“Me too.”
“Don’t just stand there,” said Mom as she gently bumped Charlotte from behind. “This plate is hot.”
Charlotte jumped into Micah, who pulled her into his solid chest as Mom bustled by with the turkey platter clasped between two hot pads.
Micah sniffed. “Roast turkey,” he said reverently.
She backhanded his stomach. “Just like a man—dreaming with his stomach.”
He smiled ruefully.
Andrew plowed in, almost running over the top of the two of them. “Smelled it!” he yelled as he sat down in his designated spot at the table–which happened to be as close as possible to the main dish.
Aubrey was next. Her teenaged hair hanging in her face. Swoopy bangs were a thing back then. She sat across from Andrew. “Don’t eat all the olives this time. Other people like them too.”
Andrew pulled his hand out from under the table and wiggled his fingers. He’d placed an olive on the top of each one. “Do you mean these olives?” He grinned and sucked one off his pinkie.
She rolled her eyes in response.
“How come I’m the only one carrying food?” Jacob complained as he set a bowl of mashed potatoes topped with a whole stick of butter that slowly melted down the sides.
“Because you’re the sweet one.” Mom patted his cheek. “Someday, you’re going to make a wonderful husband.”
He looked at her like she’d insulted his fastball.
Charlotte gasped and held tighter to Micah. If Mom was here, and Jacob and Aubrey and Andrew, then… “Please. Please. Please,” she whispered.
“Okay! I think this is the last of it.” Dad walked in, holding the cranberry sauce in one hand and sweet potatoes in the other. Charlotte released Micah and dove for a hug, wrapping her arms around his middle. He held both warm dishes out to the side, but she didn’t even care that he couldn’t hug her back. She squeezed and squeezed.
“Dad!” She tried to muffle her sobs of relief at being able to see him once more.
“What in the world?” He handed the food off to Mom and wrapped her up. “Andrew,” he said sternly–as if he’d found the answer to Charlotte’s tears.
Laughing, she leaned back and waved him off. “I’m so happy. It just leaked out.” She hugged him again before stepping back. “It’s Christmas. And you’re all here.” She looked from face to face. “It’s perfect.” As soon as the word left her lips, she gasped and made eye contact with Micah. “But I didn’t wish for a perfect Christmas.”
Micah shook his head–silently telling her he didn’t know what was happening.
The front door flew open, and a young version of her sister-in-law, Lauren, who at the time was her next-door neighbor, ran in. “We’re about to bounce. Hold on!”
Micah reached for her. Instead of grasping his hand, she clung to her dad. Desperate for one more second. He was solid and strong and believed in her.
“Dad!” she yelled.
“Merry Christmas!” Dad yelled back.
The tornado pulled him from her hands, and he spun away. “Dad!” she reached but had no control over where she flew and soon she couldn’t see him again.
Wind tore at her clothing and whipped her hair. “No!” Tears fell like rain, and she let herself be blown about.
ChapterTwenty
Micah tumbled through the atmosphere like a snowflake. He rolled forward and then twisted sideways with no direction.
“Charlotte?” he called. “Charlotte!” He punched his fist into his other hand. “It didn’t take this long last time!” he called into the dark. Bits and pieces of his dream floated by–moving at a different speed than he did. There went the tree that was in his family room. Next was the kitchen table, followed by all the plates and cups, as if they refused to be left behind.
Jingle. Jingle.
Sleigh bells? He rolled onto his back and looked above him, trying to find the source. “There!” he shouted, pointing to a one-reindeer sleigh on the horizon. Concentrating, he turned his upper body in that direction and could float across the top of the currents, skipping like a rock over a pond. “Over here!” he screamed, waving his arms. “Santa, help!”
