Page 92 of Christmas in Paradise

“So good, given the circumstances.” Hope sits on the bed and tucks one leg under the other still hanging off the side. “The St. Nick parade line up is done, and Santa’s village will be up by Friday. The lighting ceremony is ready to go; all the online events are scheduled with their links posted on the website; Mrs. C. texted that the gnomes are repaired, and she even delivered them to the businesses where they need to go—including Sparks Electric.” She pokes my side when she says this. “And everything is set for the Jingle Ball, including the amazing band. Today was all about getting confirmations and making sure everyone is on point and, they are.”

She is beaming and I’m so relieved that the change in plans didn’t mess with her work.

“I’ve heard the band playing the Jingle Ball is really good.” I resist the urge to reach for her hand only inches away.

She grins at me while absently picking at a loose thread on the mistletoe quilt. “There’s more: Adam has the Danish Christmas dinner under control, school kids are working on the folk-dance night, and I’ve got all the vendors ready to go for the Christmas Market. The only thing left to finalize, I think, is the live nativity.” Hope’s eyes drop to her hand. “Pastor Ruth says they’re short a shepherd and a sheep.”

I have a sneaking suspicion, based on the pink color her cheeks are turning, that she has an idea of who can fill those roles.

“Uh huh.” I decide to make her work for what she wants. “Well, there’s plenty of people who have sheep, so you shouldn’t have a problem there.”

“Yeah, but it’s in the church, so live sheep aren’t really the best option. Apparently, they poop a lot.” She shrugs here, on to my game. “But Pastor Ruth says she has the cutest costume that’s the perfect size for a two or three-year old.”

I nod like I’m considering who couldpossiblyfit into a costume that size. Then I snap. “I know! What if Charly played the sheep! And you’d make a fantastic shepherd. There were female shepherds, you know. Equal gender representation.”

“I love the idea of Charly playing a sheep, and I wish I could play a shepherd,” her lips pull into a disappointed frown. “But I have to be available at all times in case there’s an emergency, and cell phones aren’t really historically accurate to the time period.”

“If only there were someone willing to be Charly’s shepherd. Any ideas?” I speak too loudly, and Charly opens her eyes, then closes them again.

“You two seem to be pretty tight now.” Hope’s eyes dart from me to Charly, then back again, her smile growing.

And there’s no way to resist her soft gaze or the way she scrunches her nose when she wants something.

“You want me to be Charly’s shepherd?” I ask as Charly, awake now, pushes herself up using my chest as leverage.

“Hi Mama.” Charly reaches for Hope who leans across me to lift Charly into her lap and arms.

Then Hope puts her hand over mine, weaving her fingers through mine. “There’s no one I’d trust more.”

I turn my palm up and squeeze her hand tight. “You had me at shepherd.”

She grins wide, her hand still in mine. “Good. Because I already told Pastor Ruth you’d do it.”

“I figured.” I push myself up and move closer to her so that the only thing between us is Charly’s head and moose rack hat. “I’d be honored to do it.”

I let go of Hope’s hand, straighten Charly’s moose rack hat, and flip the switch so it lights up. “Are you done for the day, then? I haven’t checked the roads in a while.” I reach for my phone, but she stops me with her free hand.

“The road is closed, but at least the snow’s stopped.” She raises her eyes to mine. “We have to admit defeat. We’re stuck here for the night.”

“All right, then.” I swallow hard. If Hope keeps looking at me the way she is now, it’s going to be even harder to sleep tonight than it was last night. “How about we find something to do? Maybe bowling and pizza?”

“Pizza!” Charly yells.

“I guess that settles it.” Hope smiles softly, then stands.

I follow her off the bed and take Uncle Rad out for a cold, short walk, that I need more than she does. Then she’s back in her crate, and the rest of us head out.

We spend the late afternoon bowling, then get pizza for dinner. Florence is packed with people in town for the game, so the pizza place is full. Charly looks ready to lose it a few times as we wait to be seated and then for our food, but Hope distracts her, and the moments pass. But I’m amazed at how she can anticipate and diffuse Charly’s fits.

After dinner we take a drive around Florence to see Christmas lights. Luckily most people are inside to watch the game or at the stadium itself, so traffic isn’t bad. By the time we get back to the inn, Charly’s eyes are drooping, but she insists on walking Uncle Rad with me.

That leads to fifteen minutes of getting her all bundled in the snow gear Hope brought—just in case—then another half an hour of playing in the new snow covering the inn’s large back yard. Ours are the first steps in the smooth blanket of white stretching from the back door to the fence line. The snow is so deep, it comes to Charly’s thighs, and she can barely lift her legs high enough to step through it.

So Hope and I each take one of her hands and swing her through it. Then we fall on our backs and make snow angels. Uncle Rad runs across our chests, and Charly can’t stop giggling.

By the time we go inside, we’re all soaking wet.

I dry off by the fire in our room while Hope gets Charly warmed up in the tub. When they come out of the bathroom, a pillar of steam follows them. Charly’s hair is wet, hanging long down her back, leaving a wet imprint on the back of herBlueypajamas.

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