Christmas in Cactus Flats and Other Holiday Romances

by Laura Briggs

  “Where would he go?” Piper asked. She ran a hand through her hair, her voice frantic. “The shops are all closed. The hotel, maybe—”

  “I have an idea,” said Gavin. Something dawned on him as he stood there helpless, his mind racing to find the answers for Piper. Moving away from the crowd, he knew she was following on his heels.

  *****

  Solar lights cast a soft glow on the sand castles at the beach. Two figures moved among them, calling Micah’s name on the night wind.

  Gavin found him first. Curled in front of the snow fort, face hidden in his knees. Cautiously, he kneeled beside him, saying, “Don’t run, Micah. I just need to talk to you, okay?”

  The boy shrugged, wiping a sleeve across his face. Voice muffled, he said, “You’ll just say everything will be fine. But it won’t be. I know.”

  Smart kid, Gavin thought, a wry smile appearing. He eased into a sitting position like Micah’s, arms resting on his knees. Piper had approached, quietly, as if afraid she might send Micah running again. She didn’t speak, though, watching Gavin instead. Waiting to see what he would say next, he thought.

  What would he say? This was important, he knew. Micah needed answers for what he saw a moment ago. But Gavin wasn’t sure he had them.

  “You know, Micah,” he began, “sometimes grown-ups say stuff like that because they don’t know how to explain what’s really happening. Sometimes they don’t understand it themselves.”

  This was true of his own feelings right now. Meeting the two of them had left him wishing for things that weren’t possible. His own version of the Dear Santa letters he filed and sorted every December—and just as unlikely to come true as most of those requests, he knew.

  “Isn’t that like lying?” Micah asked. “Saying things will be okay when you know they won’t?”

  “Maybe so. But people say it for different reasons.” Gavin paused, thinking about this. “A lot of times, they say it to keep from hurting someone else, or maybe themselves. If the truth seems too hard to face, they look for ways to soften it.”

  He drew a breath. “I guess that’s why my dad said he’d write to me after he left home. Because it was easier to let me go on hoping than to tell me the truth. That he didn’t want to be part of my life anymore.”

  Micah was crying again, tears spilling unchecked down his face. “Why didn’t he?”

  “I don’t know,” Gavin admitted. “Maybe he didn’t know either. Life gets messy sometimes. People do things for reasons we can’t understand.”

  Look who I’m talking to, he thought. If anyone knew the ups and downs of life, it was the six year-old shivering before the giant sand castle.

  “So you won’t see my mom again,” Micah guessed. “Even though you want to. And she smiles a lot more around you than she does anyone else. She didn’t act like that with guys who took her to dinner. They just made her feel sad, like my dad did.”

  Piper took a step forward, as if to say something. Then pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting back a reply to this keen observation.

  “Your mom told me about that,” Gavin said. “Those guys weren’t right for her. She didn’t want to waste any more time on them, not when she could focus on you instead.”

  “But she’s lonely.” Micah’s voice was almost a whisper. “She needs someone to make her happy.”

  Gavin’s chest tightened, familiar emotions making their way to the surface. “She does,” he agreed. “That’s why you shouldn’t give up hoping. Because she deserves to find someone like that, even if it doesn’t happen right now.”

  He placed a hand on Micah’s shoulder, feeling it shake from the boy’s sobs. “We can’t let the bad stuff that happens drag us down. Especially when you’ve got someone in your life who cares as much as your mom does. That’s what really matters.”

  "But why can't it be you?" Micah asked, his voice choking with each word.

  "Your mom has to be the one who decides what she needs," said Gavin, softly. "You have to give her time to find the right person. And let her choose what's best for both of you."

  They fell silent for awhile, Piper joining them. She sat beside her son, reaching to clasp his hand. The boy leaned against her, his head cushioned against her wool coat. Her smile for Gavin was one of quiet gratitude as their gaze met in the soft light.

  "Thank you," she said, softly. "For everything." Beneath her gentle fingers, Micah's head was nodding, the boy momentarily dozing off in his exhaustion.

  After a while, Gavin cleared his throat. “I would be willing to give it a try—to give us a try," he answered, quietly. "If you’re willing, I am. It would be hard I know—”

  “Nearly impossible,” she said. “With hundreds of miles between us.”

  But just a postcard away, he thought, ironically. But he wouldn’t let Micah down, if he could help it. Any promises made had to be kept, Gavin was sure of that much. "But it would be worth it," he whispered back. "To me, anyway. Even if it's just a few phone calls, or a letter or two. Just to see what happens."

  They stayed quiet, the wind picking up around them. Something traveled on it, cold and slightly damp. Not sleet, he realized, but a fine powder, dusting their coats and hair as it fell.

  Piper let out a gasp, her son staring with wide eyes. “Mom?” he asked. “Is that—”

  “It is,” she said. “It’s snow.”

  Laughing as she pulled him close, their eyes turned skyward. Beside them, Gavin caught some in his hand, watching it melt from the warmth of his skin.

  “What do you know,” he murmured. Sharing a glance with Piper. One that seemed to say impossible things do happen, every now and then.

  *****

  The next Christmas, no one was predicting snow for the North Pole. In fact, the weather was sunny and warm as ever, while tourists climbed from the latest bus to arrive in the town square. Among the passengers disembarking was a gangly youth of about seven or eight. His mother followed behind him, the breeze stirring her dark hair, as she called, “Wait up, Micah!”

  “Do you think he’ll be here?” the boy asked excitedly. His bag in one hand, a postcard in the other. It bore the official North Pole stamp, the message beneath written in a strong masculine hand.

  “He said he would be,” Piper answered. “And he’s pretty good at keeping promises.”

  This had been true so far. Gavin had honored their weekly phone calls and emails, telling them all about his work at the post office, his sister Jo's life, and the classes he was taking in motorcycle mechanics. He even sent them postcards on his trip to Colorado to see his dad.

  A trip long overdue, Gavin had admitted. Now he could start to find some peace regarding the past, and maybe some hope for the future—if his father was willing to work things out.

  Piper had taken a similar step, writing to Micah’s grandparents a few weeks ago. Included were pictures from Micah’s birthday party, as well as an invitation to come to his art contest in the spring. No reply yet, but wasn’t it a start? You had to make peace with the past before you could build a future. Especially a future with someone else.

  Waiting beside Micah in the North Pole square, she felt nervous and excited — and a little fearful. What if Gavin didn’t show up? What if he changed his mind, pulling out of town on his motorcycle at the last minute? What if he was really like the others, and had finally figured out that being a father figure to Micah was more responsibility than he wanted?

  Her worries vanished with the sound of a motor drawing near, the familiar bike parking alongside the curb. Its driver lifted the helmet from his head, revealing the familiar, tousled hair and easygoing smile of Gavin Wincott.

  “You’re here!” Micah yelled, running to hug their friend. "You made it."

  With a grin, Gavin ruffled the boy’s hair. “Of course, I’m here. A promise is a promise.” As he said this, his eyes met Piper’s in a look of understanding.

  “That’s true,” she said. "But it takes a special person to keep one, sometimes."
Taking his hand, as the three of them walked together through the square towards the shops filled with Christmas souvenirs.

  Can Gwen make her client’s dreams come true and still be a holiday bride?

  Find all three books in The Wedding Caper Series here

  A LIGHTLY ROMANTIC TALE FOR ALL YEAR ROUND…

  Turn the page for a special excerpt

  Excerpt from New Year’s Resolutions

  Henry’s box for Friday’s performance included himself, Dolores, and Seth in a tuxedo in accordance with the concert deal made before New Year’s. Seth’s latest girlfriend was beside him, a thin blond in a maroon gown that revealed the sun and moon tattoos crawling across her shoulder like a sailor’s banner.

  Astrologer, not astronomer, Henry had thought, when they were introduced.

  “Charmed,” she said, smacking her gum until a glance from Seth reminded her to remove it. “Sorry,” she said, wrinkling her nose in a smile. “I don’t go to the opera much.”

  “I’m surprised Seth talked you into this,” said Henry. “Usually, his dates miss the opportunity to see him in something besides denim and sweats.”

  “Hey, man, no criticisms,” Seth had retorted, settling himself more comfortably for the long evening ahead.

  On Henry’s other side, Dolores and her husband were trained forward intently, waiting for the curtain to rise. His assistant was an enthusiastic opera fan whose side of the box consisted of serious music lovers, as opposed to Henry’s friends, who were usually pressed into going by bribes or lack of other plans.

  When Lois was in the picture, it had been different. She was a passionate supporter of the arts, her circle of friends belonging to music societies and cultural clubs.

  The lights were dimmed, almost magnifying the sounds from the floor below like restless birds stirring, sequined gowns against seats, programs fluttering in hands. Beside him, Henry detected a slight sigh from Seth, more akin to a groan.

  Henry’s gaze wandered from the chorus of performers to the darkness swallowing the audience below. After a moment, his eyes adjusted, allowing him to see the outlines of his fellow attendees.

  He had seen La Traviata twice before; it was his habit that whenever something in the performance failed to hold his full attention, he watched the faces of others still engrossed. A bad habit that Lois tried to break more than once, reminding him this performer mentioned in the program was legendary, that particular act was the most critically controversial in its history.

  Still, he couldn’t help it. The people below were another story in themselves, the man secretly texting beneath his program, the wife daubing her eyes with her handkerchief in anticipation of forthcoming tragedy. A teenage girl in a too-large party dress craned her neck anxiously towards the aisle–was it her first opera? Or was she simply bored and looking for something to save her?

  Henry glanced at the seats closest to the stage lights, usually clients offered tickets as a business incentive and individuals who spent half a day online waiting to reserve the split-second seats went on sale. Two tuxedo-clad men with two women bundled in satin wraps, a third woman surveying her program with a pinched expression. On the other side of her, a woman in a blue dress, eyes fixed on the stage with intense concentration.

  Her hair was light, almost aglow in the theatrical haze from above; he could see the profile of her face, the upturned nose and lips in dark plum. After a moment, he realized he had been staring at her for several minutes. She glanced from the stage towards the balcony seats, her head angled towards the box above. Henry felt as if she might look into his eyes at any moment and reproach him for his rudeness. Hastily, he withdrew, sitting upright with a sudden motion that jarred Seth.

  “What, man?” His friend kept his voice low, still prompting a shushing sound from someone in the seat behind him.

  Henry flushed, despite the cover of darkness. “I think this girl below thought I was staring at her,” he whispered.

  “Were you?” Seth asked. There was no surprise in his voice, although there was a hint of curiosity.

  Henry hesitated. “Maybe,” he answered. “I mean, yes–I guess I was.”

  He leaned forward again, aware that Seth was leaning with him, as if the two of them were studying the stage more closely. Seth’s eyes peered into the darkness below with interest.

  “To the left,” Henry whispered. “Next to the woman in the sequined jacket.”

  “Which one?” Seth asked. By now, more than one person was making shushing noises, including Dolores. Henry could see Seth’s focus trained on a narrow-faced woman in a white jacket studded with clear beads before his eyes shifted to the girl in blue.

  “There,” whispered Henry. Below them, the woman in the blue dress was whispering to the couple next to her, no longer paying attention to the opera onstage.

  “Not bad,” said Seth. Henry snorted.

  “It’s dark–you can’t even see her face,” he answered. A sharp tug on his jacket sleeve pulled him back, Dolores giving him an exasperated glance.

  “Sorry,” he whispered to her. Onstage, the soprano’s plaintive voice rose to a crescendo in return for an enthusiastic round of applause. Henry rose dutifully, although he had hardly noticed the quality of the performance. A glance to the side showed him that Seth’s date was now asleep, her program slipping from her fingers to the pool of maroon fabric at her feet.

  “Hey, isn’t it almost break time–” Seth began, raising his voice louder to be audible over the applause.

  “Intermission,” Henry corrected.

  “Whatever,” said Seth. “Anyway, you should look for her. Out in the lobby. Maybe she’ll talk to you.” A hint audible in his voice, although Henry avoided his friend’s eyes as he kept his own trained on the stage.

  As the song warbled its way to the end, the curtain lowered. The lights brightened to reveal a restless audience rising from their seats, including Dolores with her handbag.

  “Pardon me,” she said, squeezing past Henry and casting a frowning eye at Seth’s dozing companion. Seth reached over and plucked Henry’s sleeve.

  “Come on,” he said, tugging him towards the box’s doorway. “Let’s go find her before they turn off the lights again.”

  “This is crazy,” said Henry, “I can’t wade through a crowd looking for a stranger–”

  “Hey, she’s pretty, your single, maybe it’s meant to be,” shrugged Seth. “Come on, let’s go meet her.” By now, Henry was letting himself be towed towards the stairs, the crowd of patrons filtering to the main floor.

  To his surprise, he felt a strange tingle of excitement. Almost as if Seth’s crazy plan might be the spark his love life really needed.

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