Page 84 of Holly and Ivar
“There, see?We are perfect for each other.Hey, can we wear these when I meet your parents?A little Guardian / Giver humor to break the ice.”
Bursting with joy, Holly threw her arms around him.He caught her easily, laughing as he lifted her off the ground and spun her in a circle.
He set her down just as the first notes from the fiddle cut through the room, silencing the crowd.Walter’s booming voice followed: “Ladies and gentlemen, find your partners!Form two lines facing each other.”
Ivar gave a mock bow and extended his arm toward her.“Shall we?”
For twenty minutes, the dance continued—switching partners, forming stars and circles, weaving between lines.Holly enjoyed the magic of it: not Santa magic, but the simple human magic of community, of joy shared and multiplied.
When the music finally paused for a break, Holly was breathless and glowing.The room buzzed with chatter and laughter.Liv circulated with trays of cookies, while Tess handed out cups of her special winter brew.
“That,” Holly declared, accepting a cup of water from Ivar, “was not what I expected.”
“I hope in a good way,” he said, leaning against the wall beside her.
The band struck up a slower melody, sweet and nostalgic.Couples drifted to the center of the floor, arms encircling waists and shoulders.
Ivar offered his hand.“May I?”
Holly placed her palm in his.“I thought you’d never ask.”
He led her to a quieter corner of the dance floor, where the crowd had thinned.His hand settled on her waist, warm and sure.Unlike the energetic chaos of the contra dance, the waltz allowed them to move as one, steps aligned in perfect time.
“You know,” he murmured, “for someone who claims she doesn’t dance, you move like you’ve done this forever.”
“Maybe it’s my partner,” she replied, looking up at him.
His eyes never left hers as they turned slowly.In the soft glow of the lights, with snowflakes drifting past the windows, they drifted to the edge of the dance floor, where the music was softer.Holly noticed Ivar’s gaze shift upward.
Following his eyes, she saw it: a sprig of mistletoe, tied with a red ribbon, hanging from the beam above them.
Their steps slowed until they were barely moving, just swaying together in the corner of the room.
Their eyes met beneath the mistletoe, the music fading to a distant hum.Holly’s breath caught as Ivar’s hand gently cupped her cheek.
“I’ve been waiting for this since the moment you called me Ranger,” he whispered.
“That long?”she murmured, her fingers resting lightly on his chest.
He leaned down, and as their lips met, the world disappeared around them.It was like standing in the eye of a hurricane—utterly still while everything else spun.That same energy she’d felt beneath the Yule Tree pulsed between them, coursing through every point where they touched.It flowed through her veins, between her cells, until she was sure they’d become pure energy, lifting them higher and higher.
Colors burst behind her closed eyelids—silver and gold, emerald and azure—like the forest and sky had merged inside them.For a moment that stretched into eternity, Holly wasn’t sure where she ended and Ivar began, their connection complete and perfect.
Then, gradually, she became aware of the music again, of the solid floor beneath her feet, of Ivar’s arms holding her steady.They were still on the dance floor, surrounded by spinning couples, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
Their lips parted, foreheads leaning against one another.
“Wow,” Ivar breathed.
“Yeah,” she whispered back.“You’re a heck of a kisser, Ranger.”
His laugh was soft.“It takes two.”
The moment was interrupted when the door burst open, a blast of cold air sweeping in.George stood framed in the doorway, his face illuminated by a strange, shifting light from outside.
“Everyone, you’ve got to come see this!”he shouted.“It’s the Northern Lights.I’ve never seen anything like it!”
People rushed toward the exit, exclamations of wonder rising as they spilled onto the street.The music faltered as even the band members set down their instruments to investigate.
