SATURDAY. LA PLAYA de Belén, Colombia. 7 days until Christmas.

Duke steered the little car through the maze that was the main street of La Playa.

“Oh...my...goodness...” Val ducked her head to stare at a man standing on a ladder on top of a pickup truck to reach the top of the building. “Please don’t fall...”

The whole street was clogged with crates of lights and people setting up tables. There was hardly enough room for the borrowed car to squeeze past. The Rojas trucks had stopped farther out, not daring to brave the congested streets.

“Who are all these people?” Val twisted this way and that.

There did appear to be more people in La Playa than he’d seen previously. Then again, most of them had been hiding.

It took them nearly fifteen minutes to reach the couple hundred yards of street that stretched toward the town square and park the car behind the church. Someone was inside, playing music through the speakers pointed out the windows. Duke knew the tune, but not the words. At least in Spanish.

“What in the world is happening?” Val circled the car to his side and reached for his hand first.

“Looks like Christmas.” He tugged on her hand. “Come on. Rojas is headed this way, right?”

“Yeah... I don’t think they brought enough beef...”

Before breakfast the Rojas family had come together to state that they wanted to do what was best for everyone, and that meant putting a stop to their prodigal son. Val had only been able to get her mother on the phone for five minutes to confirm that they were, indeed, planning to bring people together tonight in the La Playa square for a second go at Día de las Velitas. Duke and Val were both expecting a couple dozen people to travel in, if that, plus whoever was willing to stand up to Esteban. But this? It was like something out of a movie.

Windows were open. People hurried inside and outside, dancing around each other carrying decorations and chairs here and there. The sweet scent of baking filled the air. Music knit it all together as people strung lights from one home to the next.

“No wonder Mom and Dad couldn’t talk. Are you seeing this?” Val pulled him forward, into the fray.

People Duke hadn’t seen before waved and called out Val’s name. It wasn’t even the same town they’d walked into a few days ago. Not by a long shot. No wonder Val was so worried by the state of things. He’d expected a few lights and some friendly neighbors. Not—this.

They meandered their way through people setting up tables and decorations to the bakery. The doors were thrown open and a line of people waited to get inside. A man darted out, his arms cradling...something.

“She did not,” Val whispered.

“What?” Duke glanced back at the man.

“Come on.” Val’s laugh spurred them on and they jogged around through the back of the house into the bakery.

Abuela sat on a stool, something that looked more like a home craft rather than a baked good sitting in front of her. Both grandparents called out their names, their grins wide. These weren’t even the same people from yesterday. They were in an alternate timeline or something.

“See?” Val pushed him to stand right behind Abuela.

“How...?” He tilted his head sideways.

It wasn’t finished, but he didn’t need all the pieces present to grasp the imagery. The open-sided stable and manger were enough for him to recognize a nativity scene.

“I told you, she makes these every year. People put in orders weeks in advance. I seriously can’t believe she’s making any—at all—with how close we are.” Val stepped forward and launched into Spanish, speaking with Abuela.

Duke wandered through the next room where several finished nativity scenes were cooling along with a variety of other baked goods. The door to the shop front was open and he could see Val’s parents hustling around, serving up orders.

This was crazy. Wonderful. Amazing. Somehow they’d managed to inspire not just one town, but a whole area to join then in taking a stand. And it worked. He still had some reservations about what was coming. Esteban was a spoiled addict who was used to getting his way. When faced with opposition, they had no idea what he or his band of boys would do. This could very well go south. And then what? All they had were the fire arms they’d stolen from Esteban’s goons. Having the townsfolk’s support was great, but it wasn’t good enough. They still needed a defensive plan.

“Duke?” The priest ducked in from the side door. He was once more dressed down in jeans and a polo that had seen better days. From the looks of it, he was just as involved in the decorating as everyone else.

“Father.” Duke offered his hand. “How goes it?”

“Good.” The priest swiped a rag across his brow, frown lines creasing his cheeks. “We’ve been to all the nearby towns and...I’ve heard a lot of the same stories.”

“What kind of stories?” Shit. They did not need anything else thrown at them right now.

“Boys—teenagers and young men in their early twenties—leaving home and vanishing. It’s a few here and there, it happens. But, like this?”

“Wait, you mean each town says these boys are missing?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have boys missing from La Playa?”

“Yes. Three. They have always been dissatisfied living here. They talked enough about leaving to go to the city or somewhere with more opportunity.” The priest shrugged. “Their families and I assumed they’d left together.”

“The guys we met were all in their late teens, early twenties. You think Esteban’s gang is made up of the missing boys?”

“It’s a guess. I showed a picture of one of one of our missing to a few of the priests and they recognized him. He’s with Esteban’s group.”

“Damn.”

“We cannot take violent action against these children.”

“When those kids show up with guns, what do you want us to do?” Duke understood, but standing there and taking it wasn’t an option.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either.” Duke blew out a breath and shook his head.

He had to come up with something. There had to be a way.

“Did I see Mr. Rojas with you?” the priest asked.

“Yeah. He brought two trucks with meat and guys to help set up and act as security. Not sure he brought enough.”

“Hey.” Val stuck her head through the door, her grin wide and joyful. “Are you talking about Mr. Rojas? Because he’s here, and he says they’re calling to bring more food with the rest of the family.”

“That’s great.” Duke smiled.

Val frowned at him.

She could see through his bullshit, but he’d rather not talk about this with an audience.

“I’m going to go help direct the guys helping decorate the bakery. When you’re done I could use some help, okay?” Val waved and disappeared from view.

“We’ll figure this out.” Duke glanced back at the priest. “Speak with Mr. Rojas, tell him about the other kids. His ranch hands came prepared to help deal with Esteban if they show up. There’s no guarantee they will. We don’t want his guys hurting any of the others if we can keep from it.”

“Agreed.”

Duke and the priest exited the bakery and went their separate directions.

There was no time to sit and think about solutions. As soon as he joined Val they were rounded up into a group of a dozen people, mostly younger adults, and put on décor duty. People brought them drinks, some of which were heavily laden with alcohol, and lots of food. At every house they were sent to, someone brought out another new delicacy he’d never tried before.

By late afternoon they’d strung as many lights as they could and needed to clear the street for the rest of the meal set up. Val explained that the churches had gotten together to organize what was essentially a village wide potluck.

Val and Duke didn’t dare brave the bakery with how busy it was and considering the level of grime they were sporting. They collapsed under the tree in the square and watched the bustling of young people be overtaken by an army of women.

“Think people will come?” she asked.

“This isn’t enough?”

“It’s not as many as you’d think.”

“Even if no one else shows up, this is good. For everyone.” He placed his hand on her knee.

“Then why do you keep frowning?”

Duke got Val caught up on what the priest had confided in him. They hadn’t had a chance to talk earlier what with all the climbing on roofs and across buildings.

“Shit.” Val pushed her hand through her hair.

“We’ll figure it out.” He grabbed her other hand and tugged her closer.

She turned to him and he kissed her.

“Should I do the proper thing and talk to your Dad?”

“I think they just figured it out.” Val snickered and rested her head on his shoulder.

Her family stood in the bakery windows, Abuela waving like a kid.

“I live for the day when you understand everything that woman says about you.” Val sighed.

“You know, I understand a bit?”

“How much?”

“Something about climbing a tree?”

“Oh God...”

“Your sweet, little old Abuela isn’t all that sweet, is she?”

VAL PILED HER TANGLE of curls on top of her head and secured it into place with a pencil. Her things had been moved around so much getting Christmas things out she was lucky she’d found her suitcase and a change of clothes. The family had gone all out since she and Duke had left, transforming the village into the place she recognized.

“Valentina, come help me.” Abuela knocked on her door.

“Coming.”

It was a miracle Val had managed a shower in all this crazy.

She crossed to the door and pulled it open. Abuela stood in the hall, her grin so wide it threatened to split her face in half.

“What did you do?” Val peered down the hall in either direction.

“I need to move a box in the attic.”

“A box?” Val glanced down. She’d brought one, nice dress with her and of course she was wearing it now.

“Come on.” Abuela grabbed her hand and dragged her to the back of the house.

The attic was a tiny crawl space where they stored odds and ends. Mostly decorations, though there were some family boxes in storage up there as well.

Val gathered her long, flowing skirt up over the crook of her elbow and climbed the ladder up into the attic. A lantern cast a wide circle of light, the lines of dust on the floor showing where boxes had been recently disturbed.

“What box, Abuela?”

“I’ll show you.”

“You can’t come up here.” Val huffed.

“I’ve been up here. Move.”

Val held a momentary pity party for the skirt that was about to get covered in dust and cobwebs, then let it go. She ducked low and moved farther into the crawl space.

“This one.” She patted a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper.

“Anything else?” Val grabbed the sides of the box. It was an awkward shape though not too heavy.

“No, just this. Come on. We don’t want to be late!”

Val wrestled the box and her skirt down the ladder without incident though a liberal amount of dust and a few cobwebs had attached themselves to her clothes.

Abuela had her put the box in the kitchen then they scurried out to the street.

“Holy shit,” Val muttered.

She walked slowly out into the courtyard and peered down the main street leading through town. People lined the road for as far as she could see in the fading light. When she’d gone in to take her shower two caravans of cars had arrived and they were thrilled. From the looks of it, many more had joined them.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Duke joined her, his hand fitting around hers.

“I can’t believe they’re all here,” she said.

“Esteban stole a lot of people’s joy. They needed someone to show them how to take it back.” Duke glanced at her.

“I did not do this. This is not me.” She shook her head.

“Sure, it is. If it wasn’t for you none of this would have happened. You’re a change maker.” He frowned. “I thought you took a shower?”

“Is there dirt on my face?” Val sighed. “Abuela wanted something from the attic.”

Abuela turned and grinned that same, mischievous expression.

“She’s up to something,” Duke whispered.

“You think?”

Duke brushed his fingers over her cheek. The way he looked at her, the slight smile that kept spreading wider and wider, these were moments she wanted to capture forever.

Music began playing somewhere down the street.

Abuela thrust paper lanterns at both Val and Duke.

Starting out beyond the edge of town, lights flickered to life. First a few, the lights going to the left or right, then they began creeping up the streets, lighting the way. Usually people simply lit candles or lanterns and placed them outside. Tonight was something special. It was a symbol of everyday people coming together to make their world better.

Duke looped his arm around her waist and she rest her head on his shoulder. A finger prodded her ribs, but she ignored Abuela. Val figured in a few hours the questions would start. When do you get married? What about children? There would be no end to them. Her only relief was that Duke couldn’t follow every question.

The lights crept closer to the city square and the final lighting point—the church.

Val had no idea how this was going to go. They were winging everything, but at least they’d all come together. That was the important thing. No one was alone, and they would figure out a solution for Esteban, though likely not tonight if the amount of alcohol passed around during the decorating was any indication of how much people intended to enjoy the night.

They needed this. All of them. To take joy in the day and season, to repair what damage had been done. Once they had hope, they could solve the Esteban problem.

But tonight was about community, celebration and being with the ones Val cared about.

People around the square began to light their lanterns.

Duke pulled out a lighter and carefully lit both of theirs, which they then placed on the tables in front of the bakery.

They turned and watched the candlelight converge into a line, leading into the church tower.

She squeezed Duke’s waist and held her breath.

The strings of lights coming from the top of the bell tower winked on. A cheer went up and all across La Playa people switched on their lights, bathing the village in a twinkling glow of wonder. The cheer grew, people clapping and hollering.

Even the local so-called band was there. Six men in their mid-thirties struck up a song, the speakers projecting their take on traditional holiday songs out through the valley.

This was it. Christmas had finally come to La Playa.

Val grabbed Duke’s hand and pulled him toward the area under the trees hung with lights. Other couples swayed in time with the music.

“We should tell the team we got married,” she said.

“What?” Duke chuckled.

“Seriously. Then when they’re all, who wins our bet? We can tell them the joke’s on them because we’ve always been together.” Shit. Did she just really suggest they get fake-married?

“And how long would that ruse last?” He swayed in time, turning them around the space between the trees. He didn’t even blink at the idea of a fake marriage and that did funny things to her stomach.

“I don’t know. A month? The pressure would be on you to keep the cat in the bag.”

“That’s an awfully big secret. How, exactly, do you propose that in this digital age, when even your Abuela is on Facebook, would this be possible?”

“You’re no fun.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“Oh, that’s so original.”

“Original recipe is a classic.”

Val sputtered a laugh.

A whining noise rose over the sound of the music.

Lights beamed through the courtyard.

People yelled.

Three trucks and a few ATVs rolled into the middle of the open space in front of the church, each vehicle piled with young men, most of whom carried a weapon of some sort.

“Shit. Get people back.” Duke pushed her behind him and reached for the small of his back.

“Don’t.” Val grabbed Duke’s wrist.

They needed to do this peacefully. If Duke and the priest were right, and she feared they were, those were cousins, brothers, children of people she cared about—the people here.

Val could understand how this happened. It was hard to see a future for many of the young people. They wanted a better life, maybe to go to the city, but they didn’t know how to get there. Esteban offered a place to belong, which was the gateway drug to so many other poor choices. There were a hundred different ways simply wanting a community could go wrong. And this was one.

These boys had followed Esteban for their own reasons. Whatever they were, they weren’t right, but she could probably understand them. She’d been lucky. Her family had believed in her dream and helped her get there. Not everyone could do that. People scattered, tables were over turned, and a man stood on top of the cab of the biggest truck, his voice lost in the general noise of it all.

This was her fault. Val had chosen to act, and she’d made this happen, for good and bad. She ducked around Duke and walked forward as everyone else gave the newcomers a wide berth.

“Esteban Rojas,” Val said, pitching her voice as loud as she could without screaming.

The man was an addict, and for all they knew he was on a bender now. The same guidelines for confronting a person with any sort of substance abuse issue applied here, only on a greater scale with more lives on the line.

Esteban stared down at her from his perch atop the truck cab. He had a shotgun propped on his hip. The Rojas resemblance was evident in the fine bones and strong chin of his face, but the drug use had begun to take its toll on his body.

“You. You’re going to regret what you’ve done.” He pointed at her.

Val had to wonder at her reputation if the man she’d never seen before recognized her on site.

Esteban jumped from the top of the cab to the hood. The metal bowed under him, but he ignored it and vaulted off.

“What the hell are you doing?” Duke’s English was distracting at the moment.

“Leave these people alone. They just want to celebrate Christmas.” She held up her hands and focused on Esteban.

“Leave them alone? You should have thought of that before you interfered.” Esteban took a step closer. The drug use was more pronounced in closer proximity. She could smell it on him, from the standard bad breath to his hygiene, Esteban was a man who would come apart at the seams if he didn’t get help.

“I’d like to talk about this more if you would just—”

A loud crack echoed in the stillness.

Val gaped at a little old woman, at least a decade older and more wizened than her own Abuela, who’d smacked the head of a young man bent double.

“This is where you’ve been? When you told us you were in school?” the little woman had a volume many times greater than her size.

“Oh shit.” Val winced.

There was being in trouble, and then there was being in trouble with Abuela. Even the men around him cringed and pulled back, surrendering him to the wrath of his family. The little old woman didn’t give two shits that her bigger, gun-wielding grandson was part of a well armed, heavily drugged gang. The young man’s family marched up, the mother grabbing him by the ear and twisting him to his full height while grandma continued to beat the hell out of his backside under the baleful glare of the male members of the family.

Val did not want to be that man.

“What the hell?” Esteban turned and gaped at the rest of his group.

Few men would meet his gaze.

“Nicolás?” A woman stepped forward, her jaw slack with shock.

Val’s stomach dropped to the ground. She couldn’t imagine being caught like this by her family.

“Stay back.” Esteban hefted the shotgun at his hip and glared at his band of boys. Most of them were hunching, too scared to face their family. “You have guns. Use them.”

“No!” The boy who must be Nicolás rushed forward, hands up, and stood between the woman and Esteban.

A group of women Val didn’t recognize from La Playa edged forward, calling out more names. One by one the families came forward and collected their wayward offspring, some with open arms and others brandishing shoes. They dropped the guns in a pile at the bottom of the stairs leading to the church, and all the while Esteban gaped and squawked like the spoiled brat he was.

Duke grasped her hand and squeezed.

“This isn’t going to end well,” he said, pitching his voice low.

“Maybe it will?” She nodded at the shadows behind Esteban.

Three figures emerged from the darkness.

Esteban sputtered and yelled threats at his slowly dwindling band. He talked about shooting people, but didn’t do it.

Val peered around the group, but there was a very important face missing. The older, non-drugged up man from the camp site.

The whole group, the entire gang, was boys under twenty-five.

“Esteban!” The oldest Mr. Rojas called out.

Esteban spun. His older brother lashed out, landing a solid punch to Esteban’s jaw. He went down hard, and the last few boys hanging around the trucks scattered. Rats fleeing a sinking ship.

Duke wrapped his arm around her waist and squeezed tight.

This was it. The whole nightmare was over. Or at least the threatening part. There would be months if not years of work to do in mending the families and the boys taken in by Esteban’s spoiled plan.

She turned and wrapped her arms around Duke’s shoulders.

How was it their only casualty was an old cabin no one cared about?

They’d bitten off more than they could chew—and they’d won.

“Ms. Sanchez?” The younger Mr. Rojas and his wife—Esteban’s parents—approached them.

Val let go of Duke and turned to face them.

“Is everyone okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” Mrs. Rojas said, though her face remained creased with concern.

“We wanted to say thank you to you and your husband,” Mr. Rojas said.

Val’s cheeks heated. She’d never been so glad that Duke had little to no idea what was being said. She also wasn’t going to correct the Rojas’.

“Thank you for coming tonight. I hope you don’t have to leave.” Val glanced at the priest busy directing people collecting the weapons. “I’d like for you to meet our priest. I think he’s going to be leading up some plans to help Esteban’s...friends.”

“Esteban’s brother is taking him home. Our place is here, making amends with the people our son has wronged.” Mr. Rojas nodded at the streets beyond where people were milling about, shaking off the confrontation.

“What’s going to happen to your son?” she asked, even though she dreaded the answer. The Rojas’ had money to make this go away.

“My father is calling the authorities to come take our son’s weapons and him into custody. This battle is out of our hands. We’ve tried everything, but it’s time for him to face the consequences, even though that means we may lose him.” Mr. Rojas stared at the ground, his expression sad and worn.

“You don’t know that. It will be rough for a while, but—have hope that your son will get help, okay?” Val had to believe that people like Esteban could change. Otherwise what was the point in anything she did with Jackie’s efforts or Duke’s team?

“We can hope, but...we have been through this with him before. The only difference is this time...” Mr. Rojas gestured at the village, the lights, the people.

Mrs. Rojas pulled her husband away, leaving Val and Duke standing in the square while people bustled around them. The guns were gone, locked up tight, and people were moving on with the simple business of living once more.

“Did Mr. Rojas ask you if we were married?” Duke peered down at her.

“Nope.” Val glanced around. “Hungry yet? I think I spy something coming out.”

“I’m going to get an answer out of you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to his chest.

“I might have...let him assume...”

Duke grinned and kissed her cheek.

“I thought you said you didn’t know Spanish.” She had to pull Abuela aside and tell her to calm her comments if that was the case.

“I’m a quick study.” He swayed, taking her with him.

“How much do you understand?”

“A bit. Key words. Context. Body language.” He kissed her neck, and she shivered.

“You know, everyone’s outside right now...”

Val grabbed Duke’s hand and dragged him around the courtyard, skirting the shadows. Tonight was about celebrating what they had, and Duke was everything she wanted.