Page 39 of All in for Christmas

I put my purchase for Dean in the back of my hatchback and shut the door, so grateful to have still found the telescope in the window of Second Chances and available for sale.

Cuppa Joe’s not far from here, only a few blocks away and down a side street.

Snow lightly drifts through the air and passersby wear happy faces.

If only I weren’t racked with nerves about getting to stay in this reality.

I hope I’m right in thinking that Mary Christmas has granted my wish.

I decide to try talking to Mom about my situation one more time in hopes that she can reassure me.

She’s already sitting at a table with her coffee when I arrive. I wave and order a cup of coffee for myself before joining her. She watches me dump packets of sugar in my cup. “When did you start taking your coffee like that?”

“On Saturday.” It’s so hard to believe that was less than a week ago, since my whole life has changed. I can’t imagine how different I’ll feel after an entire month’s gone by, a year .

“Well, watch the sugar,” she says. “It will make you edgy.”

I might need to be souped up for this conversation, but I decide to ease into it and not drop the whole wad on her at once. “The kids’ pageant is tonight.”

“Yes, I know.” She sits back in her chair. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, us too.” I smile at how time has flown. “Santa comes tonight.”

“And tomorrow’s Christmas,” she says with a happy sigh.

I snap the lid on my coffee cup after stirring in the cream and sugar. “So you’re bringing the salad tomorrow?”

“Yes. I was planning to go simple. Will a Greek salad be all right?”

“That sounds yummy.”

“We’ll also bring a couple of baguettes.” She drinks from her coffee. “Roger can’t wait to try your lasagna. I’ve raved and raved about it.”

Ah, so here’s my opening. I take a sip of coffee and set down my cup.

“Mom,” I say honestly. “I really like Roger.”

Her face lights up. “You do?”

“So does Dean.”

She grins happily. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear it, Paige. He makes me feel like a teenager falling in love for the first time all over again.”

I reach out and touch her arm. “It shows.”

She lifts a shoulder. “So you’re okay with things then? About my move?”

“I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“Oh, Paige.”

“But, Mom,” I say earnestly. “Please wear a life vest.”

She laughs warmly. “Of course!”

I spin my coffee cup around in my hands, gathering my nerve. “Mom?” I ask seriously. “Have you ever had a situation where you were so happy, you were afraid of it being taken away from you?”

I expect her to say no, because Mom is never afraid. She’s happy-go-lucky. A glass-half-full kind of girl. She stares out the café’s front window at the falling snow. After a beat she says solemnly, “Yes. I’ve always worried about losing you.”

My heart hammers. “Me? Mom.” I’m almost too stunned to speak. “That will never happen.”

Her eyes glimmer sadly. “There was a time when you were a teenager when I felt like you were drifting away. You didn’t understand me and maybe judged me for being different.”

“Well, I’m sorry about that now.” I take her hand on the table. “I really am.”

“You’re a very good daughter, “ she says. “You know that?”

“Thanks. You’re a great mom.”

“Paige?” She looks down at the table and then up at me.

“Is everything okay between you and Dean? Because when we went to lunch last Saturday, you said some things that concerned me. Then I saw the two of you together on Sunday, and your relationship appeared better. You two were even more together-seeming at the ice skating rink.”

“Oh Mom,” I blurt out. “I love him so much, I do.”

“Well then.” She holds open her hands on the table. “What’s the problem?”

I blink back the heat in my eyes. “The problem is I fear it won’t last.”

“Honey.” She meets my eyes. “Dean adores you and your family.”

“I’m not talking about him.” I purse my lips. “I’m talking about me.”

“Oh.” She looks startled. “I see.” She lowers her voice and asks quietly, “Have you found someone else, Paige?”

Yes, me.

The me I love better.

But I can’t tell her that.

“No. It’s just, Mom. I know you didn’t believe me about being here from another reality when we had lunch the other day—”

“Oh dear, sweetheart. Are you on that again?”

Tears brim in my eyes. “But what if it’s true? What if I wake up tomorrow, or the next day, and everything I love is gone?”

She sets her chin and says gamely, “Well then, you’ll just have to get it back, won’t you?” Understanding settles over me.

She’s right. I can’t give up. I gave up on Dean once before and that was wrong.

I’m not going to do it again.

“You hold on to what is good, Paige Burton.” She winks warmly. “Never forget that.”

I cross my fingers and lay them against my heart, not wanting to forget. Not wanting to let these things go. Knowing that Mom is right. I’ve got to hold on to the great things in my life, no matter what it takes. “Thanks, Mom.”

Dean and I hurry the kids out the door and into the drifting snow, Eleanor’s puffy coat pulled around her shoulders and over her pretty powder blue gown and shimmery angel’s wings.

Henry’s got his shepherd’s garb on, and Dean carries him along with his short shepherd’s crook through the darkened evening.

Their Gammy sewed their costumes and did a great job.

Dean opens the back door to his jeep so we can situate the kids in their car seats. “I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know. It came up so fast!” Everything has been a whirlwind since I landed here.

Has it only been five short days? I woke up in this life in total shock, but already I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.

I don’t want to be anywhere else. I hope that Mary Christmas was right and that I’ll get to stay.

It would be devastating to leave all this behind.

Dean and I buckle ourselves in and he navigates the jeep out of the drive.

As many times as he’s shoveled the driveway, the snow keeps on coming.

Although the layer on the driveway now is extremely thin.

We should be able to clear it enough tomorrow for the kids to try out their new toys, even if only briefly.

I can’t believe I’m making a lasagna. I’ve never made the dish from scratch.

Hopefully it won’t be too taxing. And it’s nice that Dean’s folks and Mom are bringing the rest of the meal.

“What time is dinner tomorrow?” I ask Dean. That will be a lot of people to pack into our cozy cottage, but I suppose we’ll manage, likely by eating buffet style. The kitchen table’s not large. We can’t all squeeze in around that.

He stops at the end of the drive before backing onto the street, checking both ways—and in his rearview camera—for traffic.

The windshield wipers sweep back and forth across the glass and the heater blasts full force.

“Don’t we usually say four?” he answers.

“That’s for folks to arrive, then we sit down at five. ”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Also sounds like plenty of time for me to get the lasagna together, after sharing a nice, relaxing Christmas morning with Dean and the kids.

I glance at our homey house before we drive away.

We’ve left the Christmas tree lights on and they cast a cheery glow against the front window.

We’ve also got the holiday icicle lights draped from the roof of the front porch and a cheery Christmas wreath on the door.

Scout puts his paws up on the windowsill by the rocker and peers out at us. “Bye, Scout!” I say.

Eleanor waves with her mittens, and Henry waves, too.

I love our little house.

I love our life .

I don’t want to lose it.

Dean and I sit by the aisle in one of the front rows at the church.

Mom and Roger are beside us, and Miriam and Jack are on the other side of them.

This old stone church is historic and smallish, so we take up nearly an entire pew, which seats eight in a crunch.

Christmas greenery lines the center aisle and LED candles glow on the windowsills below tall stained glass windows.

A manger scene’s been established in front of the altar and an older boy, probably upper elementary age, reads Scripture from Luke 2:8–14. New King James Version.

“Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.”

A group of children parade down the center aisle dressed as shepherds. An older girl helps Henry along, guiding him by the hand. My heart swells with pride and I nudge Dean. We grin at Henry, who grins, too. Mom and Gammy and Poppi wave. Roger—nods.

“And behold!” the reader says. “An angel of the Lord stood before them.” Eleanor arrives down the center aisle, positioning herself near the empty wooden cradle and facing the shepherds.

“And the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them…” Eleanor opens her arms, holding them high, and her wire wings flutter.

“‘Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy.’”

I peek at the grandparents and Roger, who watch raptly.

The reader continues, “‘There is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.’” Two kids dressed as Mary and Joseph carry a baby doll down the center aisle and place him in the wooden cradle, kneeling silently behind it with their heads bowed forward.

A tear escapes Roger’s eye, and he wipes it back.

“‘And this will be a sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger,’” the reader says.

Eleanor gestures grandly to the cradle, and her wings spring back and forth at her shoulders. “She’s a natural,” I whisper to Dean.

He takes my hand and holds it. So happy. The proud dad.

The reader completes the passage. “And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!’”

The reader closes his Bible, and the minister rises to the pulpit.

Turns up his palms when the organ plays.

We stand to sing “Angels We Have Heard on High” while children holding wicker baskets distribute narrow white candles with protective paper discs at their bases to the crowd.

After another hymn, a family lights the final candle in the advent wreath on the altar, and the minister encourages the congregation to share their light—and the good news—with the world.

The lights dim as adult congregation members walk down the center aisle holding flickering tapers and lighting the candles of those standing closest to the center aisle in the pews. Each person in turn lights the candle of the person standing next to them.

Dean lights mine and I light Mom’s. Mom lights Roger’s…

Soon, we’re singing “Silent Night” and holding our candles high.

The children’s minister bends low and instructs the kids in the pageant.

They disperse to join their families in the pews.

“Great job,” Dean tells Eleanor as she scoots in between us.

Dean moves over a bit and Henry squishes in on his other side.

“Nice going, buddy,” Dean whispers, patting his back.

Candlelight wavers among us and sweet, sonorous tones fill the air.

I stare down at the kids and then over at Mom, Roger, Miriam, and Jack. Everyone’s faces hold happy glows, and I’m filled with a sense of peace. Like I’m in the right place and at the right time. I close my eyes and say a silent prayer, wishing to stay here—always.