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These Simple Gifts

By Jennifer Sienes

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Chapter One

Annalee
If you have a need to see the face of unconditional love here on earth, all you gotta do is turn to dogs and babies. They couldn’t care less if you looked like ten miles of bad road after coming off an ugly cry or if your mood was sour enough to curdle milk. Besides which, they didn’t have the first clue about manipulation. If they wanted something, they just flat out asked for it.
Unlike my friend, Jacey. She always meant well, but the girl was forever ahead of me with one plan or another. Might be in part why I peered at everything through a lens of suspicion. Wariness clung to me like cheap perfume, though I’d prayed for the Lord to wash it away like He did my sins. Guess He had other plans. Daddy said God was working in me the gift of discernment, so I wouldn’t be taken in by lies again. Could be true, ’cause I was discerning Jacey was up to something the moment I spotted her car pull into Treasured Tykes Preschool near quitting time.
I squatted to eye level with two-year-old Christian. “What in the world is Jacey up to now?”
He gave me a toothy grin and shoved his half-eaten graham cracker at me, smearing the right lens of my glasses in the process.
I snatched them off with one hand and offered my other to Christian. “Your mama should be here any minute. Let’s collect your art project and backpack.” Keeping pace with the thirty preschoolers in my care required the finesse of the two-step without benefit of a dance partner. Good thing I had five able-bodied employees.
Near 5 o’clock, as the kids were preparing to go home, the noise level rivaled that of Nashville’s Lower Broadway honky-tonks.
Hannah met me halfway across the center. “Why don’t you let me get Christian ready for his mama, Annalee. Looks like you got a visitor.”
If my backbone had more steel than rubber, I’d have dismissed her offer. I always did come across stronger in my head than my actions would imply. Besides, a sliver of excitement peaked its way to my consciousness. Jacey had a way of setting me on an adventure, whether I was a willing participant or not.
She stood just inside the door, hands on generous, sweater-clad hips, as if afraid to get too close to the chaos. “My word,” she said when I was within earshot. “I don’t remember it bein’ quite so noisy last time I was here.”
“It’s commute traffic for little people,” I said. “You head outta Nashville this time of day, you’re gonna be sitting on the Interstate 24 parking lot for a while. Same thing here.” Which begged the question… “So, what could possibly be so important you’d stop by unannounced?”
She crossed her arms and shrugged. “Can’t your best friend in the whole-wide world stop by just ’cause?” Didn’t even take a sliver of discernment to see through her this time. She must be desperate.
I raised my eyebrows at her as the door swung open and three of my mamas spilled in along with a gust of cold November air. The weather report claimed a warm front would be moving in from the Gulf in the next couple days. Just one of the things I loved about Tennessee. Other than the weather, I wasn’t a fan of the unpredictable.
“Hey ladies,” I greeted as they passed by Jacey and me.
“Annalee,” they chorused back.
Jacey swiped her dark hair behind her ears. “I suppose this isn’t the best time to drop by, but I really gotta talk to you, Annalee. Maybe I can go back to your place and wait there?”
“Sure.” But it was a lie. I wasn’t sure. My insides thrummed, and I had to concentrate on my breathing. My discernment-detector. A sure sign something was coming I didn’t want to face. I glanced at the mob of kids collecting their things from the cubbies near the kitchen. “You might wanna go around the center instead of through. Be careful to not let Beau and Ceron out of the yard.”
Jacey slipped out the door, and I watched until she disappeared around the corner of the building. Whatever she wanted, it’d be a big ask. The girl was allergic to kids she didn’t birth herself and wasn’t all that keen on my dogs, either. How we’d stayed besties since the fifth grade was a miracle. We had as much in common as Jimmy Choo and Converse.
It was near thirty minutes later before I made my way through the daycare kitchen to the pass-through door into my own kitchen. Fastest commute in all of Bedford County. The downside was I spent more time working than I otherwise would’ve.
The scent of tomato and basil drew me to the pot of soup on the stove. Jacey wasn’t above bribery, but I’d bet my last meal it was store-bought—unless Jeb made it. Having a husband who could cook like him would almost lure me into marriage—if anyone would’ve had me. I lifted the lid and inhaled as Jacey appeared.
“Finally. I was about to give up on you, girl.” She crossed to the fridge and pulled out a green salad. “Brought us some dinner. There’s fresh French bread warming in the oven.”
“Give me a minute while I tend to the dogs.” I moved through the house, stopping to admire the twinkle lights in the family room, and went into the garage. The side door led into their yard, and when I opened it, they were both standing at attention as if they’d been there all day. I knew better. Beau and Ceron, my Beaucerons, knew the moment I’d entered the house.
“Hey guys,” I crooned, leaning over them to give kisses and hugs. Once they’d been given the proper attention, I led them into the garage, filled their food bowls, and set them out. “I know you wanna come into the house, but Jacey’s here, and you know how she is with dogs. We all have our phobias, don’t we?”
Standing between them while they ate, I ran my hands down their sleek backs. I supposed most people would be intimidated by the sheer size of the sibs, but I’d trained them since they were pups, and although I loved my daycare kids, my canine babies were a sight more disciplined. Plus, they were better protection than a shotgun. Only others I could count on for that was Daddy and Matt.
When I returned to the kitchen, Jacey was setting a green salad on the table. “You about ready to eat?”
I snagged the serving spoon she had laying in my sunflower rest and dipped it into the soup. “Jeb make this?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She rummaged in the cabinets for bowls and plates. “Only the best for you, Annalee.”
“Great.” I threw her a scowl then spooned a taste into my mouth. Perfect, just like I feared.
Her mouth dropped open. “Huh. Thought you’d appreciate someone fixing a meal for you.”
I snorted. “Might as well tell me what you want, Jacey. Salad and a bowl of soup, no matter how good it tastes, isn’t gonna soften me up.”
“Well, Ms. Smarty Pants, it’s not for me exactly. It’s for you.” She set the bowls next to the soup hard enough they clunked. This ought to be good. If Jacey was bent on doing me a favor, she wouldn’t be buttering me up first.
I pressed a hand to my heart and widened my eyes. “For little ol’ me? I d’clare, Miss Jacey, what in the world could you be doin’ for me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Enough of the drama, Scarlett.” Mumbling under her breath, she filled the bowls and carried them to the table. “Let’s eat and talk, okay?” She took the bread from the oven while I carried the plates and salad. “By the way, what’s with the twinkle lights in your family room? Thanksgiving is like three weeks away, and you’re already decorating for Christmas?”
I sat across from her and dished some salad. “I like them. I might just keep them up until summer.” I snuck a peek at her. If I told her they made me happy, she’d go on a tirade about how happiness came from within. As if I didn’t know. “So, are you gonna tell me what’s so important you’re having supper with me instead of Jeb and the kids?”
She buttered a piece of French bread. “Don’t you be worrying about me neglecting my family. Jeb’s at a deacon’s meeting, and Mama’s got the kids.” She took a bite, closed her eyes, and moaned. There wasn’t much that tasted better than warm, yeasty buttered bread.
The longer she stalled, the more my stomach got all twisted up. “Come on, Jacey. I can’t eat worrying over whatever it is you have to say.”
She swiped her mouth with a napkin. “It’s about this Christmas fundraiser you dragged me into. We got us a problem.”
My heart stopped. I’d promised Stella Miller, the Buddy Brigade Dog Rescue president, it’d be the best fundraiser they could possibly have with Jacey in charge. After all, she was one of the most sought-after event coordinators in Middle Tennessee. This is what I got for sticking my neck out. Why couldn’t I just stay in my own little hidey-hole and tend to my own business?
“Well, gracious, Annalee.” Jacey reached out and grabbed my wrist. “You look like you’re about to have a case of the vapors. It’s not the end of the world that D River Band backed out.”
“What?” It was so much worse than expected. “But the fundraiser is only a month away. How could they back out like this? What am I supposed to tell Stella?” My heart was fluttering at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, and I couldn’t draw air.
Jacey jutted out her chin and widened her eyes. “Calm. Down.” She tightened her hold on my wrist. “Breathe, girl. I gotta plan.”
I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as heat rose up my neck. Silly panic attacks. One would think after eighteen years, I’d have them under control. But no. The least little thing goes sideways, and I’m a hot mess again.
I clasped my hands in my lap. “Okay, I’m listening. What’s the plan?”
“It’s like this.” She raised her brows at me. “I heard Nick Daniels is back in town.”
“So?”
She drew her shoulders up. “So, I think you oughta see if you can’t talk him into being our entertainment.”
That was it? That was her plan? It took a moment for her words to sink in. “Wait. What?” I barked out a nervous laugh. “You want me to talk to him about it? I’m not the event coordinator. You are. You talk to him.”
“Can’t. I got enough on my plate for five people, Annalee. ’Sides, you said you’d do anything you could to help since I was doing this whole thing out of the kindness of my heart.”
I shook my head. “No way.”
She twisted her mouth. “Either that or tell Stella Miller we’re gonna have to cancel the whole shebang. Your choice.”
It didn’t take a genius to see Jacey was playing me. One more opportunity for her to try and drag me out of my safe space. But if she thought I was gonna march up to Nicky Daniels and ask him to do me a favor, she was nuttier than Mama’s pecan pie. Besides, he wouldn’t know me from Adam—or Eve.
#
Nick
Nothing more humbling than a thirty-seven-year-old man moving back in with his mama. Except maybe realizing that foolish arrogance—the hallmark of the prodigal son—got me there. Derek was quick to remind me when I was lying face down in my sin there was only one way to go. Up. And then he was kind enough to offer a helping hand. Why’d it taken me falling into the proverbial pit to realize big brother had been right all along?
Starting over at any age was hard, but I learned an important lesson—dreams didn’t account for much if they came by tromping over everyone else to get there. The spotlight was dangerous place for me—like an addict being surrounded with the poison that brings him low.
Living in Mama’s guesthouse wasn’t exactly the same as moving in with her. And hadn’t Derek done the same when he first came home from the service? I shook my head at my foolishness. Here I was mining for nuggets of dignity wherever I could find them. I’d just have to take it one step at a time. Leastways that was the plan.
Was near done with my enrollment application to the Recording Connection when there was a scuffle at the kitchen door then a knock. It was still light enough to recognize Derek in the upper glass portion of the door.
“Come on in.” I closed the laptop and pushed my chair back as he entered. Made a point of checking my watch. “What’re you doin’ here so late? Ain’t it about supper time?”
“Charlie lets me out now and again.” He slapped me on the back. “Got a beer handy?”
“Sure. Get me one, too, would you?”
He crossed to the fridge and pulled out two bottles. “You getting settled in?”
“Yep.” I cut my eyes to the computer. If anyone had a right to know what I was up to, it was him. But what if I failed? Again. What if all my plans were nothing more than an overblown ego? The story of my life.
Derek pulled a chair out and sat. “You sure you don’t wanna take me up on the job offer? I know it doesn’t pay much at the start, but it’s something.”
“Appreciate it, but security service ain’t my thing.” I scratched the beer label with a thumbnail. “I have another idea.” He nodded but didn’t say a word. Couldn’t say I blamed him after everything I put him and Mama through. I pushed the beer aside and rested my arms on the table. “I know what you’re thinking.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You a mind reader now? ‘Cause that’s not a viable career path.”
“Nah. Just putting myself in your place. Haven’t done much to instill confidence.” When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “I’m gonna stick to what I know.” His face was blank. No judgment. No reaction. “Might not be cut out for country music stardom, but it doesn’t mean I should forget music altogether.”
“Makes sense. Wanna share what you’re thinking?” He raised a hand. “Not that you need to. I’m not pushing.” The both of us were walking on eggshells here, and neither of us wanted to be the first to break. It’d been more than twenty years since we had a decent relationship. Charlie’d always been in the middle of things, and now that she wasn’t an issue, we were starting fresh.
“First off, I started playin’ on the worship team at Mount Hermon Baptist.”
Derek’s eyes widened, and he huffed out a laugh. “That’s great, Nicky. Wow. That must be a change of pace.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t pay anything, but I figure it’s a start to finding my way back to God, you know?”
“Yes, sir.” He took a pull from his beer. “When’s the last time you played worship music?”
“When’s the last time I was in church, not counting Daddy’s funeral?” Only good thing about Daddy passing was that he didn’t witness my colossal failure. Humiliating enough that Mama had a front-row seat.
“What else you got planned, if you don’t mind my asking?” Derek’s question was casual-like, and he kept his eyes plastered on his beer bottle. Probably afraid if he looked me straight on, I’d take it as a challenge. A year ago, I would’ve.
“I have enough connections to make pretty good money as a session musician.” I flipped open the laptop and turned it toward Derek. “And I’m applying to attend Recording Connection. Thought maybe I could use my skills to become a music producer.” I held my breath. He probably thought I’d be better off working in his security firm, and maybe he’d be right.
Derek looked me in the eye for the first time since he’d walked into the house. “Will that be enough for you? Stayin’ behind the scenes? You’ve always been the one at the center—lead singer, lead guitarist.”
I barked out a laugh. “And look how well that worked out for me.”
He shook his head. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself, Nicky?”
“Come on, bro. Don’t you go easy on me now. How long did you hammer on me to get my act together? I blew you off. I blew Mama off.” I raised my arms. “Heck, I abandoned my own wife and daughter just so I’d have a chance at chasing some dream.”
Derek nodded. “And you caught it, Nicky. It’s not like you didn’t have the talent or the opportunity.”
I snorted. “I caught it, all right. Like a disease.” The fame, the girls, the accolades. It was a drug that dragged me to the pit and would’ve left me there if it hadn’t been for Derek and Charlie.
He braced his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “About Charlie and Sarah
Grace—”
“Nope.” I held up a hand. “We ain’t gonna go there again. The best thing that happened to the both of them is you. I’ve always known you and Charlie belonged together. And being a sperm donor isn’t the same as being a daddy. No regrets here.” I looked him straight on. “I only brought it up because failing them was just another symptom of my addiction to fame.”
Truth was, Charlie was a victim of my need to one-up Derek from the time I was sixteen. I never loved her like a husband should, and I had no connection to Sarah Grace. Might be I was incapable of being the kind of daddy every child deserved—incapable of truly loving someone besides myself.
Wouldn’t that be a sad state of affairs? But no less than I deserved.

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