North of Light

by J. M. Paul

  Laura gasps, and David’s head jolts back. He blinks several times, his eyebrows slamming down over his eyes before he looks at Laura, Connor, and then back at me.

  “I-I don’t understand.” David leans forward.

  “My father was an organ donor.” I remind him of the conversation we had a couple of weeks ago while we made cookies together. “You have—” A sob escapes, and I cover my mouth with my fingers, squeezing my eyes closed.

  Connor wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. I use his strength to fuel my own to continue.

  “It’s my father’s heart that’s beating inside your chest. He was your organ donor.”

  David’s eyes go wide, and his mouth falls open, then closes, and then opens. Several emotions filter over his face, but they move so quickly, I can’t grasp what he’s feeling. His Adam’s apple bobs, his eyes grow glassy, and his right hand lifts to his chest to cover the place where my father’s heart is beating loud and proud.

  “No …” David says it so quietly, it’s almost a breath and not a word. His watery eyes are glued to mine, and tears seep onto his cheeks and track down to his jaw.

  Emotion builds in my throat, and with all my power, I fight against the need to cry.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh my God.” David reaches for me, pulls me into his arms, and breaks down into sobs. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry …” He keeps repeating it and repeating it.

  My resolve ceases, and the dam breaks, cracking my ribs open and pouring my heartache for my dad and for David out onto the floor.

  “I should’ve been a better man. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve taken better care of myself.” David’s saying this more to himself than to any of us. He buries his face in my hair, his shoulders shaking, his chest heaving. “I’m so sorry, Noel. I’m so sorry.”

  We take comfort in the other, and when our wailing wanes, I shift back and take his face in my hands. This is the first time I’ve seen a grown man and father cry to this extent. There is disbelief and anguish etched in every feature.

  “Don’t be sorry, David. There’s nothing for you to ever feel sorry about.” I give him a watery smile. “Your life had nothing to do with my father’s death, but my father’s death has everything to do with your life. He was your miracle, and you’re mine.” I swallow back more tears. “This is what he wanted, what he believed so strongly in. And the best part of him couldn’t have gone to a better man.”

  He shakes his head.

  “My dad would’ve loved you.” I sniffle and place my hand over David’s chest again. “That bond we felt—still feel? It’s him; it’s my dad.” I flex my fingers against his pajama shirt. “He’s in both of us now, and he brought us together to forever connect us in a way that can’t be explained.”

  A look of awe shines in David’s eyes, and he places his hand over mine. “You’re an amazing young woman.”

  “That’s just the heart talking.” I wink and grin at him.

  He shakes his head and pulls me into a crushing hug.

  When we pull apart, a sniffling Laura wraps me in just as tight of a hug and whispers, “Thank you,” in my ear, much like she did when I got David to open up about his heart transplant all those weeks ago.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I tell her when she holds me out at arm’s length, both of her hands on my shoulders.

  “You’ve done everything. Your father gave us a Christmas miracle two years ago, and you’ve given us a Christmas miracle today.” She cups my cheeks and pulls me in to kiss my forehead. “Bless you, child, for you are now forever a part of our family.”

  Laura gives us all a beaming smile and claps. “Now, come. It’s time to celebrate.”

  Connor and I stand when David and Laura walk out the door. When I turn toward Connor, his eyes are red-rimmed but sparkling.

  “You amaze me.” He steps into me.

  I nod with a mock assured expression. “I am pretty amazing.”

  He laughs, and then his face sobers. “I’m sorry, Noel, for putting you through hell the last couple of days. What I did, what Emily—”

  I place my fingers over his mouth to quiet him. “It’s in the past. We’re here, together now.”

  “Are we together?” Connor’s head tilts to the side.

  “And we’re alone.” I waggle my brows and then glance around the room. “Unless the ghosts from Christmas past, present, and future reside in your parents’ study, then we’re more than not alone; we’re screwed.” My eyes widen.

  “Well, you are Scrooge,” he teases.

  “Thanks to you”—I run my fingers back through his hair—“not anymore.”

  “No, not anymore,” he murmurs and captures my mouth in a searing kiss.

  ’Tis the Season

  Music, laughter, and merriment dance along the air as Connor and I huddle together by his parents’ fireplace. Cami’s playing her guitar and singing carols with the kids; Nicholas is in a deep discussion with Connor’s brothers and brothers-in-law, concerning football playoffs; and the women are in the kitchen, drinking wine and picking at the desserts we set out earlier for anyone who wanted to eat—again.

  Earlier, when David and Laura left me and Connor in the study, I called Nicholas and asked him to come over to Connor’s house for holiday festivities. I wanted to celebrate Christmas with him since we had already missed so many, and I needed to tell him about Dad and David. Nicholas deserved to know before anyone else.

  When Nicholas recovered from the shock and broke down in front of me, which made me sob again, we eventually made our way out to the rest of the group.

  The two of us were quickly ushered to the middle of the room, and David made a big, flourishing announcement to the rest of his family that our father was his heart donor. The group gasped and cheered, and each of them wrapped Nicholas and me in heartfelt hugs of thanks—like we had anything to do with it.

  When the hype ended, they brought out an apple pie with candles and sang “Happy Birthday” to me and Nicholas. How horrible is it that I almost forgot it was our birthday?

  Afterward, the group opened presents and ate dinner, and now, the kids are back to playing games with a Christmas dance-off to Cami’s music and delight while the adults pull out the wine and liquor.

  My heart is full to exploding over with acceptance, love, and family. The only thing missing from this moment is Evelyn. I texted her earlier to wish her a merry Christmas and to tell her I loved her and missed her. She hasn’t responded, and as much as it pains me, I refuse to let her sour attitude ruin this happy moment for Nicholas and me. If Evelyn’s ever ready to accept me back into her life, I’ll tell her about David if she wants to know.

  I made a choice two years ago to end my parents’ lives, but looking at David and the large family full of affection and respect, I can’t find it in me to regret fulfilling my parents’ dying wishes. I miss them every single day, but they became so many miracles for so many people. The devastation that tore our family apart stitched others back together. My mom and dad are heroes in the truest sense of the word.

  Connor nudges me, and when I look at him, he motions toward Nicholas and David standing off to the side. They’re in a deep discussion when David suddenly grabs Nicholas’s hand and places it on his chest, so he can feel my dad’s last miracle beating strongly inside him. Nicholas’s eyes widen, and he places his other hand over his own heart and closes his eyes for several seconds. When he opens them again, they seek me out from across the room, and he smiles with tears in his eyes.

  I blow him a watery kiss and blink back the moisture when Nicholas turns toward David again.

  Connor grabs my hand, drawing my attention, and lifts it to his mouth to softly graze his lips against my wrist. “I’ve missed you so much over these last couple of days.” Connor presses my palm to his cheek. “I hope you know how sorry I am.”

  “I do, Connor. I do.” I trail my hand down his neck and then his arm to intertwine our fingers. “I’ve f
orgiven you.”

  He briefly closes his eyes and then opens them to grin down at me with so much adoration.

  “But, if you do it again,” I warn, “I’ll lop off your balls, slice them into tiny pieces, and feed them to the carp at Kensington Metropark.”

  A ghost of a smile touches his lips, making him impossibly more handsome. “Wow, that’s very”—he clears his throat—“graphic and specific.”

  I arch a brow. “It’ll serve you well to remember that.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “I love you.”

  Bam.

  He just throws those treasured three words out there like we’ve said them a million times to each other.

  His jade eyes search mine, sinking deeper and deeper into my soul to burrow in and build a home. Emotion clogs my throat, making it almost unbearable to breathe.

  So many feelings rush to the surface.

  Time has a funny relationship with the heart. On paper, it looks like I barely know this man. Physically, Connor and I have been in each other’s lives for only four weeks. That’s nothing in the regular sense of time. But, in love and in my heart, I feel like Connor’s presence has been with me since my beginning. And maybe he has, somewhere tucked within my soul, only waiting to make himself known when I needed him the most.

  In the last two years, I lost everything that was important to me, and when he entered my life, most of it slowly came back or reawakened. Connor knows me well enough to know what I’m feeling, thinking, and needing almost before I do. From this day forward, I plan to cherish him the way he deserves.

  “I love you, too,” I say with so much reverence that there is no doubt I mean every word.

  Connor’s mouth stretches into the biggest smile, dimples winking at me and all.

  “Happy birthday,” he says worshipfully. He kisses my nose before he turns his head, taking in the scene before us—family, friends, laughter, wholeness—and then looks back at me. “It’s totally your favorite holiday again, isn’t it?” Connor’s eyes search mine.

  I shift my attention to Nicholas laughing with David. They high-five each other, and then David pulls Nicholas into a hug. Cami’s swinging Connor’s niece around while snow falls outside. Lights twinkle, the fire warms my back, and love burns in my heart for the man sitting before me.

  In this moment, among family and friends, I feel my parents smiling down on me from north of where the light enters, from above the moon and the stars. Nicholas and I have a long road of healing in front of us, but I hope we are making my parents happy and proud of our life choices.

  I look at Connor, the man who has changed me for the better, who has brought me back to life and rekindled my love for Christmas and everything that comes along with it—love, joy, togetherness, family, magic, and hope.

  “It totally is, Butterball.” I smile and capture him in a hungry kiss that I feel all the way down to my toes.

  Connor is slowly rewriting me, and I never want to feel anything but this completeness. I’ll never want anyone but him.

  Epilogue

  Christmas Eve

  Two Years Later

  “You ready for this?” David looks down at me in concern.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I fix the long, full skirt of my Victorian wedding dress with a modern twist. I adjust my veil, pick up my rose-and-holly bouquet—my mom’s favorite—and take a deep, steadying breath.

  When I’m finished fidgeting, I look up at David with adoration shining in my eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He lifts my hand and places it on his chest over his heart. “We wouldn’t be anywhere else. If your dad can’t walk you down the aisle, at least his heart can.”

  Before I can say anything, the music starts, and the terrace doors are pulled open.

  Last year, on Christmas Eve, Connor proposed to me in a flourish of family, friends, candles, twinkling lights, and Christmas trees. It was unexpected, romantic, and heartfelt—just like my fiancé.

  I screamed, “Yes,” and jumped on him—knocking us both to the floor—before he could even get the words out to ask me to be his wife.

  The proposal was perfectly us.

  I glance down at the intricate ring Connor gave me, and it still takes my breath away at how perfectly he chose a piece of jewelry for me. It’s a wide silver band outlined in diamonds with cutouts arranged in symmetrical yet artful circles with more diamonds. It’s flawless.

  I wanted a destination wedding, but Connor insisted we get married on Christmas Eve, surrounded by the ones we loved. And, when I thought about it, I knew he was right—as usual.

  Since it’s a major holiday and not many venues were available, we had to improvise. But, as I take in the scene before me, I know it couldn’t be any more ideal.

  We’re holding the ceremony and reception at Laura and David’s house, which is more aptly described as a mansion, but every time I say that word in front of them, their shoulders tense.

  Their outdoor terrace is a paragon of a backdrop for what I envisioned as an intimate Christmas Eve ceremony. It’s enclosed for the wedding with elegant space heaters strategically hidden to keep the temperature bearable in Michigan’s winter wonderland weather. A red runner stretches down toward my destination with soft spotlights shining up at large artificial birch trees decorated in dainty silver bulbs. White twinkle lights are strung along the ceiling to look like a clear night sky decorated in stars.

  The setting is beautiful, classy, and dreamy—just like my fiancé standing at the end of the aisle. There’s an enormous smile gracing Connor’s face with my favorite dimples winking at me and love and adoration written in his eyes.

  When our gazes meet, everything in me settles, and I’m no longer nervous. I’m only anxious to start our life together as one.

  I never thought I was the type of girl who needed rescuing—because I’m a badass, independent woman—but Connor was my savior who bulldozed into my life, wearing a stuffed turkey hat and a smirk.

  As David and I make our way down the aisle with his hand holding my palm pressed to his steady heartbeat—the most treasured and sacred physical part of my daddy—I smile at the guests as we move past them. One person in particular makes my steps falter, and I blink to make sure I’m seeing whom I think I’m seeing.

  In the back, off to the side, sits Evelyn—my long-lost older sister. As hard as Nicholas and I have tried to make amends and include her in our lives over the years, she still refuses to communicate with us. So, I’m beyond surprised and elated at her presence. I smile in her direction, and she gives me a head bob before she diverts her attention.

  We obviously still have a long road ahead of us, but at least Evelyn’s here—and on her birthday.

  My gaze focuses toward the front again, and I see Cami standing at the end of the aisle in her crimson full-tulle midi skirt and silver top—because she is a ginger and didn’t want to wear all red. She’s beautiful, fighting back tears as she watches me make my way toward Connor. I tip my head, and she rolls her eyes and then winks.

  I love you in case I die, she mouths.

  Ditto, I mouth back.

  Trey and Nicholas stand at Connor’s side, two towers of handsome in their dark tuxedos, but they don’t compare to my husband-to-be.

  My eyes slide over to solely fixate on the love of my life, who seems to be holding himself back from running toward me. Connor’s in a sexy, dark tuxedo that was custom-made for his tall, muscular figure. His thick, dark locks are styled instead of in his normal, messy I just rolled out of bed sex hair. He’s a sight to behold, and I’m in awe that he’s going to be mine forever.

  When David and I reach our destination, Connor steps in front of us to take my hand. I glance up at David, this wonderful man, a man who reminds me so much of my father—and not only because he has his heart, but also because he’s giving, loving, open, and one heck of a warrior.

  David reaches for Connor’s hand and places
it next to mine over his heart, and then he covers our hands with his palm. The miracle organ is thumping a wild crescendo under my fingertips.

  “Do you feel that?” he asks me and Connor, but David’s eyes are focused on me. “Your dad’s heart is pounding out of happiness for you, Noel. He’s here with you, inside of me, and I know he’s so very proud of you.”

  Tears are now dripping down my face.

  “We both love you very much, sweetheart.” He leans down and places a soft kiss on my moistened cheek. “Now, go claim this elf as yours”—he nudges his head toward Connor—“and put the kid out of his misery.” He winks at me and his son and then says, “Love and laugh every day.” Then, he makes his way to Laura, who is sitting in the front row, also crying.

  Connor cups my cheeks and rubs my tears away with his thumbs. “Hi,” he whispers.

  “Hi,” I answer back.

  “You look stunning.” His gaze flicks over my dress and then back up to my eyes.

  “You look sexy as hell,” I say and lick my lips because, damn, I’m a lucky girl.

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “You ready to get hitched?”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  Connor smirks and takes my hand in his, and we turn and vow to love and cherish each other until the day we die—maybe even beyond.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the minister announces. “Connor, you may kiss your bride.”

  With a beaming smile, Connor reaches out and smooths a stray strand of hair off my face, his fingers trailing over my cheekbone and down to my lips, my skin coming alive and dancing under his touch. This man and the beautiful life we’ll lead as one will always be everything to me.

  Connor’s eyes rake over my face, almost in disbelief, and then his lips touch mine. Our overwhelming emotions explode into a hurricane of love, worship, and devotion. Because, now that Connor’s a permanent fixture in my life, I will never be alone again.

  “Merry Christmas, Journal Girl,” he murmurs against my lips while our family and friends clap behind us, and snow lightly coats the earth in peace.