Evergreen by Susan May Warren Page B

would have to rebuild the entire stage. The structure fell apart as soon as he and Romeo pulled it from the shed. The roof hung in piecesand the ends of the display sagged, unable to hold up anything.
    He set the boards on the ground, stood back to survey the damage. “It’s where we host the Nativity scene. But it’s not looking too good, is it?”
    Romeo gave it a kick. He wore one of the boys’ old work jackets and an orange stocking cap. In the week since football ended, he’d helped John every day after school, as decreed, and they’d managed to get Darek’s house under roof, tarping it off for shingles in the spring. In the meantime, Darek would work inside.
    John had taught Romeo how to run a table saw, a Skilsaw, and a nail gun, how to measure twice and cut once, and the basics of framing a house.
    The kid listened as if he were preparing to appear on Surviorman , asked to live in the wild.
    Ingrid’s words settled into John’s brain like glue. I was hoping you could fix Romeo. But now I’m not so sure you can, even if you wanted to.
    If he wanted to. He couldn’t deny the fact that he enjoyed Romeo’s company. And the boy worked hard, without complaint, at home and at the animal shelter, according to Kate.
    Slowly, over the past three weeks, John had seen thekid emerge from his shell. John even got him behind the wheel for the first time in his life and took him driving on the back roads.
    Yeah, he could admit he hoped this mystery brother didn’t show up anytime soon. Ingrid had managed to contact the social worker regarding a visit to Romeo’s mother, but she reminded them there could be no visits until after Thanksgiving. And by her tone, apparently even that might be too soon.
    E-mails to Matthew remained unanswered.
    Ingrid’s hopes just might materialize   —Romeo in their home for Christmas.
    John secretly began to hope for it too. In a couple weeks the ice would be thick enough to skate on, and maybe he’d even take the kid snowmobiling.
    As for his wife . . . I don’t think you can ever fix it, John.
    Fix what? Their fractured family? A lonely Christmas? Perhaps, but he could try. The live Nativity display he drew up would be legendary, and if that didn’t prove to his wife that he could buy into her need to stick around, celebrate Christmas even without their family, he didn’t know what would.
    He glanced at Romeo. “Grab that end. We’ll get it up to the resort and see what we can salvage.”
    Romeo leaned down, grabbed the edge, lifted. They dragged it over and tossed it into the back of the truck, went back for the rest of the pieces. As John closed the tailgate, Romeo climbed into the cab, blowing on his hands. “I can’t wait for that turkey.”
    Him, either. Ingrid had been in the kitchen basting the Thanksgiving bird when they left. Ivy and Darek wouldn’t be heading over until this evening, but still, he had to wonder how he’d landed right here, dragging around a busted barn in the middle of a football Thursday. He had an idea who might be the real turkey.
    But he refused to let his marriage   —or Romeo   —go down on his watch.
    “You suppose the Lions are winning?”
    John glanced at Romeo. “Let’s not think about it.”
    A hearty two inches of snow blanketed the ground. Winter had gusted in last week with slate-gray skies, an ice storm, and below-zero temperatures on the eve of the second play-off game of the season.
    The Huskies lost by one touchdown, and even John couldn’t hate the fact that the cold hours in the stands had ended.
    He pulled out, headed home. If he worked hard, he could get the frame rebuilt by tonight and have the structure constructed in parts by Sunday. Then he’d have to shingle it   —he had some shakes left over from the cabins. Finally he’d paint it, string lights, and   —his brain child   —install heaters along the base. He’d heard Ingrid on the phone and knew the prospect of standing in the cold for an hour scared