern for CC’s safety. I force myself to stay in the damn seat and let my daughter enjoy her first Grafton Christmas play.
The second the engine splutters out, I’m out the door and bundling Maise inside our house. “Stay here, okay?”
She’s not listening. The red and blue flashing lights in front of CC’s house have her little face stricken. Caleb texted back halfway through the play, said there was an incident at Hank’s house but that he had it handled. Now, seeing the ambulance and the paramedics at their house, I wish like hell we’d come home.
“Daddy, is CC okay?” Maise’s face is distraught.
“I’m sure the car is there for Hank. You go change into your pajamas and put the television on, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I grip her little face in my hands and plant a kiss to her forehead. The look of worry lining her eyes is so damn intense.
Did I make the wrong call not leaving the concert?
Sensing the urgency of the situation, she hurries inside, already pulling the long turtleneck dress off as soon as her coat is off her shoulders.
“Door, Maise.”
She kicks it shut, and I stride for CC’s house. I barely make it onto the porch before a gloved hand shoots out, stopping me in my tracks.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside,” a paramedic says. The tone of their voice is all wrong. Too apologetic.
