Her heart melted, right there in the middle of the mall. She already knew he didn’t want her to be alone, but Bridget’s phone call had made her realize how much Patrick was prepared to miss.
“Oh, Patrick,” she said. “Why do you refuse to accept that it’s over between us. What have I done to encourage you?”
“Besides that X-rated kiss and confessing how attracted you are to me, you mean?” He pretended to contemplate her question. “Did you tell my mum you called off the wedding?”
“Well, no. But—”
“That’s encouraging,” he interrupted. He leaned down, positioned his mouth near her ear and asked, “Do you want to know what I think?”
She tried not to shiver. “Not particularly.”
“I think you secretly want to spend Christmas with me,” he finished.
She tried to deny it, but couldn’t make her mouth work. She attempted to school her features into an impassive mask, but could tell she hadn’t pulled it off. “You’re not the only man in the world, Patrick.”
“I know that.” He smiled softly. “But we both know I’m the only man for you.”
“That’s terribly egotistical.”
“It’s the way it is.” He gave her a warm smile. “Let’s make another go of it, Merry,” he said in a low, persuasive voice. “Just tell me what I did wrong, and I’ll fix it.”
“You’re only making this harder.”
“That’s because you won’t fight for us, love, and we have something worth fighting for.”
“Not all relationships work out, Patrick.” Her voice cracked. “Not all couples who love each other have happy endings.”
“When you have something worthwhile, like we do, you fight to keep it.”
She blinked away the moisture that had pooled in her eyes. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, either.” He cupped her cheek and looked at her with earnestness. “If you won’t listen to anything else, listen to this. I love you. I always have. I always will.”
“I’ve told you,” she whispered. “Love isn’t enough.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Merry. Love is always enough. Especially at Christmas.”
* * *
PATRICK HADN’T REALIZED how much stress he’d been under these last few months at work until he felt it fading away.
Even though matters remained unresolved with Merry, spending another day as a TV news cameraman had plenty of side benefits. Not all of them involved operating a camera.
The latest perk had chubby cheeks, liquid brown eyes and curly, blond hair. He was a wee lad, not much over three feet tall. Patrick judged his age to be either four or five.
His mother, who was set to appear on camera, had left the boy at a food-court table with Patrick and Merry while she checked her hair and makeup in a restroom.
“You’ve got it wrong, lad,” Patrick said. “I’m not one of Santa’s helpers just because I’m wearing the red hat. The elves are the ones who help out Santa, and I’m way too tall to be one of those.”
“They’re tiny,” the boy said, his eyes bright with pre-Christmas excitement. “And green. With pointy ears.”
“They usually wear green, that’s so. And it’s true their caps are red and their ears are pointy. But did you know that not all elves live at the North Pole?”
The boy’s mouth dropped open, his attention thoroughly captured. Patrick wasn’t Irish for nothing. He’d been taught how to spin a tale.
“Where else do elves live?” the boy asked.
“If you look real hard, you can sometimes spy the little people at the base of sacred trees in the thick woods. That’d be in Ireland, where my people are from. But you’d only see them at night for they’re bashful of humans.”
The boy’s already big eyes widened. “Do they have a workshop where they make toys?”
“Not these elves. They mostly take care of wild animals. But they’ll sometimes do a good deed for a person who’s worthy.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Sort of the way Santa only rewards good boys and girls.”
Merry had been listening to them with a slight smile on her face up to that point. He was so attuned to her that he realized he’d said something not to her liking. He didn’t discover what it was until after the boy’s mother explained on camera that she’d dyed her hair Christmas-bow red to show her Christmas spirit.
“Did you have to tell the little boy that nonsense about getting something for nothing from an elf?” she asked when they were alone. “Now he’ll think Santa isn’t the only one who’ll bring him presents.”
They were on the edge of the food court, between a bakery that featured oversize cookies and a candy store packed with sugary goodies he could smell from where he stood.
People all around them hummed along with the canned music to the tune of “Frosty the Snowman,” but he still heard the thick exasperation in her voice.
“You weren’t listening closely enough, love. The Irish elves are picky about who they help. And they specialize in good deeds, which they do out of the joy of giving.”
A dapper man dressed in a green suit interrupted to find out when the segment including the red-haired woman would air, then asked whether they thought Charlotte would have a white Christmas.
“Yes, I believe so,” Patrick said. “I can feel snow in the air.”
“How could you say that?” Merry asked when the green-suited man had gone. “There’s no snow in the forecast. And have you looked at the sky? There aren’t any clouds.”
“There weren’t any clouds earlier today, but there might be some by now. And I didn’t say it would snow. I said I believed it would.”
“What’s the difference?”
“There’s a world of difference, love. It’s like the elves. I’d never say for sure that they exist.”
She clearly wasn’t following him. “But you believe they do?”
“I don’t believe they don’t. Belief is a funny thing. Take Santa Claus. You don’t have to accept that a jolly fat man rides in a sleigh with flying reindeer to believe in the spirit of Christmas.
“The Irish stories are like that. Think of them as fanciful allegories for people who believe not necessarily in elves but in magic. Didn’t your mum and da ever regale you with tales like those when you were a child?”
He saw her swallow before she answered and wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d had a lump in her throat. “You know my parents, Patrick. They’re attorneys. They’re hardly the fanciful sort.”
“A shame, I’ve always thought that was. Do you suppose that’s why you can’t see any magic at the mall?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. “Maybe I can’t see any magic at the mall because there isn’t any magic here.”
“Then why haven’t you been able to find anything to back up the angle of your story?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I’ll tell you why. The magic that’s in the air, you have to open your heart to see it.”
A short while later, as she and Patrick walked through the mall en route to the ENG truck, she was still trying to figure out what he meant.
Open her heart? Her heart was open. Hadn’t he been creeping back inside it all day?
The commotion surrounding the Christmas village drew her attention as they passed. She turned in time to see a swirl of snowflakes descend over the children waiting in line for Santa.
She stopped and gaped at the scene. The children appeared to be caught in one of those crystal snow globes that transformed into a winter wonderland when shaken.
Hardly believing her eyes, she blinked. And the snow was gone. But she’d seen it. She knew she had.
Patrick was gazing at her curiously. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you see that?” she asked. “Over at Santa’s village?”
He groaned. “Please don’t be telling me you’re still wanting that video of the scowling Santa.”
She shook her head mutely, trying to make sense of wha
t had happened. But she couldn’t, because a sudden snow squall inside the mall didn’t make sense.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, and knew she spoke the truth. Because Patrick had been right. There was magic inside the mall, and she’d just seen some of it.
* * *
THE YOUNG WOMAN Merry had put on camera was more bubbly than a glass of champagne on New Year’s Eve. Yet Merry found herself smiling at the woman’s exuberance. Or maybe it was the man behind the camera who was the cause of her smile.
“I waited in one line for almost an hour for the display model of a DVD player, but the person ahead of me got it first,” the woman told Merry and WZLM-13’s live audience. “That was after the kid with the hot chocolate bumped me and scalded my leg but before I broke my heel.”
Merry shifted the microphone in order to ask the obvious question. “Then will you tell everyone at home why you’re in such good spirits?”
Although Merry had given the woman a preview of the questions she’d ask before they went live, the woman acted surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be in good spirits? I’m at the mall, I’m on television and it’s Christmas Eve.”
Merry nodded, as though she agreed with the sentiment. By now, she supposed she did. She’d given up trying to find an angle that wasn’t there and was going along with the flow.
She’d even had Francine edit the tape Patrick had shot of the fa-la-laing shoppers waiting in line and led her segment with it.
“And there you have it,” Merry said when she was back on camera, being careful not to dislodge the Santa hat she’d borrowed from Patrick. “Despite the crowds, long lines and not much time left before the big day, the people here are filled with the indomitable spirit of Christmas.
“This is a very Merry Deluca, King’s Mall, WZLM-13 news.”
Patrick lowered the camera, grinned at her and gave her a thumbs-up. Pleasure shot through her. That charm of his was working overtime now.
They’d set up for the six o’clock broadcast just inside the main entrance of the mall. The people who had taken a break from Christmas shopping to watch the live report crowded around her, each one more upbeat than the last.
Merry listened to more stories of Christmas cheer, nodding and smiling. But not because it was expected of her. Sometime during the day, she’d actually started to feel cheerful.
Patrick had been right about more than just Christmas magic. How could she talk about how commercialism was ruining Christmas when everything she’d seen today confirmed that the spirit of Christmas was thriving?
Patrick, who hailed from a land of myth and leprechauns. A land where people believed in magic and love everlasting.
Patrick, whom she loved like crazy and couldn’t wait to marry.
Giddy delight spread through her, and it took all her willpower not to shout her realization out loud.
I want to be Patrick’s wife.
She wanted to spend tonight in his bed, tomorrow in his arms and the rest of her life in his heart. She cradled the bare spot on her finger where his ring had been, realizing how empty her life had been since she’d slipped it off.
Without Patrick, she wasn’t whole.
She craned her neck and got a glimpse of him heading out of the mall to return equipment to the truck. Francine had already taken Merry’s microphone and her earpiece, rendering it unnecessary for her to make the trip. She couldn’t get away, anyway. The people around her were in no hurry to return to their shopping.
Keeping a smile on her face was no hardship. Merry doubted she could have prevented her happiness from shining through had she tried. She kept watching for Patrick to come back inside the mall, but instead caught sight of Francine. Her friend signaled that she was leaving and waved goodbye.
Merry blew her a kiss, amazed that only a few hours ago she’d been annoyed at Francine for trying to arrange for Merry to spend Christmas Day with Patrick.
Francine must have known what was in Merry’s heart before Merry did herself.
“I cannot wait until Christmas,” a woman about her age told her. She lowered her voice and whispered, “I bought myself a sexy red teddy today, but it’s really a present for my boyfriend. It’ll be our first Christmas together.”
“Ours, too,” Merry said.
“That’s so great,” the woman replied, but Merry missed the rest of what she said. She caught a flash of dark hair on a tall man she knew instantly was Patrick. He moved toward her, as though in slow motion.
Their eyes met, and the fears that had shivered down her legs and settled in her feet disappeared.
So she’d gotten cold feet before the wedding. So what. It didn’t mean that she and Patrick couldn’t have a long, happy marriage. Sure, they had differences. But, as Patrick had claimed, those differences would spice up their relationship.
The love-struck shopper finally excused herself, leaving the path clear for Patrick to approach. His gaze was full of tenderness…and pride.
“That was good work,” he said. “I liked the indomitable spirit of Christmas line. It’s not always easy to report on what you see instead of what you want to see.”
“You’re the one who helped me see it like it is.” She was amazed she could speak coherently. “Thank you.”
He smiled into her eyes. “You’re welcome.”
Something rustled. Her eyes dropped. How had she failed to notice that his hands were full of shopping bags? Far more bags than he’d stored in the truck before the noon broadcast.
“I knew you were shopping,” she said, “but I hadn’t realized you’d bought out the stores.”
He shrugged and looked oddly uncomfortable. “You know I like to splurge on my family at Christmas. There’s quite a few of them, so it makes for a long list.
“By the way, Betsy called when I was putting away the equipment,” Patrick told her. “She said she’d rerun the segment at eleven if we wanted to call it a day, but I told her we’ll tape a new one.”
“Why?” she asked, but she already knew.
“I need every one of the minutes we have left until the mall closes to convince you to take me back,” he said. She was about to tell him she was already convinced when he added, “Besides, being a cameraman again has been a lot of fun.”
The wistful note in his voice struck her. “More fun than being a corporate developer?”
His laugh sounded hollow. “Being a corporate developer is a lot of things, but fun isn’t one of them.”
Before she could ask him to expand, he nodded at his shopping bags. “I need to walk these bags to my car. Would you like to come?”
She nodded, and the giddiness traveled through her again. Because she doubted she could make it to his car and back without telling him all over again that she loved him and wanted nothing more than to marry him.
* * *
DAYLIGHT HAD FADED into night, marking the start of the true eve before Christmas. The temperature was still crisp, but some cloud cover had moved into the area.
Patrick couldn’t suppress a burst of optimism that snow was on the way, but an unlikely weather event wasn’t the only source of his optimism.
Merry’s hard-line stance toward him seemed to have softened. She hadn’t brought up those infernal doves in hours, and she met his eyes and smiled instead of avoiding his gaze.
After making the brash promise this morning that he’d leave her alone if the engagement wasn’t back on by mall closing, he’d been terrified that she’d decide against him.
Now a burst of holiday hope rose inside him that they’d be able to work things out and that he’d live the rest of his life with the woman he loved.
He’d left his winter jacket in his car, and a blast of cold wind cut through his knit pullover sweater. Merry shivered, too. He’d offered to retrieve her coat from the mall office, but she’d declined, pointing out they wouldn’t be outside for long.
“I’d put my arms around you for warmth, love, but they’re full
at the moment.” He held up his camera and a multitude of shopping bags.
“Then let me take a couple of those bags from you,” she offered, and he handed her the two lightest. When the transfer was complete and he still didn’t have a free arm, she added in a light, teasing voice, “Too bad the mall doesn’t have shopping carts.”
“We’ll be at my car in a minute, love, and then I’ll be able to put everything down.”
“Promises, promises,” she muttered.
If the parking lot had been emptier, he might have sprinted to his car. As it was, there were more empty spaces than ones containing cars. The farther they walked up the row where he’d parked, the fewer vehicles there were.
The cool air was filled with sounds of people opening and closing car doors, muted conversations and slow-moving traffic, but he could hear his own, shallow breaths. His palms grew damp despite the cold, and he recognized the signs of nervousness.
He’d planned to wait until the end of the night to ask whether she’d changed her mind about the engagement, but he couldn’t get through another minute without knowing her decision.
The gold Lexus he’d bought as a present to himself after joining The Goulden Group came into view. It sat in virtual isolation, its golden color seeming to signify a new beginning.
Shifting the bags in his arms, he deliberately slowed his steps. The King’s Mall parking lot wasn’t the most romantic scenario, but it was the only one he had.
“My invitation’s still open,” he said.
For a moment, his words hung there in the cool, crisp air. His heart seemed to hang in the balance, too.
“Which invitation?” she asked just as casually. “The one to spend Christmas with your family? Or the one to spend it in your bed?”
He stopped in an empty parking space. All around them, people who’d spent the day at the mall were in their cars headed home to their families. Patrick found it difficult to breathe, but not because the parking lot smelled faintly of exhaust fumes.
Dashing Through the Mall: Santa, BabyAssignment HumbugDeck the Halls Page 15
