The words of the famous carol echo off the walls of the stone church on Christmas Eve, the wooden pew I’m standing within packed with my family, Jace, and Emmy. His family couldn’t fit, so they’re in the row in front of us, including his parents, whom I’ve met for the first time tonight. For the second time this season, I think of While You Were Sleeping and the scene in the church, except we’re not talking about neighbors or furniture. Although, funnily enough, Jace is in the furniture business.
He stands beside me, his singing voice strong and deep, my heart full as I listen to him honor the sacred reason for which we’ve all gathered here tonight. His face is lit by the candles we’re holding, the glow highlighting his features as he closes his eyes. What a transformation from the Beast of a man he was when I saw him again a few weeks ago. We may have aged since we first met, but I see more and more glimpses of the man he was. Now, he’s even better. Because the spark we shared has not only rekindled, but it’s also turned into a flame, and I can only be grateful.
We’ll be heading to the theater soon for another tradition of watching a movie on Christmas Eve night. For now, as I peek at Jace with Emmy at his side, I choose to focus on the hymns and give a prayer of thanks that, sometimes, the things we fear are gone forever have a way of coming back to us. And sometimes, they are far better than we could’ve hoped.
When we’re filing through the church door back into the chilly night, my brother stops us. “Listen, Jace,” he says in his stoic way. I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or not.
“Should I leave for this?” My arm wraps through Jace’s arm, hoping my brother isn’t going to say something he’ll regret.
“I’d like you to stay, Ivy.” Freddie shuffles on his feet, the only hint that nervousness or emotions are warring within him. He gets right to the point. “I’m sorry for how I treated you all those years ago. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to tell me what happened to your family. And I’m sorry about your sister. I can’t imagine . . .” He looks at me and clears his throat. “You didn’t need my anger. And I feel like I stood in the way of you two when it wasn’t my business.”
Jace nods, his shoulders softening slightly. We’re on the steps of the church now, with Freddie a few steps below us. He’s still taller than me, but Jace towers over him.
Slowly, Jace extends a hand, and my brother exhales, taking it and clasping it in both of his own. “We both care for Ivy,” Jace says. “Like I told you when we spoke, I respect that you were trying to protect her. Don’t hold on to what you can’t change.”
Freddie nods, his eyes glassy, and releases Jace’s hand. “You’ll be at the theater?” He looks between the two of us, and I nod gratefully. “See you then.”
It’s only when my brother is halfway into the parking lot that I look at Jace in disbelief.“Wow, all kinds of Christmas miracles are unfolding for us. I mean, think about it. Freddie apologizing. Gladys’ decision to remove you from the calendar next year.Your family and mine are getting along, not that I doubted it. The anonymous donor whom I know in my bones was Arthur.” Snowflakes start to fall from the sky, and I give an incredulous laugh. “And now, snow!”
“Don’t forget the best part of all.” He draws me close, his words meant only for us, the timbre of his voice bringing warmth to my bones.
“And what would that be?” Even though I know the answer, I want to hear him say it.
Jace bends down to kiss my cheek before moving his lips to the shell of my ear. I can already feel the tingles down my spine as he takes a breath and, on an exhale, simply says, “The hope of us.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ivy
We’re going to be late, love,” Jace says to Emmy, pulling bobby pins from his pocket, a pink practice tutu hanging from his left wrist. Leisurely, he places it on the bench behind him and rummages through his jacket pocket. And then, without a word, his large hands are somehow gently arranging and gathering Emmy’s hair into a tiny ponytail, the wisps surrounding her face smoothing under the movement of his palm. It’s methodical and precise, just like him, and yet, it works. He grins sheepishly at me when he uses one hand and his teeth to pry open the bobby pin before it disappears into the bun forming from Emmy’s hair.
My mother was the one who always helped to pin my hairstyles for dance, and I’d stare at her hands moving in the mirror’s reflection while we played music on an old-fashioned boom box. She’d hum along while I sang, and we’d fall into an easy rhythm. When I got too tall for her to reach the top of my head, I sat backward on the toilet with the seat down. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do my own hair—it’s that she wanted to spend the time with me. And now I realize how much that small gesture meant to me. To this day, I can still feel her hands in my long hair, her mother’s love pouring through every movement. Thefact that Emmy will think of dance classes and remember Jace’s hands in her hair as an act of love makes me ache.
“I know, but I needed to get my things so I can practice with Eddie.” Emmy’s voice is already tired, slower than usual as she lets out a giant yawn.
I hold one back myself. It’s been a long day; we’ve just arrived at Angie’s apartment after the Christmas Eve church service, and as much as I’m ready to see Jimmy Stewart in all his glory on the big screen, I’m more ready to lean my head on Jace’s shoulder while we watch one of the most iconic Christmas movies of all time.
“Okay, let’s go, Emmy Bear,” Jace says while bending to scoop her up.
“No. Miss Ivy,” she counters softly, looking to me instead of hopping into his arms.
“What?” I ask. Jace rises to his full height.
Emmy continues to look at me, a hint of hesitation in her expression. “You, Miss Ivy. Will you carry me? I’m too tired.” It makes sense that she’s used to being carried since her father can hold her without breaking a sweat, but I’m not built like him. I don’t see how I could be as comforting as Jace. Looking into her sweet eyes that are so much like her dad’s, there’s nothing I would deny her if she asked.
“Of course I will.”
Emmy’s tiny arms lift like she’s going to do a dance move, and she holds the pose, waiting for me to bend and lift her into my arms. When I do, she nuzzles into my neck like I’ve seen her do with Jace a few times before. My heart sighs. I’ve always wanted a family, and it’s felt so out of reach. Now, between the two of them, a hazy dream is unfurling.
Jace grabs Emmy’s backpack containing her stuff for the night, but I don’t miss him rubbing his own eyes with the heel of his hand. He’s such a handsome softie. Angie’s been keepingsuch long hours at the bakery that Jace’s parents are going to watch her tonight at Edgar’s house while we’re at the movie. Edgar will bring Emmy back in the morning, so they’ll all be together on Christmas morning. I appreciate all the steps he’s taking to be a part of our town’s Christmas tradition.
Despite her excitement to show her grandparents her part in the choreography for the upcoming performance, Emmy falls asleep on the way over. Jace tucks her into bed when we arrive. He leaves me with her for a moment to make sure he has the tickets, and I stare at her little face, her features so like her father’s. There’s a hint of someone else, of course—someone she will always share a history with—but I’m finding that the affection building within me for the little girl is terrifying. Yet, it also silences the fears I’ve felt over Emmy wanting me to be close to her. Maybe someday, I’ll even be a mother figure to her.
“Sleep well, Emmy Bear,” I whisper, wiping a rogue curl from her forehead, yet another reminder of Jace that makes me smile.
∞∞∞
The clock strikes eleven.
