He ran one hand over his face. “I can’t believe I just said that.” He shook off his embarrassment. In this dream state–he’d ask a snowman for help.
The sleigh turned toward him and then grew closer and then closer still. He kept his eyes on it, willing it nearer and then himself nearer. The reindeer pushed hard against the storm, his broad shoulders straining against the harness and his large hooves kicking puffs of air behind him each time they moved. Seeing a reindeer fly should be the 8th wonder of the world because it was magnificent.
As the reindeer angled downward, Micah found himself over the top of the sleigh.
Nick Kringle, wearing a jolly old Saint Nick suit, looked up at him. “What are you doing?”
“Just out for a Christmas Eve stroll,” Micah griped. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“Get in,” Nick called over the wind.
Micah continued his front stroke. “I’m trying.”
Nick grit his teeth, pulled back on the reins, and flicked them fast. The reindeer surged upward, and Nick grabbed Micah’s pajama shirt and pulled him down. Once inside the sleigh, the center of gravity shifted, and Micah collapsed happily on the velvet-covered seat, panting.
It was eerily not windy down here, though Nick’s hair was plastered back as he stood with one foot against a brace.
“Where’s Charlotte?” Nick asked over his shoulder.
“We got separated.” He couldn’t forget the look on her face when she realized she would be ripped away from her father. The love that shone in her eyes for him was devastating, because he knew how the story ended. He knew Charlotte missed her father, and she’d been holding onto her Christmas wish to keep a piece of him close.
While Micah had enjoyed his time with his mother, he didn’t miss her like Charlotte missed her dad. He didn’t love her less–perhaps he’d mourned her more openly. He didn’t try to hold on like Charlotte did.
“You lost her?” Nick accused.
“She wanted to stay in the memory,” he fired back. The memory went dark, and she’d flown off to his left. “But I don’t think she did.”
Nick nodded. “If she stays here, she could be trapped forever.”
“What does that mean?” Micah demanded.
“It means she won’t wake up.”
“Why not? What’s happening?”
“There’s no time to explain. We have to find her.”
The reindeer bellowed his agreement. At least, it sounded like he agreed.
“How?” Micah motioned to the chaos around them as three wrapped gifts flew past their noses.
“Do you love her?” Nick asked.
Micah didn’t have to search his heart to know the answer. He got to his feet. “More than anything.”
Nick shoved him in front of him and handed him the reins. “Love is a beacon. Follow it. Fly the sleigh.”
Micah held the leather in an iron grip. “I can’t fly a sleigh.”
The reindeer tugged his head, pulling Micah forward and almost tumbling him over the front of the sleigh.
Nick grabbed his elastic waistband and pulled him back up.
“You have to!” Nick smacked him on the back. “You have to believe!”
Micah ground his teeth together. “I’m flying a sleigh in a dream tornado to rescue the woman I love.” He repeated the phrase. Then did it again. He thought about his version of the perfect Christmas and how alone he’d been. He’d thought that building the T-Rex was the goal–the ultimate. But watching Charlotte scramble to hold on to her dad for one second more made him think that there was more to Christmas than the gifts. More than checking off boxes.
She’d had it right all along. The reason Christmas lasted all year for her was because she loved everyone that much all year long. For someone like him, opening his heart up that wide took setting apart a particular day. It took remembering the greatest gift of love given to humanity to get his focus on loving his neighbor as himself.
