Page 83 of Holly and Ivar
“I’m assuming you didn’t take my broom,” she teased after a moment.“So, why do you have it?
“Actually,” Ivar said, holding it out to her, “it found me.I woke up this morning and there it was, leaning against my front door.”
Holly took it gently.“It has a mind of its own sometimes.”
“I’ve learned that.”His eyes never left hers.
As she stared into those stunning blue eyes, understanding dawned.She’d asked for answers, and she’d gotten one.La Befana had said that when the time came, it would guide her to the truth.And it had done.He was standing right in front of her.But she’d already figured that out.
Ivar moved closer.“You asked me once if I believed in fate,” he said, his voice low.“It occurred to me that you might have been worried about us even then.”His eyes were serious, searching hers.“But I don’t think we’re here because of fate.Fate implies a lack of personal control.”
Holly nodded, waiting for him to continue.
“I think our situation has more to do with destiny,” he went on.“Destiny sets us on a path, but we still have personal agency.We make choices.We take actions.”His hand covered hers on the broom handle.“There are stories galore about unfulfilled destinies.But that’s not our story.”
“No?”she whispered.
“No,” he said firmly.“Our destiny is fulfilled because we made it happen.It didn’t happen to us.”
“So you don’t think...what we feel...it’s not just because of the Yule Tree?”
“The Yule Tree may have brought us together,” he said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.“But every moment since has been our choice.Every laugh, every conversation, every text message.That was us, Holly.Not magic.”
She looked down at their joined hands on the broom, then back up at his face.
Yes.He was right.She could now see how every decision, every hesitation, every step they’d taken had led them here.Not because of some magical decree, but because of who they were and what they chose, again and again.
The magic hadn’t bound them; it had simply cleared the path.The rest they’d done themselves.They weren’t surrendering to love.They were choosing it.
“You’re right,” she said softly.“We’re more than Guardian and Giver.”
“Much more,” he agreed.“We’re Kringle and Ranger.Holly and Ivar.”
She carefully set the broom against the wall and took his hand properly in hers.
“In that case, Ranger, I believe you promised me a dance.”
His smile lit his whole face.“So I did, Kringle.So I did.Oh, but we can’t forget the broom.I agreed to let it chaperone.”
***
Holly couldn’t believe how the town hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland.Evergreen garlands draped from exposed beams, fairy lights twinkled like captured stars, and red velvet bows adorned every pillar.The band—five locals with fiddles, a guitar, piano, and an upright bass—tuned their instruments on the small stage while the dance caller, an elderly man named Walter with suspenders and a white beard that rivaled her grandfather’s, arranged his notes.
Holly stood at the edge of the polished wooden floor, watching as townspeople streamed in.Liv bustled by with a tray of cider cups, winking as she passed.Tess and Marty hung additional wreaths near the refreshments table, playfully arguing about symmetry.
“Ready?”Ivar asked, his hand warm against the small of her back.
“For contra dancing?”Holly laughed.
“First, our sweater reveal.I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“Okay, on the count of one, two, three.”They unzipped their jackets.
“Oh, my gosh,” Holly cried.“I love it.”Ivar was wearing a green sweater with a Christmas tree on it.I’m Pining for You.
“I think yours takes top prize,” Ivar said.“All I Want for Christmas is Yule.That might be the most appropriate Christmas sweater I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t know,” Holly said.“They’re both perfect.And if you stand on my left, technically our sweaters read, Yule Tree.”
