“But our agreement. I want to always honor that.” Her father muted the television. “I assume you want me to skip a certain song.”
“No.” What she wanted wasn’t important. “We both know your song about Mom is the draw. They’ll love it.” Though she still didn’t know why. “These people have paid a lot of money for a fancy dinner and a big name concert. No matter what I think about your career path, you’re a very big name. Who better to entertain at a Christmas gala than you?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re pretty desperate here, aren’t you?”
Emma smiled with lips that resembled her dad’s. “I am.”
“I’m still honored you asked me. It’s a start, eh?”
“Yes,” Emma said. “A start is what it is.”
Chapter Sixteen
It was either a night for magic . . . or an evening for disaster.
Emma adjusted the gold chain at her throat and tried to tune into the conversation at her table.
“You seem a million miles away tonight.” Noah rested his arm on the back of her chair and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Is there something wrong with the food?”
The Sugar Creek Fine Arts Center had been turned into one great big, sparkly dining room. The theater seating had all been removed, and in its place were round dinner tables covered in red and gold tablecloths. For the millionth time, Emma scanned the facility, looking for the Sunrise News camera guys. So far they had not shown. Snowy weather had delayed everyone else, why not these guys too?
“No, the catering is excellent. I guess I’m just a little tense over the entertainment.”
“Have I told you how profoundly grateful I am that you asked your dad to sing?”
Emma attempted a smile. “At least a dozen times. I think you even offered me your dessert in gratitude.”
“I do not recall that part at all.” Noah brushed his lips lightly over hers. “You look stunning tonight, Emma. I’m the luckiest guy in the room.”
“Thank you.” He had mentioned that a few times as well, but it still did her heart good to hear it. Tonight Emma wore a strapless ruby red gown and her hair swept into an updo that allowed a few wavy tendrils to escape. She had topped the look with her favorite earrings, the delicate diamond studs that had belonged to her mother.
Noah looked like he was ready to walk the Red Carpet in his dashing black tux with a holly berry-red bowtie. He looked just as dashing in formal wear as he did standing on top of her roof hanging lights. No matter the setting, he captured Emma’s attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, once again, we thank you for coming.” The emcee, a disc jockey from a local radio station, spoke into the microphone, bringing the room chatter to a low rumble. “As you know the snow has wreaked havoc all over the country, and our scheduled band could not be here. But tonight we have a treat for you. Our own Miss Emma Sutton, who has worked so tirelessly with our mayor to make Sugar Creek a Christmas dream, arranged for a very special guest to perform tonight. And that guest is . . .her father!” His arm extended toward the curtain. “Please welcome Edward Casey!”
The surprised crowd applauded, and Emma held her smile in place as people swiveled in their seats to see her reaction.
“Good evening.” Emma’s father grinned and held his guitar. “I’m honored to be here with you tonight. But more importantly, I’m honored to be the father of that pretty young woman right there.”
Noah’s arm around Emma tightened as Edward pointed right to her to the sound of more cheers.
“I thought I’d open with a few traditional favorites.”
Emma released a breath as the lights dimmed, and her father began to play a tune that was not one of his own.
Noah’s brow furrowed. “Emma, who is that?”
She followed the path of Noah’s focused gaze and knew the network cameramen had arrived.
“Are those the guys you hired for PR?”
“No,” Emma whispered. “They’re from Sunrise News. My boss called me today.” She gave a humble shrug. “Turns out he loves my story on Sugar Creek. He wanted professional footage of the gala.”
Noah’s jaw tightened. “When were you going to mention this?”
“You knew I was working on it.”
He leaned closer until his lips were next to her ear. “What else did your boss say?”
“Can we talk about this later?”
“I was thinking we should’ve talked about it earlier.”
She could barely hear him over the cords from her father’s guitar. “We’ve both had a lot to handle today. You with the gala situation, and me with my dad. I just wanted tonight to be a nice evening, Noah.” Her eyes pleaded with him to let it drop. “Can we discuss this after the gala’s over?”
Emma didn’t know how many songs her father played—seven? Eight? They all sounded the same to her, but when she heard him strum the opening intro of one tune, the few bites of chicken she’d swallowed at dinner threatened to stage a rebellion.
“You know the story,” Edward said, as if talking to a few of his closest friends. “Many years ago I lost my beloved first wife on Christmas. That holiday became the anniversary for one of the darkest moments in my life. And in my daughter’s, as well. As a father, you can’t imagine what it’s like to see your child suffer.” Emma’s dad looked right at her. “To see her heart shatter and know there’s not one thing you can do.” His fingers began to play the melody. “But I was hurting too. And that Christmas night, I penned these words.”
The cameramen swooped in, crouching low to stay out of the way, but close enough to capture this sentimental gold.
“Excuse me.” Emma placed her napkin on the table, and with a smile for the dignitaries seated at her table, she stood and walked out of the theater.
The speakers amplified her father’s words, and like a taunting bully, those painful lyrics chased her down the hall.
Why didn’t God answer my prayer?
Why didn’t Santa Claus care?
All I asked was for my momma to be well . . .
“Emma, wait.”
Behind her, Noah was hot on her heels.
“Just give me a minute,” she called, not bothering to look back. Lord, she needed air. And lots of it.
She burst through the exit doors like the building behind her was disintegrating into flames, her heels clicking on the pavement. A small fountain gurgled at the edge of the property, and Emma finally stopped there. Eyes closed, she rubbed the tension in her temples, and tried to wipe that stupid song from her brain.
“Are you okay?” Noah reached for Emma, but she shrugged away.
“Yes.”
The water spit and arced, and Emma noticed the pennies people had tossed in, hoping to have a change in luck. So many wishes, she couldn’t see the bottom of the fountain.
“I’m fine, Noah,” she said. “I just needed to get some fresh air.”
He settled his tuxedo jacket over her shoulders, but made no other move to touch her. “I know it still hurts you.”
“It’s just a stupid song. That was the worst moment of my life, and he turned it into this hokey, cheesy, horribly-written disaster. I mean, he rhymed cancer with Blitzen and Dancer.”
“It’s not exactly ‘O Holy Night.’ ”
“I told him he could sing it. That’s what everyone wants to hear. But it just takes me right back to that day. And then I remember all the years he made me go on tour and sit on the stage like a total puppet.” Thank God Sylvie had finally intervened.
“You’re clearly not over it.” Noah stood behind Emma, so close she could feel his heat at her back.
“Maybe that’s what I’m most upset about. I’m thirty-freaking-one, and I thought I was past this.” She turned and faced him. “But she was a real person, you know—my mom. Not this fabled character in Edward’s song. She had a heart and a soul and a life. She was full of joy and light. We’d sit together at the piano and sing carols.�
� Emma sang alto, while her mother had provided the beautiful soprano that had made her the star of the church choir.
Emma let the tears fall unchecked. “I remember sitting on her lap on Christmas Eve as she’d read the Christmas story. Then we’d all crash on the couch near the fire. I’d be wearing my new pajamas, and Mom would sit with me and let me talk about what I thought was under the tree. She had the most beautiful laugh.” Her own laugh was small, broken. “She loved Christmas.”
“It’s understandable that it’s still a hard,” Noah said.
Emma pulled his jacket tighter, unable to get warm. “This has been the most special holiday season I’ve ever had since she died. All thanks to you.” She reached out her hand to caress his cheek, but his eyes seemed to lack their usual warmth.
“Your father doesn’t mean to hurt you with his song,” Noah said. “He might never get it.”
“You’re right. He probably never will.” Emma sat on the edge of the fountain, the chill of the concrete seeping into her dress. “Let’s talk about something else. Anything. You can even talk about your boring sports stuff.”
Noah did not smile. He did look right at Emma, with eyes that held his own measure of hurt. “Let’s discuss what’s going to happen with us.”
Emma suddenly craved a good discussion on football helmet safety or who was favored to win the next championship. “We love each other. We’re in a relationship.”
“Are we?”
Oh, she did not like that tone. It said danger, land mines ahead. “Why are we discussing this now?”
“Because I think you have something to tell me.”
He was good.
Noah had always known when she was collecting secrets like posies between the pages of a book. “You know I wanted to stay here for Christmas.”
“Just spit it out, Emma.”
Emma knew the words would change everything. “My boss wants me back at work immediately.”
“And you told him you were staying here through the holiday, right?”
She slowly shook her head. “I have to go back. They’ve ended my hiatus, and they’re running the Sugar Creek story on the twenty-fourth.”
“And you have to be there for that?”
“It’s my story. And the first step in winning back my viewers’ favor.” By the time the segment aired, America would know everything about Sugar Creek’s Christmas, as well as Emma’s own disastrous history with the holiday.
“So you’re going back to New York.”
“Yes.” She hated the disappointment and wariness staring back at her. “I’ve always been honest about that, Noah. My job is there.”
“A job you don’t even want.”
“I have a promotion coming soon.” She sounded so defensive, even to her own ears. “I have to go back.”
“And where does that leave us, Emma?” He was looking at her just like he had the first night she’d returned to town.
Sometimes you marched to the battle lines, even knowing victory was not within your reach. “Come with me. Noah.” She stood, her fingers circling his wrist. “Come with me to New York.”
He stared at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck. “No.” Noah lifted his head and met Emma’s gaze. “I can’t go with you.”
“Why?”
His stormy eyes held no mercy now. “Who will you and I be in New York?”
“A couple in a committed relationship.”
He shook his head. “I think only one of us would be committed.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because this is history repeating itself.” Noah removed her hand from his. “Only this time you’re allowing me to tag along.”
Emma blinked against the blowing wind and the slap of his words. “This is not ten years ago. I’m not that person anymore.”
“I had hoped you weren’t.”
“So if I stay here and support your career, then my love is believable. I’m worthy to stay with you. But if I ask you to come with me, I’m just that silly college girl who ran. I have a career in New York. It’s not like I can do that level of work just anywhere. You can be an attorney in New York. You’re choosing this town over me.”
Noah’s voice was so resolute. “I would follow you anywhere if I thought you were all in.”
“I am all in.”
“You’re following a job that might be incredibly prestigious, but it kills you every day. You don’t even like it. Have the guts to walk away from that and be something else. Be anything. I’m not going back to New York so you can work fifteen-hour days, seven days a week for a job you can’t stand, but stick with because it supports your addiction of avoiding people trying to love you.”
His words shot like an arrow, piercing the fragile target of her heart. “You just want your job to take precedence.”
“What needs to take precedence for this to work is us. And you’ve never been able to commit to that. Even when we were in school, I was an afterthought.”
“I loved you.” Emma still did. Didn’t he see that?
Anger flashed in his eyes. “You left me.”
“We were young,” she said. “I just felt claustrophobic. I needed some space.”
“You moved across the country.” His laugh was completely devoid of mirth. “I’d say you found it.”
“I did love you.” Maybe if she repeated it over and over, Noah would see. He’d believe her and change his mind.
“Love doesn’t run, Emma.”
“I wanted more than this town. Your dream was always to come back here.”
“With you. My dream was to come back home with you.”
“It was always your plan. What about mine?”
“You should’ve talked to me.”
“I tried. You never listened. You knew I wanted to make my career a priority. I couldn’t be a top news anchor and stay in a small town in Arkansas.”
“You had a communications degree, yet you couldn’t tell me in person you were leaving. I got home from work and found a letter and your engagement ring.”
“I’m so sorry.” She had panicked, exactly like she was now. “That wasn’t the right way to handle it.”
“No, it wasn’t. The right way would’ve involved us sitting down and having a conversation, you telling me you were ending our engagement. You looking me in the eyes and explaining to me what I’d done wrong. Giving me a chance to fix it.”
“I’m asking you to help me fix it now.”
“I don’t think you are. You’re going back to something I can’t fix. You told me your job left you empty, that it made you unhappy.”
“But I would be crazy to pass up this opportunity.”
“You’re not going back because you love the work and because it’s what you want to do. I’d follow you all over the world for that. But you’re going back because it’s familiar.”
“Won’t you even give this a shot?”
“You know what I think?” Noah paced a few steps in front of Emma. “I think I scare you. The thought of a future together scares you. You get twitchy at the very idea of putting roots down here. Sugar Creek to you is permanence. It’s a husband, it’s family, it’s . . . me.”
Tears gathered on Emma’s lashes, and she blinked against the pressure. She was losing Noah. He was walking away. “Please don’t do this,” she whispered.
“I’m not your father. I’m not going to disappear when things get rough. I’m not going to be distant and send checks and call it love. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let someone else take my place and not fight for you.”
She wanted to believe that so much. “I do love you, Noah Kincaid. Try and understand—”
“You tell me that TV show fills you up, makes you happy, and I’ll go, Emma. You tell me that you’re on board with the idea that we’re on a trajectory that involves marriage, permanence, and I’ll go.”
Emma heard the faint sound of her father’s voice drift from the auditorium. “Just let me take this one step at a t
ime.”
“No.” Noah stood there, wind blowing his hair, his stance stiff and unyielding. “You decide what you really want and how committed you are. I let the past go, Emma, but you never have. I may not still be the twenty-one-year-old boy who found his fiancée gone and his ring left behind.” He shook his head, and Emma knew it was over. “But you are still that girl.”
Chapter Seventeen
Snow fell in delicate, gossamer flakes the next afternoon. Emma held out her hand and caught a few. So tiny, so fragile.
So temporary.
Bags packed in her new rental, Emma set out early for the airport. She had cried when Sylvie hugged her. Her grandmother hadn’t begged her to stay for Christmas, only said she understood. But how could she? Emma didn’t even know if she understood.
The nativity wasn’t on her way, but Emma’s car seemed to pull her there. Her face lifted into the elements as she walked to the manger, letting the snow fall across her skin like a Christmas baptism. There was Mary, studying her child, a Mona Lisa lift of her lips. Joseph stood behind his wife and clasped her shoulders, as if to say, well done there. The Wise Men held their gifts, and Emma idly wondered what the family had thought of their offerings. Maybe Mary had just wanted a good candy bar and a suite at the Holiday Inn.
Or maybe Mary was too transfixed by the sight of the newborn child to even care what she had endured, what heartache had led her to that point. Perhaps the beauty of her child washed it all away. When Mary looked into the face of her baby, did she see a precious infant she wanted to hold forever, or did she see . . . God? God and a plan so much bigger than anything she could wrap her human mind around?
Emma stood by Mary and ran her fingers down the young mother’s arm. Perhaps it was enough to know that if things were uncertain, even frightening, that God was upstairs saying, “Hey, I got this. Just keep walking.”
She clutched that hope close. Because the thought of leaving her career, just laying down all that she had worked so hard for, was absolutely terrifying. If she stayed in Sugar Creek, her career was uncertain, her reputation as a journalist—gone. What would she have?
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