“Oh.” Delighted surprise swells. “Yes, I’mfreezing. Can’t feel a thing. Might be dying.”
He kisses my cheek, and it warms me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
“Feel that?” he asks under his breath.
I can certainly feel that I’m a smitten, dreamy-eyed puddle. My breath catches at every little part of Hall that gives away what he’s thinking about: the glint in his eyes, how intent they are, how fierce, absorbing every detail of me in turn. His reactionary swallow when my stare runs long. The way his hair curls, specks of snow bringing out the russet tints as they melt and darken, and my body goes absolutely haywire over it. Tingling extremities. Fairies in my stomach, diving and fluttering. My pulse is like if someone took my heart and skipped it across the surface of a lake. My gaze drops to his lips, full and dark in the wintry air. “I think my mouth might be frostbitten,” I say.
“Oh, I have a cure for that.”
He chucks a finger under my chin and leans in, expression turning serious. Just before his lips can brush mine, a snowball splats all over our fronts. I scream, not just because it’s cold but also the timing was very rude.
“Get a room!” Ichabod crows.
“Devil child,” I snarl. “I’m stuffing snow down the back of your shirt. Come here.”
He cackles and speeds ahead. The other adults turn to see what’s going on, Marilou pays Ichabod back with a snowball of her own, and a small war breaks out until Grandma gets hit in the butt and swears she’ll lock us all out of the house. Hall gives me a somewhat shy sidelong look and I bite my lip, glancing away; then I look at him andhelooks away, and we both laugh. My heart swoops with panic even as my smile grows, and I think he knows, because his grip is tight, like he wants to never let go.
Valley Visitor’s Center & Sleigh Ride Depot passes out Oreo-flavored candy canes to us all, which makes Hall’smonth. A clerk from Loggerheads Law Offices spots us coming from afar, dashing out with Hershey’s Kisses for the kids. By the time we reach the flickering Lone Wolf Motel on North Platte and unanimously decide to turn back, the streetlamps have all sprung to life.
“Can we race?” the kids ask their parents.
“No, you’ll get hit by a car.”
“We’ll stay on the sidewalk!”
Sean picks up his youngest daughter, settles her on his shoulders, and bolts. She squeals. The others take off with or without permission. The adults hurry a bit faster so that they can keep an eye on them, except for Grandma and Grandpa, who accept a ride from one of their friends passing by.
“See you at home!” Grandma cackles from the backseat, wiggling her fingers. “Walking uphill is for suckers.” Mom flips her off, and then she and Dad cross to the other side of the road to be alone, arms entwined.
Hall and I slow our pace until the others have outstripped us, falling quiet.
The Grand Canyon, I think, heartbeat faltering.Chalk. Herbie the car. Every math teacher I’ve ever had.
“Oh, this’ll never do.” He groans. “I’m supposed to be cheering you up! I’m the shame of holiday-spiriting.”
“You’renot. You’re the best, only I wish you weren’t. I wish you were rotten at your job.”
“I once got employee of the month for one hundred and eighty-two consecutive months,” he tells me. “Toppled from my throne in 1996 by a Holiday Spirit who helped Adam Sandler come up with ‘The Chanukah Song.’ Brought him the chorus in a dream, and after that, yours truly was old news.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His lips curve, eyes scanning the horizon. The rest of my family have wandered out of sight. The sky has gone to sleep, fading to black when we’re not looking. Snow hangs suspended in streetlamps’ beams, fluttering without appearing to be falling. Hall magicks a red umbrella for me, a green one for himself; we twirl them, listening to sleet pitting off the nylon. When I let my umbrella list to the side while spinning it, a cyclone of snow goes curling off the top, a bright spray in the dark.
The wind ruffles his hair. “Do you see what I see?”
In the air, like a soft wind, a faint chorus of “Do You Hear What I Hear” accompanies, and I feel my cheeks lift.
“What do you see?”
He twists a lock of my hair around his finger, wistful. “A beautiful girl who makes me laugh. Who, the longer I’m with her, the more unbearable it feels that I must ever stop.”
My smile falls.
He clears his throat, looking away. “And, I see a world I have so much affection for. A tiny little town of silver and gold.” He toesa rock aside with his shoe, brow lowered. I think he’s trying to fight back the thoughts that are troubling him, but willpower can only get you so far. He’s learning that being human means dealing with your feelings as they strike, and not simply choosing more pleasant ones with the click of an internal button. “Do you like it here?”
I haven’t always. But now? I’m not so sure.
He follows my attention, sweeping in a wide western arc across the indigo sky, up to the west, down again like a looping roller coaster. This town was supposed to be a temporary stopover, an irritation to overcome and then forget. But, unclouded by those feelings, all I see is alpine beauty, triangles of mountain that flush red, purple, blue in the sunset, like paper cutouts. The big, round clock of Town Hall glowing like a full moon, tower shrouded in fog, its cobblestone courtyard strung with twinkly lights. Streetlamps twined with garland and red velvet bows mark each corner, the one-way gravel tributaries that wind off into the trees, into the mountains, disappearing into nowhere.
