by Nicole Deese
Securing his other hand at the small of my back, he guided me away from the swarm of people loitering near the fountain and into a field littered with blankets and lawn chairs. The moment we were past the crowds, I sidestepped my way out of the intimate connection.
He didn’t seem to notice. “Do you know where your friends are?”
“Yes, Jenna texted me earlier. They saved a place for us.” For us, as if Joshua and I had become a unit that deserved a title—but we weren’t a unit, and there was no titling necessary. We were simply two people who happened to work together. Two people who loved kids. And dogs. And reading. And George Avery. Although, as his son, Joshua held the corner on that commonality. Nonetheless, I couldn’t think of him and me as an us. We were simply Joshua and Lauren, colleagues who sometimes met up at random social outings.
End of story.
“I think they’re over that way, on this side of The Grove Hotel.”
Jenna had sworn she’d be on her best behavior tonight, which, naturally, I had to outline for her: One, no suspect eyebrow waggling. Two, no insinuating comments.
The good seven or eight inches of height Joshua had on my five-foot-five frame offered him a vantage point far superior to my own, but also an ability to cut through the immovable forms who made no allowances for me whatsoever. After I’d become tangled in a web of wool scarves and puffy coats for the third time, he finally reached back, took hold of my gloved hand, and pulled me through the crowd without a single misstep.
The late-November air stung my eyes as we careened around fir trees and street lamps, past pre-parade vehicles tossing candy to children, and individual vendors capitalizing on glow-in-the-dark swords and snowflake wands. The instant we rounded the edge of the hotel, my mouth watered as a sweet and familiar aroma captured my senses. As a general rule of thumb, I rarely purchased event food. But goodness did I love toasted almonds encrusted in a buttery blend of cinnamon and sugar.
Joshua tugged on my hand and halted us in front of the cart. “Please tell me these are a part of your tree lighting tradition?”
I nodded once. “I’d say they’re a must.”
He turned to the vendor wearing a Santa hat and asked for two bags.
“Oh, I didn’t mean for you to buy me a—”
He shook his head before I could finish. “Rest easy. Buying toasted almonds from a food cart on Lighting Night is actually a standard practice for a not-a-date date.”
Joshua paid, and the vendor handed each of us a miniature white bag of steaming almonds. I couldn’t help but sigh as the spicy warmth wrapped itself around me.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Anytime.” And something about the way he said it, with his soft-focused eyes shimmering in the winter light of the setting sun, made my insides yearn to step closer to him.
“Lauren! Joshua!” Jenna’s voice broke through my haze of cinnamon delight. I spotted her atop Brian’s shoulders, waving a crystal-blue snowflake wand in the air like Queen Elsa herself.
“Perfect timing.” He took my hand again, though my need for a guide was now obsolete.
I should have broken free from the grasp immediately, as there was little argument over which side of the relationship fence hand-holding belonged to, but for some reason, I didn’t let go. I just . . . didn’t. That was, until Brian lowered Jenna to the ground. Her dismount was a spectacular show of flexibility and athleticism. And a perfect distraction for my stealthy hand-holding removal maneuver, in which I clutched both my hands around my bag of toasted almonds as if they weighed fifty pounds and I wasn’t quite sure how to carry them and walk at the same time.
“Hey, you two! So glad I spotted you. I swear the festival must have doubled in attendance this year.”
She drew me in for a hug as Brian stepped up to do the same as soon as she let go. Brian wasn’t quite as tall as Joshua, but apart from being four shades darker in complexion, their lean builds and broad shoulders were quite similar. “Hey, Bailey. It’s good to see you, girl. Jenna told me you were bringing a friend from work tonight.”
Brian extended a friendly hand to Joshua, though he was clearly waiting on me to make the official introduction between them.
I looked to Joshua first. “Joshua, this is Brian Rosewood. He’s a pediatric surgeon at Boise Pediatrics Hospital. And Brian,” I began, observing the quick male handshake between my best friend’s husband and my . . . uh . . . “this is Joshua Avery. . . .” And then my mind just sort of blacked out, like a plug that had been aggressively disconnected from its power source.
The two men continued to stare at me, and I quickly shoved the prongs back into the socket and spewed out the first thing that came to mind. “He’s the sub across the hall from me.” The moment it was out of my mouth, I wanted to reel the words back in and start over. But much like the older brother I never had, Brian rarely missed an opportunity to highlight my verbal blunders.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Joshua From Across The Hall.”
I waited for Joshua to step in and correct my minimal definition of his occupation and list off his ridiculously impressive résumé to the slightly cocky, slightly overeducated medical professional in our mix, but no such thing happened. Apparently, Joshua was more interested in watching me flounder than he was in repairing his reputation.
“Actually . . .” I shook my head, flustered. “What I meant to say was that being a substitute teacher isn’t his full-time career.” I felt the shift in Joshua’s focus, and my half-frozen cheeks began to thaw under his intrigue.
“Oh? What field are you in?” Brian asked him.
“Educational technology.”
My mouth gaped at his too-simple answer. “Actually, Joshua owns a tech consulting company with an emphasis on education. He has several employees, but he’s the visionary behind creating the apps and games. They market to large-scale, kid-focused organizations. Right now he’s waiting on a big approval from the Board of Education that would integrate his app-based reading program into school districts across the country.”
Brian’s eyebrows rose a full inch. “Wow. You’re a tech head? Now there’s a field with a promise for long-term job security.”
“I’m sure the same can be said about yours,” Joshua said with an infectious grin.
Jenna looped her arm through Brian’s and looked at him adoringly. “He’s a gifted surgeon.”
Brian bent to kiss his wife square on the lips. The two never shied away from physical displays of affection. When they were first married, I blamed it on the newlywed factor. But three years later, I doubted that excuse still applied. They were just that type of couple. The super handsy, super cuddly, super oblivious-to-the-public-eye type of couple. I couldn’t imagine losing my social awareness the way they seemed to. Then again, I’d never been close to sharing a relationship like the one they had together either.
Brian straightened, something sparking in his gaze as he turned to address Joshua again. “It’s actually ironic I met you tonight. I wonder if you might have some insight on a project I’ve been mulling over with a few of my colleagues at the hospital.”
“Yeah? What kind of project?”
“We’re hoping for some kind of digital tour geared for anxious kids who might have upcoming surgeries and long-term stays to feel more comfortable while inside the hospital. We’ve been given some grant money to work with, but so far our pitches to the board haven’t had a whole lot of traction.”
Joshua seemed to lock into the idea instantly. He had that deep-thinking way about him that I’d come to admire over the past couple of weeks, the one where he scrunched his chin upward, pushed his lips into a duckbill, and let his gaze travel from left to right. “Hmm. So perhaps an app that offered a choice of avatars resembling the child’s specific medical need or ailment? And maybe a talking animal of some kind who could act as the tour guide. He could take them step by step through things like getting an IV and whatever other preparation they might need for their specific proce
dure.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Brian encouraged, his smile becoming wider by the second. “What else?”
“Maybe a virtual challenge or obstacle course for the patients to pass, earning points as they go that they can cash in for special privileges or prizes at the hospital? You could do a lot with the incentive aspect.” His eyes snapped back to Brian’s. “You could even create a connected space for doctors and nurses to comment on their patients’ virtual progress, as well.”
“Seriously? This is genius, more than we’ve come up with in weeks of brainstorming meetings.” And then to me he said, “He’s really good at this.” Like I had anything to do with Joshua Avery’s brain power.
Brian’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think about meeting with my colleagues? See if we can get enough ideas circulating for a board presentation?”
“Sure. Just let me know when you’re thinking, and I’ll see if I can work it in.” Joshua nudged my shoulder with his. “But only if Lauren can introduce me again.”
“Done,” Brian said with a laugh, and I covered my cheeks with my gloved hands. “But seriously, I’ll be in touch about this soon. The timing of all this feels more than a little coincidental.”
An ear-crackling rendition of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” pulled at our attention as a fire truck decked out with lights and garland kicked off the parade. The attendees smashed together, all vying for the best possible view. I lifted up on my tiptoes, wishing the giant man in front of me would take a step to his left, when Joshua’s warm breath caressed my ear.
“I’m not even sure my mother could explain what I do in such detail. I think I need to hire you to give some pointers to my new marketing manager.”
I kept my focus straight ahead, yet the ticking pulse in my throat made my words sound strained. “I’m just a good listener.”
A bold smile was his only reply as a group of carolers tossed candy into the crowd and several floats moseyed by us. Children danced and giggled on either side of the main street, causing the drivers and spectators to wave and laugh. Their wonderment was as contagious as their joyful spirits.
“I’m growing increasingly concerned about your nose.” Joshua’s chin brushed the top of my ear as he spoke, setting free a series of flutters in my lower abdomen. “The color has changed from watermelon pink to eggplant purple within the last hour.”
I brought a hand up to my face. “I honestly can’t even feel it anymore.”
He pulled off his glove and touched the tip of my nose with his toasty finger. I couldn’t inhale for nearly half a minute. “Yeah, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure if we don’t do something for it soon, you won’t have anything left to hang your sunglasses on next summer.”
“I don’t think they make nose muffs.”
With that endearing look firmly affixed to his face again, he placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him fully. “I’m gonna fix you.”
“I’m fine, really. It’s always this way when—”
“Shhh.” He lifted the softest of my two scarves away from my coat and began to wrap it around the back of my head, as if he’d done this maneuver a million times before. I studied his face, only inches away from my own, as he made a crisscross pattern with the excess fabric. Taking care to cover my nose and chin as if I were made of the most delicate porcelain, he left a small gap for my mouth before he tucked the two loose ends under my knit cap. “There, that’s better.”
“Totally.” The scarf puffed a bit as I chuckled. “Because this isn’t awkward at all.”
“Better awkward than amputated, I always say.” He angled his head, as if to get a better view of his handiwork. “You actually look kind of . . . exotic.”
“Mummy exotic or bank robber exotic?”
At his hard laugh, Jenna and Brian turned their attention from the parade’s finale float to us.
“What are you two doing over there?” Jenna peeked around Joshua’s back to make eye contact with me. Her eyebrows shot up. “Wow, Lauren. That’s quite the fashion statement.”
“Thank you.” I curtsied. “I’m hoping to start a new winter trend.”
Joshua’s grin intensified. Yet as crazy as I may look to the public, his scarf trick had actually helped. Considerably. My nose no longer felt like a frozen carrot attached to the center of my face.
“Ooh! Here we go!” Jenna clapped her hands as Brian stepped behind her, cradling her against his chest. “The countdown’s about to start!”
In a beautiful display of unity, our entire city cheered as the countdown board lit up on the tree’s platform. Every patron in attendance gazed upon the unlit tree standing tall in the middle of the square with giddy expectation. It was nearly impossible to see the top of the branches from where we stood, but everything surrounding the wide base was picturesque: wreath-wrapped lampposts, miniature towns set in storefront windows, and “O Christmas Tree” playing from the unseen speakers tucked throughout the winter wonderland.
“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .” Forgetting my mummified face, I clasped my hands at my chin the way I’d done long before I’d started driving myself here each year. There had been so many traditions lost to the Bailey household the day my father had slipped off that roof. So many holidays spoiled by the bitter taste of resentment, marital discord, and the eventual foreclosure auction that would unravel us all. Yet somehow, despite it all, I’d managed to preserve a single magical memory of my family during the holidays. And it was right here. At this tree. A tradition I planned to carry down to my own little family one day.
I’ll be a mother next Christmas. The thought wrapped itself around me like a long-awaited hug, and for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would feel like to wake up on Christmas morning with a child in my arms. Lord, please, let me hear something soon.
“. . . six . . . five . . .” The rumble of Joshua’s voice beside me broke through my future ponderings. Though his mouth moved at the appropriate time, his gaze was unfocused, his thoughts seemingly far away from the here and now.
“Three . . . two . . . one!”
The awed gasp that seized the crowd the instant the tree’s lights illuminated the plaza for the first time never failed to stir my emotions. Better than a million brilliant twinkle lights was the breathless hush that managed to capture the voices of a thousand-plus people. It was this moment, this purity and reverence, that broke me every time—not only for a tree, but for the true beauty of all that Christmas represented to a broken world in need of hope.
The nostalgic glow from the lights radiated off the faces of the countless admirers, and I couldn’t help but glance at Joshua once more, expecting him to be as captivated as all those around us. But Joshua’s gaze wasn’t locked on the tree. Instead, it was locked on me.
“Did you like it—the ceremony?” I lowered the scarf away from my face and tucked it below my chin so I could speak freely. “I’m always in awe of how quiet our city can get in those first few seconds when the lights come on. I think that’s my favorite part.”
His throat bobbed once before he answered. “It was beautiful.”
Joshua wasn’t a man of few words. Whenever I didn’t know what to say next, he never failed to chime in with some witty quip or comment. And yet right now, he seemed content to just be . . . quiet. Still.
The crowd around us began to disperse, mothers and fathers pushing strollers with sleeping infants and lovers old and young snuggled tight. But the two of us simply remained where we were, allowing the world to pass us by. No longer were we the ones barreling through the masses looking for the world to make space for us. We’d found it. Right here, beneath the branches of a Christmas tree.
I didn’t know how many minutes passed or how many people had exited the plaza, but by the time Brian and Jenna said their good-byes and traded contact information with Joshua, more litter than attendees remained on the streets.
“Where’d you park?” he asked as we strolled down the quieting sidewalks of do
wntown.
“In the parking garage. You?”
“By the old Mexican restaurant on Sixth.”
I stopped. “That’s nowhere near the garage.”
He shrugged and shot me a smile that could have been a tripping hazard if I’d still been walking. “I’ve never been great with directions.”
I didn’t believe that for a second. He was simply a gentleman who didn’t want me to walk to my car alone at night. “Well, I’ll be happy to give you a ride over there.”
“I don’t mind the walk. Fresh air is good for the brain.”
“According to the reader board up there on the bank, it’s twenty-eight degrees outside. I don’t think that’s good for anybody’s brain.”
He chuckled and knocked his shoulder into mine. “Hey, thanks for letting me tag along tonight. It was really great.”
“Wait—does that mean my Christmas tree lighting was better than your usual day-after-Thanksgiving leftover buffet?”
Another deep rumble reverberated from his chest. “I don’t think you can have an honest appreciation for my grandmother’s holiday baklava until you’ve tried it, but yes, you won the challenge tonight for sure.”
“I won? Yes!” I beamed at him under the warm halo of street lights as we entered the parking garage and suppressed the urge to do a victory dance on the corner of Ninth and Front Street. “If you can’t tell, I never win anything. I actually might need you to put this moment in writing for Brian, because I’ve lost every game tournament the Rosewoods have hosted for the last three years. Like, dead last kind of losing. I’m pretty sure Brian doesn’t even mark my points down anymore.”
Joshua laughed. “You can’t be that bad.”
“I really am, which is why I should have insisted on a prize for tonight’s winner, because I knew the tree lighting festival wouldn’t disappoint. It never does.”
His stride slowed. “Okay, so what kind of prize would you have chosen?”
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, our footsteps echoing off the walls in the tomblike space. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not actually being serious.”