Page 49 of Christmas Charms
Aidan shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and I have the terrible feeling he’s about to make an excuse to leave before the double feature is over. I don’t want the night to be over already. I want to go back inside the theater and pick up where we left off, but if history has taught me anything, it’s that the most precious opportunities only come around once.
Still, I’m not ready to go home yet. Not even close.
I grin up at him, determined to salvage what’s left of our date. “Let’s build a snowman.”
The suggestion is a flagrant violation of the rules I’ve set for myself, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, the charm on my bracelet clearly represents aspecialsnowman. It has to be this. I’m suddenly sure of it. And, shameful confession: there’s indeed a carrot in my pocket.
The corner of Aidan’s mouth lifts. It’s not a full-on smile, but I’ll take what I can get. “You want to build a snowman? Now?”
“Yes.” I grin up at him. “Right now.”
I hook my arm through his and drag him outside. The sky is as dark as velvet and snow is falling in delicate flurries, soft like feathers. Aidan looks up at the stars blazing bright, and I’m struck by how many times I’ve seen him standing in this very place, backlit by the theater’s marquee. More times than I can count, probably. But this time feels different. It feels like both the first time and the last time it will ever happen, all at once.
“Ready?” he asks, hunching his shoulders against the cold.
I want to freeze this moment in time. I’ve been so distracted by the charm bracelet that the days since I’ve been home are passing in a blur.
I nod anyway. “Ready.”
“I know just the place.” He playfully waggles his eyebrows then heads up Main Street, but his hands remain in his pockets. Earlier, he might have held my hand, but the moment has passed.
Aidan’s idea of “just the place” turns out to be the yard in front of the OLFD firehouse. I have to admit, with its pristine expanse of untouched snow, the spot is indeed perfect. The light from the station’s windows bathe the yard in a golden glow as we pack snow into the form of three large snowballs, just like the charm on my bracelet. I keep waiting for Aidan to wonder why I suddenly want to build a snowman. I’m not sure how I’ll even try to explain it, but luckily, he never asks.
“You’re really good at this,” I say as he presses a line of pebbles into place along the snowman’s body. Five perfect buttons.
He shrugs. “Lots of practice. The twins love playing in the snow, and my sister loves watching us from the warmth and comfort of her living room window. Uncles are in charge of snowmen, apparently.”
“They’re sweet girls.”
“They are.” He grins, and then he does a double take when I pull a carrot from my coat pocket.
“I come prepared,” I say by way of explanation.
“I see that.” He’s studying me in that probing way of his again, and my cheeks warm as I remember what he said to me in the theater.
Being with you here again makes me wish I’d done things differently.
I wonder if those words still apply after my quick getaway to go after Betty, just like I wonder if she was really there at all. Was my imagination working overtime to give me an excuse to flee because I was afraid of what kissing Aidan might mean?
Surely not. I know what I saw. She was right there, and Iwantedto kiss him. I still do—I want it so much that when the tips of my mittens brush against Aidan’s gloved fingertips, I go all fluttery inside. I wait, hoping against hope that Aidan will look at me again like he did when Bing Crosby crooned about counting his blessings. But in the end, I can’t bear the wait, because the truth is that I know I’m not afraid of what might happen if he kisses me—I’m afraid of how disappointed I’ll be if he doesn’t.
So this time, I end the tender moment before it begins. I form a frosty snowball with mittened hands and throw it straight at Aidan’s heart, where it lands with a muffled thud. Within seconds, we’re engaged in an all-out snowball fight, chasing one another around our snowman, who stands quietly in the center of the chaos with his bright orange nose and wobbly grin.
He looks just like the charm on my bracelet, and even though the kiss was a near miss that might never come around again, something about tonight was special all the same. Aidan and I have moved on from the past. I’m certain I’m going to hear the distinctive jingle the bracelet makes every time one of the charms comes to life. I justknowI will.
But I never do.
The frost-covered yard glitters in the moonlight, and the snowfall is as soft and quiet as a whisper. Aidan is my friend again, which is more than I’ve ever dared hope for before. The snowman charm remains a mystery. That’s okay, though.
For once, I don’t give the bracelet a second thought, because the echo of Aidan’s laughter commingling with mine in the snow-kissed air is its own kind of magic.
Chapter Fourteen
Two days later, I’m backat the firehouse—this time, for the actual toy parade committee meeting.
I’ve spent the past forty-eight hours or so helping my mom and dad with their jigsaw puzzles, taking Fruitcake for long, rambling walks and running the occasional Christmas errand. I’ve almost gotten used to the slower pace of small-town life. In fact, I’ve actually begun to enjoy it. Other than having too much time on my hands to think about the fact that I haven’t heard from Aidan since our movie date, it’s been really nice.
But he’s here now, of course, sitting across me at the fire station’s big farm table in his OLFD gear with a clipboard in his hands. We’re surrounded by other committee members, mostly other firefighters, plus a few of their family members, most notably Susan. She breezes into the station with Sophie and Olivia in tow, and the girls immediately collapse onto the floor to play with Fruitcake, who soaks up the attention with the long-suffering grace that golden retrievers are so famous for. Basically, the patience of a saint.
