A Texas Christmas Wish. Jolene Navarro

      Bryce nodded as if he understood what Tyler said. “Okay.”

      In a few long strides, Tyler had the bags of their clothes back in hand, with Bryce right behind him. As he moved under a large archway, he looked back at her. “This is the family room. The dining room and living room are on the other side.”

      There was so much to see. Two cream-colored sectionals anchored the spacious room. A million shades of blue pillows invited her to sit and get lost in all the comforts. There were pictures on every surface. Pictures of people, horses and airplanes. An ornate pool table sat in the far corner next to a wall of glass doors. This house invited you to stay and enjoy living. Three double doors led outside.

      She hurried to catch up with Tyler and Bryce, who had disappeared down a dark hallway. She glanced at the wall. More pictures. Many of a young girl and boy riding horses or playing sports. She had never seen so many award plaques in one place. They stretched down the long hall, covering the wall along the way.

      Tyler’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Sorry about the overkill. Carol always called it Mom’s Hall of Mortification.”

      “Is this it?” Bryce stood in front of a door. Tyler nodded, but didn’t make a move to open it. Bryce looked up at the man beside him and adjusted the straps on his shoulder. He glanced at her, then back to Tyler. “Can we go in?”

      Drawing in a deep breath, Tyler nodded, still staring at the door. Oh, this is his sister’s room. “Hey, you know what? We can put everything in the family room and figure this out later. Maybe there is another room I’m supposed to move into.”

      “No, it makes sense you staying here. You and Bryce are next to each other, and my dad’s room is close.” He turned to point to the opposite wall at the end of the hall. “That’s his door.”

      He still didn’t seem all that sure about it. Of course, he also wanted a trained medical professional, not an uneducated single mom.

      “Go ahead. Open the door, Bryce. You do the honors. It’s your mom’s room for now.”

      Her little man switched the box to his shorter arm and turned the knob. For some reason she held her breath. When was the last time anyone was in this bedroom?

      “It’s locked.” Bryce glanced up at Tyler.

      This was getting awkward. “I’ll just take our stuff to the fam—”

      “No, no. The key is up here.” He set the bags down and went to the door at the back of the hall. Stretching up, he ran his fingers along the top of the door frame. “Here you go.” He handed the Allen key to Bryce. “I’ll go get more of your boxes.”

      “Are you sure?” She ended up talking to his back. “Don’t take out the large green tub. It stays in the car.” She wasn’t sure he had heard. Bryce fumbled a bit with the key, then turned the knob before flashing her one of his I-did-it smiles.

      She took a deep breath and smiled back. It was just a door, an ordinary door, so why did she feel so heavy walking through it?

      “Wow! Mom, the bed is huge and purple.” He tossed the bags on an overstuffed armchair. “Look how big the windows are, and it has a seat.”

      She stepped into a fifteen-year time capsule. Every teenage fantasy of being a normal girl with a family and school friends came to life in the room. Purple and silver ribbons hung from the corner of the curtain rod, the silk mums were coated in a fine layer of dust. The cream-colored walls were covered in poster frames that held collages of a high school girl’s memories. Sports, dances, horses and local and international mission trips were highlighted in each of the five poster frames.

      “Who are all these people?” Bryce was studying the pictures.

      “This is Carol, Tyler’s sister. All the other people are her friends. She’s also Rachel and Celeste’s mother.” Carol hadn’t been much older than she when she had been killed in a car accident, leaving behind two small daughters, a young husband and a whole town that loved her and still missed her. She looked at the laughing girl who’d thought she had a lifetime in front of her. Somehow she had managed to accomplish more in one short life than Karly dreamed of doing.

      “Oh, look at these, Momma.” He picked up a model horse from the purple dresser. “These are cool. I hope my room’s not purple, though.”

      “Here’re some more boxes.” She heard Tyler’s voice from the hallway, but by the time she had gotten to the door he was already gone again.

      “Momma, what’s that word?”

      She went back into Carol’s room. “What word, baby?”

      “Momma, I’m not a baby.” Then he pointed to a poster, purple, of course, on the wall. “Go An-gore-as! What’s an Angora?”

      She shrugged. “Not sure. We’ll have to ask Tyler.”

      “Can I see my room?” He lowered his head and whispered. “Please, anything but purple.” He opened the door to the bathroom that connected the rooms. “If I don’t like it, your bed is big enough for both of us.”

      “Yes, it is.” She just wasn’t sure if there was room for them. In this home. This substantial house was big enough for them and Tyler, though.

      “Cool, Momma! Look.” He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, slowly turning. Airplanes of all sizes and shapes hung from the clear wires. Two-tone blue, with a touch of red, made the room inviting and all boy. Baseball and football equipment packed the spaces between the books on the shelves. Posters of Texas teams and colleges covered the wall.

      The strangest was the leather halter and bridle hanging on the headboard. Bryce started going through the closet, pulling out some sort of sports jersey with a large nineteen on it. “Do you think it’s Tyler’s?”

      “Hey, what have you got there?” Tyler stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame.

      “Oh, I’m sorry.” She took the shirt from Bryce and put it back. They’d intruded into his world; now he found them digging through his closet.

      “I’m sorry, Mr. Childress.” Her little boy took a step back, his head down.

      Towering over her small son, Tyler reached past him and pulled out the shirt. “You can wear it. It’s my basketball shirt from my seventh-grade year. We got new ones, so coach let us keep them.” He slipped the jersey over Bryce’s head. “In just a few years, you can be a fighting Angora.”

      “I can’t play basketball.” He held up his short arm. “I only have one hand.”

      “You only need one hand to dribble.” He rubbed Bryce’s dark hair.

      Karly crossed her arms and stopped herself from saying anything to Tyler. She wished he would stop telling her son all the things he could do. She was sure he meant well, but he didn’t understand all the complications.

      The joy in her son radiated from his grin. “So what’s an Angora?”

      This time Tyler laughed out loud. “A goat with long, wavy white hair and curled horns.”

      She had to laugh at Bryce’s horrified expression. “A goat?”

      “Yeah, a goat, but most people don’t even know they’re goats. They’re different and they’re tough, able to survive through harsh conditions.”

      Maybe she had more in common with the school mascot than she thought.

      “What kind of conditions?”

      “Sorry, he’ll ask you questions all day.” She came up behind her son and pulled him against her. “Bryce can stay with me. This is your room.”

      “Hasn’t been my room for years.” He ran fingers through his damp hair and looked around. “The times I came home, I slept in the bunkhouse.”

      Bryce’s