Page 43 of Meet Me at Christmas
“Well, apparently, we’re at the perfect spot.” He guided her toward the booth that boasted the best corn dog in town. Since it was quite possibly the only corn dog in town, she had no choice but to believe them. Henry offered the attendant a few bills and the man handed him two giant corn dogs on sticks. He handed her one. “Fine dining for sure.”
She laughed, glad his humor was surfacing easily today. They meandered through the aisles of trees for sale, their bright red-and-white-striped tags flapping in the icy breeze.
“Where to?” She bit into the crispy outer shell of cornmeal surrounding the hot dog, the sweet and salty taste reminding her of childhood.
“I have no idea,” he replied. “Let’s just walk and see where we end up.”
They strolled past a booth with floating rubber ducks. “Oh, I used to love this game,” she said between nibbles. “You played it with me when we were kids, remember?”
The corners of his eyes creased with his look of affection, and she knew he did remember. “I would use all my money, trying to win the big bear for you, picking duck after duck and comparing numbers, but we always ended up winning trinkets.”
She laughed.
Henry was busy looking around. “Nothing here feels like something Iwouldn’thave done.”
“I’m assuming you just have to do something new to you at this moment.”
He squinted at the booths. “Everything here seems too easy. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.”
Delighted to hear he was, in fact, taking the assignment seriously, she asked, “It’s probably the best we’ve got—we’d decided that.”
“I don’t know…”
“Do you have any other ideas about where you could go or what you could do?”
He grinned at her and shrugged. “Nope.”
They resumed strolling through the row of booths the way they used to. The ringing of winning bells and cheerful holiday music carried her thoughts to the old days when she came here with her dad, and it made her miss him right then.
Pop’s voice entered her mind.“It’s fun even if we can’t all be together.”
She remembered one Christmas when Lily had broken her arm and didn’t want to go. A thirteen-year-old Stella had been so disappointed when her sister couldn’t join them, but Pop had tried to lift her spirits. He’d put an arm around her and said those words to her. Then he reminded her that Lily would want her to have a good time.
Henry pointed to the ducks as they walked by a second time, pulling her out of her memory. “This game’s probably rigged.”
His chuckle gave her a flutter. His arm brushed hers and she had to fight the ache in her chest. Out there, walking in their familiar territory—the place she’d loved to meet him after school every Christmas—she wanted to lean against him, put her head on his shoulder, and walk arm in arm like they used to, but she checked herself.
“I bet the bear’s number isn’t even on the bottom of one of those ducks,” he said.
She looked into his blue eyes. “I think it is.”
He stopped walking. “Why?”
“I guess I always have faith it’s in there somewhere.”
She wasn’t referring to the ducks anymore, and she found herself straddling the line between following her heart and acting with her head. She didn’t want to start something she wasn’t ready for, and she still didn’t know if she had the guts to tell him what they’d been through. But all he had to do was smile at her, and she found herself slipping back into the girl of her youth.
As if her musing had sent a message into the universe, Henry paused at the Hula-Hoop booth, staring at it, his brows pulling together.
Oh, no. Given her recent line of thinking, Stella prayed he didn’t want this to be his homework. She wouldn’t be able to manage. She held off on finishing her corn dog to use it as an excuse for moving along to the next booth— they couldn’t hoop together if they were both holding their lunch, right?
His gaze moved to the hoops hanging on the wall. “We’ve done this before, right?” His eyes slid from the hoops back to her, a mixture of affection and interest in them.
Her heart nearly stopped, and she held her breath. “Yes.” She waited for him to give her more information about exactly what he remembered.
“Meet me at Christmas.” The words came off his lips on a whisper. He faced her. “You met me here once.”
“You remember?” she asked, her pulse rising.
