âChristmas is only nine weeks away.â
Ten-year-old Maddie Tremaineâs face brightened with enthusiasm. âMaybe Miss Caitlyn can stay till Christmas. Wouldnât that be neat, Daddy? I bet she sings carols like an angel.â
This wasnât the first time Ben Tremaine had heard about the wonders of Caitlyn Gregory. âIâm sure sheâs fun to sing with. But wonât you be glad when Miss Anna comes back? I know how much you like her as your regular choir teacher.â
âMiss Annaâs really nice.â Maddie nodded. âBut Miss Caitlyn kindaâ¦sparkles.â She gave a worshipful sigh.
âJust remember, sweetheartââ He debated the warning for a second, then decided to go with it. âRemember, she wonât be here for very long. Itâs nice of her to come and help out, but once Miss Annaâs baby is born and the doctor says she can get back to normal, Miss Caitlyn will leave.â
âI know, Daddy.â Maddieâs smile dimmed, then brightened. âBut itâs only nine weeks till Christmas!â
Dear Reader,
I remember very clearly being five or six years old and listening with envy to another little girl learning to play the piano. I got my own piano in the third grade, and music has been part of my life ever since. Iâve been involved in childrenâs church music, as a volunteer, for more than fifteen years. I also play the bassoon and serve as the librarian for our local symphony. Sometimes Iâm required to make the hard choice between going to rehearsal and staying home to work on a book!
It was only natural, I think, that when I decided to write a Christmas book, music would play an integral role. Carols are the voice of the season, the means through which most children first learn about the love and joy associated with Yuletide. I can no more imagine Christmas without carols than I can imagine spring without the songs of birds.
The heroine of Shenandoah Christmas, Cait Gregory, has committed her talents to a successful musical career. But sheâs been estranged from Christmasâand its songsâfor a long time. Widower and fellow skeptic Ben Tremaine goes through the motions of the holiday only for his childrenâs sake. Helping these two isolated souls discover each other and the true meaning of the season has made writing this book sheer pleasure. Now I hope their story brings you all the laughter and good cheer your heart can hold.
Merry Christmas!
Lynnette Kent
P.S. Reader mail is a wonderful gift. Please feel free to write. Box 1795, Fayetteville, NC 28314 or e-mail [email protected].
For my friends who meet on Sundays at the corner of Ann and Bow Streets, especially all the children who share the laughter and the songs.
And for the women who have taught me so much about music and about sisterhoodâ
Charlyne, Sharon, Linda and Maryann.
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EPILOGUE
Eighteen years ago
âWE NEED more feathers.â Ten-year-old Cait Gregory sat back on her heels and surveyed the project on the floor in front of her. âWeâve still got half a wing to cover.â
Her sister, Anna, bent over and pressed a feather into the tiny bit of glue sheâd squeezed out of the bottle she held. âWe donât have another pillow.â
âDaddy has pillows.â
âAre you crazy?â Anna pushed back her curly red bangs and stared at Cait in horror. âHe wouldnât let us use his pillows. Heâs gonna be mad enough that we used our own.â
âHeâs a ministerâhe has to do whatâs good for Christmas.â
âYou only say that because youâre the angel in the Christmas Eve pageant this year.â Anna tried to be the boss, just because she was two years older than Cait. âThereâs lots more important stuff about Christmas than that.â
âNo, thereâs not.â On her feet now, Cait propped her hands on her hips. âThe whole point of Christmas is the story the pageant tells. And the main part of the story is when the angel announces the birth of the baby to the shepherds. Iâve already got the words learned. âFear not, for I bring you good tidings of great joyâ¦. Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.â See?â
Her sister shook her head and glued another feather onto the shapes sheâd drawn and cut out of white poster board. Anna was an artist, for sure. The wingsâwider than Caitâs shoulders and as long as she was tallâcurved just like the pictures of angels sheâd seen in books. Covered with millions of tiny white feathers, they would be the best wings any announcing angel ever had.
As soon as she found one more pillow.
Prowling the house, she tested every cushion she came across, but only the pillows on her dadâs bed had feathers. Cait stood gazing at them for a long time. Did she dare?
Later that night, lying flat on her bed in the dark room she and Anna shared, with tears drying on her cheeks and her stomach growling because she hadnât gotten dinner, she wasnât sorry sheâd taken her dadâs pillow. Nothing mattered more than making the pageant the best it could possibly be. This was Christmas, after all.