by R. S. Lively
I lead Emma over to the wicker loveseat positioned near the fire, and we settle on top of it, wrapping up in the thick blankets draped over the back. Emma slips out of her shoes so she can curl up beside me and rest her head on my chest. I touch a kiss to the top of her head.
"Do you like it?" I ask.
"It's amazing," she says. "Thank you for doing this for me."
I tuck my finger under her chin to lift her face toward mine.
"Thank you for being here," I say.
Below us, I hear excited chattering as people filter into the stands. I reach into the large picnic basket tucked to the side of the loveseat and pull out a thermal container and two mugs. Filling one, I hand it to Emma, who breathes in the smell and smiles broadly. I fill my own mug and take a long sip of the peppermint hot cocoa. Soon, music rises up around us, and the singing begins. And though it's quickly obvious most people totally lose control of Christmas carols after the first line and start making them up as they go, I am filled with more Christmas spirit than since I was a small child. I hold Emma close to me, kissing her sweet mouth every so often. I feel completely content. It's a feeling I'm not accustomed to. I'm used to the constant drive and push of work, where nothing is ever good enough. I'm always searching for the next thing, and pursuing higher, loftier goals.
Not tonight.
Tonight, I am wholly and completely content. I am happy to sit here and hold Emma in my arms and let the artistic interpretation of the Christmas songs below us continue as long as they will. All too soon, the music fades, and families with cold, tired children, over-stimulated from the excitement of Christmas, leave the drive-in in droves.
"There's something I wanted to talk to you about," I tell Emma.
"What is it?" she asks.
She sits up and faces me, pulling the blanket in closer around her.
"I know you said you expected to have a quiet Christmas at home with your mother, and then soak up as much relaxation as possible before school starts back up, but I got an interesting phone call today."
"From who?"
"A client I worked with a few months back. He’s one of the favorite clients I've ever worked with, and he has a new request for me. But it's very last minute, and might be complicated. I would really appreciate your help, if you're willing."
"What kind of request?"
"Apparently he has recently encountered quite a few engaged couples lately. Which doesn’t sound all that unusual to me. This time of year is usually bursting with people who get caught up in the romance of the season and get engaged. Several couples have already gotten in touch with me in the last couple months, actually."
"Why do engaged couples get in touch with you?" Emma asks.
"Because they want something different," I say. "They don't want the same wedding they could have copied and pasted from the million bridal magazines out there in the world. I usually don't deal with these requests. It’s not exactly in my specialty. I'll handle it if their request is really complex, or requires a lot of logistics, but usually if someone wants a creative wedding, I direct them to Dean. He's done some truly incredible things, but my call today from Mr. Kleinfelder might change that."
"Why?" Emma asks. "What is it that he wants to do?"
"He's decided he wants to officiate a wedding," I say.
"He wants to officiate a wedding?" Emma asks, sounding confused. "That's his aspiration?"
"Apparently," I say. "He told me he's been thinking about it for a long time, and all the engaged couples popping up around him are a message from the universe. It's something he really wants to do, but doesn't know how to go about doing it. So, he got in touch with me."
"I don't understand," Emma says. "Why would it matter so much to him to officiate a wedding, especially if it isn't for someone specific like his daughter, or a good friend?"
"I don't know why he wants to do it," I say. "But, remember, it doesn't matter if I understand what someone wants. He says it matters to him because he wants to be a part of a life-changing moment for someone, and that's enough explanation for me. He just wants to do something impactful. I thought what could be more impactful than officiating not just one wedding, but a mass ceremony?"
"A mass wedding? Like… cult style?" Emma asks.
"No," I answer. "I'm not going to have him take on a thousand brides or marry a group to the Universe or anything. I'm talking about the couples who have gotten in touch with me, and the ones he knows. They want something different and memorable. So, let's give them different and memorable."
"What do you have in mind?" She asks.
"I've already laid some of the groundwork. I had started thinking about doing a wedding for one of the couples who got in touch with me a few months ago, but it didn't work out. The basic plans I started for them, though, are perfect for this."
"Why was that couple different?"
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"You said you don't do wedding requests. You're not a wedding planner or party coordinator, and you're not the creative one, so you don't do the weddings. But you were considering working with this couple. Why?"
"They wanted to get married while naked and dangling from helicopters," I tell her.
"That'll do it," she says.
I nod.
"It certainly wasn’t conventional."
"Why did they break up?" she asks.
"Oh," I say, "they didn't break up. They just ended up going with a different wedding."
"What kind?"
"Greek Orthodox."
"Oh."
"The place I had chosen for them, though, could be perfect. I'd picked it out because it had plenty of clearance and was near a field that could be used as a landing pad."
"For the helicopter," Emma says.
"It’s also secluded and private."
"For the nakedness," she says.
"Exactly. It's absolutely gorgeous out there. Luckily, it isn't too far from Magnolia Falls, which is convenient for us. It'll also make a really incredible backdrop for a winter wedding on New Year's Eve, which is when it is."
I tried to get that last part out as fast as I can, hoping it may slip past her, and sink in without causing too much of an adverse reaction. No such luck.
"New Year's Eve?" Emma gasps. "You mean this New Year's Eve? As in a week from now, New Year's Eve?"
"Yes," I say. "And I know that’s really soon. I told you it was last minute. But Mr. Kleinfelder just kind of sprung that part on me. He insists that’s the deadline for getting it done. He wants to have his bucket list completed by the end of the year. He also really likes the symbolism of a couple ending one year single and starting the new year married."
"Grant," Emma says hopelessly, looking at me like I've completely lost my mind to even consider taking on such a request.
"I know," I say. "It's a lot to put together with such short notice, but it really sounds like it means a lot to him, and I want to make it happen. I'd appreciate your help, if you're willing."
She looks at me for a few seconds, and her shoulders drop as she lets out a sigh.
"Of course, I'll help you," she says. A smile plays at her lips. "You sure do know how to keep a girl on her toes, don't you? Is there anything predictable about you?"
I take her chin with my finger and thumb and guide her toward me for a kiss.
"You can probably predict I'll be doing that a lot," I say.
"That is a schedule I would very much like to keep," she says, leaning in for another kiss.
Curling back into my arms, Emma rests her head against my chest and looks up at the stars. I stare up at them with her, thinking about how the stars once guided those who sailed on the bay that surrounds Magnolia Falls, and out into the ocean. They were the ones who first established the island, recognizing the value of the easy access to the water for merchants, as well as rich fishing grounds. Today, the same work is done but with the help of modern technology. I've seen fishing boats that seem like they wouldn't be able to
find their way out of the marina if there weren't at least fifty different systems blinking, beeping, and reassuring them every second. But all those years ago, all they had were these stars for navigation.
I can't help but feel a connection to them. These are the same stars my grandfather used to show me through his huge telescope on the balcony at the house. The same stars I used to see shining over me when I played football in high school. And, they were the same ones shining on us the first night I brought Emma here. Now I've found my way back to this same place. The first time I was here with her, it was hard to imagine what life had in store for us, and the thought of saying goodbye. Now that I have Emma in my arms again, I can't imagine a life without her.
I want to tell her how I feel, but I keep the words to myself. I made a promise to her. I committed that she would be the one who decided what happens next. I hurt her before by making that decision for her, and not telling her how I really felt. I told her this time would be different, and I meant it with all of my being. All I can do now is show her how much she means to me, and hope that one day, she really believes me.
Chapter Thirteen
Emma
Christmas Eve…
Judy and I sit on opposite sides of the couch, each of us working a crochet hook down the edge of a red and white afghan. She's already finished her row, but she waits patiently until I've finished the series of loops.
"Flip," she instructs.
We pick up the blanket and flip it over to the other side so we can work the next row. We started this project several weeks ago, sitting side by side in the middle of the couch and as the blanket grew, we’ve gradually moved apart. Now it covers both of us almost up to our chests. Just a few more rows and we’ll be finished. I hope we can get it done fast enough. It's supposed to be a Christmas gift for Judy's brother, and she'll be heading to his house for the holidays later today.
"When do you need to get going?" I ask.
"I want to be on the ferry by two," she says. "Christmas Eve dinner will be on the table by six, so I want to have plenty of time to get to the house and get settled in."
"Are you getting excited to see everybody?" I ask.
She nods, an excited smile stretching across her face.
"I am," she says. "The whole family hasn't been together like this in a long time, and we always have so much fun at Christmas. My mother still hangs up our stockings in front of the fireplace, and they're empty on Christmas Eve night when we all go to bed. I still feel like a little girl when I wake up and sneak down the stairs to see it all full in the morning. I think I'm just as swept up in the magic as my nieces and nephew are. Nothing quite like seeing four children under the age of ten and two grown adults trying to peek around the corner of a staircase to catch Santa.”
"Two?" I ask.
She looks at me like I just said the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard.
"You better believe Antoine is standing right there with me. He can't let me get a look at what Santa's stuffed in his stocking before he does."
I laugh at the image of Judy and her older brother crowding the children out of the way so they can keep vigil over their Christmas stockings. I have a sudden pang for Carina. When we were little girls, we would always sleep in the same bed together on Christmas Eve. That way, if one of us was to hear the sound of hoofs and jingle bells on the roof, we could wake up the other one and see Santa together. I still remember the year I got to that uncomfortable age when I still wanted to be little, but was starting to figure things out and question Christmas. I tried so hard to keep feeling excited, and that same committed belief in the magic of the season, and whenever I felt it faltering, I would sit in my room and cry. I didn’t want to say anything to my parents. They both got so excited, and this was the time of year when they were at their happiest, even if they sometimes seemed more tired and stressed than usual. Carina is the only one I shared my doubts with, and she reassured me over and over that I was being silly. On Christmas Eve, I crawled into her bed just like I always did, clutching the teddy bear I'd had since I was a baby to my chest, and waited. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but the next thing I knew, Carina was shaking my shoulder and whispering loudly in my ear, telling me she heard something on the roof. I strained to hear what she was talking about, and in my heart, I believed I did.
Many years later, I looked back on that Christmas Eve and realized that since Carina is two years older than me, she had to have already made her way through that transition by then. But she hadn't told me. Instead, she had given me one more year of innocence.
"Flip," I say.
"What about you?" Judy asks. "What are your plans?"
I know she's asking about Grant. Now securely in the position of my best friend, Judy is many things, but subtle isn't one of them.
"Grant is supposed to come by for a little while this afternoon," I say. "He's spending tonight and tomorrow with his family, and then Mom and I are hunkering down for an epic movie marathon."
I keep my eyes focused intently on the yarn stitches forming under my hook rather than looking at her. I can feel her staring at me. She knows I’m hiding something. I feel guilty for not being completely honest with her about my relationship with Grant. The problem is, I don't even know how to be honest with her, or with anybody else, about my relationship with Grant. I don't even really know what it is myself. She's not fooled. I let out a sigh.
"Fine," I say. "But you have to keep this a secret. You don't even know what I'm telling you, understand? This isn't happening. This is all a figment of your imagination."
"I can live with that," Judy says, snuggling down deeper into the cushions of the couch as she prepares to listen to some good old-fashioned Yuletide gossip.
I let out a long breath, then dive into the whole story. By the time I got to his thumb brushing across my lips a couple days before, I'm nearly to the end of the last row of the blanket, and Judy is staring at me, an incredulous expression on her face.
"You better catch up," I say, indicating her half-finished row with my hook. "It’s going to look really awkward if you give it to Antoine like that."
"That's what you have to say?" she asks. "You just spilled more tea than in Boston during 1773, and you're going to wrap it up with scolding me about my crocheting speed?"
"That's what I was going to go with, yes," I answer.
"I have no clue on how to respond to all that, Em. I mean, clearly there is something wonderful going on between the two of you. Anyone who looks at you can tell you're completely wrapped up in each other. Hell, Blind Betty made a comment to me about it not a month ago when I was up at Dye, Baby, Dye getting my hair un-spirited."
"I really don't think you should refer to her as Blind Betty," I say.
"The woman has it tattooed in Old English font across her cleavage. I'm pretty sure she's ok with it. But that's not the point. Stop trying to distract me. Everyone knows something is going on with the two of you."
"Everyone?" I ask.
She nods. "Yeah, everyone. But the rumor around town is it was a ‘could-have-been’ situation, not a ‘now’ situation. I'm the only one who really knows it's also a ‘used-to-be.’ Why didn't you tell me?"
"It just kind of happened," I say. "I tried to tell myself it wasn't going to, and that I could control my feelings from coming back."
"Why would you want to?" Judy asks. "We've already had this talk. What happened ten years ago wasn't fun, but there's no reason it should keep holding you back. You're both adults now, Emma."
"We were both adults then, Judy. I was 18, he was 22."
"That's barely adults, and you know it. That's like training wheel adults, but you are full-fledged now. Life happened, and you still managed to find your way back to each other."
"Grant said the same exact thing," I say.
"And what did you say?" Judy asks.
"I told him he didn't find his way back to me; he took a job. He didn't know I was going to be here anymore than I knew h
e was. I came back to Magnolia Falls because it was my last resort. I had run out of options, and the only thing left was to go home and try to start over. Grant has always drifted in and out of town, and he only came back longer this because of work. It's not some altruistic gesture he's making to the town, or to the school. He's getting paid a ridiculous amount of money to put together this prom. It's just work to him – like all of his projects. If he hadn't gotten that call from Mrs. Burke, he wouldn't be here, and we never would have been back in the same space."
"So what? You still ran into each other again," Judy says. "You were still both in the right place at the right time."
"What about a few months from now? When this is all over, and there's no reason for him to be in Magnolia Falls this often? What happened ten years ago is happening all over again. Some other job will come up, and Grant will wish me luck with the rest of my life and walk away for good."
"You might be right,” she says. “I really don’t know what’s going to happen with you two. But, if Grant walks away, he’s a total idiot, even if he’s hotter than a chili pepper.” She checks the time. "I really do need to get going, though. Last I checked, Gram hadn't packed a thing."
She gathers the blanket up, and we both stand.
"You didn't finish Antoine’s blanket," I say.
"I'll work on it on the way over," she says. She gathers me into a tight hug. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," I tell her. She shrugs into her coat, grabs her purse and the gift I gave her, and heads out the front door. "Make sure you only work on it when you're on the ferry," I call after her. "Friends don't let friends crochet and drive."
What Judy said hangs over me after I close the door, and I'm so distracted that I don't realize how much time has passed as I roam around the house, finishing up last-minute holiday details. When I finally check the time, less than half an hour is left before Grant’s supposed to come over. Hoping to borrow some of that Santa's sleigh spacetime continuum effect for myself, I rush to take a shower, wiggle into the new lingerie and dress I bought for this afternoon, and throw makeup in the direction of my face. I'm just letting out my hair from curlers that had next to no effect in the five minutes they were setting when the front door opens.