Silver Bells (Large Print)

Bailey Jones is a family therapist, not an event planner, but when her friends ask her to organize Sapphire Bay’s first Christmas carol competition, she can’t say no. Especially when the money raised will go toward building another house in the tiny home village. 

When she meets eight-year-old Mila Butler at the local homeless shelter, her heart melts. When she hears her sing, she’s in awe. Music could change Mila’s life, but her father wants to keep her out of the spotlight.

After spending two tours of duty in Afghanistan, Steven Butler returns home a broken man. When his wife dies, the only thing that keeps him sane is his daughter. And nothing, including the kindest woman he’s ever met, will stop him from protecting Mila.

As their love for each other grows, a crisis threatens Steven and Bailey's relationship. Will they continue living in the past or can they build a future they’d only dreamed about?

Bailey dropped her chin to her chest. For someone who taught people how to resolve conflict, she had to admit this afternoon’s meeting was a disaster.

Even her former colleagues at the Mayo Clinic would run a mile if they had to deal with Margaret O’Brien. “I think we should all take a deep breath and consider our options.”

Margaret’s eyebrows rose. “The Archangel Choir does not sing ‘Jingle Bells’.”

“It’s a Christmas carol competition,” Duffy McBride muttered under his breath. “We don’t need any of that hoity-toity stuff you learned in England.”

Margaret sat ramrod straight in the plastic chair she’d commandeered. “I’ll have you know that ‘Hodie Christus Natus Est’ is one of the finest examples of joyful carol music ever composed.”

“Not in this century, it’s not.”

Bailey studied the faces of the other people at the meeting. Some were in a state of shock, others mildly amused by the not-so-friendly banter between Margaret and Duffy. But most looked bored beyond belief.

Mabel Terry cleared her throat. As the owner of the only general store in Sapphire Bay, Mabel was held in high regard. “We’re part of a fundraising event for the tiny home village. It’s not rocket science, people. All Bailey wants to do is make the evening enjoyable for everyone, whether they’re children or adults. If the Archangel Choir wants to sing an old song, let them. After all, the audience will be choosing the winning choir.”

Duffy snorted. “And I’d like to see anyone vote for them.”

Margaret pushed her chair away from the table. “I have never been so insulted in my life.” She slammed her meeting agenda on the table. “I should have known better than to waste my time traveling here. You have no appreciation for the finer things in life.” And with the grace of a woman who knew how to walk in high heels, Margaret left the room.

Everyone started talking at once.

Everyone, that was, except Bailey. This meeting was supposed to bring the choirmasters together, not tear them apart. With less than four weeks until the competition, they still had to finalize the songs and the program. So far, they’d done nothing except disagree with each other.

Bailey tapped her pen on the edge of the table. “Excuse me. We need to make some decisions.”

“I don’t mind ‘Jingle Bells’ or ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’,” Duffy said. “It’ll give the children a night to remember.”

A murmur of agreement went around the table.

At least it was a start. Bailey picked up the container of paper strips that had caused the latest disagreement. She’d thought writing down the names of songs and asking each choirmaster to select three titles was a fair way to organize the event. It turns out, it wasn’t. Everyone had their own thoughts on what songs their choir should sing. 

She handed Mabel the container. “Could you place these song titles on the table? Everyone will have ten minutes to choose three slips of paper. If more than one person wants a song, you’ll have to negotiate between you.”

“What if Mabel puts all the songs she wants in one corner?”

Mabel sent Duffy a glacial stare. “We’ve known each other for more than fifty years. Do you really think I’d do that?”

For all his bluster, Duffy looked away. “Of course not, Mabel. Go ahead.”

The door to the meeting room opened, and Bailey’s friend, Kylie, slipped into the room. 

After Mabel placed the song titles on the table, Bailey stood back. Lifting her arm, she checked the time. “Ten minutes, starting now!”

To save her sanity and the need to act as a referee, she headed toward Kylie.

“How’s it going?” her friend whispered.

Bailey watched the drama unfolding on the other side of the room. “I’ve lost two choirs and a week of sleep worrying about the competition.”

“Don’t worry. It will all work out.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Kylie smiled. “I know I am. Do you still want to come to the Christmas event at the elementary school? We’ll understand if you have something else you need to do.”

Bailey looked at the choirmasters. On the whole, everyone seemed reasonably happy with the choices they were making. “What time will you be there?”

“Four o’clock. Ben’s meeting us there.”

She rechecked her watch. “We should be finished before then.”

“You’ll come?”

“Charlotte loves spending time with the students. I can’t wait to see what she’s been doing.”

“She’ll enjoy seeing you there.” Kylie pointed to the choirmasters. “It looks as though they’ve chosen their songs. Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” Bailey insisted. “I need a megaphone and lots of patience. Goodness knows what everyone will be like over the next few weeks.”

“You probably don’t want to know,” Kylie whispered. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Traitor.”

The look Kylie sent her was pure mischief. 

Bailey walked back to the choirmasters. With their song selections made, it was time to finalize the order in which the choirs would sing. She just hoped they were willing to leave their rivalry behind. Otherwise, Margaret wouldn’t be the only person leaving the meeting early. 

* * *

Steven ran his four-inch putty knife along the wall. Within seconds, a thin coat of plaster covered the joint between two sheets of drywall. 

For the last few months, he’d been working on the tiny home project, creating houses for people who couldn’t find accommodation. After everything that had happened, he felt a deep sense of pride in being able to give something back to the community that had become his home.

Pastor John stepped into the half-finished house. “Hi, Steven. Have you seen Patrick?” 

“He went into town to buy some supplies. Can I help?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll give him a call. How are you feeling?”

Feelings were something Steven wasn’t comfortable sharing, but John had become a close friend. As well as working at The Connect Church, John ran the only PTSD support group in town. Without his encouragement, Steven didn’t know what would have happened to him or his daughter.

“This morning was difficult, but it’s getting better. Tammy’s mom called.” Today was the anniversary of his wife’s death. Five years ago, his heart was torn in two by the tragic loss of his soulmate. Tammy made his life complete. She filled his world with love and laughter, and made even the worst day bearable. After she died, nothing was the same.

John touched his arm, pulling Steven back to the here and now.

“Is your mother-in-law okay?”

He shook his head. “By the end of the call we were both crying. It doesn’t get any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t. How’s Mila?”

Steven’s eight-year-old daughter meant everything to him. She was brave and kind and one of the most resilient people he’d ever met. “Last night, she drew a picture of her mom and placed a small vase of flowers beside it. Before she went to school, I told her some stories about Tammy. It helped both of us.”

“That’s a wonderful way to celebrate her life.”

Steven swallowed the knot of grief in his throat. “I want to do the best I can for Mila.” 

He took a steadying breath. When they’d left Chicago, all he’d brought with them was a truck filled with boxes and the name of the local pastor. Steven’s parents were horrified. Mila was upset about leaving, but had trusted him with her whole heart. And step-by-step, they were making a better life for themselves.

He glanced at his watch, nearly dropping the knife when he saw the time. “I have to go. Mila has a special event at her school and I told her I’d be there.”

John pointed to the wall. “Do you want me to finish what you’re doing?”

Steven’s eyebrows rose. “You can plaster?”

With a grin, John took the knife out of Steven’s hand. “I’ve got many hidden talents. Go to Mila. When I’m finished, I’ll clean the knife and leave everything here.”

“Thanks.” After another glance at his watch, Steven made a hasty exit. Mila’s school was ten minutes away. As long as the parking lot wasn’t full, he should arrive on time.

As he changed out of his coveralls, he thought about the day he’d arrived in Sapphire Bay with Mila. They’d had nowhere to live and he’d had no job until John had taken them under his wing. 

Pastor John had given them so much more than a warm place to stay. He’d helped Steven feel proud of who he was. Helped him realize he wasn’t alone, that other people were doing their best to live good lives, too.

With his work clothes under his arm, he picked up his keys and ran toward his truck. By giving him a chance, John had changed their lives. And one day, Steven was determined to repay him.