Love on Main Street: A Snow Creek Christmas

by Juliet Blackwell

  “The dress rehearsal’s Monday. Are you ready?”

  Madison nodded as she sucked on her fork. “Yep. Are you?”

  “Not really. But I’m ready for it to be over.”

  “Why do you hate Christmas so much? For real. The truth.”

  What was the real truth? That her parents had disappointed her? Or that life had? “I think,” she said slowly, “that I wanted to live inside a bubble of Christmas magic all the time, and when my dad left, I felt locked out of that world forever. My mother wasn't, though, and I didn’t understand why. I thought she was crazy and irresponsible, and that if there were no Christmas, at least we would share that disappointment. But she wasn’t disappointed. Nothing seemed to change for her. I was heartbroken, and she pretended nothing was wrong.”

  “Grandma loves Christmas. It wasn’t ruined for her,” Madison said. “I don’t think she’s pretending.”

  Christy wanted to be honest, but Madison was too young to understand. “She lied about some important things. On purpose. They’re grown-up things I can’t explain now.”

  “When I’m twelve?”

  “Maybe when you’re thirty. Maybe never.”

  Madison was silent for a long moment. “Are you still mad at Grandma?”

  “I’m not that mad. But I think I’m still disappointed.”

  Madison scooped up the last bite of cake and held it up to Christy. “Don’t be, Mama. It’s Christmastime. You forgave me for telling Piper about Santa. She even forgave me. And she still believes in the spirit of Santa. She says her dad explained it all. It has to do with love and magic and invisible things that are real. Like the wind.” She put one small hand on Christy’s chin to make her open her mouth.

  She accepted the last bite of the bûche, though she’d rather Madison have eaten it, and smoothed her daughter’s bangs out of her eyes. “How did I get such a wise little girl?”

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “Very lucky.” She swallowed. “We need to get your bangs trimmed tomorrow.”

  “Do you think you can get over being disappointed with Christmas?”

  “I’ll try, chickadee.” It was hard to promise something she wasn’t sure she could do, but it was becoming clear that for Madison’s sake, she really needed to try.

  ***

  After he tucked Piper into bed, Dan began composing an email to Christy’s parents.

  Dear Kayla and Mr. Monroe,

  I’m in love with your daughter, and I think she might be inclined to give me a chance if she can get some of her feelings about Christmas and trusting people resolved. I need your help. Unfortunately, she’s fixed on Christmas as the root of all pain in her life, because you two split up during the holidays when she was eight. That’s not your fault. Kids do odd things. She doesn’t trust me because I believe in the magic of Christmas. More to the point, she doesn’t trust the reality of a loving and committed relationship that can persist through for better and for worse.

  I’m hoping you’ll both consider what I’m about to propose. Madison and my daughter, Piper, manipulated us into directing the elementary school holiday show, which will be December 19th. I’d like to add a skit about a girl whose parents separate just before Christmas—starring you two—with a happy ending where Santa visits the girl and helps her understand that the magic of Christmas can help heal her broken heart instead of making all her grief worse. Hokey—yes. But I think it might work, and I’m desperate here.

  That sucked. No nuances. No grace. But it was honest. Honest was good. He hit send.

  Then he waited. He re-read what he’d written and cringed. He sounded like a whack job. Desperate. Ridiculous. Bah. He could make batter and dough sing. Words, not so much.

  Then the phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but he answered anyway to distract himself.

  “Dan Rose?”

  The voice was rich and familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “This is Dan.”

  “This is Jack Monroe. Christy’s dad.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” Dan said automatically, then cringed.

  Jack laughed. “You’ve got it bad for my girl.”

  Dan laughed, too. “Yeah. I do.”

  “I talked to Kayla. She likes you. And you’re right, she thinks Christy does, too. I’m in. And I have some ideas. Kayla’s not sure yet. She feels like she really blew it. It’s a sore point. I guess Christy got really mad about it again recently.”

  “Yeah. I was there.”

  There was a pause. “Christy yelled in front of you?”

  “And at me.”

  A longer pause. “She likes you.”

  “I think she does, but it’s not enough. I need her to trust me. And her own feelings. Otherwise she’ll just shut me out. She’s good at that.”

  “Yeah.” Dan understood the fatherly exasperation and affection in that one word. “I’ll work on Kayla. I can get up there the morning of the nineteenth. It’s lucky timing. I leave the next day for a promo tour in Australia. Contractual thing. Pain in the ass.”

  “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. Just know if you hurt her I’ll have to smash you into a thousand pieces. And even though I’m old, I can do it because I spend a lot of time at the gym. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon. Tell you some of my ideas for the skit. Take care.”

  Goofy as it was, Dan’s plan just might work.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The dress rehearsal started half an hour late due to Dr. Joe’s tardy arrival with two donkeys, three sheep and eight bales of hay for the manger. Christy knew it wasn’t the doc’s fault—Norris Taggert had slid into the ditch half a mile past Joe’s ranch, and Joe had stopped to help—but there was a winter storm blowing in from the Pacific, and she was concerned about getting all the kids home before it started snowing. Not that she wouldn’t mind a good blizzard if it meant the holiday show might be cancelled, but it wouldn’t come to that. People who lived in a town called Snow Creek knew how to handle snow. The show would only be delayed and dragged out, and she just wanted it done.

  Every day it was harder to be cool around Dan. She was tired of fighting her wayward feelings, tired of holding herself back from talking to him and smiling at him. Tired of wondering how he and Piper were, what they were doing, what they were talking about, what they were eating. He had invaded her thoughts. The best cure would be to not see him anymore. Then she was sure she’d be able to put him out of her mind and relax. She didn’t want romance. She didn’t want all the disruption for either Madison or herself.

  Dan appeared beside her in front of the stage. He looked uncharacteristically jumpy. “I don’t like the look of the sky. The forecast is for snow showers, but it feels cold and damp enough to dump a blizzard on us.”

  “We get at least one every year. Hey!” She caught Sabrina Neach by the shoulder as she flew by with Gavin Crawford’s elf hat dangling at the end of her raised arm. “No teasing and taunting, Sabrina. You know the rules.” She handed Gavin’s hat back to him and turned back to Dan. “It’s no big deal. As long as everyone gets home safely.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.” He fished his phone out of his jeans pocket, tapped a few times and frowned.

  Christy studied him closely. His hair was a little wild, a couple of tufts sticking straight out, and his unflappable calm was notably in absence. “What’s up with you?”

  “Nothing.” He answered too fast. “Guess I’m not used to mountain weather yet.”

  Her bull-crap meter spiked. “Really?”

  “You’re not worried about the weather? About the possibility of getting trapped here in the school with all these kids overnight?”

  Christy narrowed her eyes. “They time storms pretty well these days. We’re not going to be re-enacting the Donner Party.”

  Tasteless, yes, but it won her a smile, finally.

  “You’re right.” Then his phone buzzed, and he whipped it out again, took a look at the screen and zipped off like he’d just e
aten six pounds of frosting and washed it down with as many juice boxes.

  The snow started a little after four, light flakes drifting out of a leaden sky. Half an hour later, when Christy stepped outside the multi-purpose room to look for Hannah Grassi, who hadn’t returned from the restroom for her solo in the fourth-grade song, it was nearly dark, and the wind had picked up considerably. The air was full of snowflakes swirling every which way. After she got Hannah to the stage just in time for her performance, Christy overcame her annoyance with her mother and called to see if she could come pick up Madison. Christy would need to stay until all the kids were on the way home, and with the weather, some parents were bound to be delayed.

  Her mother didn’t answer her cell phone or the house phone. Sometimes Kayla didn’t hear her cell phone if she was shopping, and she never answered while she was driving, so Christy left messages on both phones. When she was done, she saw that Dr. Tapia had joined Dan in front of the stage and waved her over.

  “What do you think?” Christy gestured to the fourth graders singing their hearts out.

  “Great,” Dr. Tapia said, “but there’s a problem. This is a cold, wet storm. The office is calling parents to come get the kids right now. And we’re probably going to cancel school tomorrow.”

  Dan groaned. “What about the holiday show?”

  “We’re waiting to see. The weather’s supposed to clear by mid-day tomorrow. We’ll have to make the call to go ahead or postpone then,” Dr. Tapia said.

  “But it has to be tomorrow,” Dan said quickly. “Tuesday. The nineteenth.”

  “Relax.” She’d never seen him tense. “It’s been postponed other years.”

  “It can’t be postponed this year,” Dan insisted.

  Dr. Tapia shrugged. “At least we’ll have a white Christmas. Can you hustle the rehearsal along? I want everyone out of here by six. The heavy stuff shouldn’t be here by then. As each grade finishes, have them line up at the back of the room, ready to go when their parents get here. And, Dan, Christy’s right, relax. The show will go on when the Snow Miser releases us from his grip.” The principal strode off.

  “Snow Miser?” Christy asked.

  “From The Year Without A Santa Claus.” Dan’s shoulders drooped. “You know, the Snow Miser and the Heat Miser.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s a classic.” He shook his head at her. “How can you not know who the Snow Miser is? And the Heat Miser Song is one of the most underrated examples of holiday absurdity ever conceived. Where did you grow up? I could use the Heat Miser right about now.”

  “Everything will be fine.” Geez, he was acting strangely. “Are you okay?”

  His eyes locked onto hers and damned if her heart didn’t do that stupid stuttering, pounding thing. There was a demand in him she wanted to answer so badly her bones nearly moved her straight into his arms.

  “I’m fine,” he rasped.

  It was a lie, but he stepped away and turned his attention back to the stage. In two seconds, one of the teachers had Dan by the elbow and was whispering in his ear as he steered him away. There was no chance to find out what was wrong.

  From that point on, Christy worried more about Dan than about the blizzard. If he was upset enough to show it, it had to be important. Dan took things in stride. He kept perspective. He was strong enough to be flexible when life took unpredictable turns. The only thing she knew might have made him jumpy was if something was wrong with Piper, but she was coloring at the back tables with Madison and the other first graders, waiting for their parts in the finale.

  Nevertheless, when the fourth graders filed off the stage, Christy zipped back to where the girls sat. She put a hand on each girl’s head so as not to look too suspicious. Piper didn’t feel hot. Her color was good. No pallor. No flush. No sniffles. “Are you two okay?”

  They nodded without raising their heads from their drawings.

  “Is everything okay with your family, Piper?”

  That earned her a confused look. “You mean my dad?”

  “And everyone else.”

  “Yeah.”

  Christy didn’t want to ask outright what Dan might be worried about, but she couldn’t help it. She was too worried about him not to. “Do you know what your dad’s worried about?”

  Both girls blinked at her like a couple of baby owls, wide-eyed and inscrutable. “Probably just nerves,” Piper said.

  “Your dad?” Madison asked.

  “The show’s a big deal. He doesn’t want to mess it up,” Piper explained.

  One of the fifth-grade teachers caught Christy’s eye and waved frantically for her to return to the stage. If she wanted more of an answer she was going to have to ask Dan. The prospect of doing so made her tummy feel as unsettled as he appeared. She didn’t have time to analyze why. He’d probably baked some magic Christmas dust into the bûche, or something else that had her caring far more than she’d ever wanted to.

  ***

  Dan stood beside Dr. Tapia as the last parents—Dennis and Sandy Shook, who were always half an hour late to everything—drove off in their four-wheel-drive SUV with their kids singing “Grandma Got Run Over by A Reindeer” loud enough to be heard over the wind. It was dark, and a good foot of snow had already accumulated.

  As Dan hoisted Piper into his arms so she wouldn’t founder on the way to the car, an incoming text pinged on his phone. It was Christy’s mom. “Don’t let her come to my house. She’ll know something’s up.”

  How was he supposed to stop her?

  “Let me know as soon as you’ve made a decision about the show,” Dan said to the principal.

  Christy and Madison emerged from the restroom, bundled up to their eyeballs. Keeping his tone low key and cheerful, he asked, “Will you let me follow you home? Just to make sure you get there without sliding into a snow bank? If there’s any chance our show might go on tomorrow, we need you here in one piece.”

  Christy barely glanced at him. “Thanks, but we’ll be fine. I grew up here. I’ve been driving through blizzards since I was sixteen. Maybe we should follow you guys home to make sure you get there.”

  So much for trying to make sure they didn’t stop at Christy’s mom’s house. He needed a back-up plan. “If you do follow us home, I’ll make you dinner.”

  He wasn’t surprised when she shook her head quickly. “Thanks. We need to get home and settled before any more snow falls. So do you.”

  He didn’t offer to let her stay all night, but he wanted to.

  Piper didn’t have his restraint. “Why don’t you guys come and stay all night? It would be fun!”

  Madison whirled to look up at her mom. “A sleepover! Can we?”

  Christy calmly shook her head. “No, honey. Not tonight. Not when there’s a blizzard. Come on. It’s time to go.”

  Dan took Piper’s hand and followed Christy and Madison out to the parking lot. His plan to put the magic back into Christmas and win Christy’s heart threatened to come apart before morning. Her mother was balking at doing her part. Her father was stuck in Sacramento with no planes coming into the Lake Tahoe airport or Reno, and I-80 and Highway 50 were closed until the snow let up. His secret addition to the Snow Creek Elementary School holiday show didn’t look like it was going to happen.

  Piper swung his gloved hand in her small mittened one. “It’ll be okay, Daddy.”

  His customary optimism failed him for once, but he smiled anyway. How could he not? He had Piper. “How about we make some cocoa with candy canes and marshmallows when we get home?”

  “And maybe breakfast for dinner?”

  When they reached the car he bundled her into her car seat lickety split. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Scrambled eggs with lox?”

  His favorite, not hers. He took her head in both hands and placed a big smacking kiss on the little bit of her forehead that he could reach beneath the edge of her hood. “And maybe a few of those smoky chicken sausages.”

&n
bsp; “And popcorn for dessert.”

  “There you go.” But he still wanted Piper and Christy and Madison all together with him, snuggled up warm under one roof.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Dan opened the bakery the next morning at six o’clock, Main Street was lined with berms of plowed snow and more piling up by the minute. No cars, no people. Not even the three old guys who warmed the bench down the street would be out today. He’d called his employees last night and told them not to come in if it wasn’t safe. This morning he’d prepped for a light day: a batch of muffins, raisin bread, cracked wheat sourdough, some savory turnovers, and a gluten-free cranberry orange and cinnamon coffee cake. He sighed and made himself a decaf latte, grabbed a warm apple oatmeal muffin, and sat down with his laptop to check the weather report.

  The snow was supposed to stop by noon. Twelve and a quarter inches had already fallen. School was closed, and it was too early to call anyone to see what the chances were of the holiday show happening.

  There was an email from Jack that had been sent at 4:16 a.m. saying he’d made it as far as Auburn and wasn’t giving up. Auburn was fifty miles away. On a normal day, that was a forty-five minute drive. Today it might as well be a village in China three hours from an airport.

  The inside stairwell door slammed, heralding Piper’s arrival.

  “Why are you up?” Dan pulled out the chair next to him and patted it. “No school today.”

  Piper opened the big refrigerator door and took out a quart of milk. She got a glass, poured her milk without spilling a drop, and put it away. On her way to the table she snagged a banana muffin from one of the bakery trays. Dan pulled her chair close to his when she sat down.

  “What about the holiday show?”

  “Don’t know yet.”

  They stared out at the snow-covered, empty street.

  “It’s still snowing pretty hard,” Piper observed glumly.

  “Yep. The forecast says it will stop in a few hours.”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”