Ella handed Holden the microphone and stepped aside. "You can do this," she whispered again. "I'm here."

Holden aimed his eyes down at his feet, held tight to the mic, and began to sing. "O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining ... this is the night of the dear Savior's birth." Every word was clear, every note sung beautifully. Ella felt herself choke up again as all around the gym, students sat straighter, amazed at what they were hearing. See, she wanted to shout out loud. Holden can sing. And he isn't the only one with a song inside him. Holden can sing. And he isn't the only one with a song inside him.

As Holden's song grew, so did his confidence. He looked at Ella and then at Susan, the flute player. Then his eyes found the first row and he sang straight to Michael's mother. "A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices ... for yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn."

Michael's mother nodded, tears streaming down her face. Ella noticed Holden's parents holding hands, and she saw that they were crying too. Then her eyes found her own mom. She was as broken by Holden's performance as anyone in the room. Maybe more. Ella breathed deep, and tears fell onto her own cheeks. This was what they needed, what they all needed. Holden's song.

He looked from his parents to the kids in the audience. "Truly He taught us to love one another ... His law is love and His gospel is peace."

Holden had never sounded more beautiful, not in any of their private rehearsal moments. It was as if he'd lived all his life to sing this song, to share the message of true hope and kindness with his cla.s.smates in this, one of their darkest hours. The thing with Holden was every word mattered. He didn't talk much-though Ella believed he would one day. But his heart came through in music, and the message now was unmistakable.

"Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother ... and in His name, all oppression shall cease ..."

Ella felt as if G.o.d Himself was in attendance, as if His Holy Spirit was flooding the room with a sense of awakening, a sense of understanding and compa.s.sion that before today was completely foreign on the campus of Fulton High. Holden Harris was singing his heart out. If this were American Idol, American Idol, the judges would've been crying-Ella was convinced. the judges would've been crying-Ella was convinced.

The song came to an end and Ella didn't have to worry about whether she should hug Holden. He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close for a long few seconds. At the same time, the students began to clap. First a few scattered throughout the gym, and then more kids, and finally the gym was rocking with the sort of applause they never gave even for playoff basketball games.

The sound convinced Ella that at least some of what had been shared that morning had gotten through to them. She believed that. Holden seemed nonplussed by the applause, almost unaware of it. And this time he didn't clap along. Instead, he took the music and lyrics to "O Holy Night," he stepped off the stage, and he walked back to the first row. When he reached Michael's mother, he stopped and handed her the sheet of paper. With that, he sat down beside his parents.

Ella had a longer speech planned, but in light of Holden's song and all she'd already said, she wanted to share just one more thing. "This spring, Fulton will put on a musical-Beauty and the Beast." She was more composed now, the tears in her eyes not enough to stop her from pushing through her final message. "It's the story about not judging anyone by their outer appearance." She caught Holden looking straight at her, and they shared a smile. "Because locked inside the less perfect people might be a prince." She was more composed now, the tears in her eyes not enough to stop her from pushing through her final message. "It's the story about not judging anyone by their outer appearance." She caught Holden looking straight at her, and they shared a smile. "Because locked inside the less perfect people might be a prince."

The students were listening.

"This spring, I and the other theater kids need you to come see the show. Otherwise this school will cancel the drama program, and kids like Michael and Holden-kids like me-won't have anywhere to sing."

She hesitated, unabashed in her plea. "If you have any regret about Michael Schwartz, any thought that if you could do it over again you would've smiled at him or complimented him, or maybe even defended him from a bully ... then you can do this one thing. You can come see the play. When you do ... look at the orchestra, the school band. Missing will be one flute player. Michael Schwartz.

"Let's have him be the only Fulton student missing." She looked at Michael's parents. "I'm sorry. We're all so ... so sorry."

His parents nodded, and around the room Ella was pleased to hear some of the kids softly crying. She closed the service by praying. Never mind that this was a public school or that she wasn't very experienced or good at praying. G.o.d didn't care-Holden's mother had told her that much. He wanted the hearts of his people, not perfect prayers.

"We need you here at Fulton, dear G.o.d." Ella felt the prayer like a cry in her soul. "Forgive us for our indifference and selfishness, and help us learn to love. Let us look more deeply at the kids around us, because all of us are locked up one way or another. And help us listen for the song of each person we come across." She grabbed a quick breath. "Where there is meanness, let us stop it, let us be kind ... and let us be the difference. Help us carry Michael in our hearts every day from here, so that his death will not be in vain. In Jesus' name, amen."

Ms. Richards dismissed the student body, and the next few minutes pa.s.sed in a blur. Ella hugged Susan Sessner, and LaShante joined her. "Girl, you have to teach me how to play the flute." LaShante squeezed Susan's hand. "I'm going to talk to the band director about joining."

"Okay." Susan looked surprised. Girls like Ella and LaShante never talked to girls like Susan. Not before Michael's death.

After she'd bid a quick good-bye to her mom and Holden's parents, after she'd hugged Michael's mother and introduced herself to his father, Ella made her way back to cla.s.s. She still felt like G.o.d had worked a miracle that day. Certainly the kids understood Holden better, and guys like Jake would have a tough time returning to business as usual when it came to mocking their cla.s.smates. But the real proof couldn't possibly be seen just yet.

No, Ella wouldn't know if her peers really heard her heart, whether they'd really listened to Holden's song, and whether they wanted to change in the wake of Michael's death. Not until four months from now.

On opening night for Beauty and the Beast. Beauty and the Beast.

She and Holden left the gym together, and as they pa.s.sed into the empty hallway Ella smiled at her friend. "You were amazing. And now everyone knows you can sing."

Holden seemed a little fl.u.s.tered, embarra.s.sed by her compliment. He wrung his hands, keeping up with her but avoiding eye contact.

"I hope they heard us." She sighed, emotionally drained from all the morning had held. "I really hope they heard us."

Then, with the most perfect timing ever, Holden lifted his face and began to sing, the words and music speaking straight to Ella's wounded soul. "A thrill of hope ... the weary world rejoices ... for yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn."

And so it was true with Holden, with this new friendship she had found. The thrill of hope lay fresh each morning, and even in the midst of such terrible loss and sadness, Ella could see the sunrise ahead. She willed herself to believe, the way Holden believed, that one day soon would come the day they were all looking for.

A new and glorious morn.

Twenty-Eight.

TRACY HAD NEVER EXPECTED THIS, NOT IN ALL HER LIFE. NO MATter how often she had prayed, or how strongly she wanted to believe in a miracle, she couldn't have imagined Holden standing in front of a packed gymnasium of his peers and singing "O Holy Night." Not in a million years. And she wasn't sure whether she was happier about that, or about the fact that Dan was here to see it happen.

Her husband held her hand through the entire memorial service, while Tracy wrestled with her feelings. She ached for Michael's mother, for the loss they would all take with them every day from here. But it was hard not to think mostly about her own family. How lonely she had been in the months and years without Dan. Yes, he'd made a decent living for them in the waters off Alaska. But she had been alone far too often.

Having him here this morning only reminded her how hard it had been, how much she had needed him. This was how they were supposed to be-holding hands, side by side-whether Holden continued to come back to them or not.

The feel of his hand in hers, his fingers intertwined with her own, felt as right as breathing. And she caught herself praying silently that Dan would stay. That he would stop blaming himself and running from the pain of losing Holden. That he would be part of their family and get a job here in Atlanta.

Then, just before Ella took the stage, Tracy had the feeling someone was watching her. She looked over her right shoulder and what she saw made her heart slam into a crazy mixed-up rhythm. Suzanne Reynolds was sitting a few rows back. Their eyes met, and Suzanne offered the slightest smile, a smile heavy with remorse and uncertainty.

They both looked away, and the moment ended before it could become anything more. But Tracy sat there shaking, her knees and arms and shoulders trembling. Dan noticed, because he looked at her, curious. But she only shook her head. This wasn't the time or place. She could tell him later. Besides, what could she say? She'd gone fourteen years without seeing Suzanne Reynolds. As if she needed one more reason to feel overwhelmed this morning.

But all those thoughts ceased once Holden took the stage. From that point on, all Tracy could think about was the miracle playing out before her eyes. Dan was equally stunned, because in all the days since they'd lost Holden, he had always processed his pain quietly. No tears or shaking his fist at G.o.d. At first he did what he could to bring Holden back, but then their time together faded to a quiet desperation. And before too many years, Dan left for Alaska. In all the time since Holden's diagnosis, Tracy had never seen her husband cry about their lot in life.

Until today.

As Holden sang "O Holy Night," Tracy felt something wet hit the top of her hand. Dan had his fingers between hers, their hands resting on his leg. So when Tracy felt water hit her skin, she looked up and what she saw told her this was a special moment for all of them. A turning point they would never forget.

Because Dan was crying.

No question the journey ahead remained long, and normalcy was still an ideal that might never be reached. But then, Tracy could never have dreamed they'd share this moment. And in the applause that followed Holden's song, she turned to Dan and the two of them clung to each other. "Please, Dan ... don't leave us again. You can work here." There had been times over the years when she'd been mad at him for not being there, for choosing to run from Holden and the life he represented. But all that was behind them now. She pressed her cheek against his. "Please stay. We need you."

"Let's talk about it." He pulled back enough to see her eyes.

"Really."

As the program drew to an end, a knot formed in Tracy's stomach. She couldn't avoid talking to Suzanne Reynolds, not here. When the students were dismissed, Tracy and Dan stood on either side of Holden. Dan said the words Tracy hadn't heard him say since Holden's diagnosis. "Holden, son ... I'm proud of you. Your song was ... well, it was perfect."

In the movies, Holden would've slung his arm around Dan's shoulders and shrugged off the compliment. "It's nothing, Dad. But thanks for being here." The two would've shook hands or hugged, and the moment would've been registered for all posterity. A memory they'd revisit in years to come.

But this was real life, where scenes had a way of finding their own endings. Holden looked down at the toes of his shoes and rocked a few times. Heel ... toe. Heel... toe.

"Holden ... can you hear me?"

Tracy willed him to respond, to give them some sign that the song was not an aberration, a fluke never to be seen again. "I'm proud of you, too, Holden. You have a beautiful voice."

He looked up and nodded, his movements quick and jerky. "Thanks ... thank you." His eyes never actually found their way to either Tracy or Dan, but his words were enough. It was another breakthrough. The first time he'd said anything to his father since he was three years old.

Dan moved to pat Holden on his back, but then stopped, clearly thinking better of his decision. "We'll, uh ... we'll talk to you later, then, okay?"

Holden nodded and walked a few feet to where Ella was ready to head to cla.s.s. She looked back and waved at Tracy and Dan. "I'll make sure he gets where he needs to go."

As they left, Dan motioned to Michael's parents. "I'm going to talk to them." He glanced the other direction, toward the spot where Suzanne Reynolds was sitting by herself, waiting. Dan kept his voice low, so that only Tracy could hear him. "Go talk to her."

Tracy sighed. "Pray for me."

"I will." He squeezed her hand and headed in the opposite direction, toward the Schwartzes. Tracy felt her palms grow sweaty. What was she supposed to say? After all this time, how could they have any common ground? She eased her purse onto her shoulder and walked back the few rows to where Suzanne was sitting. Their eyes met again, and Tracy registered the effects of time. It seemed just yesterday that they'd been sitting side by side on the swings, Holden on her lap, Ella on Suzanne's. Two young moms who had been best friends since high school.

But now Suzanne was barely recognizable. Bleached blonde hair and puffy lips. She couldn't have been bigger than a size 3, and her chest was more filled out than when she was nursing Ella. Tracy had heard rumors in the news now and then about Suzanne's husband, the fact that Randy Reynolds was washed-up. She hadn't wanted to believe it back then, but looking at Suzanne there was no denying the brokenness in the eyes of her long-ago friend. The woman seemed miserable in every possible way.

As Tracy walked toward her, she forgot every hurt in her heart, every way she'd felt abandoned and rejected by Suzanne. In this moment there were only the two of them, a couple of former best friends who had once a lifetime ago loved and laughed, and who had both lost much in the years since.

Tracy stopped a few feet away, and Suzanne stood. For a long few seconds, neither of them said anything. Then, as if it was too late for grudges or awkward beginnings, they came together in a long hug.

As they eased apart, Suzanne had fresh tears in her eyes. "Holden was amazing." She looked at the empty stage, at the place where Holden had performed. "Is this ... does he sing very often?"

Tracy crossed her arms, willing her heartbeat to slow back to normal. "Only since he found Ella."

Suzanne closed her eyes, a wave of quiet sobs. .h.i.tting her.

Tracy put her hand on the shoulder of her long-ago friend. "He's... he's loved music since the beginning." Suddenly she realized that Suzanne already knew this. "Of course ... you remember. He and Ella would sing and dance all afternoon."

"Yes." Suzanne opened her eyes. Her lip quivered, but she smiled despite her damp eyes. "I remember."

"But today ... this was the first time we've heard him sing like that. The first time since ... since he was three."

Suzanne shrugged, her frame and effort equally weak. She looked like she might pa.s.s out from the emotional toll of the morning. "It's a miracle. I'm glad I was here ... to see it."

Questions poked pins at Tracy's composure. Why had it taken this long for them to have this conversation and how come Holden's autism had scared Suzanne and Randy away, and was it worth it? All they'd lost in the process? But as each question hit, Tracy set it aside. Maybe, as long as G.o.d was working miracles, they would have time for those conversations later. Nervousness raced through her veins as she searched for the next thing to say. The right next thing. "I guess Ella told you ... about her and Holden."

"Yes." Two tears splashed onto Suzanne's cheek and she wiped at them with the back of her hand. As she did, it was clear she was trembling. Worse than Tracy, this moment was hard on Suzanne. "Ella says ... he's become very important to her."

"The changes in Holden ... most of them are because of Ella." Tracy felt her heart swell as she pictured the sweet friend who had found her way back into Holden's life. "She's a very ... very special girl."

Another shrug and more tears. "I don't know, really. She ... she doesn't talk to me."

Tracy took a few seconds to grasp what Suzanne was saying. Ella didn't talk to her mother? And suddenly every bit of nervousness and angst over where the conversation would go and what could be discussed and whether this was a beginning or another ending ... none of it mattered. Clearly Tracy's first a.s.sessment of her friend had been right on. Suzanne was suffering. Long ago Tracy had learned that in a moment like this no questions were needed. Instead she put her hand on Suzanne's bony shoulder and allowed empathy to fill her tone. "I'm sorry. I ... I didn't know."

For a minute it seemed like Suzanne might gather her purse and her sweater and dart out of the gymnasium before she could give away any other details of her life. But instead she looked at Tracy and for the first time since the conversation began, her eyes looked the way they had when they were teenagers. The connection between them was that strong.

"Randy ... he's never home. His career's in jeopardy. We don't talk ... don't share anything anymore." She sniffed and held her hand to her eyes for a long moment. When she lowered it, she looked more distraught than before. "The kids know and they ... they feel sorry for me. At least the boys do. Ella thinks I don't care because ... because I spend all my time trying to be Randy's wife." Her tears dried up, and she sounded almost robotic. As if the pain of her admission was so great she couldn't register it in her heart. Otherwise it might kill her.

Tracy remained quiet, listening to every painful word.

"I'm sorry." Suzanne seemed to realize that her statements were odd in light of the years they'd missed. "This isn't the time."

"The time is fine." Tracy didn't break eye contact. "We're here, right? There has to be a reason for that."

Suzanne nodded, and a glazed look darkened her eyes. "My days are ... They're empty, Trace." She shivered a little, like she might break into a panic attack right here in the gym. "Completely empty. I mean ... I spend my days at the gym or shopping ... getting my hair and nails and face done. I get Botox and I wear extensions and still ..." She shook her head, and a glimpse of her pain broke through her strangely blank expression. "Still, it's not enough. It's never enough. He won't look at me." Her voice cracked and she hugged her arms tight around her middle. Her next words came in a broken whisper. "I don't know how I got here, Trace. I don't know how to go back. I mean ... I can't remember how to be anything but Randy Reynolds' wife."

A long time ago, Tracy was a fixer, the sort of person who would spout off the first natural solution that came to mind in a moment like this. But years of living with Holden had taught her to move slowly, to let G.o.d lead when people were broken and hurting. She reached out and gave Suzanne's hand a soft squeeze. "What's Randy say?"

"Not much." She looked off to the distance, as if she were seeing her husband in her mind. "He stays married to me, but ... it's a formality. Any day he could serve me with papers." She found Tracy's eyes again. "The distance between us is that bad."

Tracy didn't have to ask if Suzanne and Randy were still attending church, still praying together and reading the Bible the way they'd done when the four of them hung out. Time had been hard on all of them. From the world's viewpoint, Tracy and Dan had gotten the rougher deal. It was their healthy little boy who had disappeared into a world of silence. But until now Tracy had no idea how much the years had taken from Suzanne.

"Maybe ... maybe we could have coffee Monday morning. There's a Starbucks near my work. My shift doesn't start till eleven."

Suzanne seemed to realize that she hadn't asked anything about Tracy's life, about where she lived or what she did-other than the obvious, her earlier comments about Holden. "Where do you work?"

"Walmart." Tracy held Suzanne's gaze and watched her reaction. It wasn't quite pity, but no question she felt uneasy about this turn in the conversation. Tracy expected as much, and it didn't matter. She felt no shame about her job, or the fact that she and Suzanne were in different tax brackets. The people she worked with were nice, and her boss continued to pray for Holden. No matter what rich people thought, Tracy was a fan of Walmart. The company kept costs down for families like hers, and she was grateful for the work.

Suzanne nodded ... her eyes distant again as if she were trying to process the mountain of changes that had happened for both of them since their last time together. For the first moment since the conversation started, Suzanne smiled. Not the practiced smile she probably handed out all day long, but the hesitant, broken smile of someone wracked with regret. "Coffee would be nice." She picked up her purse and her sweater and pulled out her phone. "Which Starbucks is it?"

Tracy told her, and they shared another hug. Before Suzanne walked away, she hesitated. "I was wrong ... walking away when I did." Her voice was scratchy again, her emotions raw and close to the surface. "I need to say that."

"I could've called." Tracy wasn't sure where this new attempt at connecting with Suzanne would end up. But she would pray every day that G.o.d would use it. She held her ground, wanting Suzanne to hear her sincerity. "We all lost. But we can't look back. It's too late for that."

Suzanne started to say something, but in the end she only nodded and turned away. She hurried toward the door quickly, as if she might crumble at any minute, nothing but a weeping broken-down failure on the middle of the Eagles' gym floor.

Tracy watched her leave and suddenly everything about the morning came rushing back at her. The good-bye for Michael ... Ella's desperate plea ... Susan and her flute ... and Holden. Her precious Holden and his song. Dan crying beside her and now this. A coffee date with Suzanne Reynolds. For a long minute all Tracy could do was marvel at it all, aware in the depths of her soul that this was G.o.d-all G.o.d-at work around her. Because Ella was right. There were lots of ways to be locked up. And it was clear now that G.o.d wasn't only working a miracle in unlocking Holden.

He was working a miracle in all of them.

Twenty-Nine.

DAN CONTACTED HIS CAPTAIN AT THE END OF THE WEEK AND told him the news. He wasn't coming back. He'd applied at the school district -the maintenance department -and already he had an interview scheduled. The position looked promising, that's what he'd been told. The money wasn't what it could be out on the open seas of Alaska, but it was steady. told him the news. He wasn't coming back. He'd applied at the school district -the maintenance department -and already he had an interview scheduled. The position looked promising, that's what he'd been told. The money wasn't what it could be out on the open seas of Alaska, but it was steady.

And it would keep him home with Tracy and Holden.

Not that being home was any easier than it had ever been, because the transformation they were watching with their son still hadn't happened in conversation -not between the two of them. Holden talked to Tracy once in a while, but mostly he hummed or sang. Sometimes he danced.

The holidays came and went, Christmas day special only because he and Tracy stayed up late into the night looking through photo alb.u.ms, talking about years gone by. "He still won't talk to me." Dan hated to admit his frustration. After all, G.o.d was bringing Holden back. But Dan wanted him back all the way-the Holden they'd had the first three years of his life.

"He will." Tracy covered his hand with hers. Something about her quiet strength, and the daily battle she'd fought getting Holden to therapy and going years at a time without seeing even the slightest glimmer of hope, had done more than earn his respect. He was enamored with her, more with each pa.s.sing day.

"Coming home ... It's the right thing."

She never complained, never criticized him. But that night, she let the loneliness show in her eyes for a few seconds. "You should've come sooner."