Page 53 of All in for Christmas

The next morning, I sit anxiously in the waiting room of the outpatient clinic.

I feel like I’ve been waiting forever, but in reality, it’s only been two hours.

At last, Mom’s surgeon emerges, dressed in his scrubs.

His expression is stony at first and my heart races.

I get to my feet as he approaches me in the small seating area at the side of the large room.

“Paige.” I hold my breath, then he says, “I have good news.” My eyes warm but I hold in my tears, give a sniff, as he goes on. “The shadows we saw on the scans that caused us concern were just scar tissue from your mom’s earlier surgery. Everything else looks good.”

Relief and joy flood me and I shake his hand. “Thank you, doctor.” I try not to cry and fail. Hot tears leak from my eyes. “Thanks so much.”

He gives a subtle grin. Compassion’s in his eyes. “I hope you and your mom have a very merry Christmas.”

Much later that night, Dean and I exit the old stone church with our families. He has his arm around my shoulders, and Mom’s on my other side. His folks and Jenny are with him, and snow gently falls from the darkened sky.

Mom sighs. “Thanks so much for including us. That service was beautiful.” Snowflakes dot her red curls and she dusts them off before tugging on her hat. After I brought her home from her appointment, she slept soundly for a few hours, then was up and eager for dinner and to come to church.

“It sure was,” Dean’s mom, Miriam, says, wrapping herself in her scarf.

“Very moving,” Dean’s dad, Jack, agrees. He glances at Mom. “Sounds like we have a lot to be grateful for this year.”

Mom smiles softly in return. “Yes.”

Dean’s eyes twinkle at Mom. “We’re glad you could join us.”

I’m so happy about Mom. So happy about everything. Including being here with Dean. “Merry Christmas, Paige.” He bends down to kiss me on the front steps of the church as others bustle past us, and my heart flutters. It’s a little past midnight, so the holiday’s officially here.

Jenny gives a happy smirk and Dean’s parents smile.

Mom’s eyebrows shoot up and she addresses Miriam and Jack, nodding my way. “Perhaps we should leave these lovebirds alone?” she says, and the rest of them laugh goodheartedly. My face burns hot but Dean doesn’t seem to mind.

Before we depart, Miriam insists to me and Mom, “Please do come to dinner tomorrow at our place. We sit down at five, so come around four.”

“I wouldn’t miss it!” Mom quips.

“Thanks,” I add, smiling. “I’ll be there, too.” There’s only one thing I could imagine that would make me happier than Mom and me spending Christmas with Dean and his family. Having Eleanor and Henry there too, and naturally Scout— and Roger .

The group exchanges cheery holiday wishes and goodnights, and Mom walks to her car, which is parked close to the church. Dean’s family goes farther down the block.

As Dean and I stroll down the snowy sidewalk and toward his jeep, he asks, “Can I buy you a nightcap somewhere?”

I feel the same way he does, not ready for the evening to end. But it’s already after midnight on Christmas Eve. “I’m not sure there’s going to be much open.” Maybe in some larger towns, but not in sleepy Piney Mount.

He checks his watch. “We could go back to your place, or mine?”

I blush deeply. “Paige,” he says kindly. “It doesn’t have to be like that. We can just talk some more.” I have no reason to feel giddy and nervous. Dean and I had a serious love life in the other realm, after all. But we haven’t had one here, so this feels different.

I smile at him and say, “I like talking with you.”

Not long afterward, we appreciate the pretty view outside my condo window. Dean comments on the darkened landscape showcasing the mountains and the snowy sky. “Looks a little like that mug you gave me.” He shrugs. “In the other place.”

“Yeah.” I snuggle under his arm and we both drink our wine.

The gas hearth blazes before us, but I miss the coziness of a real wood-burning fire and our cottage.

Wouldn’t mind having a scotch if I bought hard liquor, which I typically don’t.

“Except we have a snow-speckled sky outside our window instead of one studded with stars.”

He absorbs the gorgeous view. “I like the stars.”

“I know you do.”

“But now,” he says, “I’m partial to comets”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “Who knew you could wish on a comet?”

He strokes his chin. “It’s true they’re made of rock and ice rather than gases, but that doesn’t mean that this Christmas Comet wasn’t extra special.

If it hadn’t appeared this year, maybe the magic in your calendar wouldn’t have come to life?

” We both turn toward the kitchen to admire the enchanted decoration.

It’s now complete. I put up the Santa face this morning and all of its pockets are empty, with the star at the top of the tree.

He considers the advent calendar and its spot in my kitchen. “It looks good there. Very festive.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m still grappling with everything you told me about your time split adventure.”

I blow out a breath and say lightly, “You and me both.”

“Funny how you returned on the twentieth, the exact next day. It’s like you were gone no time at all.”

“In this reality, yeah.” I think of the Dickens novella. “Dean, do you know the Dickens tale A Christmas Carol , about Ebenezer Scrooge?”

“Of course I do, who doesn’t? It’s about the miserly old man who learns his lesson.

“Wait.” He leans forward to peer at me. “You don’t think your experience was something like that?”

I set my chin. “No. It was distinctly different. Though I did get a chance to reassess my life, the way old Ebenezer did.”

Dean chuckles and holds me closer. “There are some major differences, though. You’re certainly not the Scroogey type. Just look at Paws and Read. Setting up that charity was a completely selfless act.”

“That’s what I thought at first,” I admit honestly. “But then I started to reflect on the sorts of things I’ve valued, like financial security and a steady job.”

“Paige Pierce,” he says seriously. “Nobody would fault you for wanting stability. That’s an extremely common and reasonable goal.

Plus, I understand how things were with Rosemary.

You explained about your upbringing when we dated in college.

You knew you were loved, without question, but your life was also chaotic.

You two moved around a lot, and she was often out of work.

You took odd jobs shoveling snow for your neighbors to help pay the bills. ”

“All that’s true,” I tell him. “But in some ways, I wonder if I threw the baby out with the bathwater when thinking about my past. There were so many good things about the life I had. This life. Mom was carefree, and fun. And, yes, she had—goodness knows—a gazillion boyfriends. But no matter what else was going on with her, she was always there for me.”

His dark eyes twinkle. “Sounds like you’ve developed some good perspective.”

I nod. “My experiences these past several days have helped. I also feel a new appreciation for Mom, like I better understand her.”

He gently clasps my shoulder. “Sounds like a win-win.”

“Yeah.” I sigh and sip from my wine. After a minute I add, “You know what else is funny about that Scrooge novella? Its release date was the same day my whole life changed. December nineteenth.”

“That’s wild. Though, obviously, not in the same year.”

I laugh. “No, in eighteen forty-three. The book sold out its first printing by Christmas Eve.”

Dean whistles. “Talk about a runaway best seller.”

“Sometimes things happen fast.”

“And sometimes”—he looks deeply into my eyes—“they take six years longer than they should.”

“Dean, I’m so sorry—”

He gently presses his finger to my lips. “No regrets now. I know we both have them and for different reasons, but Paige? Maybe it’s time we let those go.”

I nod and heave a deep breath. “Letting go sounds like the right answer.”

He lifts the wine bottle off the coffee table, offering me some more, and I hold out my wineglass. He refills it and his. “Our situation does present some interesting metaphysical questions, though.”

I giggle at his choice of words. “Metaphysical? Oh?”

He sips from his wine. “Say, for example, we had a choice. Both of us, about that alternate reality.”

This piques my interest. “What kind of choice, exactly?”

“What if you knew you could return—”

“But I don’t think—”

“Humor me.”

“All right.”

He takes another sip of wine while I sip mine. “My question was, what if you knew you could go back to that life, the alternate reality you experienced, would you do it?”

“Erm, that depends. Part of me would leap at the chance, but there were compromises, and I’m not talking about losing my fancy condo or SUV. It wasn’t even fully about the job.”

“So then?” he asks, waiting for more. “What?”

“Well, there’s Paws and Read, for starters.

I’m hugely proud of the charity that’s going to help so many people and pets.

It’s hard to imagine jettisoning that when its contributions to the school and our community are so very important.

On a more personal level, it was frustrating not having any historic memories, Dean.

Not knowing what my life had been like up until that point.

I loved seeing what it was in the moment, but there was a gaping big hole there called my past.”

“Uh-huh I see.” He tips his wineglass slightly. “So the trade-off is getting to a good place with home and family, but at the expense of recalling actual past experiences?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m getting at.”

“Knowing what you know now, do you think you could build that kind of life here?”

“With you?” My face heats. “It’s aspirational. I mean, maybe someday. Like you said.”

“But it wouldn’t be the same life, would it?”

“What do you mean?”

“The baby who would have been born five years ago—Eleanor—wouldn’t be the same child as one born to us in the future, or would she?”