Page 5 of Connected By Christmas
“How did I get so lucky?” I ask quietly, looking at the man who never ceases to amaze me.
He brings our intertwined hands up to his lips and kisses my fingers. “I ask myself that same question every day.” His blueeyes hold mine, and I get the familiar warmth in my belly. “I think they are about to begin,” he whispers excitedly. I lean my head against his chest and settle in. Mrs. Claus begins to read my latest book in the series, and I smile when the kids’ eyes light up. No matter how many times my books are read in these circles, I still can’t quite believe that it’s my words they are listening to. I made this one a Christmas adventure because I knew it would be released in the fall, and I wanted a book that would be read under the tree at night.
I watch the children’s faces as they get lost in the magic. It’s one of the main reasons why I write. To this day, I still believe in magic and things we cannot see. Noah and I are walking examples of mysteries we can’t explain but know deep in our hearts are real. If I can prolong magic or believing in something just a little bit longer for these kids, then I’ve done my part in making the world just a little bit better for them.
My eyes go to Santa, and I meet his twinkling eyes. He winks at me, his eye crinkling at the corner as if he knows what I’m thinking. Something stirs in my body, and I’m flooded with love and excitement, all wrapped up in one. It’s a feeling of…Christmas magic.
I turn to Noah and whisper in his ear. “Do you still believe in magic? I think that Santa might be real, as crazy as that sounds.”
He chuckles softly and studies the guy in the red suit. “I think,” he says quietly, “that magic can happen anytime you strongly believe in something. I believe in us, and we definitely can’t explain why we have our memories. It’s got to be the magic and miracles of the universe. So, if you believe this Santa to be real, then who am I to say he isn’t? I did find myself wondering the same thing. He has a way of making you feel things,” he peers at him again.
“Like a kid at Christmas time?”
“Yeah, like a kid at Christmas time. The children certainly seem to think he’s the real deal.” I watch the kids gather around Mr. and Mrs. Claus after she puts the book down. They hang on to his every word as he speaks to them. They can’t help but reach out and skim the red velvet of his suit as they stand there. They feel it, too. There’s no other way to describe it than magical.
“Right there,” I say quietly, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill. “It’s perfect.” Noah steps back from placing the star on top of the tree. After we got back from the Christmas tree farm, we spent the past couple of hours going through my parents’ Christmas decorations that I had saved, and our spruce is now covered in memories of my childhood.
Each year, since the day I was born, my mom would give me a new ornament to put on our tree that represented my interests that year. I step closer and finger the light blue Bronco that she gave my dad the year he finally finished his restore on it. It’s my favorite thing of his that I own. Noah and I have been taking drives up and down the coast on Sundays, just like the mountaindrives my family would take together. We plan on doing it with our children and keeping the tradition alive.
“I didn’t know you played hockey.” He touches the little girl figurine decked out in hockey gear with my name across the jersey.
“I didn’t,” I laugh. “My dad was a big fan of hockey, and we would watch the games together. We became obsessed the year our team made it to the playoffs and won the Stanley Cup. We lived and breathed hockey for that entire season, and my dad had a jersey made with my name on it. My mom had a hard time getting me to take it off so she could wash it.”
He flips it over and reads the date. “Age seven,” he grins before moving around the tree and looking at another one. “The tree is missing something.” He steps back and studies it.
“It looks perfect to me.” I look at it again, trying to see what he’s seeing that I’m not.
“I’ll be right back.” He walks toward the bedroom and returns with a small box.
“What’s this?” I take the box that he gives me.
“It’s what’s missing.”
Puzzled, I open the box, and my eyes immediately brim with tears. “Noah…I…” I glance back up at him, and his blue eyes sparkle with love.
“I thought it was time for our baby to get their first ornament to add to our tree. Do you like it?”
“I love it. It’s beautiful.” I run my hand over the carved wooden couple that looks like us. He’s holding her from behind, and both their hands are resting on her round pregnant belly. I trace the date engraved on the bottom.
“There’s a local store here that makes them. You can customize them to look just like you.” He wraps his arms around me and lays his chin on my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I whisper, emotion clogging my throat. “It’s something my mom would have done this year for us and put on her tree.”
“I know,” he softly says. “When the idea came to me, I had no doubt who put it there.” He kisses my cheek and takes the ornament, hanging it right in the center.
I step into his arms again and watch the way the white lights dance across the tree. My parents and Noah’s love washes over me so profoundly in this moment that I close my eyes briefly to soak it all in. I feel Noah’s thumb brush away a tear that has escaped. “I feel it too, Em. I feel it every time I think of you…every time I’m near you. You will always feel love from me.”
“And you will always feel love from me.” I feel our baby girl kick and smile down at my belly, knowing she’s feeling it, too.
Chapter Three
Noah and Emma
NOAH
“I’mglad we kept the main fireplace a wood-burning one. There’s just something about the crackling noise that is so comforting.” Emma snuggles under the blanket on the couch as she sips her hot chocolate. The lights from the Christmas tree and fire give the living room a warm glow as I add another log to the flame.
“I definitely wanted to keep it. We have electric in Florida and in all the bedrooms here, so I like to have at least one fireplace where I can have fun making a fire.” I stoke the embers and watch the flames go higher.
