Christmas in Cactus Flats and Other Holiday Romances

by Laura Briggs

  “It kind of hit home, seeing it in writing,” she said. “That's what hurt. Those were feelings I thought were hidden pretty deep after my marriage broke up. But I guess Micah picked up on them anyway.”

  This confession left him feeling emboldened. Enough that he asked her, “So that wasn’t just Micah’s wishful thinking? You would be open to…well, a relationship. If the right person came along, I mean.”

  “That’s the hard part— finding the ‘right person’. There aren’t a lot of guys out there looking for an instant family. Most of them lose interest the moment Micah enters the picture. Or else, they make excuses not to spend time with him until I get the message.”

  He scowled. “Sounds like a bunch of jerks.”

  “Some of them were,” she answered. “Others just couldn’t see themselves handling the responsibility. My husband—ex-husband—couldn’t see it, either.”

  “Micah said he died,” Gavin remembered, thinking of the boy’s letter. “Something about a job accident. From what he wrote, I got the idea that Micah never knew his dad all that well.”

  “He didn’t,” she said. “Nathan left us before Micah had even started kindergarten. I wanted to work things out, but he had different ideas.” She looked weary at the memory. “It was always like that with Nathan. He made plans to suit himself, and if no one else fit with them, too bad.”

  “I know the type.” Gavin found it difficult keeping the hurt from his voice as he said this. He’d forgiven his dad for leaving all those years ago, but forgetting had been a lot harder. Even twenty years later, the pain could resurface in an instant.

  “Well,” said Piper, as if stirring herself from the past, “that was it. He phoned a couple times after the divorce, but he hadn’t seen his son for almost half a year when the accident happened.”

  Gavin’s jaw tightened. He looked away, over the beach to where Micah was plastering sand onto the fort’s wall. Carefree in this moment, a smile on his face as he helped the other children build a make-believe world that turned sand into snow.

  Next to him, Piper let out a sigh. “After the divorce, I took it slow. There were a handful of dates with decent guys, a few with not-so-decent ones. Then, eventually, I gave up looking for something that doesn’t exist and decided to concentrate on Micah instead.”

  “You made the right decision, then,” he assured her. "Dating jerks just wastes your time and gets you hurt." Except, he wanted to say that it didn’t have to be like this forever. There were still guys out there willing to take the place of a husband and father, to share the challenges she faced on a daily basis.

  Was that a helpful answer, though? Or even a realistic one? It wasn’t, he knew. He could never promise her something like that, unless he was talking about himself. A wild, completely impossible thought after knowing her for less than two days. Yet, he found himself wishing their connection could last longer than a brief time, somehow. That it could grow into something beyond this mere glimpse of potential it seemed destined to be.

  That would explain why his heart could speed up like this, but he didn't feel panic or fear. It was like the excitement before everything in life shifts and becomes the moment you've been waiting for. But what kind of moment is it? he wondered. Am I crazy right now, thinking of asking her out?

  “Mom, Mom! Guest what!” Micah bounded towards them, his hands caked with white sand. Grains of it were caught in his hair, as well, his mom reaching to brush them out of it as he continued to prompt her, “Guess, guess.”

  “What?” she asked, sounding perplexed.

  He looked from his mom to Gavin, a bright smile on his face, as he told them, “I made friends.”

  Piper’s face showed surprise, then something that was almost tender. Her eyes blinked back something more than the sun's glare, Gavin suspected. “That’s great, sweetie," she answered. "Who are they?”

  “Kevin and Casey,” he said, naming Bitty’s nephew and niece. “And Joey too. He’s their cousin.” Rushing on, he added, “They want us to meet them downtown tomorrow. To see the shops and all the cool stuff at the North Pole. Can we? Please, can we?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Piper still looked floored as she met Gavin’s eye .

  Micah was looking at him too. Some of his reserve had returned as he asked Gavin, “Will you come too? You’re my friend. I mean…if you want to be friends, then I’d like that.” He was looking at his feet now, waiting for the answer.

  Crouching in front of him, Gavin offered him a grin, saying, “I thought we were friends already. But what do you say we shake on it?” he asked, extending a hand.

  The boy’s smaller one gripped it, a grin lighting his own features as they sealed the deal. As for Piper—her smile of utter happiness was all Gavin needed to tell him it had been the perfect answer.

  *****

  The North Pole’s downtown was teeming with visitors the next morning. Among them were Piper and Micah, their hands clasped as they navigated the crowd in search of familiar faces.

  “Did your friends say where to meet them?” Piper wondered, shielding her eyes against the morning sun. Its golden glow had cast a sheen on the metal business signs, making it difficult to read the names printed across them.

  “By the Christmas tree,” said Micah. “Over there.”

  He pointed to the middle of the square, where a big, Douglas fir tree was strung with lights and decorations. A hand-painted sign declared the official tree lighting ceremony to be tomorrow night at eight-thirty.

  Standing near it were the kids who befriended Micah at the beach. They had spotted him now, waving enthusiastically, as one of them jumped up and down to get his attention. Bitty’s niece, Casey, whose blond curls were pulled into a ponytail.

  “You made it!” cried the girl’s brother, Kevin. Their cousin Joey was there too, greeting Micah with a friendly grin.

  “There’s all kinds of stuff to see,” Bitty’s niece said, grabbing his arm in excitement. “The toy shop and Molly’s Candies—she gives a free piece to every customer! And then there’s the ornament store—”

  She was tugging his arm, but Micah hung back, saying, “We have to wait for Gavin. Right, Mom?”

  “You’re right,” she said. “Where is he, anyway?”

  She was scanning the square for a glimpse of him, when a motorcycle’s engine droned nearby. The driver parked it along the square and disembarked, pulling off a helmet to reveal bronze-colored hair and green eyes. Along with the grin she’d come to recognize—and feel her own appear in response to it, automatically.

  “Wow,” said Micah, staring at the bike with wide-eyed admiration. The other boys were impressed too, though they’d probably seen it before. Piper’s knowledge of motorcycles was scant, but she could tell it must be a vintage model, or at least a high quality reproduction.

  “Is it yours?” Micah demanded as Gavin reached them, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. “Like yours to keep?” he added, evidently unable to believe such a thing was possible.

  “It is,” Gavin said. “I bought it when I graduated high school. Fixed it up myself, though it took a few years to locate all the right parts. But it was worth the wait.”

  Micah looked as if he agreed, craning his neck around the crowd for another glimpse of it. Awed, he wondered, “Could I ride on it? Just once?”

  Before Piper could veto this, Gavin told him, “Not a chance. Unless your mom approves it—which she never will,” he added, with a grin for this almost-true prediction.

  Piper was on the verge of laughing when she noticed her son’s crestfallen expression. “Cheer up,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Another ten years, and I’ll let you practice driving the car.”

  He looked doubtful, but the other kids were dragging him off to new distractions already. Within seconds, Molly’s Yesteryear Candies had replaced the lure of the motorcycle. A quaint little shop, with rounded doors and windows and row after row of glass cases displaying handmade candies.

  There we
re truffles made from dark and white chocolate and dusted with powdered sugar. Peppermint bark, Kentucky bourbon balls, and peanut clusters mounded atop trays. Taffy in green and red wrappers and ribbon candies that were striped with festive colors.

  “Try a peppermint taffy, dears,” instructed the clerk in old-fashioned gown and cap, handing a paper-wrapped candy to each new customer. Piper’s tasted of mint and chocolate, her mind leaping to the specialty eggnog she made for her and Micah, since her son didn’t like vanilla.

  “Yours is sticky,” Bitty’s niece was telling Micah. “So is mine. Look, it’s stuck to my teeth!”

  They were giggling, Piper shaking her head at them. Gavin was talking to an older woman who wore the same kind of gown and cap as the clerk behind the register. She counted some chocolates into a box, sliding it in a gift bag, as Gavin handed her a bill from his wallet.

  “An early Christmas present,” he told Piper, holding out the bag that was stamped with a snowflake pattern. “Molly’s finest assorted chocolates, handpicked by the baker herself.”

  “I—-you didn’t have to,” she stumbled, flustered by the gesture.

  “Yeah, I did. Besides, Molly would never forgive me if I let you leave the Pole without tasting her best work.”

  “She’s a good friend of yours, I take it,” Piper said, letting him loop the sack around her arm without further protest. Something told her it would do no good to object at this point.

  “My mom used to work here,” he answered. “Her favorite of all the jobs she held down. Molly sent home free candy for me and Jo all the time. Jo called her ‘Aunt Molly’ but I was too cool for that.” His grin took on a sheepish edge with the confession. “She’s the closest thing I’ve got to family next to Jo’s.”

  He never mentioned his father, Piper realized. No doubt for a reason, but she couldn’t help wondering if it resembled Micah’s circumstances at all. And if it was too painful for him to touch on for the sake of a brief encounter like the one they were sharing.

  Hoisting the sack of candy, she said, “Well, I’m sure Micah will appreciate these. He loves chocolate and we almost never have it, except for special occasions.” She could see him across the shop, twirling a rack of hard candy as his newfound friends pointed out their favorite flavors.

  From the candy shop, it was Old Time Ornaments, where the aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg greeted them inside the maze of artificial trees. Amazed, Piper wondered, “They run a Christmas store year round?”

  “For as long as I can remember,” Gavin answered. “It’s the kind of thing tourists expect from a town named for Saint Nick’s headquarters.”

  “I think it’s fun,” she replied. Even a little magical, she thought, admiring the ornaments tucked inside the branches. There were hand-carved ones, along with paper mache and delicate mercury glass. Some were coated with glitter, others were frosted or antiqued-looking. There were too many to notice at once, Piper’s eye drawn from one to the next with a sense of wonder.

  “Mom, look—isn’t it neat?”

  Micah and his companions had made it to the center of the shop, where a toy train followed its route through a miniature Christmas village. He was fascinated, leaning as close as he could to study the buildings and the figures that were posed throughout. Tiny plastic skiers and skaters; a group of carolers placed in front of the lighted chapel, while the sign blinked on an old-fashioned movie theater across the street.

  “I wish it were real,” Bitty’s niece lamented. “Then, we could go skating. Or build snowmen.”

  Piper wondered if the girl had ever seen snow in person. After Gavin’s story yesterday, she could see why some people might find the town less than ideal. Yet, this place was festive to Piper, despite the absence of a cold and snowy climate outside.

  Seeing Micah happy was part of that. She knew this watching his excitement grow as he showed Gavin something about the village scene. Gavin, who listened attentively, one hand resting in a protective way on the boy’s shoulder as he bent to say something in response.

  Warmth stirred in Piper’s heart, a sudden tug of longing. She quickly turned away, pretending to study a tree of all beach-themed ornaments. Get a hold of yourself, scolded her better judgment. She had known Gavin, what—two days? He was just being nice to them because of what happened with Micah’s letter. Nothing more, nothing less.

  It was important that Micah not recognize her feelings. As it was, he might be getting too attached to someone they were likely never to see again after this week. Something Piper acknowledged with a pang of regret.

  Gavin had been more than helpful in his quest to save their vacation after Micah learned the truth about his letter. And he had truly been kind in his response to Micah’s letter, too, though she’d been reluctant to admit it at first. She only wished it might be true, the things he’d written about someone being there to mend her heart. Someone like him, maybe?

  A thought that made her blush, the evidence still on her face when Gavin approached her, saying, “Micah’s new favorite thing is trains, just to warn you. He asked all kinds of stuff about engineers and how to be one. So get ready to learn some railroad facts.”

  She laughed, glad he hadn’t noticed her discomfort. It wasn’t just Micah she needed to conceal these feelings from, after all. Even if Gavin felt the same spark of interest for her, it would never come to anything. It just couldn’t.

  “Anyway,” Gavin went on, “he’s forgotten about motorcycles for now. Trains seem more impressive, I guess.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up,” she said. “I can guess what his next drawing will be of, then.”

  “Same here.”

  Their eyes met, Piper searching the pools of clear green. Did she mistake the kindness in them for something more? It could be her own feelings she read in them, a matter of seeing what she wanted to see. Although it was hardly the kind of romance she would have planned for—a man whose life was hundreds of miles from her and Micah’s back in Delaware.

  Reality intruded on these thoughts, as Micah tugged her hand. “Casey said there’s a reindeer—a real one—right here in the square! She said it’s name is Yukon.”

  Reindeer? This seemed a little much, even for a place called the North Pole.

  But Gavin’s wry grin confirmed it was true. “It’s on loan from the city zoo,” he explained. “Tourists have their picture made with it.”

  “Of course they do,” she said, feeling as if they shared a joke. But she didn’t really mind the town’s obsession with all things Christmas. It carried a sense of hope and excitement that Piper found hard to resist the longer she stayed around it.

  Which wasn’t the problem, really. It was knowing that Gavin Wincott had the same effect on her that left Piper feeling unsettled as they moved slowly back into the crowded square.

  *****

  Gavin was usually immune to the North Pole’s charms, especially at Christmastime. There was no magic for him in the yuletide decorations that covered every inch of its town square. The miles and miles of outdoor lights, shiny tinsel, and green garland strung from every lamppost and awning in sight.

  Today was different, though. He wasn’t annoyed by the overkill of the seasonal image; he could even joke about it, in a good-natured way. As if seeing Piper and her son’s appreciation for the town had somehow unearthed a little of Gavin’s boyhood fondness for it.

  “Smile folks,” their photographer instructed, once they had gathered around the docile-looking reindeer. Gavin felt it nuzzle against his sleeve—right before it gave the fabric a sharp tug between its teeth. Perfect timing for the photo, as the kids burst into laughter. Gavin laughed too, pulling back his mangled sleeve, as he cautioned, “Whoa, fella—that’s not lunch.”

  Inspecting the torn flannel a few minutes later, he asked Piper, “Think Santa will bring me a new jacket? You know, considering a reindeer was responsible for the damage.”

  “You could write to him,” came her equally-joking response. “As one of the peopl
e that handles his mail, that should be a cinch.”

  They were back on the sidewalk, a breeze cooler than yesterday’s sweeping past them. Maybe there was something to the weather reports after all, Gavin thought. As he glimpsed a shopkeeper frosting their glass entry doors with a can of fake snow.

  The children raced ahead of them, peering at the window displays. Gavin had done the same at their age, on the hunt for the perfect gift for his parents or sister. Though he couldn’t remember what most of those items had turned out to be, or where they ended up after the wrapping paper came off.

  Some of them would have gotten broken and gone to the trash in a few months' time. The rest were probably boxed in the attic, except for Jo’s, maybe. She kept everything she ever had, even a jar of sand from the local beach to take with her overseas.

  “Was it something I said?” Piper nudged his arm, her expression half-serious beneath its humor.

  Great. He was letting the past suck him in without realizing it. Rather than make something up, he admitted, “I was trying to remember what kind of gifts I bought for people at Micah’s age. Probably dime a dozen type stuff, since my allowance was pretty limited.”

  “For my mom, it was always baking stuff,” Piper remembered. “My dad loved gardening, so I went to the plant nursery for his gifts.” After a moment, she added, “Micah usually makes the stuff he gives me. Picture frames, paper weights, key chains—stuff he learns in art class.”

  “Nice.” He thought of a wooden polar bear he carved for a Father’s Day gift one year. Had it been packed with the man’s other belongings the day he left? Gavin wondered this suddenly, a possible explanation for why he never saw it again after that. That could mean—

  No. He needed to focus on the here and now, before Piper got the idea he wanted to be somewhere else. Because for once it wasn’t true, despite the same surroundings that often made him long for an open road and the maps he kept inside his desk at work.