When Charlotte climbed into Micah’s car outside her shop, she’d shut the door on her wish and let it fly along next to them. There were times over the last year when she’d needed space from the ever-present bundle of joy and goodness. Times when she just wanted to feel her sad feelings over a lost business opportunity or something along those lines. She’d discovered the car/door trick once and used it when needed. Keeping her wish outside meant that it didn’t bother Lizzie’s wish.
Lizzie clinging to her wish in the back seat had almost made Charlotte lose hope of getting her to change it. Almost. She seemed unwilling to switch out for coloring supplies, a sled, or a bike. There had to be something out there that Lizzie wanted more than the house. After all, she was a little girl. Little girls could be fickle.
Not that Charlotte was ever fickle with her Christmas wish. But still…
Lizzie had already been through a lot in her short life. Charlotte assumed Micah was her biological father, so hearing that she’d lost her mother and he’d adopted her was a huge surprise.
Once she had a moment to think on it—it did not shock her that Micah had agreed to adopt a little girl and raise her as his own. The man had a heart as big as the mountain they climbed. No wonder he was stressed out all the time. She prayed her mother’s words of wisdom would lighten his load and help him easily find his way through the parenting maze. Lizzie was an amazing little girl, and he had to do something right for her to have an open heart.
“Do you really color?” asked Micah as they neared the top of the hill. His scowl said that he didn’t approve–though she wasn’t sure if he disapproved of coloring or hiking. Could be either. Could also be that his shoes were too tight.
“Mostly, I sketch with colored pencils and the like.” Charlotte adjusted her hold on the rope attached to the sleigh dragging behind them.
Micah also noticed and reached for it, taking more than half the load.
“But I can take it to the rug and spend an afternoon coloring with the best of them.” She winked. Her admiration for this man had grown a hundred feet tall in the last ten minutes. All bets were off, and she wouldn’t hold back anymore. She liked him. If he didn’t return the interest, that was fine. But she was over trying to stop herself from feeling these feelings. He was a good man; she’d be an idiot to let him slip by.
Micah blinked as if he’d gotten a snowflake in his eye. The weather had lightened up. Instead of the snow coming at them from the side, it fell softly on their heads and shoulder.
“Don’t give me that look.” She shoved his arm. “Adult coloring books are a thing!”
“For whom?” he asked seriously.
“For lots of people. I have a dozen people who show up on the first Wednesday of every month when the new shipment arrives.” She swiped a stray piece of hair out of her face.
“How does that work? I mean, how do you know they’re coming?”
Trust him to worry about the logistics of things. She warmed inside. Not many people asked for details about how she ran the store. Micah was curious–which was an attractive quality in a man. She was constantly learning new things–watching how-to videos on making her own cheese or National Geographic specials on ancient Mayan temples. Was he like that too?
“I follow specific designers. Two Christian artists include scripture in their designs. Those are great for meditation. You think about the scripture as you color, and your mind relaxes, allowing the Holy Spirit to speak to you. Others focus on nature or geometric designs. They release once a month, and I have a standing order. I easily sell out of stock. I order ten times as many books at Christmas because they make great gifts.”
“Really?” He scratched his nose. They were almost at the top of the hill.
“You should try it sometime,” she quipped. It would be good for him to slow down and enjoy a simple activity. She could already picture the three of them, coloring books spread out on her living room rug, colored pencils and markers scattered within arm’s reach, and whispered conversations about their hopes and dreams.
Maybe she’d even tell him about her house and why she wanted it so badly.
They stopped at the top, their breath puffing around them like clouds. Charlotte waved to her sister, who helped Jenny and Lizzie get situated on a sleigh.
Micah took a step in that direction. “It’s too far and steep. They’ll end up hitting one of the cars.”
Charlotte put her hand on his arm. “They won’t go that fast. They’re too light. And she’s putting them on fresh powder. That will slow them down.”
Sure enough, Aubrey gave the girls a mighty shove, and they went ten feet and stopped. Giggling, they used their hands to get going again. Their red noses and big smiles were the perfect picture of childhood innocence and joy. Charlotte’s heart filled with the simple moment of happiness.
“This is what Christmas is about.” She grabbed Micah’s arm and hugged herself to him as they continued to watch the little girls. “Sharing moments like these with people you care about.” She sighed happily.
The wishes ran circles around them like a puppy before flying off into the trees, knocking the snow off the branches. It landed with softthumps.
The moment passed in silence, and Charlotte replayed what she’d just said out loud in her mind. She glanced down at Micah’s arm–which she held against her body. It was limp and not at all participating in the moment. She lifted her head off his shoulder and stepped away, embarrassed that she’d gotten so caught up in feelings swirling inside of her that she hadn’t noticed he didn’t return them until it was awkward.
“Sorry,” she dropped his arm and stepped away. Her cheeks flooded with heat, and she fought the urge to pull her scarf off to cool down.
“Don’t be,” Micah replied, sounding as put off and grumpy as ever. But when she made eye contact, there was a softness there and something more.
“Listen,” he started. “There’s something you need to know.”
Charlotte hugged herself. Here it came, the I’m-not-available-right-now discussion. She’d had this talk with men before and didn’t need to tarnish the sledding hill with a major sense of rejection.
