No need to write back. I’ll be there, waiting for you.
Sincerely yours,
A not so Resting Scrooge Face anymore
Chapter Six
**CALEB**
Christmas lights glimmer in the dark of the night, along the bushes, fences, and closed shops. Soft instrumental Christmas music plays in the distance as the rest of town is huddled around McGregor’s Farm, enjoying Bright Harbor’s annual ornament exchange. And as I walk, wrapped in a heavy jacket and scarf, toward the lit-up gazebo that’s surrounded by decorated evergreens and casting a golden glow in the center of town, the lightest of snow begins to tumble down from the sky.
I can’t be sure if she’s going to show. When I was at her place yesterday, I honestly didn’t think it was going to go as well as it did. I didn’t think she was going to let me stick around, but when she did, I took advantage of it. I tried to act like no time had passed. We reminisced, we joked around, and we spoke our truth, a truth that I believe squashed every sour feeling between us. After that conversation, I thought about telling her about the letters but wasn’t sure how she’d take it. She’d already gotten the rundown about my feelings, about Boston—it was best I left it at that.
But now as I’m walking toward the gazebo, hands in my pockets, my stomach twisting in knots, I sort of wish I did tell her. Because if she shows up, she shows up for the man in theletters. And what if she’s disappointed? What if she knows she wants to be with “Resting Scrooge Face,” not me ...?
This was a terrible idea.
What the hell was I thinking?
I pause, just as I’m about to step up into the gazebo.
Maybe I don’t do this. Maybe I find another way to communicate with her. Maybe I give this more time and I can ease her into the idea of me being the one writing her the letters.
Maybe I could—
“Caleb?” Nola says from behind me, causing my shoulders to tense and my spine to straighten. “What are you doing here?”
Well, looks like there’s no escaping now.
Slowly, I turn and take her in. Her cute short hair is styled in waves under a red winter hat. She’s bundled up into a black coat, red scarf, and black winter boots. She looks warm, but so beautiful at the same time.
“Uh, hey, Nola,” I say.
She glances behind me and then looks around. “Are you waiting for someone?”
I pull on the back of my neck and figure this is it. Time to come clean.
“Yeah, I was. I was waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me?” she asks, looking confused.
“Yes.” I reach into my coat pocket and pull out a green envelope—Arden told me it’s what he’s been delivering my letters in, so he gave me a final one for tonight. “I have one last delivery for you.”
She stares down at the letter and then back at me.
“You ... you’re ...”
“Resting Scrooge Face,” I finish for her.
“But ... how?”
“Arden found my original letter that I threw out in the trash. He hated how lonely I was, how I sequestered myself during the holidays, and I guess he thought the same about you, so he gave it to you. And then you wrote back. Hearing that someone else was suffering through the festivities made me feel a sense of normality—something I lost the moment you came back to town.”
Here goes nothing.
I step forward, and I take her hand in mine. “Nola, you are truly the best part of my life. I have the best memories from when we were together. I had the best laughs with you by my side. And even when we went through some hard times, knowing I had you to lean on took away some of the pain. When I lost you, I lost a part of myself along the way. But you’re here now, and slowly, you helped bring that part back to life with your letters.” I link our fingers together, hers in gloves, mine not. “I’m so sorry for the past, for treating you the way that I did. And I promise you, if you give me another chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Tears well up in her eyes as snowflakes cling to her eyelashes.
