Chapter Four
Donovan hung up the phone, a smile plastered on his face. Sometimes he hated technology and longed for simpler times, but other times he loved it. Like when he got to video chat with Brody through an app on his cell phone. Brody’s enthusiasm for life was contagious, and Donovan prayed he never lost it.
Optimism came easy for a four-year-old. Not so much for a thirty-two-year-old jaded by life. He wasn’tthatcynical, was he? Sure, Deana’s abandonment had scarred him, but the wounds had healed. He had a good life despite the loneliness. His career fulfilled him, and he had a solid group of friends from his co-workers and church family. His parents were still living—only several blocks away—and his brother lived an hour away. They saw each other frequently.
He had a lot going for him, and when world-weariness got to him, he reminded himself of all those things. Life was hard and had thrown him lemons. He hadn’t made lemonade with them, rather he handed the lemons over to God and let Him do with them as He pleased.
It didn’t take long to answer his question. He wasn’t jaded, just knocked down a time or two. But the important thing was that he’d gotten back up every time. He needed to acknowledge his own successes in that matter to keep his spirits up. To know defeat wasn’t an option the next time he found himself knocked down by life. That with God, he could get through anything. And if he could pass that onto Brody as his son grew and inevitably faced his own obstacles, then Donovan would consider his parenting a success.
Resting his gaze aimlessly on the kitchen counters, he saw the candy cane from Zoe lying on top of a stack of mail—only he hadn’t known at the time it had come from Zoe. What should he do with the information? He’d made a promise, and he intended to keep it. Her identity as the candy cane distributor remained safe with him. Yet, he couldn’t shake a feeling.
The only problem was, he couldn’t pinpoint the feeling. Was he supposed to reach out to her? Help her with the project? Would she let him in on it? Did he even want to be involved with the project? Too many questions flew at him from every direction.
He grabbed a pen and piece of paper. Writing down his thoughts helped him to sort them. At the top of the page, he wrote Zoe Daniels. Under her name, he wrote what he knew about her, which wasn’t much.Moved to Nativity five years ago. Attends Nativity Community Church. Volunteers at homeless shelter.Anything else?
A moment of conviction hit him. Their church had grown in recent years to be the largest in town but hadn’t becomethatbig—he should know more about her after five years. Especially since he was a reporter. He specialized in finding out information about people and knowing the citizens of his community.
Without much to go on, he wrote possible motivations for her kind act. Did she do it simply to bring cheer, or had events in her life prompted her to it? How did she decide what to write? And how many did she give away each year? Did she begin the tradition when she moved to Nativity, or had she carried it out in her previous location?
His mind wouldn’t rest until he received answers.But if she won’t give them to you, then what? He’d have to accept her wishes in that case, but he hoped, with his promise not to breathe a word, that she’d allow him insight into her actions. Whatever approach he took would have to be well considered. Fortunately for him, he’d learned to read people well during his tenure at the newspaper.
If he called her, she’d make excuses not to talk—if she even answered her phone. He could show up at her place, but he risked appearing too pushy. He had the option of texting or emailing her, but those options were too easily ignored.
Going to her apartment proved to be the best option, but he wouldn’t show up empty-handed. He’d take a peace offering of sorts, something to assure her he wouldn’t spill the beans. Nothing too fancy, or she’d think it was a bribe. Hot chocolate? That was safe enough, and everyone enjoyed the beverage on a cold winter’s day. He could even add some peppermint bark to the gift.
Mind made up, he put the plan into action. Why wait when his curiosity wouldn’t relent? Besides, he hated weekends alone in the house. The off weekends without Brody were too quiet. He threw on his coat and ran out to the car.
Backing out of the driveway, he realized he had no idea where Zoe lived. He shifted into park and googled her address. Nothing came up. He could run to the office and utilize the advanced searches the newspaper offered, but that felt too intrusive.
Wait a minute. The church made a directory two years ago. Maybe it’s in there. He’d forgotten all about it because he’d rarely needed it, had only used it once or twice since its creation. The information of people he contacted was already stored in his phone, and when he met a person and needed their contact info, he added it immediately.
He jogged to the house, went to his office and retrieved the directory from the file cabinet. He flipped through the pages, holding his breath in hopes he’d find his answer. Five pages in, he spotted her name. He slid his finger down to her listing and read her address.
Village Luxury Apartments? Those were high dollar living arrangements. Not that it mattered, but it provided another clue into her life. Now that he thought about it, she often dressed in expensive clothes. For all he knew they could have been secondhand from the thrift store, but the materials, seams, and lines all spoke of high dollar and quality. He’d noticed before but had tucked away the information as unimportant.
After scribbling the apartment number on a scratch piece of paper, he ran to his car for the second time. He took a short detour to stop at Bethlehem Brew, ordered a hot chocolate and the peppermint bark, then added a coffee for himself.
His nerves knocked against each other as he neared the apartment complex.What’s wrong with me?He’d cold-called for stories many times and never had a problem.But this isn’t for a story.
He reached the gate and entered the entry code, thankful he knew the code because his good friend Thad Glover lived there as well. The gate swung open at a snail’s pace, and Donovan drove through. He stole a glimpse in the rearview mirror and watched the gate close. Made sure no one snuck in behind him who didn’t belong there—ignoring that fact that, technically, he didn’t either.
He found the building Zoe’s place should be in.Let her welcome me in. Armed with the drink carrier holding the coffee, hot chocolate, and candy, he climbed two flights of stairs, careful not to let any liquid slosh out of the cups.
Her door had a wreath hanging from the top and a lit garland over the frame. Christmas music drifted from inside—a piano version ofAngels We Have Heard On High. He let the song finish playing before he knocked. Partly to gather his wits, and also because he loved that version of the song.
Here goes nothing. He lifted a hand and knocked.
The wait seemed interminable. He checked his watch—not even a minute had passed.
The familiar shuffling of feet, scratching of the lock being released—and seconds later Zoe opened the door. Her eyes widened before turning into a scowl. “Can I help you?”
The weather outside wasn’t as frosty as her tone.
“I wanted to talk to you.” He put out a hand to ward off the objection he saw immediately form in her tightened features. “I’m not going back on my word. I promise anything you say will stay strictly between us.”
An arched brow accented her wary expression. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything you want to share about your candy canes.”
