At their front was Rowan’s mother, wearing a robe of crimson and a crown of antlers, each with a burning candle at its tip.
Liliana Midwinter looked brilliant and beautiful, and every step she took carried the message of the Solstice. That every day forward from this one was a little longer, the night a little shorter. The world still turned.
Candles lit in every direction. From the sills of nearby windows to the awnings of festival booths, they blazed. The audience gasped in wonder.
Rowan’s eyes fixed on those bobbing lights and remembered the promise of the flame that unified so many winter holidays. The months ahead would be hard, but no matter how long the night, nomatter how bitter the cold, the sun would come again, and death would give way to new life. It was an excuse—nay, a calling—to manifest joy at a time of year when joy was scarce.
There was no wishing away the winter, only preparing as best you could to endure it.
She didn’t realize how much she needed the reminder until she was forced to sit and watch the candles burn.
A hand settled around her shoulders, fingers loose enough that it would be easy to shrug them off if the touch was unwanted but firm enough to soothe. A few tears had slipped from her eyes, and Gavin, it seemed, had noticed.
She lifted an arm to wipe away the evidence, but his eyes were shining too, and she stopped and allowed herself to accept his comfort. They watched in silence until Liliana and the children had traveled far enough away to be swallowed by darkness.
The rest of the parade erupted onto the streets in a bombastic celebration as the solemn moment passed. The high school marching band led them all in a jubilant carol. A group of Korean dancers, many of them members of Zaide’s extended family, danced by in robes and colorful scarves, beating drums. Members of the local synagogue rolled by with a car-sized menorah, candles erupting in multi-foot flames.
Queeriosity sponsored a float carrying a massive Solstice lantern banded in the colors of the Progress Pride flag. Members of the Presbyterian congregation came at their heels, dressed as figures from the nativity story. One after another, the diverse spectrum of the local community celebrated together in the season.
This is worth taking every chance on.
Pressure eased from Rowan’s shoulder, and she registered that Gavin had finally removed his hand. He wandered away from the curb, his gaze fixed on a hand-painted sign at the entrance to the festival grounds.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He considered his answer before responding. “Being here…I can’t help but think about her.”
“Your mom?”
He nodded, eyes dark and solemn. “She loved the holidays. She loved this place.” He pressed his palm to the worn wood of the sign. It featured a snowy queen standing at an ice castle, haloed in dull, burned-out bulbs. Sarah McCreery had painted it, as well as many of the festival’s other signs.
“The lights haven’t worked in years,” he said, “but they keep it up anyway.”
“Mom’ll never let them take it down,” said Rowan. She reached out to place her hand on his forearm. “I need to apologize again. I’m sorry I ever doubted that you cared.”
His face tilted in a smile. “I get it. I am a McCreery, after all.”
With a flush, she said, “Yes, well, by my count, there’s only one McCreery I actually have issues with, and two who are pretty great.”
Gavin looked down, bringing attention to the fact that her hand was still resting on his arm. Rigid muscles flexed and blood pulsed, and she found herself thinking about the moment back at the choir where she thought he might put his arm around her and pull them together. Her lower lip tingled with a shivering sweetness that swept its way down her body.
At that moment, every bulb in Sarah McCreery’s sign came alight in a flash of hot white.
The full effect was dazzling. A cascade of bulbs down the woman’s back formed hair of pure light, and her eyes twinkled.
Gavin’s eyes widened, and he murmured, “What?” He peered around the sign as Rowan stood frozen in place. “Is this even plugged in?”
Rowan snatched back her hand from his arm, blurting, “I need to go.”
Her blood pounded in her ears as she took a step away from him, gazing in apprehension at the sign. It was her doing. She was sure of it. Which made this the third time that magic had come unbidden in Gavin’s presence. He stared at her quizzically.
“I…I need to find my family now,” she said. “We’ve got people coming over for Solstice dinner.”
“No need to explain,” he said, accepting her rambled excuses at face value. “The holidays are busy.” Then, after a pause, he added, “Thanks for the shopping advice and the company.”
“Of course,” she said, hands extending the pockets of her jacket as she took a few more hurried steps back. “I can’t promise we got your cousins something they’ll like, but they would definitely have hated those hats I talked you out of.”
His brows knit. “Ms. Dorothy promised that all the kids in her classes wear them.”
