Page 104 of Merry Mended Hearts

Maybe he didn’t realize the radio was still manipulating them.

“So…it’s not messing with your lives?”

Junie’s lips spread into a goofy, love-struck smile. Her eyes drifted toward the window, and she lost herself in some kind of memory. Color flushed her cheeks, and she chewed her bottom.

“Oh, it is,” she said, squeezing out another grin.

“How so?”

Junie rolled her eyes and stepped close enough to shove the tulle into my arms. The jingle bells on her head tinkled again.

I did my best to keep the gnarled heap from slipping and then transferred it to the tote. That was a mess. No doubt, Junie would organize it later.

Instead of reprimanding me for messing up her perfectly organized decorations, she dug into the back pocket of her jeans and grabbed a folded piece of paper.

“You’re getting into some personal questions, Boonie. Here.” She gripped my wrist, yanked it forward, and slapped the paper into my palm. “Read this and tell me if you think this was all just some short-lived magic trance for you and Grace.”

My fist tightened over the note. What was Junie talking about now? Against my will, my heart began to race.

“You—what? She left this?”

Hands on her hips, Junie gestured toward the note with her elbow. “For you. See for yourself.”

I opened my fist and flattened out the paper. Sure enough, my name was scrawled on the note. I recognized her pretty handwriting from reading it in her notebook. From what I could tell, she was careful in her writing, careful and precise.

Something unwarranted attempted to push its way through the walls of my heart, but I gritted my teeth and forced it away.

“Not happening,” I said bitterly, tucking the note into my pocket.

Junie’s mouth dropped. “Seriously? You won’t even read it?”

“Didyouread it?”

“What do you think?” She rolled her eyes and glanced at the mess I’d made of the usually pristine room. “You know what? I’ll leave you to this. I don’t need the purge.”

Kicking the tote, she stormed from the room.

I couldn’t grasp what made her so upset. There was a reason no one believed in Santa Claus anymore. All the folklore, all the hype, the talk and claims of magic—it could all be explained away.

One man visiting every home in the world in a single night? Reindeer flying? It was all nonsense.

I’d always claimed to be a believer, but what did I believe in? Really?

I believed the story I’d been told as a child. It came back to me now, memories of my late father and grandpa telling it in turn. And I pictured it now, the way I always had during the telling.

Grandpa Harper sat in front of the fireplace, watching the flames dance. He held the orange he’d received for Christmas in his hand and attempted not to feel sorry for himself because he hadn’t gotten the toy train he’d asked for.

Then the fire had gusted out. A knock had sounded on the door. Not from the chimney—the door.

In confusion, Grandpa Harper rose and answered to find a man in a white beard and a hat not unlike the one Grace had worn. Not red, but long and pointed with a pom at the end, dangling down his shoulder. The radio was lodged in his arms.

“Merry Christmas, my young friend,” St. Nick had said. “Mind if I come in from the cold?”

Grandpa Harper had let the stranger in, and the two had gone to stand in front of the fire.

“Sorry, sir,” Grandpa Harper had been rumored to say. “The fire’s just gone out.”

“I’ll take care of that,” St. Nick said.

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