Page 46 of All in for Christmas

I hurry to my SUV and see some kids near the corner engaging in a snowball fight, ducking behind a park bench in one of the smaller town squares.

“You’re going to get it now!” one boy calls, lobbing a giant snowball at another kid.

The other boy darts behind a lamppost, his arms spread wide. “Missed me! Again!”

They hurl snowballs back and forth amid happy laughter as I step aside to stay out of the way. I’m not quite quick enough, though, and a hard mound of snow whacks the bottom of my overcoat, leaving a big, white smudge. I turn around to see a younger girl with her mittens covering her mouth.

“Oh no! I’m sorry!”

“It’s all right,” I tell her gently. “No harm done.”

The kids’ parents wander over through the park. They’re an attractive couple in their thirties wearing coats, hats, and gloves. “Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah.” I laugh and dust off my coat. “Fine. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” the man and woman say before admonishing their kids to be more careful with their snowballs.

My heart thumps at the pretty picture in my mind of me and Dean playing in the snow with our kids.

That was such a special afternoon. All of them were wonderful, Dean and Eleanor and Henry. And Scout, can’t forget him.

Then I see it. A cheery snowman standing tall in the park. He has a scarf wound around him and wears a floppy black hat, and— nooo. The carrot someone used for his nose was inserted with the skinny end first. Just like… My heart thumps and I inquire of the parents, “Did y’all build the snowman?”

The dad shrugs. “No. It was already here.”

Just as he says it, the carrot sags on the snowman’s head then drops to the ground.

Gasp.

The mom laughs. “Guess some kid put that in backward.”

“Ha, yes.” I trudge through the snow and pick up the carrot. Dust it off and insert it properly in the snowman’s face. His eyes made of pebbles seem to gleam at me.

Ridiculous.

I stare up at the sky and snow dusts my hat and eyelashes.

And yet. How can this be?

This snowman looks so much like the one I built with Dean and the kids, it has to mean something.

Be some sort of sign. I press my lips together, knowing I never used to believe in those.

Only in strong coincidences. Opening yourself up to signs is akin to believing in magic.

But what could be more magical than the once-in-a-lifetime Christmas I shared with Dean?

My head whirls as I try to make sense of it while walking to my parking spot, but no part of my experience makes any rational sense at all. Most mystical happenings can’t be explained logically. Isn’t that what Charles Dickens hinted at in A Christmas Carol ?

I climb into my SUV and fasten my seatbelt, my heart beating harder. I’ve got to find a way to hold on to what is good , like Mom said. Maybe I don’t have my alternate reality anymore, but who knows what’s possible in this life down the road?

I drive to the dry cleaners mulling this over, then stand at the counter while my laundry gets retrieved.

The man working there hands me a collection of hangers cloaked in a dry cleaning bag and a heavy package of something else.

Then I remember. It’s my weekly laundry all done for me and folded.

Gone is the heaping laundry basket and the bedroom chair piled high with scattered but clean children’s clothing.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I wipe them back.

I know I’m not crying over mounds of unfolded laundry.

I’m not.

But when I reach my SUV, I fall apart and sob.

I wave to Lloyd at the guard house and pull into my condo’s parking lot.

It’s so surreal that it’s been less than a day since I saw him last night.

The holly wreath greets me on the glass door fronting the elevator and I push the button for the sixth floor, hauling in my dry cleaning and package of neatly folded clothes.

I’ve been treating myself to laundry service as a luxury here, but now I’d take unruly baskets of mismatched socks any day.

My place is eerily quiet as I carry my laundry to the bedroom, set the package on the dresser, and hang my clothes in the closet. When I return to the living room, afternoon falls across the valley outside my window and Elroy waits in his chair.

“Hi, boy.” I pat his head. His automated “ Arf! Arf! ” used to cheer me.

Now it just makes me sad. I miss Scout. I miss Eleanor.

Henry. Everyone. Dean most of all. And it wasn’t just about being with them; it was about how they made me feel.

So special and loved, like an important part of their group.

Our family. Goodness knows I fell hard for them. Like a ton of bricks.

I sink down in a swivel chair facing the view in my open overcoat.

Bring my hand to my necklace and hold the ruby heart.

I’m not sure how to approach Dean with what I want to say to him.

It was hard enough trying to tell him I’d come from a different reality when I was in the alternate one.

Attempting to share that I visited another dimension—and then returned from it—will be even harder.

There’s probably only a very slim chance he’ll believe me.

Still. I need to try.

I spin the swivel chair using my boot heels to observe the kitchen.

The advent calendar’s arranged exactly like the one we had in our cute bungalow.

Tomorrow’s poinsettia day, December twenty-first, and the day after that, there’s ice skating on December twenty-second.

Which could be a fun thing to do after our last full day of school and before my big Paws and Read launch party.

Then the Christmas candle ornament on December twenty-third.

Will I still have a romantic dinner out with Dean that night?

Mary Christmas’s suggestion rings out in my mind.

Enjoy. I did enjoy participating in those activities so much. But now—

Wait. I sit up straighter in my chair and stare at the advent calendar.

If adding items to the calendar with Dean and the kids could predict outcomes, why not here?

I did in fact see a snowman today in the park, one that looked strikingly like the one Dean and our family built in the alternate reality.

When I add the other elements to the calendar, will certain events continue coming true?

I gently drop the ruby heart pendant against my sweater and stand, walking over to the calendar, my mission becoming clear. I have to talk to Dean about what I’ve been through these past several days, even if it’s difficult, even if he might not believe me. I at least have to try.

Hold on to what is good.

There must be hope for me and Dean.

I lay my hand on the ruby heart necklace.

Otherwise, why would I still have his gift?

Later that evening, I sit on the sofa with my laptop, locating the teacher and staff directory.

It’s on a password-protected portion of the website accessible by school employees only.

Principal Peabody’s information is at the top.

I shake my head, recalling our “Boss Lady” conversation, and the lurid details she alluded to concerning her private escapades.

If she honestly owns a mug like that, I’m never going to be able to look her in the eye without wondering about her secret life again.

I’m glad I don’t have to work directly under her as her assistant anymore, and plan to pour myself into my teaching extra hard.

Though the hours can be long and the paperwork endless, I’ll remain thankful for my job every day.

And when students act up, as they’re bound to do on occasion, I’ll remind myself of drowning in a sea of color-coded sticky notes and be grateful for my classroom management skills.

It will be great to have therapy dogs in the school.

I can’t wait for my literacy program to begin in January, and the launch party on Tuesday will be so much fun.

Aha! I’ve found it! The section for Walton High School teachers.

I click the link open and scroll to the B ’s for Burton, clicking that link next.

Dean’s email is his professional account for the school, but his cell number’s listed, too. All employees list both, since the school has a phone tree for emergencies. But finding Dean’s contact information is only a start. I need to reach out next, and hope he responds.

What if he won’t go for coffee?

What if he invents an excuse?

I feel faint.

What if he ignores me completely?

No. I recall his banter at the holiday party and that interested gleam in his eyes. I couldn’t have imagined both things. Even if I possibly imagined Eleanor, and Henry…

Stop.

I pat my necklace, knowing I didn’t invent those people. Just because they’re not here now doesn’t mean that they can’t be around someday. That they very well could be a part of my future. My temples throb and I rub them.

How oh how am I going to explain everything to Dean?

Calmly and carefully so I don’t leave anything out.

Mary Christmas’s words come back to me. Everything in its place and all things in good time.

Maybe the timing wasn’t right for Dean to believe me about the dual realities when I was in the other realm.

Is it possible I can convince him to believe me here?

I lay my hand on my ruby heart necklace again.

We did form a bond in that other universe, a very deep one, and this heart pendant is an expression of that love. So maybe?

I close my eyes and hope, make a silent wish.

Draw in a breath.

Okay, here goes.

I lift my cell phone off the sofa cushion beside me with trembling fingers and type in Dean’s number, setting him up as a new contact.

We’ve been out of touch for so long, he doesn’t pop up as an already established one.

Besides, his area code is not local to Piney Mount.

Maybe it’s for Boulder, Colorado? I open my text app and my thumbs hover over the keypad, doing a miniature tap dance in midair.

I’m not sure how to start, so I decide to start simple.

PAIGE: Hey Dean, it’s me—Paige. Fun seeing you at the holiday party and about us working together. Want to grab a cup of coffee and catch up?

I have the immediate instinct to bail. But then I push myself to be brave—and hit send. I stare at the screen and the seconds tick by. Slowly. Painfully.

Maybe I’ve made a mistake.

Then, no!

A text alert sounds, and I read his message.

DEAN: Sure. Where and when?

My heart turns cartwheels and I squeeze my hands into fists.

Yes! I do a happy dance on the sofa. Yes, yes, yes.

Yes! Take a deep breath. Two breaths. Tuck back my stick-straight hair.

I’m definitely getting layers and pink highlights.

Soon. I can look fun and be a teacher! There’s no rule against that!

Er. Unless maybe there is? Okay. I swallow hard. I’ll check the employee handbook first.

PAIGE: Cuppa Joe tomorrow at two o’clock?

Dots. Dots. And more dots.

My nerves skitter with each one.

DEAN: See ya then.