Miss Parker sat anonymously in her mother’s favorite pew in her favorite church, listening to the choir of boys and adults singing “Es ist eine Ros’ ensprungen.” Her mother had loved music like this. She had loved Christmastime, all the lights and color and joy and music. It was Jarod’s first Christmas. A man in his thirties, and it was his first Christmas. She had been forbidden to tell him about Christmas as a child. She almost wished she had disobeyed. A child deserved better. A child deserved a Christmas.