Chapter 12
Carolers passed slowly down the sidewalk, each dressed in traditional Victorian garb, their voices ringing out harmoniously. They even had a kid with a single crutch, likely meant to pay homage to the great Dickens. One of the women carried a velvet purse for donations, the proceeds of which went right back into the community. Asher ditched his bag of feed in the truck bed, wincing at the pain in his wrist, then dug out a couple of bills and passed them to the lady. Without breaking song she smiled, giving him a gracious nod.
A fog of nostalgia settled over Asher, brought forth by their singing. When he had been a little boy, his mother had insisted on sitting down at the piano on Christmas Eve to sing carols, a fire crackling in the hearth, the tree lit up in all its glory. H
