by Marta Perry
“Yes, at nine o’clock, in front of the gazebo.”
“Will do.” The mayor started to leave, then paused and studied Jordan. “You know, son, your coming back to Ginger Falls was the best Christmas gift this town could have had. I don’t know where we’d be right now without you.”
“I appreciate that, Mayor, but I didn’t do much.” Jordan looked around the crowd of children and adults, then anxiously back at the news crew. “Guess we’ll see after tonight how well it all worked.”
“Nonsense.” Mayor Cubley’s gray mustache twitched. “Regardless of tonight, you’ve already brought in revenue, donated your own money and secured leases on vacant properties—not to mention inspired the entire community to give this town another chance. Just look at this turnout! People are starting to care again, Jordan. That’s not an easy task to accomplish.”
“Thank you, sir.” Warmth settled in Jordan’s heart. He couldn’t have done any of it without Allie, though. The reminder of her partnership swept a cold wind across his spirit.
“You tell Ms. James I mean that toward her, as well.” As if reading Jordan’s mind, the mayor gestured to the card table of flashlights. “You two are quite the team. I wish there was something we could do to show our appreciation.”
Allie and he were—a team. But not for much longer. Jordan swallowed against the pain. “This is my home, sir. I’m happy to do my part.”
They shook hands, and the mayor moved toward the tables, clapping his hands for attention and issuing orders in his friendly, booming voice. Jordan’s gaze instinctively went to Allie. He should tell the news crew they were almost ready, but his booted feet felt frozen to the ground beneath him, weighted by the heaviness of his heart. A line formed in front of Allie, and she quickly went to work handing out flashlights. Greta, the gift-shop owner, stepped up to the front and said something that made Allie laugh and gesture animatedly with one hand. Greta patted Allie’s arm with a wide smile before leaving the line and heading toward the pasture.
A knot formed in Jordan’s stomach. Allie had found her way back to town after years of absence, just like he had. Could she really leave it all behind for the second time in her life? With a sigh, Jordan shoved his hands in his pockets and strode across the frosty ground to the news van. He had the feeling she was just as eager, if not more so, to leave him behind.
And he couldn’t blame her one bit.
Allie clicked her flashlight, the bulb covered in a purple plastic film, on and off as she made her way through the crowd to the stakes that marked the giant gingerbread man’s top button. The cold breeze tickled her neck under her jacket and brushed tendrils of hair across her cheeks. She shivered. Yet despite the cold all around her, locals and tourists jostled for places beside the wooden markers, an excited murmur riding their wake as they craned their heads to the sky. The plane was due to come any minute. The news crew had their cameras set up across the pasture, and already a reporter was interviewing a family of four. From the looks of it, this event—like all the others—would be a hit.
The sense of accomplishment mingled with a suddenly overwhelming feeling of dejection. Allie drew a deep breath. She was making the right decision. Even though it was nice being back in Ginger Falls, her dreams and future lay within Kansas City. There was nothing for her here anymore.
A flash of red caught her eye, and she realized one of the flashlights was out of place. She stooped over to level herself with the child holding the light. “Whoops. Red is for the gingerbread man’s mouth, little guy.”
The boy’s face puckered beneath his knit cap, and he pouted up at his mother. “I don’t want to be the lips. Lips are for girls!”
“Trade ya!” A girl with long blond braids stepped to one side and held out her flashlight. “I’m green.”
“What’s green for?” The boy squinted with suspicion at Allie.
She tried to hide her smile. “The eyes.”
The boy snatched the flashlight from the girl’s hand and relayed his own before running to his new position a few yards away.
Allie shrugged at the boy’s mother, who shook her head with a laugh. “Boys will be boys.”
“What’d we do this time?” Jordan stepped up beside Allie with a smile. “I hear some gender-bashing going on.”
Allie struggled to keep a straight face even as her stomach reacted to Jordan’s proximity. Oh, Lord, not now. I’m so close to leaving this all behind. Can you please tell my heart to wait a little longer? She’d successfully avoided Jordan so far this evening, even if she couldn’t help watching him interact with the townspeople and Mayor Cubley.
“Nothing at all.” The woman kept one eye on her son, who was now staring at the sky with the others beside him. “My Kenny just wanted a more masculine piece of the gingerbread man.”
“Let me guess. He was originally assigned the mouth?”
The woman laughed as she adjusted the collar of her jacket. “How’d you guess?”
“Boys will be boys, right?” Jordan mimicked her answer with a grin and then held out his hand. “Jordan Walker. Allie and I work for Ginger Falls, and we’re glad you came out tonight.”
She shook his hand. “Stephanie Haynes. It’s nice to meet you—and we’re happy to come. It’s all Kenny talked about since seeing the ad in the newspaper. We’re from a little town outside of Norton.”
Allie regained her smile. “Well, we hope Kenny has fun. Don’t forget to come back to Main Street after this event. We’re having free carriage rides and refreshments in the town square.” She glanced at her watch. “Yikes, it’s almost eight o’clock.”
“Time for the plane.” Jordan cupped his hands around his mouth. “Places, everyone! Flashlights on and pointed to the sky!”
Allie quickly stepped into place, joy and dismay mixing as one as Jordan took the staked spot next to her inside the button. He clicked his flashlight on and aimed it toward the clouds. She turned and followed suit, telling herself there was no way she could feel his warmth from a foot away. But every nerve in her body remained alert to his presence, and she swallowed. He doesn’t want you, Allie. He said so himself this morning in the office. Don’t make a fool of yourself.
The crowd fell into an expectant silence as they waited. A sudden whirring from the heavens broke the stillness of the evening, and a cheer spread throughout the pasture as the small red and white plane broke through the clouds. All around Allie, flashlights were held high and steady, sending a multicolored glow into the night. Tears of fatigue, joy and accomplishment pricked Allie’s eyes, and she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder at Jordan. He winked at her and mouthed the words, “We did it.”
She smiled back, despite the warnings in her heart, and nodded. “We did it.”
Chapter Twelve
Allie held Sophie up to pet the nose of the furry white horse while Molly climbed into the empty carriage waiting by the curb on Main Street. Her sister shivered as she settled into the red leather seat. “I wish Tim were here tonight to keep us warm!” She held her arms out for Sophie, and Allie helped her niece climb into the carriage. “But I shouldn’t complain. At least he’s off work tomorrow for Christmas.”
“That’s what’s important.” Allie handed over a thermos of hot chocolate she’d brought from Theo’s across the street. “Here you go. Be careful. It’s hot.”
“Thanks.” Molly patted Sophie’s leg. “Scoot over for Aunt Allie.”
“I can catch another one.” Allie helped drape a blanket around Sophie’s lap, tucking her in against the cold.
“Don’t be silly. There’s plenty of room. Come on.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Allie gripped the side of the carriage and started to hoist herself up. A familiar deep voice resounded beside her, and her hand slipped from the rung. Strong hands held her steady as she fumbled for a hold.
“Excuse me, ladies. Only two people per carriage.”
She turned, Jordan’s arm still bracing her weight on the carriage step. “
What do you mean? Sophie hardly counts as a person.”
“Hey!” Sophie’s eyebrows furrowed together in indignant protest.
Molly tried and failed to stifle her laugh behind her glove. “You know what Aunt Allie means. You’re smaller than an adult.”
“I have an empty carriage waiting just ahead.” Jordan’s dark gaze met Allie’s. “We can finish up some business details.”
“All right.” Allie climbed off the step with reluctance. A few more hours in Jordan’s presence, then she would be done. After tonight, she was officially through with her job and could spend the rest of her time in Ginger Falls at her parents’ house, drowning her sorrows in cocoa and sugar cookies. But shouldn’t she be more excited about the prospect of starting her own business next week?
Allie followed Jordan to the next carriage, waving at Sophie as their buggy took off down the street. Jordan offered a hand to help Allie board, but she waved it off, awkwardly maneuvering her way onto the seat alone. She pressed against the far side as Jordan climbed in beside her. “Comfortable?”
With his leg inches from hers and his warm peppermint-scented breath even closer? Not really. “A little cold, but fine.”
“Here.” Jordan grabbed a blanket that had been stowed under the seats of the carriages and opened it for her. She tucked the green fabric around her legs, grateful for the extra padding between her and Jordan.
“Better?”
“Yes, thanks.”
The driver slapped the reins against the horse’s back, and their white steed began prancing his way down Main Street. Allie couldn’t help but relax as fresh flakes fell from the sky, dusting the town like powdered sugar. Snow clung to her curls, and she brushed at them with her mittens. Just as her dad advised years ago, she shouldn’t let a man interfere with her favorite holiday. She smiled as tiny crystals tickled her nose.
“You have snow in your eyelashes.” Jordan pulled one glove off and ran his finger gently across her eyelid. His touch was even lighter and more feathery than the snow. Allie’s shoulders tensed, and she pulled away, immediately missing the warmth of his hand as he slowly let it fall back to his lap.
She tried to focus on her surroundings, instead of the unsteady thumping of her heart. All around them, locals and tourists alike enjoyed the festival. Several kids stood in the street, trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues while their parents laughed and talked nearby, rehashing the gingerbread man adventure from the hour before. Main Street hadn’t been given a true makeover yet with the funds they’d earned, but the warmth and light of the people participating made the city brighter. Jordan might have raised the town’s awareness of its critical condition, but he did more than that—he made them care. Ginger Falls was going to be just fine.
But was she?
“You’re quiet.” Jordan rested one arm behind Allie on the back of the carriage. He didn’t touch her, but she felt the heat like a hundred radiators in the dead of winter. “I thought you’d be happy after our success earlier. The news station promised they’d have our story on the ten o’clock news tonight and again in the morning.”
“I am happy. Just thinking. It’s been a long couple weeks.” She gestured to the camaraderie around them as the driver made a turn around the square. “But worthwhile.”
“The mayor paid us a high compliment tonight. He’s very proud of all we’ve done. I told him it wasn’t much, but he insisted we made a big difference.”
“I know don’t about ‘we,’ but you did.” Allie flicked at the snow gathering on the blanket in her lap. “You deserve the praise. I was actually just thinking the same thing.”
“You were?” Jordan’s head tilted with surprise.
Allie let out a long breath, the warm air clouding the frigid night. “Jordan, just because we have a bad past behind us doesn’t mean I can’t notice your good qualities.”
“So I do have them?” His tone joked, but his eyes were serious.
Allie touched his arm before she could think better of the action. “Yes. You always have. If you were a jerk, it’d have been easier to get over you all those years ago.” The memory of his earlier words in the office shadowed her mind, and she pulled away. “Although what you said this morning helped a little.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You informed me that your life’s plan never included me.” The pain struck fresh, and Allie turned her head, focusing on the swish of the horses’ tail. “Which is fine—it just would have been nice to know that before we dated our senior year.” She’d spent enough time missing someone who obviously didn’t miss her, and she wasn’t eager to keep the cycle going.
Though lately, her heart’s cry insisted she didn’t have a choice.
“Allie, you left the office today before I could finish what I was saying.” Jordan took her hand. She tugged it back, but he held on. “My parents’ plan never included you—I said nothing about my own.”
Her hand stilled under his. Jordan hoped the sudden lack of struggle proved she was listening—and melting that icy, defensive wall around her heart. He tightened his grip on her hand, feeling the warmth even through their gloves. “That’s what I was trying to tell you that night. I was a frustrated kid, feeling the pressure. I never meant to hurt you.”
“Do you ever think about what might have been?” For the first time in what felt like ages, Allie looked directly into his eyes. The intensity of her gaze nearly made Jordan forget the question.
He eased away an inch to bring her face into focus. “All the time.” He hesitated. “Did you…date much? In Kansas City, I mean.”
Allie shrugged but didn’t move her hand from his. “A little. Nothing serious.” She looked away. “You?”
“The same.” Jordan drew a deep breath, hoping he wouldn’t regret the next words leaving his mouth. “No one was ever you, Allie.” She smiled, but it held more bittersweet emotion than joy. He wished he could touch her lips, turn them into a real smile, a grin brought by mutual caring—instead of nostalgia.
“I can relate to that.”
Jordan’s heart jump-started at her quiet response, and hope dared to bloom, like a rogue winter flower fighting a blanket of snow. He squeezed her fingers beneath his. “Can we start over?” She hesitated, and Jordan filled the silence. “I know you’re leaving next week, and it technically doesn’t make a lot of sense to start a long-distance relationship, but I’d do whatever it takes to make it work this time.”
The carriage turned again, lapping them around the center of the square, and Allie’s gaze landed on the gazebo. “That’s the thing, Jordan. It wouldn’t work.” Her voice turned wistful. “We’re like the gazebo.”
He followed her stare to the worn structure on Main Street. “How so?”
“The gazebo was once this beautiful icon of Ginger Falls. And look at it now. It’s practically falling apart. It’s tired of even trying to hold together, Jordan.” She drew a deep breath. “And so am I.”
Jordan couldn’t find the words to argue as the carriage pulled to a stop by the curb, and Allie quickly climbed out the other side.
They’d come full circle.
Jordan sat on the edge of the broken gazebo bench, watching the sound crew roll and carry the cords used for the Bible reading. The tourist crowd had dispersed an hour before, leaving nothing behind but a few pieces of trash blowing beside the cans on the curb and the potent scent of horses lingering in the air.
Tired of trying to hold together. Allie’s words pierced his mind. He knew the feeling. He was tired of trying to pretend that Allie didn’t still claim his heart, didn’t still take his breath away every time she brushed her hair out of her face or smiled at him across the room. He still loved her—without a doubt and possibly even more now than he did as a teenager. Because now he knew what was at stake. He knew what it felt like to live without her.
But to Allie, their relationship was like the bench he sat on and the entire gazebo—worn, crumbled, stained. Jordan
pressed his fingers against his temples as he cast a look around their once-special spot, practically flooded with memories. What Allie didn’t realize was that all the gazebo’s problems were on the surface. The foundation was still secure. It just needed a little work and a lot of loving attention.
Could he and Allie have the same second chance?
An idea began to fill his mind—slowly at first, like the snow falling outside the gazebo’s open walls and then faster, bringing more details and sustenance. He stood and checked the braces supporting the gazebo’s roof, gave the rail a solid shake, then stomped one booted foot hard on the floor. It offered a sturdy echo, and he smiled as the mayor’s words looped through his head. I wish there was some way we could show our appreciation. It’d take a few phone calls, more than a few favors and maybe even a bit of a Christmas miracle, but it would work. It had to. Jordan had finally found Allie’s perfect Christmas gift.
Her mom’s spiced apple cider didn’t taste nearly as good as Allie remembered—probably because of the bitterness that seemed to fill her from the inside out. Sitting cross-legged on the floor by the lit tree, Allie dejectedly set the teacup back on its saucer.
“Does it need more cinnamon?” Her mother asked from her perch on the couch.
“No, Mom. The cider is fine.” Allie sighed as she stared up into the twinkling array of lights and ornaments, unable to fully appreciate the beautiful sight or the soft strains of Christmas music drifting from the stereo in the corner. “It’s just me. I haven’t been able to find my usual Christmas spirit this year.” At least she’d been able to finish buying her family’s gifts. They nestled under the lowest branches of the trees, waiting for the next morning when Molly, Tim and Sophie would arrive for lunch.
A lump knotted in her throat at the thought of her sister and niece. How many moments of Molly’s and Sophie’s lives would she miss by moving away? Starting a new business was risky stuff. It would require her full attention—she’d have very little, if any, time to visit Ginger Falls.
