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Leo took my pinkie with his free hand and squeezed it as Mom put her arm around my shoulders. “Per tuo padre,” she whispered.

My throat tightened.

For your father.

“Silent Night” had been Dad’s favorite. In all the years I watched him sing it, he never could make it through without crying.

And now none of us could either.

As the snow picked up a little, and we looped through the park, I snuck a glance over at James and Mr. Bailey. James sang loudly and proudly while Mr. Bailey’s mouth moved slower, his voice barely audible.

But he was singing.

After I wiped my cheeks for the tenth time, I caught Sam raising his candle and making a circling motion.

What in the—

His mother, several yards away, repeated the gesture with her candle before stopping and turning around to face the choir. Hands stretched outward, she conducted four counts, and then the choir came in slowly and softly with harmonized ahhs.

Oh, right!

Several people near us held their candles closer to their programs, searching for this new song, but I knew they wouldn’t find it.

Because it was meant to be a surprise.

As the lyrics of “In the Bleak Midwinter” filled the snow-dappled air around us, Mr. Bailey stepped around the group, entranced, toward Mrs. Holt and the choir, James at his side. Neither of them moved as the choir continued through the song.

By the second verse, everyone had quietly backed away from the Baileys to give them some space.

And when the choir faded out in the final bars to let Mrs. Holt sing the last phrase alone, no one breathed or moved. Even the falling snow seemed to stand still.

The singing stopped.

But no one applauded.

Like somehow we all knew that this moment was just too precious and reverent for it.

My throat grew thick as Mr. Bailey walked slowly toward Mrs. Holt, his cheeks now damp with tears. He sniffed, and said in a quiet voice, “Thank you.”

Mrs. Holt rested a hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly.

I could feel Sam’s eyes on me from across the crowd, and I found his in an instant.

“Thank you,” I mouthed silently.

He dipped his chin with a single nod.

A little while later, we completed the route and ended up back at the Christmas tree. The mood had audibly changed as the crowd belted “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” When the final notes were sung, everyone clapped and cheered. Mayor Moore thanked everyone for coming, but before the group could disperse, two loud barks echoed through the air. The crowd parted once more, this time for Sandy, still wearing her red crocheted hat. She trotted right up to Mr. Bailey and sat expectantly, something red clutched between her teeth.

I walked toward her just as she lifted a paw toward Mr. Bailey, who smiled and rubbed her head. “Whatcha got there, girl?” he asked.

She lowered her paw and opened her mouth, the red fabric falling into his hand.

Mr. Bailey straightened as he turned the scarf over into his hands, and then he froze. “I…I don’t understand,” he said, his voice soft. “Where did you find this?” He looked down at Sandy, who sat happily panting and wagging her small screwed tail.

“What is it, Dad?” James asked as I moved to stand next to him.

Mr. Bailey put a hand in front of his mouth and blinked several times before he turned the scarf around so James could see. “It…This belonged to my father…your grandfather.”