Yes, Lizzie had the best of him every day of the year–but she gave the best of herself to everyone around her. That’s a child’s gift. One that Charlotte had been able to hang onto as she grew up.
Was he going to give that up? Was he going to let it fly out of his life?
Was he that stupid?
No. No, he was not.
He’d undervalued Charlotte’s gifts, talents, and beauty–treating it like a hardship instead of giving it a place to grow and a safe haven. He wasn’t a lot of things, but he could be a safe place for her. He wanted to be the one she landed on the couch next to and the one she wrapped gifts with on Christmas Eve. He wanted all her holiday moments and even her Christmas in July excitement.
He wanted her.
“I believe, Nick!” he yelled over the wind that had picked up speed. “I believe in Charlotte’s gift. I believe in Christmas!”
“Yeah!” Nick pumped his fist. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
Something warm in Micah’s chest told him to lean left. He did, giving the reins a light tug. The reindeer bellowed a joyful and triumphant sound, and the sleigh turned. The feeling in Micha’s chest grew stronger. “She’s this way,” he told Nick.
If there was one thing he didn’t doubt, it was the love pulsing in his heart. They’d find Charlotte, and he’d tell her all about this moment and how loving her showed him the way. Perhaps that’s what he should have done all along–let love lead. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
ChapterTwenty-One
Charlotte spun somersaults and circles. She hadn’t been able to return to that dream where her family gathered together for Christmas dinner despite trying repeatedly.
In a way, it felt like losing Dad all over again. But in another way, the feeling was softer. He was happy if he lived in the dream she’d visited. Maybe one day she’d get there too.
Maybe she’d have her own space in heaven where all of them could come for Christmas. Her house on the corner would be perfect–with the large dining area and gathering room.
Her heart dropped. She wasn’t going to get that wish either. She looked around for her wish before realizing she hadn’t seen it since she’d started dreaming. Perhaps that was part of Hazel’s magic? Or, it could just be that wishes didn’t travel in dreams.
She wasn’t sure.
Closing her eyes, she pictured her family home at Christmas. The fake tree–the one she’d lamented Mom buying becauseit just wasn’t Christmas without a real tree–stood tall in the corner of the room, next to the fireplace. Two logs burned brightly, casting their warmth and light over the dark space. The only lights on in the room were the multicolored strands on the tree and in the garland over the mantle.
When she opened her eyes, she stood in the doorway, watching Santa unpack his magical bag. Feeling like she was five years old again, she crept into the room behind him.
“You’re up,” he turned, his bright blue eyes sparkling like gemstones. He had the iconic white beard and bowl-full-of-jelly stomach. His red suit had a line of soot running down one shoulder, but the white fur lining was clean. The shine on his black boots reflected the image of the Christmas tree, and he smiled with such love any concern Charlotte had about offending him with her late-night escapade evaporated.
She nodded. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Too excited?” he mused as he sat on the edge of the fireplace and patted his knee.
Charlotte scrambled to take a seat. She was bigger now than she had been at five years old, but somehow she still managed to find that perfect spot. Just like when she was little and first wished for the house on the corner, her heart filled with the certainty that she could trust Santa with that wish.
“What do you want for Christmas?” he asked with a knowing tint to his head.
“I—” Charlotte was interrupted by the room bouncing. She put her arm around Santa’s neck. “What’s going on?” she asked.
Santa froze, like one of the statues in her store. His eyes sparkled, and his cherry-red lips smiled, but he didn’t move. The fire stopped too. Bright as ever, the flames didn’t dance.
She clutched him as the bouncing increased in intensity and frequency. The ceiling tore away like wrapping paper on a gift, and she ducked into Santa’s furry coat.
“Charlotte!”
She peaked through her fingers. In the swirling night sky–that looked like a van Gogh painting–was a reindeer and sleigh. It turned with the wind, and Micah waved at her from inside. “I’m coming!”
“Micah?” she yelled, trying to get her mental bearings. She’d been five years old a moment ago, yet the love that jumped to life inside her was not a child’s love. The dream world began to disintegrate, and darkness gathered in the corners–murky and threatening. “I want to go home!” she yelled.
Nick leaned over the side of the sleigh, his Santa hat flapping in the wind. “We’ll come in as close as we can.”
