Page 49 of All in for Christmas

Dean and I turn toward the apparition. “Mrs. Christmas!” I gasp. “You’re here.”

“This will be the last time I visit,” she responds. “I’m needed elsewhere, and—just like you—I can’t be in two places at once. Life is funny that way. It presents choices. Different forks in the road.”

“What about my life in the other world?” I ask her. “What about our kids?” My heart breaks when I say their names. “Eleanor and Henry?”

She stares at me and Dean. “You both chose your paths, and those paths have led you to where you are today.”

“But wait!” Dean holds up his hand. “What if we’d chosen differently?”

“You mean from the very start?” Mary Christmas asks.

Dean and I glance at each other, and we both say, “Yes.”

“Then you would be there now, wouldn’t you?” she says merrily. “With all the trimmings!”

“Trimmings?” I ask her.

Her eyes sparkle warmly. “All the things that make a life complete, a past, a present, and a future.” I gasp, getting her meaning. Memories.

Mary lowers her glasses and peers at me.

“What you experienced was a bit of a preview, Paige, like a movie trailer.” She slides her glasses back on her nose.

“If you’d chosen differently from the beginning, you would have experienced the entire feature film.

Naturally! And both of you would still be there now. ”

She turns to go but Dean stops her. “Mrs. Christmas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I have a question. Will the magic of the calendar work next year?”

She frowns thoughtfully. “I’m afraid not. The window of opportunity doesn’t last forever. After midnight on Christmas Day, its magic isn’t valid anymore.” She glances at the sky. “You were only given this gift due to a once-in-a-lifetime event this season.”

Of course. The Christmas Comet.

Then as quickly as she’d come, she disappears.

Poof.

Dean sinks his hands in his coat pockets. Sets his chin and sighs. “I’m sorry she wasn’t more helpful. It sounds like she was saying we are where we are.”

I shrug disappointedly, not sure what else I’d hoped for. “Yeah.” But something in the way Dean and I stare at each other says we’re not sure.

“Well.” Dean checks his watch. “As long as we’re here now, how about we go and see that house?”

Dean and I stand on the front porch of one hundred twenty-five Chestnut Street. I rode here with him from the market, then he parked his jeep in the drive. We glance up and down the snowy street. “The realtor must be running behind,” Dean says.

But I don’t mind the wait. I’m absorbing the charming cottage that used to be ours, attentive to every detail.

The railings on the front porch and its broad floorboards, the glossy black door that matches the house’s shutters.

I peek in the front window by the door, expecting to see the rocker stationed there, but the entire room is empty and freshly painted, as are the bare bookshelves on either side of the hearth.

The heart pine floor gleams like it’s been recently polished.

“Thanks for bringing me with you,” I say.

“Of course.” He swallows hard. “It just seemed right.”

Finally, a car pulls up to the curb. It’s an old-model hatchback like the one I used to own before I bought my SUV. Dean lifts a glove and waves. “That must be her.”

It’s hard to tell from here, but it looks like the woman is older and wearing a red hat with a wide white brim. Almost like a Santa hat. No. That would be silly. Unless she’s getting in the holiday spirit.

“Hey,” Dean says. “She looks a little like…” He shakes his head. “No.”

I laugh, guessing he was about to say Mary Christmas. “That’s what I thought, too.”

Dean’s phone buzzes with a text and he pulls it from his coat pocket.

REALTOR: On a call and will be in shortly. Feel free to look around.

We glance at her car, and she holds up a cell phone.

Waves. Dean peeks over his shoulder at me and chuckles.

“Okay.” The lockbox on the door in front of us goes through a series of whirring mechanical sounds.

Then a green light on the box shines. Dean tries the latch, and it opens. His cell buzzes again.

REALTOR: Hope it’s just right!

He laughs and shows me the text as we walk through the door. “No pressure.”

We enter the living room, and I can’t stop staring at the walls, envisioning the artists’ prints Dean and I hung there from our museum visits.

I imagine Scout barking and bounding toward us.

Eleanor and Henry tugging at our legs. Looking up at us with sunny faces. Tears prickle my eyes and I sniffle.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks worriedly.

I pull a tissue from my coat pocket. “Memories.”

“Yeah.” He scans the room. “I wish I had more of those like you do.”

“And I wish I had the ones you did in the other place.”

He turns to me. “What do you mean?”

“When I was in the alternate reality, it was awesome. So much about it was wonderful. The only painful part was that I couldn’t remember. Couldn’t say how I’d gotten to the place we were from where we had started.”

“The day I left for Puerto Rico?” His brow creases. “Or didn’t go, in that case?”

I unwrap my neck scarf. “Yes.”

“So you couldn’t remember anything before December twentieth of the current year?”

“That’s right.” I tuck my scarf in my coat pocket along with my gloves.

“Could I remember the past?”

“You could. When I asked Mary Christmas how that was possible, she said in your mind that had always been your permanent world. That version of you had never seen any other reality but the one we were living in together with our kids. I, on the other hand, was completely aware of the dual realms. Because I had my memories from here, I couldn’t have them from the other world. ”

He digests this information. “Did you try to ask me about them, those missing memories?”

“I did, but it was a little hard to explain where I’d come from. You thought I was unhappy in our relationship, and longing for a different sort of life without you.”

“Oh, Paige. You were between a rock and a hard place.” He sets his jaw. “Maybe I should have listened to you. If I were in that situation again, I would, you know.”

“Yes, I do believe you,” I say softly. “But you’re in a different place now, headspace wise. We’ve spoken to Mary Christmas again and watched her disappear .”

“Boy oh boy.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “If I’d only known when I bought that advent calendar all the trouble it would bring.”

“So? Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing?” I smile up at him and he grins, too.

“You know, Paige. I think you’re right.”

“What do you say,” I ask him. “Want to tour the rest of the house?” It’s warm in here with the central heat turned on compared to the frigid temperature outdoors. We both unzip our coats, preparing to look around.

Dean points to a room on our left. “Let’s start in there.” We enter the kitchen, and he appreciates the amount of natural light afforded by the windows, and the updated appliances and cabinetry. He surveys the side door, which has no pet door in it yet.

I shrug sadly. “I suppose there is no Scout in this reality.”

I hear a Woof! Woof! Woof! in the hall and shake it off. Then Henry’s sweet voice rings out in my head, Merry Kissmas! It’s like the other realm is calling me across a divide, but I’ve no way to get back there. My heart wrenches painfully. I miss my life with my family.

But this is my current world, and where I am right now with Dean.

Mom has met Roger, thanks to me, and hopefully their relationship holds promise.

I cross my fingers and lay them against my heart, wishing for her tests to come out okay, because that would be such a blessing.

The biggest Christmas gift I could receive.

And there are still more joys pending, like reestablishing my friendship with my girlfriends.

I steal a peek at Dean and my face warms. Everything in its place and all things in good time.

Dean and I tour the rest of the house, then we stop at the juncture of the hall to the living room. He nods up at the ceiling and I see a surprise. “When they cleaned out this house,” he says, “looks like someone forgot the mistletoe.”

“Looks like it.” I chuckle and scan the street, wondering if the sneaky realtor put it there to make this house seem more romantic and appealing to prospective buyers, who in this neighborhood are likely to be younger couples.

Dean stares out the front window at the realtor, who’s still in her car. “Long call,” he comments with a smirk.

“Maybe she’s giving us space to make up our minds?”

“I’ve already made my mind up.” Dean brings his arms around me. “If you have yours.”

My breath hitches when he holds me close. “Dean, what?”

“Paige, please, tell me we can go out tonight. Grab something to eat. I’d love to spend more time with you. And I’d love to hear more about that other world, if you’ll tell me, because it sounds spectacular, to tell you the truth.”

I grin up at him and say, “All right.” I consider the time we’ve missed. “And I’d like to hear about your past six years. I want to know all about Puerto Rico and Boulder and your decision to move back here.”

He holds me tighter. “Deal. But only if you fill me in on your life completely. I want to know about you and your teaching. What made you think up Paws and Read. How your old friend group is getting along.”

My heart skips a beat. “Um. About them—”

“Yes?”

“Heather, Mia, Kirstin, and I kind of drifted apart for a while, but we’ve recently been back in touch. So I have a feeling things will get better.”

“That’s great.” His grin says he means it. “I really liked the three of them.” He whispers, “I always thought Mia would wind up with David, and Heather with Peyton.” He scans my eyes, anticipating an answer.

“They did.” I confirmed the details about their significant others when we chatted yesterday outside Beaumont’s.

“And Kirstin?”

“She’s met someone new, Gregory.”

He snaps his fingers. “I might have predicted as much. I wasn’t so sure about her and Bryce.”

I chuckle at his intuition.

He pulls me closer still and scans the living room, and the open bedroom doors in the hall. “So. What do you think about the house?”

My heart pounds. “Honestly, I love it.”

“Good. Because honestly, I love it, too.

“Paige Pierce?” he asks warmly, darting a glance at the mistletoe. “Can I kiss you?”

“Dean Burton.” I stare up at the mistletoe and then at him. “I think you’ll have to.”

His lips meet mine and my whole world fills with joy. I can’t help but think of all we’ve shared together, both here in this reality over time and in that beautiful alternate world. It’s amazing to know that kissing Dean is just as wonderful across all universes. Pretty outstanding, actually.

He nods toward the front door and the street. “I’m going to tell the realtor I’ll take it.”

My heart wells with happiness. “I’m glad.”

We step onto the front porch and we’re in for a surprise. The realtor and her car are gone, and snow drifts down from the sky. Dean stares at my sweater below my open coat. “Paige, oh no. Your necklace.”

My hand flies to my chest and I feel around on my sweater, run my hand under my hair and across the back of my neck. Pull my hat and scarf from my coat pocket and shake both things out over the porch.

I stare fretfully at Dean. “It’s gone.”