Today is a very big day for the parade committee. We’re previewing the completed—or supposedly completed floats—and doing a final approval on every inch of the parade.
Paige and I have texted about parade things, but not about anything personal. She’s been really busy planning her trip and I’ve been snowshoeing, renting skates, and drawing—a lot. It seems like I have years of images pent up in my head, and they’ve been blocked. I’m trying to open the door to let God work through me, but it’s harder than I thought to fully let go and let God.
All this means is that I haven’t seen Paige since the bakery three days ago. She’s not due to arrive here until it’s time to sign off on the floats, but I wanted to come early and help people finish. I feel silly showing up like this, but it feels like the right thing to do. Sam wanted an extra shift today anyway—I think he’s planning something big for Alexis for Christmas and needs the cash.
I push open the heavy double doors of the warehouse on the outside of town. A gust of cold December air follows me inside.
“Noah. Thank goodness you’re here,” Martha, the town secretary, calls out as she hurries toward me, her arms full of fabric swatches. “We’re having a bit of a crisis with the Winter Wonderland float. Can you take a look?”
I nod, shrugging off my coat. “Of course, Martha. Lead the way.”
As we weave through the floats, I’m struck by the sense of transformation. What was once a plain, utilitarian room has become a workshop of Christmas magic. Long tables line the walls, covered in half-finished decorations, pots of paint, and various tools. The air is thick with the scent of glue. Air compressors chug and hum. People scurry about like elves the night before Christmas. Flatbed trailers have become beautiful floats with Christmas themes. It’s like getting to look behind the curtain to see how that magic is made.
We reach the far corner where the Winter Wonderland float is almost done. I immediately see the problem. The fringe is all wrong. Instead of blue and white combining to look like ice, it just seems like the stripes of a marker. A group of volunteers cluster around it, their faces a mix of concern and frustration.
Mrs. Larson, a retired art teacher, turns to me with a sigh of relief. “Oh, Noah, we’re just not sure about the color scheme. We want it to look magical, but right now it’s reading more... well, see for yourself.”
I step closer, taking in the partially completed float. It feels flat, lifeless.
“Hmm,” I murmur, my mind already racing with possibilities. “What if we added some iridescent glitter? And maybe some deeper blues and purples in the shadows to create depth?”
Mrs. Larson’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s brilliant. Do we have time?”
There’s a strict deadline. We’ve had a couple of floats drop out because they were so far behind there was no way they could be done in time. It’s disheartening, but they promised they’d plan better and try again next year. I don’t want to see the Winter Wonderland float fall into that category when they are so close to the finish line. It’ll take a push and effort, but I’m sure they can do it. “I think you can make it. Use the battery operated stapler and give it a go.”
As Martha hurries off, I roll up my sleeves and grab a paintbrush. For the next hour, I lose myself in the work, guiding the volunteers as we bring the Winter Wonderland to life. The repetitive motion of the brush is soothing, and I feel the lingering tension.
“Noah?” a familiar voice breaks through my concentration. I look up to see Will standing nearby, a steaming mug in his hands. “Thought you could use some cocoa.”
“Thanks, Will,” I say, accepting the mug gratefully. The rich aroma of chocolate fills my nostrils, a welcome pick-me-up. “What are you doing here?” He seems to be everywhere that I am and no place at all at the same time. I don’t know where he lives. I don’t know what he does for a living. He doesn’t talk about those things either, so I don’t ask. It’s a strange little friendship we have going.
“I’m helping Pastor Robert with the church float. He may have bitten off more than he can chew, but no one is ever alone when they stand with God.” He rubs his palms together.
I nod as I take another sip. The church used the same float for the last three years, but changes things up because of the new theme. Pastor Robert wanted to do a Nativity in a stained glass window motif and it’s coming along nicely. “I’m glad to hear it. And... thanks for giving me some space these past few days. I appreciate it. I do want to apologize again for being rude to you.”
Will’s expression softens. “No apology needed. How are things going?”
Before I can respond, there’s a commotion near the main entrance. I turn to see Emily Thorne, the owner of the hardware store, backing in through the doors, pulling a dolly stacked high with boxes.
“Where do you want these?” she calls out.
I hurry over, Will close behind. “Emily, what’s all this?”
Emily’s smile falters and she glances down at the floor. “Supplies for the floats. Heard you folks were running low on some things.”
I’m momentarily speechless, overwhelmed by this unexpected act of generosity. “This is... wow, thank you. This is incredibly generous.”
Emily shrugs, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “It’s nothing. This parade means a lot to the town. Figured I could do my part. I’m not overstepping, am I? I had this thought, and I wanted to help but … maybe I’m just being dumb.”
I stare at her for a minute, and it’s like I’m looking in the mirror. She wants to be something different from what she has been. Maybe she’s been moved by the Christmas spirit, or maybe there’s something going on in her life that’s changing her heart; but she acted on that thought, that spark of a desire to change, and she’s here.
I trip over myself to lift a box. “I think you did the exact right thing.”
She breaks into a smile, and I can see that she’s actually really pretty. I always thought of her as stern and schoolmarm–ish. That could have been her resting face, though. It always looks like she’s scowling.
Will grabs two of the boxes. “I know just where these need to go. We couldn’t have done this without you, Emily.”
He walks right toward the church float.
