CHAPTER 5

SUMMARY: Sam and Burt have a heart to heart talk about Sam's past and present; Mercedes has a run-in with her in-laws; the Hummels, Mercedes and Abby enjoy a German feast

RATING: Teen

WARNING: Cursing, brief sexual situation, mention of God

A FATHER'S WISDOM

The next morning Sam and Burt were in the kitchen making Lebkuchenherzen, a type of German gingerbread that was baked in the shape of hearts and then decorated with heartfelt sentiments written in colorful icing, expressing how you felt about the person to whom you give the heart. During the holiday season, it became a tradition for the Hummel men, to bake these hearts for their wives, or in Kurt's case, his husband, children, their mother and Stacey. They also baked hearts for those in the family whom had passed on. Sam and Burt usually baked the gingerbread together and then when it was done, all of the men gathered in the kitchen to decorate them. Each heart had two small holes at the top to loop a ribbon through it, so the person you give it to could wear it around their neck. Since Burt and Sam were such good bakers using an old family recipe, the hearts were never worn for long, and instead were gobbled up.

Sam rolled out the brown, spicy dough onto the large, floured pastry board, and together he and Burt cut out the hearts with a heart-shaped cookie cutter, piercing smalls holes at the top of each one. A snowstorm raged outside, but it was warm and pleasant in the kitchen, filled with the smells of the goose roasting in the oven for their German Christmas Feast later that day. Burt was always in charge of the roast goose.

"It's really coming down," his father said, glancing out the window, "You think it's safe for you to go back tonight?"

"It might let up, it's early yet," Sam said, placing the first batch of cookies onto the cookie sheet, "We'll see what happens."

"You have a good time last night?"

"The best."

"Figured you did. Heard you come in pretty late."

Sam gave Burt a sideways glance.

"Waiting up for me? I'm a little old for a curfew."

Burt smiled, patting his back.

"You'll learn when you have kids. You never stop being a parent. You could be 90 years old, stooped over with a hearing aid, and I'd still wait up for you."

The mention of having children clenched Sam's heart and he winced inside. He put the cookies in the oven and began rolling out the second batch, avoiding his father's eyes. Burt squeezed his shoulder.

"Hey, now, none of that. You will have children. It may not be the way you thought, but it doesn't mean you can't have them."

"I know, Papa, it's just that sometimes when I see my brothers with their kids, how Lucy has Finn's eyes or how Carrie looks like Kurt, I want a piece of myself in my child. Is that bad?"

"What about Abby?"

"What about her?" Sam asked, wondering where his father was going with this conversation.

"Let's say you and Mercedes get married, you're going to help raise her. Your ideals and character can be passed on through her; and if you end up adopting, you'll do the same for those children too. You give children morals and love and teach them how to be compassionate human beings. That means a hell of a lot more than eye color or height."

"You're right," Sam said, hugging his father.

"Of course I'm right. I didn't get to be this age by being a fool."

Sam laughed and they continued to make the cookies. They were quiet for a

while until Burt said:

"That Mercedes is something else."

Sam pressed the metal cookie-cutter into the dough.

"Yeah, she is," he said, then brought up another matter on his mind, "Papa, I need to thank you for something."

"What's that?"

"You never said 'I told you so' when I got a divorced."

"What could would it have done? No need for thanks."

"I should've –"

"Oh, no, we're not playing 'shoulda, woulda, coulda' today," Burt said as he poked two holes into one of the hearts, "You did exactly what you were supposed to do."

Sam glanced at him.

"How could marrying Quinn be the right thing?"

"Because you learned from it. I gave you my honest opinion about her. Yes, I wanted you to wait, but, Sam, you needed to live your life, and I respected that. As your Grandpa Hummel used to say: Aus Schaden wird man klug.

"Failure makes smart," Sam said, translating the cliché. Heinrich Hummel, his German immigrant grandfather, often recited a lot of proverbs, teaching them about life in his careful, stilted English, his thick accent coloring each word. Sam remembered him with his snow-white hair, and sparkling green eyes, stirring a pot of goulash on the kitchen stove and humming show tunes. He missed him terribly. Grandpa Hummel passed away when he was in college, not too long after his grandmother.

"You need failure to learn," Burt said.

"Even so, it hurt like hell. I'm still building myself back up."

"That's how life is, we rise and fall, but each step takes up closer to where we should be. I'm still learning, we all are."

The oven timer buzzed, and Sam took out the first batch of cookies. The aroma of ginger and molasses intermingled with the meaty scent of the goose roasting in the top oven; Sam placed them on the counter and put the second batch in the bottom oven, while Burt rolled out more dough.

"I'm glad we're getting time together like this, I've been worried about you and Finn said you weren't returning his calls and – "

"I just needed to lay low for a while."

"I know. I'm glad you're healing."

"I am too. I think this year is going to be better for me. I'm focused and – "

"And you're in love with Mercedes."

"Papa I – "

"Now, hold on, I know you haven't said it out loud, and you might not even know it, but I can see it and so can your Mama. What happens next is up to you."

"We're taking it slow."

"Hmmm," Burt said, "I figure she's healing too."

"Yes."

Burt put down the cookie cutter and faced his son.

"I've seen you with most of the women you've dated over the years. And you never looked at any of them, the way you look at Mercedes. Not even Quinn. I hope Abby continues to get better."

Sam thought about how Abby opened her arms for a hug last night and his heart melted and he wondered what it would be like to see her grow up.

"She's pretty special."

"I don't mean to pry, but do you think she will ever talk?"

"I've wrestled with that myself. I believe that she will when she's ready. Everybody heals in their own way; there's no magic potion or one size fits all solution."

Burt patted him on the back.

"A good way of looking at it. I love how she's getting along with all the other kids."

Just then Abby and Lucy walked into the kitchen, their faces painted like cats and each wore a headband with pink cat ears. Lucy was particularly fond of Abby, and the two formed a fast bond that fascinated Sam. The other day while the children were sledding, he noticed how Lucy seemed to understand Abby without the child having to write a lot of notes; and sometimes the two girls would simply look at each other and laugh, neither one saying a word. By the end of the afternoon, they were holding hands, and making snow angels. Even now, the two held hands. Mercedes often expressed how much she wanted Abby to make friends and this new development made their Christmas even merrier. They came over to the counter; Abby smiled at them, and Lucy pointed to the cookies.

"Hi PopPoP, Hi Uncle Sam. You're making the hearts?"

"You know very well that we are, Lucille Leona," Burt said, smiling down at them, "And before you ask, no, you can't have one now, they're for after dinner."

"Pretty please?" Lucy said, batting her eyelashes, and looking as cute as ever.

"You heard, PopPop," Sam said, "But there's plenty of fruit in the fridge."

Lucy looked at Abby.

"I tried."

They went to the fridge and Lucy pulled out two apples, and a bowl of grapes, chatting away to Abby.

"When the snow lets up we can go outside and build a snow fort with Lukas, Birdie, and Matt she said, as she handed Abby the bowl, for a moment she stopped speaking and stared at Abby, reading her expression, "Don't worry, I'm not mad at Matt anymore. He gave me back my glitter."

Abby nodded and smiled, and the two left the kitchen.

Burt put another batch of cookies in the oven.

"How does she do that?"

"I don't know," Sam said, "I was wondering the same thing. She just looks at Abby and knows how to respond."

"Female intuition, I guess."

Sam shrugged.

"Could be."

They were silent for a spell, working side by side, the winter winds howling outside. Burt mixed the ingredients for the icing and Sam got all the bottles of food coloring out of the cupboard, arranging them on the counter. He opened the drawers and took out the packages of satin ribbons. The red ribbons were for the living; while the white ones were for the deceased. Soon he would call his brothers into the kitchen and they would begin the ritual of decorating the cookies. This was the time they would tell stories about their lives, behind the doors sort of stories, that never left the kitchen, it wasn't bad stuff necessarily, just how they felt about the ups and downs of fatherhood, marriage, and everything else. And they told stories about those that had passed on, as each heart for them was decorated, a tiny celebration of their lives.

"You better call'em," Burt said.

"Ok."

As he was about to walk out of the kitchen, his father grabbed his arm.

"I've been saying prayers, and it looks like they were answered. Don't return the gifts God gave you, no matter what happens, you're the better for it. I can see life in your eyes again, and it makes my heart glad."

Sam was overcome by his father's words. The two embraced.

"I love you, Papa."

"I love you, too."

A MOTHER'S LOVE IS FIERCE

Mercedes turned on her laptop to Skype with Shane's parents, Pauline and Carter Tinsley. Abby was asleep beside her, after having an exhausting afternoon, building pillow forts in the living room and running a makeshift obstacle course Rachel created for them, since the snowstorm still raged outside, she didn't have the heart to wake her up.

Pauline appeared on screen, looking as prim and proper as ever. Her salt and pepper hair was neatly cut in a short afro that accentuated her high cheekbones. Her face was made up as if she were working at the Fashion Fair cosmetics counter at Macy's; heavy foundation, bright maroon lipstick, and reddish brown blush covered her face. She wore a tight, red sweater that looked too small for her large bosom. Mercedes imagined she smelled like Charlie perfume because she drowned herself in it every day.

Carter sat beside her, grim and pensive, his baldhead shining in the lamplight. He looked like Shane only older and much slimmer. He wore a mustard yellow V-neck sweater and his signature gold chain, and gold rings adorned his dark fingers. She and Shane used to laugh about his father's jewelry, especially the chains, which reminded her of a 70s disco for some reason. They called them "pimp chains" as a joke. The memory stabbed her heart as she stared at the chain around her father-in-law's neck. She managed to pull herself together and greet them.

"Hi Pauline, Hi Carter. Merry Christmas!"

Pauline nodded, staring at her.

"Where's the baby?"

"She's sleep."

"But we haven't seen her in months," Pauline said, folding her arms, obviously miffed, "Wake her up."

Mercedes was about protest, but then obliged, because it was true, they hadn't seen Abby for a long time. She gently shook her daughter awake.

"Come on, sweetie, wake up, Grandma and Grandpa want to speak with you."

Abby shook her head, burying herself back underneath the covers.

"No, baby girl, not today. I know you're tired, but they haven't seen you. They love you, Abby. Don't you want to see them?"

Abby sighed and yawned, she pushed back the covers, blinking up at her mother. Mercedes grabbed some wet naps out of her purse and wiped Abby's face, and quickly brushed her hair.

"You don't have to stay on long. Then you can go back to sleep. Now smile."

When Pauline and Carter saw Abby, they were overjoyed, waving and smiling. Though Abby was still half-asleep.

"Hello, baby, how's Grandma's sugar pie, doing? Did you have a good Christmas with those strange people?"

Mercedes knew Pauline was annoyed that they declined to spend Christmas with them, but she had her reasons and it was mainly because of Shane.

Abby nodded and gave a sleepy smile.

"That's good. Your presents were delivered on Christmas Eve. We hope you like them."

"Thank you, Pauline," Mercedes said, watching how Abby's eyes were closing. She poked her in the side and she sat up straighter.

"You're looking cute, are those cat ears?" Carter asked.

Abby nodded once more, touching the hat, and then glancing at her mother. Mercedes caved in.

"Pauline, Carter, I'm going to let her go back to sleep. I promise that later on this evening we'll Skype again when she's more alert."

"Very well, there's something we need to discuss anyway," Pauline said, "Have a good nap, Abby, we love you."

Mercedes tucked Abby back in and continued talking to her in-laws.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Why isn't she speaking yet?" Carter asked, shifting in his seat. Mercedes decided to go into the hallway so Abby wouldn't hear. Once she was in the hall, she sat on the floor.

"We're taking it one day at a time. You know that."

"What we know is that you up and leave her only home and spend Christmas with a strange family."

"They're nice people," Mercedes said, feeling defensive, "As for Abby, I'm taking her to a new therapist on Monday."

"I don't like it," Pauline said, "It's been a year and still no progress?"

"I thought you understood."

"We do. But she can't stay silent for the rest of her life. We played along, but this is getting to be a bit much."

"She saw Shane get shot 5 times!" Mercedes said, "What the hell do you want? You want her to act like that never happened? You want her to suddenly be who she was before, because, let me tell you something Pauline, that isn't happening any time soon, if ever."

"I want her to talk like a normal child. You're an enabler."

"So are you," Mercedes said, her hands shaking as she clutched the laptop, "You've been doing the same thing I have."

"That was a mistake," Carter said, leaning forward, his gold rings flashing, "We think she should come live with us."

"What? Why?"

"You're making poor decisions, uprooting to some strange town, probably filled with rednecks and –"

"That's not true. And how would you know? You haven't been there. If you wanted to see Abby so bad, you both would've come."

Pauline became agitated, her big bosom shaking as she move around in her seat.

"What have you been doing to help Abby? Buying her notepads? Firing therapist after therapist –"

"You've got a lot of nerve, asking me what I've done. I've held her while she cried and screamed, night after night, and nothing I do will calm her down; sometimes she hides in the closet for hours because that's where she feels safe; Every time we see a teenage boy who looked like his killer, Abby freaks out. I have to gauge her moods. I pray, cry, and fight everyday just to keep my head above water, and you've got the audacity to ask what have I done. I've re-lived his death over and over again with Abby! And still I go to a demanding job, pay the bills, and raise my child, what have you done? Besides pass judgment and shame onto me? How dare you!"

"We never said it was easy," Pauline said, "We just think we're more emotionally stable to help her. Look, you're hysterical right now, your behavior proves our point."

Mercedes fought the urge to hurl her laptop against the wall.

"I'm hysterical because you accuse me of being an unfit mother and on top of that believe you are more capable of raising her. Nobody raises Abby except me. Do you understand? When it comes to my child, I'll fight you to hell and back, don't even think about bringing this crap up again. If you think I'm so awful, why didn't you try to stop me from moving?"

"We tried and – "

"No, you didn't! And you never said I shouldn't be raising my OWN daughter. I'm a damn good mother! And you know what? These past days at the Hummels have been wonderful! Abby has smiled, laughed and played with other kids like the normal child you yearn for. I thought you were on my side. I'm glad your true colors came out."

Carter cleared his throat, holding up his hands.

"Calm down, we know you mean well. We are on your side, but Abby is the same, still not speaking, only nodding. Mercedes, look at her, for God sakes, you can't let this go on."

"I don't know what you see when you look at your granddaughter, but I'll tell you what I see. I see a little girl with a big heart, beautiful smile, and loving compassion for others. I see a child who survives everyday, manages to get straight As, and misses her father like crazy, yet she gets up in the morning and faces a world that doesn't always understand her or even wants to, and you judge her, and me, hollering about normal and abnormal. I see her getting better, it may not be at the speed you want, but it's happening slowly."

"Exactly who are those people she's with?" Pauline asked, pursing her maroon lips.

"They're fine people, my landlord's family. I thought I told you."

"You only said they were new friends. Why would your landlord invite you to spend Christmas with his family?"

Mercedes shook her head, suddenly feeling weary.

"He's my friend. He thought it would be good for us."

"Sounds to me like it might be more than a friend and so soon after Shane?"

Carter touched his wife's arm.

"Pauline, now stop, you're saying stuff, that you shouldn't be saying – "

"I'm saying how I feel."

"I don't think there's any point to this conversation anymore," Mercedes said, "I know you love Abby. I'm doing what's best for her. But, let me make this crystal clear, SHE WILL NEVER LIVE WITH YOU as long as I am alive and kicking. Any notion you have of taking her will be met with my wrath. We've had our differences in the past, but I never thought you would say what you did to me today. I'm not cutting you out of my life. I would prefer that you not contact me for a while. I need this distance. Do you understand?"

They nodded and said terse good-byes. After she logged off, Mercedes broke down into tears.

"Mercedes?"

She looked up and saw Sam.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Mercedes wanted to tell him everything about that happened, but the words couldn't come out, she only sobbed.

"They want to take her from me…"

Sam sat down beside her and hugged her as she cried, asking no questions, only holding her.

"I'll fight them. I'll fight them all, you'll see. Nobody can take my baby away. I lost Shane, I can't lose her too. I'll fight with everything I am."

Sam listened to her incoherent rant until she calmed down and he said:

"I know Abby is sleeping. Let's go into my room."

He helped her off the floor and guided her to his room.

"I think you should lie down," he said, leading her to his bed.

She lied on the bed, curling up into a ball.

"I'm strong," she whispered.

He lied down beside her, spooning her from behind, he put his arm around her waist, resting his hand on her soft belly, while his other hand stroked her hair.

"You're also human," he said.

He kissed the top of her head. Mercedes was aware of his body, all hard muscular planes, sleek and lean, holding her with all his strength. She continued to cry in soft whimpers, until she just couldn't any more, and her eyes closed. She fell asleep.

ooo

When she woke up, Sam was still holding her, lightly snoring into her hair. Blue twilight filled the room. She moved, trying to free herself from his tight grasp.

"Sam?"

"Hmm, sweetheart?"

He awakened slowly, drool running out the side of his mouth that he quickly wiped away with a tissue lying on the nightstand, he touched her face.

"How do you feel?"

"Better."

He gave her a lopsided smile, though not as big as usual, and his eyes narrowed in concern:

"I don't exactly know what happened. But whatever you need me to do. I'll do."

Mercedes told him everything about her Skype conversation with Shane's parents. He listened, never once interrupting, when she was done, she said:

"When it comes to Abby, the Mama Bear in me is fierce. It's like I can't control it. They had no right to say those things. I thought we were in this together and they turn on me."

"What they said was pretty awful," Sam said, kissing her, "If it were my child, I would've reacted in the same way."

"I know they love Abby and they think what they're saying is in her best interest. But I'm the one that holds her through her fits and watches how she stumbles and rises everyday. Me. Not Aunt Josephine. Not Pauline or Carter. It's me. Coming here for Christmas has done so much good for her too."

"What are you going to do?"

Mercedes sniffed and looked at him.

"If they take legal action, I'll get a lawyer."

"Do you think it will come to that?"

"I don't know. Maybe not. I'm just planning my worse case scenario. They don't have a leg to stand on; I'm a great mom and person, I do right by my child."

Sam hugged her.

"You are a wonderful mom and person, and I'm honored and blessed to know you."

They kissed and Mercedes loved how his body pressed against hers, she ended up on her back with Sam on top of her. It felt so good that she wanted more, feel more, touch more… his hand slipped under her sweatshirt stroking the skin on her chubby belly, then roamed upward toward her breasts lightly tracing her hardened nipples pressing against the lace of her bra, when he gently pinched her large nub, she gasped. It was too soon for this, though her body said otherwise, she wanted to wait. She pushed him away slowly, catching her breath.

"We have to stop."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"No, it's nothing you did. I participated too, but my emotions are all over the place, and when I give myself to you I want to feel settled and at peace."

"You're right, this isn't a good time."

Someone knocked on the door. Sam kissed Mercedes and then went to open it. It was Finn.

"Hey, um, sorry to interrupt, but uh, dinner is ready."

Mercedes stood up and walked over to the doorway.

"Where's Abby?" she asked.

"Downstairs in the dining room with everybody else," Finn said, "We're starving so…"

"Don't worry, we'll be done in a minute," Sam said.

Finn smiled at them and left.

"You don't think he thought we were… you know," Mercedes said, faltering with her words.

"We were kind of fooling around," Sam said, raising his eyebrows Groucho Marx style.

Mercedes kissed his cheek.

"Come on, let's go eat."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

She nodded.

"Yes, and besides, I want to see Abby."

"I meant what I said about helping you in anyway I can," he said, hugging her.

"I know and I appreciate it."

"Good. Now let's go feast on Gefüllte Weihnachtsgans."

"Translation?"

"Stuffed Christmas Goose."

"I've never eaten much German food," Mercedes said as he took her by the hand and led her out of the room.

"We like to do a German feast after Christmas to remember our grandparents and honor our family, December 26th is Grandpa Hummel's birthday."

"That's great to have a family tradition."

Sam squeezed her hand and together they went downstairs.

ooo

Mercedes loved how they set the table, it was covered in a heavy gold tapestry tablecloth embroidered with the Hummel Family Crest, which was a shield with three silver bees running diagonally across a yellow ribbon and the helm of a suit of armor positioned at the top of the shield surrounded by long, silver and gold leaves, and above this design was a gold ribbon with the surname Hummel stitched across it in large, black Old English letters. A porcelain angel doll, with gold tipped white wings, pink cheeks, silver eyes and long, blonde hair, wearing a long golden gown, and a gold crown upon her head was the centerpiece. Sam said the tablecloth and angel doll were brought over from Germany when his grandparents immigrated to the US. White china plates with gold rims and water glasses with the Hummel Family Crest were in front of each seat. Everyone clapped when they entered the room.

"It's about time," Stevie said, "I thought Finn was gonna eat the table."

Mercedes and Sam sat in the empty chairs next to Abby, who smiled at them.

"Hey, sweetie," Mercedes said, kissing her forehead, "Are you hungry?"

Maggie nodded and pointed to the roast goose, all brown and juicy, spread out on a gold platter. Burt stood in front of the goose, with the carving knife in his hand. Once they were seated, the family held hands and after saying grace, he began cutting into the succulent bird, filled with oranges, apples and onions. Just as Christmas dinner had been, there was lots of food. Sweet and sour shredded purple cabbage, or rotkohl as Sam called it, cooked with butter, vinegar, sugar and salt was in a big, golden bowl, and had a lovely tangy sweet flavor. A large pot of kartoffelkloesse, German potato dumplings, seasoned with a hint of nutmeg and salt, tasted so good that the pot was gone by the second pass around the table.

Mercedes didn't expect to like the spinach salad with hot bacon dressing as much as she did, but she loved the sweet, salty, flavor of the dressing made of red wine vinegar, bacon, and sugar; and it went well with the fresh spinach. As they did the previous night, she and Sam ate off each other's plates, it was so natural that she thought nothing of stealing the last dumpling off his plate when he wasn't looking. Then in retaliation, he took the last potato fritter with applesauce from her plate while she poured Abby a glass of water. When she resumed eating, and found it gone she said:

"Hey, you ate my reibekuchen!"

"You pronounced that well, and I only told you once," Sam said as he swallowed the last bite of the crispy brown fritter and sweet, cinnamon-spiced applesauce made fresh that morning with the local orchard's apples, Mercedes watched him, shaking her head, and Finn, being a gentleman offered her his fritter.

"Don't give it to her, Finn," Sam said, "That's what she gets for stealing my dumpling."

Mercedes playfully swatted him.

"Don't be mad, because I have dumpling stealing skills."

She and Finn ended up splitting the fritter and the remaining applesauce.

"Do I have to put you two in a time-out?" Stacey said from the other end of the table, as she helped herself to the steaming pot of goulash.

"We're good, Stacey," Mercedes said, while Sam, kissed her cheek.

"I should say that you are."

The roast goose was nice and crisp on the outside, and tender on the inside, just as it should be. During dinner, Rachel, Stacey and Helen, grilled Mercedes about the date since they were all busy that day and they hadn't seen each other. Mercedes indulged them only so much, leaving out the intimate sharing that she and Sam experienced. Stacey said the G-rated version of events were as exciting as a root canal which made everyone laugh.

After the men cleared away the dinner dishes, they brought out dessert: decorated gingerbread hearts wrapped in plastic, a butterkuchen, which Sam explained was a butter cake usually eaten with tea, and apple strudel. The children drank milk while the adults sipped on mugs of gluhwein, a hot, sweet, red wine mixed with sugar, lemon and orange juice, cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves. Stacey made it and she said it would make everyone warm and toasty and it did. Since the snowstorm didn't' end until nightfall nobody was driving back that night; and Mercedes was glad because the food, wine, and icy roads did not make for a safe journey home.

The men presented the hearts to their wives, husband, children, mother and sister. Sam gave a big gingerbread heart decorated with blue icing with a picture of an angel, and underneath it said, "To My Blue Angel, Mercedes." He placed it around her neck, kissing her cheek, and Mercedes kissed him on the lips.

"Thank you."

"You looked like an angel in that dress. Not some damn bird."

Mercedes laughed.

"Samuel Hummel, you're still mad about that?"

He pouted a little, looking so adorable that she kissed him again.

"Do you see any foreign waiters here?"

"I know it's silly."

"I think it's sweet."

Mercedes loved the gingerbread heart he made for Abby. He decorated it with pink icing and drew pictures of different tools, and her heart said, "To Abby, My Little Helper." Abby grinned as he put it around her neck. She gave him a hug and showed it to Lucy who marveled at how well her Uncle Sam decorated her heart. Mercedes looked over and saw Kurt kissing Blaine as he fed, Carrie her bottle, a heart decorated with green icing hung around his neck. Stacey examined the hearts from each of her brothers and father, critiquing each one in a joking manner, but Mercedes could see that she was touched.

Then she noticed a gold platter of hearts, arranged in a neat, straight line, placed next to the angel.

"Who are those for?" She asked Sam.

"Remember how I said this was also for those who died?"

"Yes."

"Well, those are their hearts."

Mercedes moved down the table to get a closer look. She read the names of each of his deceased relatives. Each one was decorated with a different color icing, some of the expressions written on their hearts were in German, and others simply stated the person's name. Then she saw something that shocked her, and it warmed her heart too. Sam had baked a gingerbread heart for Shane; it was decorated with plain white frosting and Sam wrote Shane's name in cursive script across the middle of the heart. She leaned over and picked it up. When she got back to her seat, Sam sat there watching her.

"I wasn't sure if I should so –"

Mercedes held Shane's heart in her hand and kissed Sam.

"You're wonderful. Thank you."

Abby was with the other children at the opposite end of the table, taking off the plastic wrap from the hearts and sinking their little teeth into the rich gingerbread. Mercedes lay her head on Sam's shoulder, and he put his arm around her, kissing her forehead.

ooo

That night as Mercedes lay in bed, with Abby sound asleep beside her, she said a gratitude prayer. She knew she had to take each day as it comes, despite the setbacks, and she wouldn't let the dark cloud that was cast on her spirit that day, make her forget how beautiful life could be.

END NOTES

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