Page 70 of Under the Mistletoe
“The Wallis kids keep coming to mind over and over, but I know the Barlows are adopting them.” She nodded but didn’t comment. “I’m not saying I am going to adopt or that if I do it will be anytime soon. Who knows if anything will ever come of it. But I need to know now if you are even open to the idea. Because if you aren’t?—”
“I am. I don’t know when or what it would look like, but I am definitely not against it.”
He scooped up her hand again and ran his thumb back and forth over her knuckles as a huge weight eased away. He wasn’t sure if he could walk away from her if she wasn’t open to it, but he was glad he didn’t have to find out. “Good to know.”
“What about the rest?” She sank into the seat, staring out the front again. “That’s just one issue. There are so many things we still don’t know about each other.”
“Then we’ll talk about them. One at a time. Ask me anything you want.”
Her brow pinched as if trying to decide what to ask first. “So what made you start writing?”
“I told you that I wrote my first story at twelve and loved it. But I never considered doing it for real. When I was fourteen, I found my mom crying in her room. It was Luke’s eighteenth birthday. Do you know Luke’s story?” When she shook her head, he went on. “Luke and I have different dads, and his dad disappeared with him when he was three. So from three until when he walked back into our lives about seven years ago, we had no idea where he was or even if he was still alive.”
“Your poor mother.”
Logan laced his fingers with hers as he took a slow breath. “Every year, Luke’s birthday was hard for her, but his eighteenth birthday was particularly difficult because it was the realization she’d missed his entire childhood. My dad had warned us kids it was coming. So I wrote a story for her calledThe Lost Prince.”
He glanced at Devin. Tears glistened in her eyes, but she didn’t speak.
“It was about a boy taken from the castle who one day returns to be the king and save everyone. Looking back, I pretty much plagiarized the story of Joseph in a medieval setting, but my mom loved it.”
Devin wiped the corner of her eye. “I’m sure she did.”
“After that, I found her reading that story every birthday, every Christmas, every time she grieved. She must have it memorized by now.”
“You are an amazing writer.”
“Not back then. But I think it was less about the writing. God used it to give her hope and a reminder that He knew where Luke was and He still had him in His hand. From then on, she seemed more calm, and I knew that I wanted to write more stories that offered hope to people living in a dark world. I know my stories don’t have the gospel in them, but I hope people can see the love of God in them.”
“I know they can. God used them to challenge me.” She squeezed his hand. “So these meetings…”
He couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The Stone of Anwar series is officially being made into movies.”
She squealed. “And when is book four releasing?”
There went the smile. “They didn’t like my first draft. That’s why they had me writing the serial novella.”
“Well, your fans are loving Rand and Astryn, so I’m sure they’ll love whatever you do with Bastian and Ellia.”
He wished he was as confident.
“I know you have more questions, and I promise to answer them. One at a time. But I’m starting to sweat in all these layers. Can we?—”
“Of course.”
He unlaced their fingers and grabbed his gloves and hat before climbing out. The sky was clear, and with the moon almost full, the snow seemed to glow around them. Devin got out of the car and came around to stand next to him. “What are we doing?”
“You are going to build your first snowman.”
“What? I don’t even know how to start. How do you get a snowball that big?”
He bent over and scooped up a handful of snow and packed it in a tight ball, then handed it to her. “You start with something small, then keep adding the layers. One at a time.”
She knelt and scooped up some snow and smashed it into the side of the snowball. “This might take a while.”
“True, but it’ll be worth it.” He settled down next to her. “How do you feel about cats?”
“I’m allergic.”
