Page 90 of Joy to Noel
Chapter thirty-seven
Liam
As I pull into the city limits of Noel, I’m shocked by the transformation of the town. Of course, I’ve watched all of the decorations and booths being installed this month. I helped Clark and Davis build some of those temporary structures earlier this week. I’d seen the vision for what Christmas Fest would be.
But that didn’t prepare me toseethe vision of Christmas Fest.
I’ve always had slightly more positive than neutral feelings toward Christmas. I enjoy it for what it is without overly obsessing like it’s the greatest holiday to ever happen to mankind. But the festival grounds are slowly infecting me with their Christmas magic as I drive past the center of town. Even Hamlet is perched on his hind legs in the passenger seat, watching the twinkling lights out the window.
All the main streets are blocked off to cars, keeping pedestrians entirely safe, so I take a roundabout way to the rental house to drop Hamlet off. I get him situated with some water and food, and then I drive back to one of the parking zones close to the festival.
The magic seeps deeper into my bones as I walk through the thick of it. Thousands of lights, dozens of decorated trees, statues and figurines tastefully scattered throughout the area. Photo ops—some classic and some whimsical—are interspersed along the sidewalks. There’s a massive “Merry Christmas” banner of lights strung across Main Street, welcoming people to the true heart of the action.
Santa’s Workshop is central to the space, where local artisans sell their goods to tourists seeking gifts or keepsakes. There’s a tent setup where children can write their letters to Santa and drop them into the letterbox for Sunday’s sendoff. According to the map, there’s a Living Nativity close to the reindeer enclosure on the riverbank, along with a small carousel rounding out the children’s area. And, of course, there are the food and beverage booths—Becky’s Brews with coffee drinks, the bake club stand with sweet treats, and several shops serving various entrées.
I smile when I see a booth advertising traditional mulled wine as well as mulled apple cider. The parade won’t start for another hour, but the grounds are already filled to the brim with crowds of families—some looking like they’ve been here before, and others carefully studying the festival map.
The only thing that isn’t magical about this Christmas wonderland is who’s missing.
I sent Madison a handful of texts this week—some of which she sent short replies to, and some that were left on read. At this point, I’m not even sure what I’ll say to her when she gets back on Monday. I want her to stay so badly—more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. Maybe ever. But I don’t know how to convince her, especially if she doesn’t want my help.
Unfortunately, she didn’t tell any of our friends here about the job offer. She made up an excuse about needing to stay through the weekend with her family. No one here even knows to be worried that the spark of joy Madison’s presence has brought to Noel might be flickering out.
I don’t realize I’m staring off into space until there’s a squeeze on my arm. Clara is standing next to me, positively beaming with Christmas spirit. “It’s pretty special, huh?” she asks me, her gaze sweeping across the festival grounds. “Better than a dream.”
Forcing a smile, I nod in agreement. “It really is impressive seeing it come to life. Well done.”
Clara dismissively waves her hand in the air. “I may have had the original idea, but it’s the entire town’s baby. Everyone has contributed in some way to the magic. Even you,” she says, eyes dancing. “Just wait till you see the parade tonight—move over, Disney, Noel is coming for you.”
We laugh heartily together because we both know that the tiny town of Noel is never going to be a Disney competitor. But maybe the magic lies in what’s different—how cozy and intimate it feels. As though you could come back every year and bump into the same strangers who became friends the year before. Friends who slowly become family.
It’s the magic of Noel.
I only hope that Madison decides to be part of the magic—to recognize that she alreadyispart of the magic.
“I wish Madison was here for the kickoff,” I muse aloud, not showing the true depths of my turmoil over her absence.
“Me too,” Clara agrees. “Once you get used to her feisty presence, nothing is the same without it.”
I can’t respond. My throat is too constricted to give my vocal cords any space to speak.
“Good thing she’ll be back next week because Becky is slammed already. I’m going to jump in and help her this weekend, but I think Becky is afraid to hurt my feelings and admit that Mads is a better barista than I am,” Clara says. “Despite the fact that she despises coffee.”
A laugh erupts before I can stop it. Clara looks at me with a confused expression. “MJ hasn’t told you about her dirty little secret, huh?” When Clara’s confusion only grows, I conspiratorially whisper, “She drinks a pour over coffee almost every morning now.”
Clara’s mouth drops open. “Stop it right now! She does not.”
I shrug one shoulder with a smug smile. “She just needed the right kind of coffee to figure out that she likes it.”
At this, Clara’s face softens, and I’d almost swear there are tears in her eyes. “You’ve been so good for her, Liam. You amplify the best in her instead of stuffing it down to make her smaller. I love seeing her with you.”
Now my throat isreallyconstricted.What if Madison decides to stuff down the best of her because she thinks it’s the right thing to do? What if she decides to go backward instead of forward?
What if she picks a different path than me?
“I’m going to go get a drink and walk around a little before the parade starts,” I tell Clara, needing an out from further conversation about Madison. “I’ll see you around.”
I meander the grounds, surprised to find that every nook and cranny off the beaten path has been thoroughly Christmasified. There’s even an alleyway between two buildings labeled with a sign that says “Mistletoe Lane.” When I take a step in to investigate, I see that there are white Christmas lights crisscrossed from the buildings to form a ceiling of light. Dozens of sprigs of mistletoe hang from the strands, creating the perfect excuse for a first (or hundredth) kiss.
