Star Carol for Celeste Read Online Free Page A

Micah said dryly. “Singing before the Grand Inquisitor would be easier. Are you sure you want to subject the children to Tate? I doubt their youth will make him any more merciful.
    “But they’re already so excited, and the entry fee is paid,” she said. “We’ll just have to hope and pray that the approaching Christmas season will soften Tate’s heart.”
    “You’ll have to summon up all three of the spirits that frightened Scrooge into redemption to accomplish that,” Micah warned. “It would take that kind of miracle to soften Tate’s heart— if he has one.”
    A twinkle brightened her eyes. “I’ll see if there are any soothsayers in London for the holiday to help with the summoning. Perhaps an advertisement in the papers’ agony columns would do.”
    They shared a laugh and after draining her cup and setting it aside, she rose. “Thank you for the tea, Micah. I need to catch the ‘bus.”
    He stood. “I’ll walk you to the corner.”
    After he paid their bill, they stepped outside and he offered his arm. She hesitated a second, then wrapped her now gloved hand around it. He matched his long stride to her shorter one, and their steps fell into a comfortable rhythm. Above them the pewter gray sky suggested snow. More than one storefront they window they passed was decorated with evergreens , gift selections and yards and yards of ribbon. A young girl holding a battered hat sang carols to the passersby while an older boy accompanied her on a flute.
    “I’ve often thought,” Micah said, breaking the silence, “that Robert Browning got it wrong. About London, I mean.”
    She canted her head in his direction. “How so?”
    “I would have written, ‘Oh to be in London, now that Christmas’s near.’ The lights, the shops, the throngs of shopping people. There’s no place quite like it, is there?”
    “None,” she agreed. “And the music. Don’t forget the music.”
    “No,” he said softly. “One could hardly forget that.”
    They reached the corner as a ‘bus pulled up. She moved her hand and held it out to him. “Thank you for the tea, Micah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    His misshapen hand covered her far smaller one. “Until then, Celeste.”
    She smiled, boarded the ‘bus, and a few minutes later it pulled away. Micah stood watching it weave into the late afternoon traffic. Then ignoring the throbbing in his leg, he started the long walk back to his rooms.
    ****
    Celeste leaned her head against the ‘bus’s window and closed her eyes. The brief time with Micah had left her exhausted. Sadness clung to him like a well-worn coat and she felt the sting of tears beginning as her own old sorrow flooded her heart. An afternoon at Hope House was just what she needed.
    The ‘bus stopped at her usual corner and she followed the other passengers to disembark. Once on the sidewalk, she hurried down the street to the familiar house. A giant wreath hung on the door and a basket filled with pinecones and bright red sprigs of holly berries sat in a corner of the porch. She knocked the familiar tattoo before opening the door and calling, “Hello the house!”
    Music drowned her words, trapping her for a moment in the tiny alcove. She shed her coat and hat, leaving them on the table and followed the sound to the parlor where
    amazement halted her in the doorway, taking her breath away.
    Grouped in a circle, sat the residents of Hope House. Duncan and Toby had violins tucked under their chins; Timothy played a viola while Jasper’s knees gripped a shining cello. A little to the side, Bart played an upright piano. When had it arrived?
    Lost in their concentration of a simplified version of Handel’s For Unto Us a Child is Born, the men were oblivious to her presence. Celeste sank into the chair by the door and waited, letting the music wash over her as the words echoed in her head. Wonderful! Counselor! Almighty God, the everlasting Father… .
    “Miss Celeste!” Toby’s voice interrupted her