by Nina Lane
God. His heart hammered like that of a fifteen-year-old boy gazing at his movie-star idol. He edged his way to the security rope. One of the Knight Security guards gave him a nod of recognition and removed the rope to let him get closer to the stage.
Julia’s hair gleamed in the stage lights, and the green dress flowed over her with the smoothness of a curved leaf. Emeralds winked at her neckline and ears. Even from a distance, Warren detected the nervousness in her expression, even the tremble of her hand as Marco handed her a mic.
He had to suppress the urge not to run onstage and grab her in his arms. Never let her go. The women started to sing “O Come All Ye Faithful,” tentative at first and then with greater strength. The audience grew quiet. A chill ran down Warren’s spine. Julia’s voice—clear, strong—sank into his blood. She transformed when she sang, her face lighting, everything inside her coming through the rise and fall of the notes. Their harmonies were imperfect, but their voices rang together like bells, full of heart and emotion.
The crowd burst into thunderous applause when the song ended. The Jingle Belles consulted for a moment, and Marco stepped out to hand a few pages of music to Julia. The women then launched into “Away in a Manger,” “The Holly and the Ivy,” and “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” concluding with a rendition of “Joy to the World” that had the crowd on its feet applauding before the song ended.
Warren had always been immensely proud of Julia. But this? He didn’t think his heart could contain all the pride and love bursting through it.
The women smiled, their eyes bright and their faces glowing. They clasped hands and bowed before one of the women turned to Julia. They spoke for a moment. Julia shook her head. Marco came out again and joined the conversation.
The audience quieted. One of the women, Sharon, turned to the front of the stage.
“Thank you, everyone,” she said into her mic. “I think we all know Julia as an incredible stylist and fashion expert. After all, look what she did for us. Miracles can happen, right? But beyond that, she’s a truly lovely, kind, generous person and she’s become a good friend to the rest of us Belles.”
She gave Julia a warm smile. Julia seemed a bit startled, her eyes shifting to the other Belles as if wondering if this was a joke.
“Earlier, Julia’s assistant told us that she does an incredible version of ‘It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,’” Sharon continued. “We’re hoping she’ll do a solo. If we can convince her, maybe she’ll sing it for us.”
Cheers, applause, and whistles rained from the audience. People rose from their seats again, clapping. Julia now had a fixed smile—one Warren recognized as deadly. Marco pointed to the front of the stage. She said something to him through her teeth. He merely shrugged and grinned.
The other Belles stepped back toward the curtain, leaving Julia in the spotlight. Shining like a gemstone. She cleared her throat and spoke into the mic.
“First, thank you for the kind words, Sharon,” she said. “I’ve gotten to know the Jingle Belles as an extraordinary group of women who have inspired me in new ways. As most of you know, I agreed to coordinate this show and not sing in it. So I—”
Her gaze collided with Warren’s. His breath stopped.
An eternity folded in on itself in that instant. Stars and galaxies collapsed and burst back into life. They were the only two people in the crowd, the town, the world. He would live forever, as long as he was with her.
Julia brought the microphone back to her lips, her eyes never leaving his. Her voice spun out like gold.
“It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old…”
“…which now the angels sing.”
Julia lowered the mic, her whole body pulsing with joy and light. Silence resounded in her ears for an instant before thunderous applause broke over her. Her chest tightened.
She searched the audience again, but Warren had disappeared into the sea of faces. She glanced to the side of the stage where there was a small area reserved for show volunteers.
Her nephews and niece stood there, all seven of them applauding. Hailey wiped her cheeks with a gloved hand. Evan put his arm around her. Tyler was grinning from ear to ear. Julia caught Luke’s gaze. He nodded his approval, his own eyes glittering.
It wasn’t enough, of course. A song, even one about angels and harps of gold, couldn’t bridge the new distance between her and her family. But maybe now there was hope. Hope could still win the battle.
Julia’s heart was a bird, fluttering and soaring over a crystal-blue sky. Her voice was imperfect, but her soul was not. From a child singing with her father to a barefoot gypsy girl traveling the country to a successful woman approaching the half-century mark… she was more than she had ever imagined she would be.
Her heart had been broken and then mended. Her confidence dented and then repaired. Her strength sapped and then restored. Her shine dulled and then polished.
She hadn’t missed anything in life. Just the opposite. With Warren, the boys, Hailey, her life here in this town… she’d found everything.
Chapter
TWENTY-ONE
Christmas Eve night fell over Ocean Avenue. The multicolored lights continued to twinkle through the dark, but the shops and cafés closed up, and the seats emptied as people returned home to spend the rest of the evening with their families. The performers celebrated with a short backstage party of cookies, hot cocoa, and Sugar Rush treats before they, too, began heading back home.
“Thank you, Miss Julia!” The pig-tailed cherub threw her arms around Julia’s waist.
Julia bent to embrace the little girl. “You did an awesome job, Maggie. All of you did. I hope you keep dancing.”
She hugged all the other Wee Tinsel Dancers and waved as their parents carted them out to their cars. A petite, elderly woman wearing a bright red suit embellished with a holly-berry corsage came toward her from the front of the stage.
Julia’s spine stiffened automatically. “Hello, Minnie.”
“Julia, that was spectacular.”
Julia blinked, not sure if she was more surprised by the compliment or the fact that Minnie had gotten her name right. “Thank you so much.”
“The best Deck the Halls we’ve had.” Minnie patted Julia’s arm. “Everyone will be talking about it for months. And we have an opening on the Holiday Festival committee for next year, so I do hope you’ll consider our nomination.”
Julia demurred with a polite, “I’ll think about it. Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
Minnie patted her arm again and headed toward the stage doors. Julia collected her coat and handbag from a storage locker. If she’d pleased Minnie the Pitbull, then the event really had been a success.
“Nice work.” Marco approached, his thick-lashed eyes fatigued but his smile as wide as ever. “You did it.”
“We did it,” Julia corrected. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”
“Are you still mad at me?” he asked.
“No. In fact, you might find a surprise in your next paycheck. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“Never.” Marco grinned at her and started toward the door.
“Marco.”
He turned.
“Merry Christmas,” Julia said. “Take the next week off. I’ll see you in the new year.”
“This…” He waved a hand around as if to encompass all of her, “…is a fabulous look on you, Miss Julia.”
She smiled. He waved and did a little hop and a skip out the stage door.
Julia checked her phone, pleased to see a message from Gail that baby Emma Jane had been born an hour ago, a healthy seven pounds, ten ounces. Both mother and daughter were doing beautifully, and Grandma was over the moon.
Julia sent her congratulations and best wishes, then pulled on her coat and walked out to the dark, empty stage. An increasingly cold wind swept in from the ocean, and the fog had thickened to the point that it blurred the streetlights.
Exhilaration still spar
kled like glitter in her blood. She stopped in the middle of the stage, her gaze sweeping over the empty seats and deserted sidewalks. A lone figure sat in the middle of the seats, his presence as welcome and comforting to her as a crackling fire on a snowy night.
Julia started down the stage steps. He stood and walked toward her. They met halfway. Warren’s warm brown gaze seemed to drink her in, though he kept his hands in his coat pockets as if he weren’t sure whether or not he should touch her.
“You’re amazing,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“I still can’t believe I did that.”
“I can.”
Of course he could. He’d always believed in her, even when the world had tossed her around like a ship on the sea.
“Where are the kids?” she asked.
“They all went home. They knew you’d be tired and said they would see you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow was Christmas Day. For the first time since she’d returned to Indigo Bay, there would be no big family celebration.
She and Warren returned to her house. Silence and darkness filled the room, unrelieved by any bright Christmas decorations. Julia stripped out of her gown and showered before putting on a cotton nightgown and crawling into bed beside Warren.
Though uncertainty still hung over them like a cloud, his body was so warm and solid that she drifted into an easy sleep. She woke still nestled against his side and shifted to look at him.
“Merry Christmas.” He brushed his lips across her forehead.
I love you.
Still the words stuck in her throat. They wouldn’t be her Christmas gift to him this year.
She pressed her face to his chest. Despite the success of Deck the Halls, a hollow feeling still opened inside her. “I wish it was the same as always.”
“Things change, Jules. Life changes. Sometimes in bad ways, sometimes in good. This is good. We’re good.”
But they couldn’t be good if there would always be a wedge between them and Warren’s children. Warren and Rebecca’s children.
“I’m going to New York tomorrow morning for my meeting with Evermore,” Julia said. “I think the time apart will be good for us all. I guess we won’t see each other until after the new year.”
“I’m not going on the climb.”
She looked up at him. “Not because of me. I refuse to be the one stopping you.”
“No. Just bad circumstances.” He ran his hand over her hair. “It’s okay. There’ll be another chance next year.”
But would there? Wasn’t that what life was about—grabbing what you could while it was there? Because there might not be another chance.
“What are the circumstances?” she asked.
His jaw tightened. He pulled away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “Bad attacks of vertigo. Ringing and pressure in my ears. No diagnosis, but the doctor ruled out any serious conditions. Unfortunately if I have an attack on the damned climb… I can’t risk it. Not when there are four other guys with me. I won’t.”
Julia’s heart squeezed painfully. Though she couldn’t deny her relief that he wouldn’t risk the arduous, dangerous expedition, she hated that he had to contend with the disappointment and, knowing him, the feeling that he’d somehow failed.
She rose to her knees and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I’m so sorry.”
He patted her arm. “Well, it’s Christmas Day. Let’s make eggnog waffles or something ridiculous like that.”
Julia kissed the back of his neck before he stood and headed out of the room. She went to her computer at the desk in her bedroom and did some internet searching. She printed out a few pages and brought them to Warren, who was making a pot of coffee in the kitchen.
“Remember those acupressure classes you took to help with my migraines?” She spread the printouts on the counter. “Looks like acupressure can help treat vertigo and dizziness too. There’s one point below your wrist called pericardium six.”
Warren glanced at the papers, his eyebrows lifting. “But does the acupressure actually help your migraines?”
“To a degree, yes.” She took his arm and found the pericardium six point. “Right here. There’s also a point between your eyebrows and one at the back of your neck. The next time you have an attack, we’ll try these and see if they help.”
“Good idea. Thanks.”
Pleased that she was able to offer a small suggestion considering all he’d done for her, Julia stacked the papers and set them by her handbag as a reminder to look around for an acupressure class she could take.
“Why don’t I stay here for the next week instead of going to New York?” she suggested casually as he handed her a cup of coffee. The Matterhorn climb was scheduled for the week after Christmas, and she suspected the forthcoming days would be rough on him—being home while his friends completed the expedition.
“I can reschedule my appointment with Peck,” she continued.
Warren sent her a mildly stern look. “You’re going to New York. You’ve worked hard for this, and you’re not giving it up for my sake.”
“But I—”
“Ho ho ho!”
A male voice suddenly broke through the house. Sleigh bells jangled. A cacophony of voices burst into the kitchen as the front door opened.
Julia startled, her heart leaping. Her six nephews stomped into the foyer, all wearing Santa hats and red-and green striped scarves. They held green wreaths, boughs tied with ribbon, stockings stuffed with goodies, and—at the forefront—Tyler and Spencer carried a small decorated Christmas tree.
“What in the world…?” Julia stared at them.
“Since things got a little derailed this year, we figured we wouldn’t have Christmas as usual,” Luke said.
“And we’ve been feeling bad after Dad gave us that lecture about all the work you were doing,” Carson explained. “So we decided to bring Christmas to you instead.”
Julia’s heart flooded with warmth. Beside her, she felt Warren smile.
“Thank you,” she told the boys. “I love you all so much.”
“And a good thing too,” Tyler said. “But there’s no way you’re finding the pickle.”
Chapter
TWENTY-TWO
I’ll see you when I get back.
Julia’s text was still open on Warren’s phone. After a Christmas of cinnamon rolls and cautious amends with the boys, she’d left the following day to catch her flight to New York. He’d wanted to drive her to the airport, but she’d said she needed to make a stop along the way and would drive herself.
With the exception of Hailey’s continued distance from Julia and his lingering regret over the climb, things had settled down a bit. A short separation would be good for them all, but he couldn’t help wishing Julia had given him the one gift he’d really wanted.
The words. The I love you.
He sat at the table in his workshop, studying the instructions for the half-completed model of a 1/24 scale Hawker Typhoon. He picked up the airplane, examining the frame structure, the cannon fairings, the roof panel.
“Man, you look like shit.”
Warren glanced over the tops of his glasses. Justin, Dave, Peter, and Rick stood in the doorway of his office, looking at him like they couldn’t reconcile their climbing buddy with the man he was now.
He didn’t feel like the same man either, the one who’d spent the past year scaling rock faces and perfecting his scrabbling and icing techniques. The one who could run with a fifty-pound pack and bench press two-hundred pounds.
In addition, he was already missing his girl. Badly.
He straightened and scratched his unshaven jaw. “Feel like shit, too.”
“That’s why you gotta come with us,” Justin said. “No way can you feel sorry for yourself on the mountain.”
Warren shook his head, turning his gaze back to the model. “I told you I quit.”
“Yeah, you quit, you feel like shit,” Dave said. �
��You think there’s a correlation? Come on, man. Hans and Amelie said it’s a window of perfect conditions. If we don’t leave now, we could miss out. Next week, it might be too late.”
Miss out. Too late.
“There’s a flight out tomorrow night,” Peter said. “If we make it, we can start the acclimatization right away. I’m guessing you haven’t unpacked any of your gear yet, right?”
“This vertigo thing hasn’t gone away.” Warren gestured to his ear. He hadn’t ruled out Julia’s suggestion of acupressure, but there wasn’t enough time to try it before the climb started. “If a spell hits bad, I feel like I can’t even keep my balance on level ground. What the fuck do I do if that happens on the ridge?”
The four younger men exchanged glances.
“We’ll be there,” Dave said.
“No way.” Warren set the airplane down, his insides twisting at the thought of putting his friends in that kind of position. “I won’t risk it.”
They all looked at each other again, as if coming to an unspoken agreement.
“Look, you were the one who was there for Theo the most,” Rick said. “You were at his bedside when he died. You called us with the Matterhorn idea—hell, you’ve been spearheading the whole damned thing. We’ve been training for a year because of you. And we’re not going without you.”
Wariness flickered inside him. “What does that mean?”
“What it means.” Dave spread his hands out. “You’re the boss. You don’t go, we don’t go.”
Warren gave a hollow laugh. “Bastards. Go climb the fucking mountain.”
They shook their heads simultaneously, their expressions grave.
“He won’t submit to blackmail,” said another voice from the great room.
They turned to see Adam coming into the office, his gaze on Warren.
“But if you remind him that throughout his entire life, he’s always finished the game,” Adam said, “and that he’s always been the one to walk before us, the one we all follow, and that he taught us never to believe there are limits to what we can do… just ask Evan… then he’ll realize that there’s nothing he wants to do more than reach the summit of that mountain. And I’ll put money on the fact that he gets there first.”
