Page 28 of A Miracle for the Reserved Flyboy

Her heart skipped a beat, and words caught in her throat. He took his own seat beside her, nodding appreciatively as Krista’s mother handed her the serving utensils.

“Kris, would you mind starting?” her mother prompted, a twinkle in her eye.

Caught slightly off guard, Krista picked up the large serving spoon, reaching toward Gary’s plate, only for him to gently place his hand over hers, stopping her. She looked up, surprised, and he leaned closer, his breath brushing her temple as he whispered, “I’ve got it.” He took the spoon from her and, to her amazement, began serving her instead, carefully placing slices of roast and vegetables on her plate, his attention to each detail making her heart ache with a soft kind of joy.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said softly, her voice wavering with a mixture of surprise and delight.

“Neither do you,” he replied, meeting her gaze. “But it’s nice, isn’t it? Knowing that I have someone to take care of.” His voice was a murmur, just for her, his eyes locked onto hers, filled with an earnestness that tugged at her heart. “I don’t expect you to wait on me, Krista.”

“I… I kinda like taking care of you, too,” she admitted, lowering her eyes for a moment, her cheeks warm with the honesty of her confession.

He shook his head slightly as if in disbelief, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t even have to try. Just knowing you’re here is enough.” His words were quiet, but the sincerity in them resonated through her, filling her with a sense of belonging she’d craved but never truly allowed herself to hope for.

From across the table, her mother let out a loud, theatrical sigh, jolting them both from the intimacy of their moment. Gary’s cheeks reddened, his shyness peeking through as they both laughed, breaking the tension. Krista nudged him gently under the table with her knee, sharing a private, knowing smile.

“Later,” she whispered to him, her voice a soft promise that they would continue this conversation, just the two of them. He nodded, eyes gleaming, and for a brief second, they were in their own little world, wrapped in shared understanding.

“Kris, would you like a roll?” her mother asked innocently, breaking the spell.

Krista turned, trying to contain her grin. “I was just about to ask you the same, Gary,” she replied, lifting a roll and handing it to him with a soft laugh.

He took it with a smile, tearing off a piece and placing it on her plate before helping himself. They shared a quiet moment, their hands brushing, as they filled their plates and exchanged glances across the table.

And there, amid the laughter and warmth of her family, Krista realized just how deeply Gary had settled into her heart.

Two hours later,they were sitting in the living room having an easy conversation between all of them – and it was weirdly nice. Krista was sitting on the couch beside Gary, and he was holding her hand, listening politely and adding to the conversation here and there.

“So tell me about your play tomorrow,” Gary asked politely, and she started, looking at her father. He rolled his eyes, sighed, and nodded – and she took that as a ‘yes’ the man was caving in and going to hold firm to his promise to play the mouse king.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she replied gratefully before looking at Gary. “Well, I teach third grade, so it’s going to be a fairly simple version of the Nutcracker play. I’m the mouse queen, and Mama always plays the Sugar Plum Fairy. The kids in my class are split into two groups – we have the party boys and the party girls. Then we have ten little mice, a mouse king, and then the Nutcracker prince.”

“What about all the dancing? The Russian dancers, the Chinese dolls…”

“Oh heavens, I don’t think I could manage a longer version. It’s like nailing Jell-O to a tree as it is trying to organize thirty children for the play,” she admitted, chuckling nervously at his warm smile.

“I’m sure it’s lovely.”

“I’m sure it’s a chopped-up, small-town version,” she retorted easily. “But it will do for the little ones and the families watching. You know, what I found is that it’s not the lines or the structure but rather the feeling that you create,” she admitted dreamily and closed her eyes. “I see the children’s awestruck smiles because they are going to be on a decorated stage. They’reso excited to put on the costumes, and it’s not about their lines. It’s about the memories they’ll never forget.” She opened her eyes and blushed nervously at his steady gaze that was full of emotion as he looked at her. “I probably sound silly.”

“You are a beautiful person – inside and out,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across the back of her hand. “I’m so glad we met.”

“Me too.”

Chapter 10

KRISTA

Krista let out a long breath,glancing up at the dark winter sky, twinkling with stars above the town square. Every branch, window, and storefront around her sparkled with Christmas lights, casting a warm, magical glow over the scene. “Lord, give me strength,” she murmured with a small smile as she looked out at the sea of excited faces surrounding her. Thirty kids, all brimming with holiday sugar from endless cups of spiced apple cider, eggnog, cinnamon cookies, and candy canes, bounced around her like tiny, overjoyed pinballs.

Krista took a steadying breath, reminding herself of her role as ringmaster in this merry circus. Gently, she swiped her thumb over each child’s cheek, leaving behind a soft, rosy-pink circle of blush and an extra sprinkle of glitter. The boys sported black felt hats with tall feathers that bobbed as they wagged their heads, pretending their feathered plumes were swords, swiping at each other in mock battle. The girls, meanwhile, wore tulle skirts thatpoufed out in pink, dusted with glittery fabric paint that gave each little girl a stiff, magical sparkle.

As for Krista, her outfit was a festive triumph of homemade holiday cheer. She wore a cozy gray zip-up onesie, to which she’d stitched a mouse tail. A bright red foam crown sat proudly on her head, pinned snugly in place, while her cheeks held two pink circles, and her nose bore a smudge of black paint. Her mother, who’d volunteered as her assistant for the night, was already dressed as a sparkly, tulle-skirted Sugar Plum Fairy, flitting around the square and passing out encouragement to the kids.

“All right, everyone!” Krista clapped her hands, her voice bright and encouraging. “Boys on one side, girls on the other. We’re going on stage in just a few minutes. Where’s my Clara? And where’s my Nutcracker?”

A little girl stepped forward, dressed in a flannel nightgown over her clothes with bright pink Barbie gloves covering her small hands. “Here, Miss Simpson,” she said, looking up with wide, eager eyes. “Mama said to keep my gloves on because it’s getting chilly.”

Krista bent down to the girl’s level, smiling tenderly. “Your mama is a smart lady, Clara,” she said, gently patting the girl’s gloved hands. “My gloves are back with my coat, and I’m wishing I had them right now.”

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