by Laura Briggs
“What about Micah’s gift?” he asked, spotting the boy in front of The Littlest Toy Shop. “He must want something for Christmas besides what he mentioned in the letter to Santa.”
“Something that might actually come true? I don’t know,” Piper admitted. “But I think a toy train might go over pretty well, don’t you?”
“No argument here,” Gavin said. Though he would have preferred she didn’t sound quite so skeptical about the possibility of her son’s wish coming true.
Wouldn’t you be? It was common sense telling him that, along with former experience. Neither of which kept him from thinking it might be different in this case, given time and opportunity. But those were two things he didn’t have a lot of with someone who was visiting his hometown for their holiday break.
At noon, he saw them back to the resort, leaving his bike parked downtown. It wasn’t a long walk and, besides, he didn’t want their excursion to end any sooner than necessary.
“Will you stay for lunch?” Piper asked him, their steps slowing as they crossed the sand. The children had moved further down the beach, where the sculptures still stood from the sand castle festival. “I’m sure Bitty would welcome the extra guest,” she added, looking as if she would enjoy the company too. Or was that only wishful thinking on his part?
“Sorry,” Gavin said, reluctant to refuse, “but I promised to be somewhere already. A sort of job.”
She looked confused and (unless he imagined it) a little disappointed. “I thought you were off from the post office this week,” she said. “Or for another day or two, at least.”
“This is something else,” he answered. “A part-time gig repairing a friend’s bike. Since I remodeled my own, he thought I could help him out.”
It seemed as if she wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how he’d take it. Then, gathering a breath, she asked him, “Is that what you really wanted to do? Work on bikes and other engines, instead of sorting mail?”
How did she guess? No use denying it, so he said, “It was. If I had the chance, I would’ve taken mechanic classes.”
“Why didn’t you?” She shielded her eyes from the sun, perhaps to read his expression better. Gavin knew it would be a telling one, since they were skating close to unpleasant territory with this conversation.
“A lot of reasons. First because of my mom’s illness. She got sick when I was finishing high school, so I had to find steady work right away to cover the hospital bills. Then, later on, Jo needed help paying for college.”
She considered this with a thoughtful expression. “What about now?”
“Now?” he asked. “Now I’m…well, older. With a schedule that doesn’t leave a lot of time for taking mechanic courses on the side. And I can't quit a good job to chase a dream.”
She didn’t look convinced by his answer. Probably, she felt he was bitter about it, or just resigned to working a job he didn’t want. With a shrug, he told her, “It happens. You know what I mean—life let’s you down sometimes. So you deal with it. Be responsible about it.”
“I do know what you mean,” she said. “But it feels like there’s more than you’re telling me.”
Gavin looked away, towards the kids now playing around the pretend snow fort. There weren’t as many visitors at the beach today, the drop in temperatures enough to discourage all but the heartiest of swimmers.
“What I said before,” he began. “About why I answered Micah’s letter. The truth is, my parents split up when I was ten, and after that, my father wasn’t really in the picture. I didn’t hear from him ever again.”
He could feel her watching him, her figure perfectly still from the corner of his eye.
“It’s funny,” said Gavin, his voice telling her that it wasn’t really. “When he left, I remember he said he’d drop me a post card when he got somewhere. Just a note to say where he ended up, what he was planning, that kind of thing.”
How long he’d clung to that promise afterward. He and Jo, their mom too, though she’d never mentioned it to his memory.
“You know, sometimes I think I’m still waiting for that postcard to show up. Like it’ll be there when I’m sorting the mail at work one day.”
Piper’s fingers touched his arm. Tentative, soft, in a motion of understanding. Gavin kept his gaze fixed ahead, where Micah was ducking a handful of sand one of his companions had tossed.
“It’s tough for a boy that age not having his dad around,” he continued. “Watching your mom pick up the pieces as best she can. That’s why I answered Micah’s letter. I’ve been there, so I figured maybe I knew a little about what he’s going through.”
“Thank you.” She spoke in a quiet way, her hand still resting against his arm. No other words seemed to be needed, her meaning clear to both of them.
In the distance, shouts and laughter echoed from the small crowd of beach goers, including Micah and his friends. Bitty had joined them, ushering the children towards the patio dining area. She raised a hand, waving to Gavin and Piper across the shore.
“I should get going,” said Gavin, wishing it wasn’t true. And that he didn’t return to work at the post office the next day, while Piper and Micah continued their vacation plans.
Piper might have been thinking the same thing, asking him, “Will we see you again? At the tree lighting ceremony tomorrow night, maybe? Micah says we can’t miss it. Since it’s our last night in town, I have to agree.”
Their last night. He knew that was coming, of course, but he hadn’t expected his disappointment to sting this much. It took him a few moments to form a reply, though he knew already what it would be.
“I wouldn’t miss it either,” he said, making his tone lighthearted. “So I’ll see you both there.” He moved away from her, glancing back to see her watching him as the wind ruffled her hair.
*****
“Bundle up folks! Temperatures will plunge to the low thirties by nightfall, with a chance for precipitation that could lead to some minor travel issues—”
Piper snapped off the bedside radio, cutting off the weather forecaster mid-report. “Looks like we’ll need these after all,” she called, unpacking their winter coats from home. A black wool for herself, and Micah’s brown corduroy. There had been a chill in the air since they woke that morning, driving their fellow resort guests inside from the patio and beach areas.
It seemed to Piper there was something else in the air. Anticipation for the possibility of snow, however slim a chance the weatherman gave for tonight’s wintry mix breaking the town’s long held record. All Piper could think of was Gavin’s family driving eighty miles or more to have a white Christmas.
Gavin. He kept popping into her thoughts, along with snippets of their last few conversations. Topics so personal, she had seldom discussed them with anyone but her closest friends and the family she no longer had.
How long since she shared that kind of connection with a man? Not for awhile, maybe not since Nathan, if she was being honest. She had been too stressed and overworked to think of romantic relationships, even when the opportunity presented itself in the form of a dinner invitation from the occasional admirer.
None of those men—even the nice ones— had understood about Micah, though. Whereas Gavin understood perfectly, with years of caring for his mother and sister to the point of sacrificing his personal dreams. That must be why she felt this spark with him, the pull of attraction she couldn’t deny, however implausible it might seem after knowing him so little time. The same reason goosebumps raised on her skin at the thought of seeing him in the town square later that evening, where he promised to join them for the tree lighting ceremony.
It couldn’t be real, this feeling. Nothing more than a crush, the result of being lonely and misunderstood for too long. That was all Piper could let it be, since disappointment was bound to follow. For Micah too, since it was a wish for his mom’s happy ending that brought them here in the first place.
Micah’s wish. He hadn’t mentio
ned it even once since they learned that Gavin had answered the letter to Santa. This puzzled her, but maybe the distraction of new people and places had kept him from realizing its full meaning yet. Would he be upset about it when they returned home, back to the same lives they had before all this happened?
Don’t think about that right now, she told herself, buttoning her coat as the radio clock’s digital numbers flipped to seven forty-five. Focus on making the most of your Christmas vacation. And on seeing Gavin Wincott for what he is: a kind and helpful stranger that you’ll never meet with again after tonight.
A completely sound resolution. One that threatened to melt like the town’s nonexistent snow when she saw him waiting for them in the crowd that night. Dark trousers in place of his beat-up jeans from earlier, a crimson tie and white button-down shirt visible beneath the lapels of his winter coat as he moved to join them near the center of the square.
It was the first time she had seen him in anything besides casual clothes, a look that was surprisingly dapper in spite of his rugged features. As they squeezed beside him in the sea of spectators, Piper told him, “I didn’t realize this was a formal event, or we would have dressed up, too.”
“It’s not mandatory,” he assured her. “Maybe I’m just trying to make a good impression. Since my other coat was mauled by a reindeer this afternoon.”
She laughed at the memory of Yukon’s afternoon snack. Micah was busy scanning the crowd, his face lighting up when he spotted Bitty and her nephew and niece. They waved and grinned back, rushing towards him, their aunt just a few steps behind.
“Can you believe that chill in the air?” Bitty pretended to shiver, rubbing her arms in a dramatic manner that made the kids giggle. “Almost feels like Christmas, doesn’t it?”
“Do you think it’ll snow?” This from Casey, her long locks hidden beneath a knit wool cap made to resemble a sock monkey’s face. Beside her, Piper’s son wore an eager expression at the thought.
“Who can say?” Bitty answered. “All I know for sure is, it’s cold enough for drinking hot cocoa. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a vendor’s stand for it right over there,” she said, pointing towards the other side of the square. “Who wants to help me carry back all those steaming cups?”
“Can I go with them, Mom?” Micah asked, tugging his mother’s coat. She couldn’t get over the way his shyness was disappearing, lost in excitement for newfound friends and experiences. With a smile, she gave him permission, receiving Bitty’s promise in turn to keep an eye on all her little helpers as they struck off towards the vendor’s stand.
This left Piper more or less alone with Gavin. Despite the crowd around them, she felt keenly aware of his presence. Her gaze drifted back to him every few seconds, despite her resolve to focus on their surroundings instead.
“Well,” she said. An awkward laugh escaped as she tried to fill the silence between them. “This has been quite a vacation. I need to thank you, before I run out of time. For making this such a good Christmas for Micah.” She paused before adding, “You know, it’s probably the best Christmas he’s ever had. ”
“Me too,” said Gavin. “The best in a long time, at any rate.” His gaze met hers, searching its expression. “What about you? Did you…did it mean something to you?”
“It did,” she said. “It meant seeing my son happy for Christmas. Seeing him surrounded by caring people, so it isn't always the two of us alone in his world. And”—she hesitated a second before adding—“it meant being happy myself, for the first time in years.” Since Nathan left, she thought to herself. Or before then, even, since they lost touch long before he filed for divorce. "Christmas can be tough when you're the only one holding things together. You know how it is." She glanced at him.
Those years had been the hardest of her life, with both her parents gone, and Micah still a toddler. She had come through them a stronger person, but scarred. Much like Gavin, she suspected.
“I shouldn’t say this,” Gavin begin, making her heart skip a beat. “But I wish you and Micah didn’t have to leave.”
This was a risky subject, her face growing warm despite the cold temperatures. When she spoke, she could see her breath forming clouds in the air.
“There’s no choice, really. Vacations come to an end."
"I meant more than a vacation." Gavin let those words settle before he spoke again. "I was thinking of what it would be like if you built a life in this place. Started over here, I mean."
A mixture of emotion flooded Piper's heart. "I have to think of Micah," she answered. "And our life is back in Delaware — it's not something we can just drop. It's where I work, where we live —”
“I know.” He smiled, but it had a sad edge. “You don’t have to say anything else. I just wish there could be more time. Because I feel like we might be something more if—well, if we had the chance.”
He met her eye for this bold admission. She could read the honesty in his gaze. He had felt the same spark she had these past few days. The same sense of connection between them.
She caught her breath, a chill wind sweeping over them. “I felt that way too,” she said.
Don’t do this, Piper. Her heart beat grew louder, shutting out the noise from the crowd. Shutting out everything but Gavin, his face tilting to meet hers in a slow kiss.
Her hand touched his face, not pushing it away, but stroking it gently. She felt lost in his arms, warm and safe. Wishing it wouldn’t end, so they wouldn’t have to face the consequences of what came after. Until a voice broke through the moment, saying, “I knew it!”
Micah stood there, a huge grin on his face. “I knew this would happen! My wish came true, just like I asked! You said it couldn’t, but I knew it would all the time.”
Horror filled Piper, words tumbling out of her. “Micah, no. That isn’t what’s happening. We just…Mr. Wincott and I…”
“Micah, you have the wrong idea.” Gavin looked guilty as he said this, for the kiss or the words, she wasn’t sure. “That wasn’t because of your wish. It was”—he looked at Piper, before finishing— “it was my fault. Letting my feelings run away with me. I shouldn't have kissed your mom.”
“But you like each other,” Micah persisted. Looking from Gavin to his mom, pleading in his glance that made her heart ache. "Don't you? That's why people kiss each other."
She shook her head. "It's not always that simple, Micah," she answered. "Sometimes it's just a kiss." She felt embarrassed, humiliated for her mistake at this moment, as if her son had caught her stealing. She tried to hide the blush on her cheeks, and sound calm as she searched for an explanation — one that didn't include the painful truth about grownups' feelings versus their responsibilities, for instance.
Her son looked crestfallen, shoulders slumping. “Then we’ll never see each other again," he said. His voice choked slightly. "If you don't really like him, that’s what happens.”
“You’ll see me again,” Gavin told him. His smile faltered, though. “We’ll all stay friends. Somehow or other.” He laid his hand on Micah's shoulder. "And you can write me, can't you?"
The boy nodded, slowly. He looked as if he was going to say something else, but Casey yelled from across the crowd. "Micah! Micah! Come see Santa's candy cane sleigh!" She waved to him frantically, then pointed towards an elaborate ornament in the candy shop's window.
"Go on," said Piper, nodding. She tried to smile, a normal one. Reluctantly, Micah took off in their direction. As soon as he was out of earshot, Piper turned to Gavin.
“Don’t say that.” Piper’s tone was sharp, drawing stares from a few of the crowd goers. “Don’t promise him something you don’t mean. It’s not possible, and we both know it.”
Gavin stared at her. “No, we don’t,” he replied. “There could be a chance. If we want there to be. You can't tell him you'll never come back here, because nobody knows the choices they'll make in the future, Piper.”
"I know mine," she answered, sadly. "It's about making
choices for my son. Not ones that —" she hesitated, "—that are meant to make me happy. I do what's best for him, and that means a steady job, and a decent school, and a roof over his head. And none of those things may be waiting for me in a place like this."
"Piper," he began, softly. "Don't give up on your chances. It doesn't have to be those things alone that make Micah happy. He wants you to be happy, too. Remember?"
Micah was running back to Piper now. "Mom, you should see the white chocolate snowmen in the window," he said, excitedly, taking her hand.
Gavin was still looking at her. "Think about what I said."
She met his gaze, half-angry, half-hopeful. Seeing the hurt emotions in his expression before she turned away, telling Micah, “I think we better go. Listen Micah—”
"No," said Micah. "No! I don't want to go." He pulled away from her hand. "You just want to leave so you don't have to see Gavin anymore, because you think he'll make you sad like all the others!"
His words were like a punch to her stomach. Piper swallowed hard in response to this truth, feeling her pulse hammering in her veins. "Micah, don't —" She reached for her son, but he darted away from her grasp, running off in the crowd. Pushing through the heavy throng just as the tree was lit at the front.
“Micah! Come back!” Her shout was lost in the applause for the tree lighting, excited bystanders blocking her son from view. She raced after him, Gavin close behind. When they reached a clearing by the gazebo, Piper turned in all directions, frantically searching for a boy in a brown corduroy coat.
"Micah!" she shouted. Several people glanced at her, one or two of them asking Gavin if something was wrong.
"There's a little boy lost in the crowd," he answered, urgently. "He's wearing a brown coat and jeans — he's small, about six years old. Have you seen him?"
"A little boy?"
"Has anybody seen a little boy run past? He got separated from his mother —" People were glancing around, the word spreading. But how one would notice a little boy who seemed alone in a crowd this size — one where several children were running freely to admire the decorations and window displays — Gavin had no idea.