by Robyn Grady
But Krystal hesitated.
“Em…there’s something else.”
Oh no. “Something bad?
“I want to say I’m sorry.”
Emma waved it off. “I loved looking after Shelley.”
“I mean I’m sorry for what happened three years ago. So many times I wanted to at least try to explain, but there’s no excuse for hurting you like that. No man is worth losing a sister over. Destroying a friendship.”
Emma let the apology sink in. No one had ever wounded her the way Krystal had. She’d never be able to get past the ‘why’s, including why both sisters had been attracted to a man who was so ill tempered. So much like their father. But now…
None of that mattered.
“So,” Krystal went on, “sisters before misters. I am so over men.”
Emma thought of Damon, his smile, his kiss, the genuine desire to protect.
“Not all guys are rats, Krys.”
Her sister snorted. “The hard part’s meeting them.”
“The hard part’s trusting yourself enough to let them in.”
When Emma led them through, her other guests swarmed over.
Gazing down at Shelley, Judd’s eyes glistened. “I’ll have a hold whenevah you’re ready,” he said.
When there was yet another knock on the door, Emma coughed out a laugh.
“It’s your turn,” she said to Damon.
“Who knows? At this rate, it might be Santa Claus and his entire elf entourage.”
It wasn’t Santa and his elves, but there was a sizable crowd gathered on Emma’s front lawn. Damon recognized many of the faces. In fact, he knew them all.
A man spoke up. Mr. Cannon, the father of the five-year-old boy he’d helped with that diagnosis earlier in the year.
“We heard you were leaving the Point,” Mr. Cannon said, stepping forward.
“That’s right. I have another position lined up for February.”
“You can’t go,” Mrs. Cannon, the boy’s mother, called out. Her nose was red from the cold or, perhaps, crying. “You’re the best doctor this town’s ever had.”
Wow. Damon was taken aback. “I appreciate you saying that. It means a lot. More than you could guess. But―”
“When my girl had those crippling headaches,” another woman, Mrs. Chelsea, said, “you knew what caused them. She hasn’t had one in months.”
“You’ve done wonders for my snappy hip,” old Mr. Fisher called out.
“You always have time to talk,” a teen boy, Randy Marshall, chipped in.
“You can’t leave, Dr. Knight,” came a voice from the back.
“We need you,” someone said and everyone nodded and agreed.
Damon remembered to breath. He studied the group of Point St. Clairers, his patients, his neighbors and, he guessed, his friends.
The little boy stepped forward. “Dr. D, this is for you. From the whole town.”
Damon walked down the porch steps, crouched beside the boy and accepted a huge Christmas card. Inside were hundreds of signatures, declarations of how much they wanted him to stay on in town. The boy hugged his neck and whispered in his ear. “Mommy says you’re our Santa Claus.”
Damon’s chest tightened before emotion flooded every inch of him. He rubbed the boy’s head, straightened to his full height and, with misty eyes, scanned the sea of faces again. Everyone was smiling, sincere.
Welcoming.
When Damon’s cell phone rang, Mr. Cannon put up a hand. “We won’t keep you, Doc. You have a good day.” He called out to include Emma, who had come out to stand on the porch. “Merry Christmas to you all!”
Damon walked back up the stairs in a daze. With his phone still ringing in his pocket, he gave Emma the card. “Well, that was unexpected.”
“It takes a lot for folk like these to gush,” she said, looking through the signatures. “Guess you’re pretty special to them all.”
His phone beeped: a text.
“It’s my family,” he said a moment later, reading the message. “They want to descend on us New Years.” When Emma lost her breath, he chuckled. “I’ll tell them to give us some time. I’ll also let them know I’m staying on here at the clinic.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open. “What about L.A.?”
He put his arms around her. “We talked it over yesterday. I explained that I’d fallen in love.”
“You did?” Emma laughed. “Seriously?”
“Emma, I fell in love with you first time we kissed. It was like this sledgehammer to the head.”
She winced. “I like the lightning bolt analogy better.” She craned up to dot a kiss on his bristled chin and he hugged her tighter. “Much as I tried to deny it, I’m in love with you, too, more every minute.”
This time when they kissed, Damon was still filled with wonder and gratitude. Everything inside of him still hardened and rejoiced. But there was something else…something more. A knowledge he’d been searching for and always knew he’d one day find.
“Em, we need to talk first.”
“About what?”
“About us. I want you to be my wife. I want us to be a family. Through thick and thin. Partners. A true team.”
Tears sprang into her eyes, and then she sighed. “I’d like that, too.”
He held her tighter. “I don’t know how or why or when. I only know we were made for each other. I love everything about you.”
“Even my stubbornness?”
“Your spirit.” He squeezed her. “Of course.”
“I’m only stubborn about things I feel strongly about.”
“Right. It’s a good thing.”
“Like having a long engagement before doing anything permanent.”
“Agreed.”
“And we should live together first. My grandmother will roll over in her grave but in this day and age, it’s only sensible.”
“Absolutely.”
“And the wedding…we shouldn’t worry about numbers. Just invite everyone who’ll be happy for us. Even if it’s everyone in town. Even if they’re half a world away.”
“Emma―”
“Maybe we could help with airfares, put up accommodation. There’s that great bed and breakfast in Archer Street, perfect for―”
He brought her in, kissed her hard, unrelenting, like he had six months ago. And she dissolved again. Quiet, but never tamed. When he broke the kiss, he combed a tender hand through one side of her hair.
“Everything will be just fine.”
She sighed and nodded. “Just fine.”
He moved to kiss her again, but stopped. He had the strangest feeling, like someone was watching them. He glanced around before his gaze landed on their snowman in the field next door. Then he blinked, looked harder and shook his head. Not possible, but he could’ve sworn Frosty had come to life for just a second and tipped his hat.
Smiling, Damon tipped an imaginary hat back.
Emma shook his arm. “Hey. What’s that about?”
He gathered her super close again. “It’s about Christmas being the season for miracles.”
“Yes, Miracles,” she snuggled up to him, “and family,”
As Damon’s mouth met hers, he finished the thought…
Family and most of all love.
#
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obyn Grady, One Christmas Knight