by Nora Roberts
Fred, round with child, wings fluttering, danced with her oldest son while Eddie worked his harmonica, a dog at his feet, his youngest in his lap, clapping the time. For old times’ sake, Poe and Kim argued over a game of Scrabble while their sons rolled their eyes.
Jonah watched his middle son finally work up the nerve to ask a pretty girl to dance, and nudged Rachel. On a sigh, she tipped her head to Jonah’s shoulder, then reached out and grabbed Gabriel before he could dash by.
“Mom needs a hug.”
“Dad, too.”
On the lower level several gathered to play poker for pebbles and feathers and the high stakes of candied nuts. Colin narrowed his eyes at Flynn as Flynn raised him, yet again, ten nuts.
“No elf mind reading allowed, pal.”
“Don’t need them with you. You’ve got tells.”
“Do not.”
“Do,” Travis corrected, frowning at his own hand. “You’re jiggling your foot, so you’re bluffing.”
“I am— too,” Colin said on a laugh, and folded.
Across the room, content to watch the party, the game, Starr stroked Blaidd. When Ethan settled on the floor beside her, she drew back a little.
“He likes when you pet him,” Ethan said easily. “Not everybody or every animal likes to be touched. But he likes when you pet him.”
She sat for a moment, cleared her throat. “You have such kindness in your mind. Not everybody does. I know the farm is your home, but I’m sorry you’ll be going back soon.”
“We’ll come visit. New Hope’s home, too.”
Arlys, her hair styled in a smooth sweep for the party, and the end-of-year broadcast that had preceded it, weaved through the crowd. She carried a steaming mug to her father-in-law as he sat warm by the fire.
“Echinacea tea, for that scratchy throat.”
“Tea?” Bill scoffed with insult. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”
“Tea for the throat.” She leaned down, kissed Bill’s cheek. “The whiskey in it for the rest of you.”
“All right then.” He gripped her hand. “It’s going to be a good year.”
“Best ever.”
“Will Anderson!” he called out. “Your father didn’t raise a fool for a son. Dance with your pretty wife.”
“There’s an idea.” Will swung her toward the music, then just wrapped around her and swayed. “A really good idea. Theo’s flirting with Alice Simm’s daughter. Can’t blame him. Cute as they come.”
“I noticed. Cybil’s flirting with Kim’s oldest.”
He yanked back. “What?”
“Typical.” Arlys pulled him right back. “It’s your son, it’s ‘Woo-hoo.’ Your daughter, it’s ‘Whoa.’ I might have to write an article about that.”
“Oh no, you don’t.”
She laughed, snuggled in. “Chuck’s dancing. Not with anyone, and it’s not actually dancing. But it’s movement approximating the basic concept of dancing. Katie’s in the kitchen gossiping with Lana. God, I’m going to miss Lana. Hannah went down to the poker game with Simon. And—”
She looked up at him. “The gang’s all here, Will. We’re all here, and I love you.”
In the kitchen, Katie poured more wine, studied it. “I think I’m going to get sloshed.”
“Stick with faerie wine. No hangover.”
“Lana. Lana, what am I going to do without you?”
“We’ll visit. A lot.” Because it made her teary, Lana poured more wine for both of them. “And you have to visit us. I want you to see the farm. In fact, I hereby decree everybody comes to the farm this summer for a huge party. I demand it.”
“I’m in.” Katie blinked at tears. “We’re going to miss you and Simon, the boys.”
“Colin’s going to stay in Arlington.” Her smile bittersweet, Katie understood. “He’s a soldier, not a farmer. So more visits there, too. And Fallon.”
Lana breathed in, breathed out. Like giving birth, she thought. Letting a child find her way in the world wasn’t all that different, really, from bringing them into the world.
“This will be her home now. This house, her home with Duncan.”
“Are you— did they—”
“Just something I know. So visits, lots of visits. One day they might want a wedding or handfasting. Won’t that be a party for us to plan, Katie? Our babies.”
“I’ll watch out for her for you. I love her, Lana. I love Fallon and your boys.”
“I know. I love Duncan and your girls. We raised strong kids, didn’t we, Katie?”
“Amazing kids. To your four and my three.” She lifted her glass.
“Lucky seven,” Lana said and lifted her own.
“Ladies.”
Lana glanced over, laughed. “Mallick! You came.”
When she circled the counter to embrace him, he patted her back awkwardly, but smiled. “I wanted to wish you, all of you, a happy New Year.”
“How about some wine?”
“I’d be grateful. This home is full of light,” he added as she poured him a glass. “They’ll be happy here. I would offer a toast to two fine mothers and their excellent children.”
“Thank you.”
“And I would thank you for the suet cakes, and the recipe for them Fallon brought me on Christmas Eve.”
It had touched him, deeply, to find her on the doorstep of his cabin that night, with the suet, and the feeder she’d made him from a branch of a fallen tree near his childhood home in Wales.
Because it made him sentimental, he cleared his throat, drank the wine. “I’m told there is a game of cards in the room below?”
“Poker?” Katie angled her head to study him. “You play poker?”
“I’ve lived a very long time.” He smiled, gave them a slight bow, and went downstairs.
Duncan and Fallon sat on the steps where they could look down at the movement, hear the voices and music. They drank wine, shared a plate.
Simon paused at the base, then climbed up. “Why aren’t you dancing with my daughter?”
“Well, we were—”
“I thought you were playing poker,” Fallon interrupted.
“I was until Mallick came along and cleaned me out. Cleaned most of us out.” He looked down to where Hannah mimed emptying out her pockets before plopping down beside Fred.
“Dad, he’s a centuries- old sorcerer.”
“And a cardsharp. Come dance with your old man.”
“I don’t see an old man, but I’ll dance with you.” She passed her wine to Duncan, took Simon’s hand.
“I just wanted a minute.” He pressed his cheek to her hair. “It’s getting close to midnight. New year, new changes.”
“I’ll visit so often you’ll get sick of me.” She smiled.
“Couldn’t happen. I want this for you, this life. Even that boy up there. He probably loves you almost as much as I do.”
“There’s still work to do. I’ll depend on you for so much.”
“Don’t think about work tonight. Be happy.” He gestured to Duncan, waited, then gave Fallon’s hand a squeeze before he put it in Duncan’s. “Dance with the girl,” he ordered, and stepped back.
“I’m crap at dancing.”
“Just hold me and sway.”
“I can do that.”
“This is good. It’s good for everyone. Tonia’s back all the way, and she’s having fun.”
“Yeah, she’s— Who is that?”
“That’s Filo. He was one of Mick’s friends, and helped take The Beach.”
“Well, now he’s hitting on my sister.”
“She’s hitting right back.” Deliberately, Fallon turned his head so they were face- to- face. “I’m hitting on you, so pay attention.”
“I just want to—”
Tonia danced by, pinched Duncan’s arm. “Mind your own business. He’s gorgeous!” she told Fallon. “And he thinks I’m amazing. And he’s transferring to the barracks.”
“What—” Duncan began when she danced away aga
in.
“Do you have a problem with elves?”
“Only when they’re hitting on my sister. And who’s that guy who just muscled in on Hannah?”
“I love you, Duncan.”
“I just don’t think—” He looked back at Fallon and fell, just fell. “And I love you.”
“It’s nearly midnight. I’ll end the year with you, begin the new with you. And I promise myself to you all the years after.”
“With you.” He kissed her hand. “The end, the beginning, and all the years after.”
“It’s ticking by. Do you feel it?”
“Yeah. With you.”
People began to count down, a unity of voices lifted in hope for the year to come.
He pulled her into a kiss that held as the old year died and the new was born.
And with the kiss, like the kiss, the light shimmered, settled, held.
NORA ROBERTS
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