Chapter 14 Taylor
TAYLOR
The day passes so quickly I almost can’t believe it. Between the pet parade, making our own tiny bookshop, and absolutely gorging on good food all day, I know we should all be exhausted.
So when Meg decides to take a carriage ride with her grandparents and then head home, I expect Roan to say he’ll do the same.
Instead, he tells me that we can head to the Host of Angels up at the high school if I want to go.
And of course I do.
Buck crows with delight and says he’ll join us, which makes his brother scowl, and for a moment I’m reminded what a grump I thought Roan was, and how happy and relaxed he’s seemed all day today.
Buck takes his own truck, so Roan and I walk back up Celestial Lane alone. The walk is quiet, and I can’t stop thinking about the way he took my hand during lunch.
Of course, I also couldn’t help noticing that he let go again as soon as we got up from the table, and we’re not holding hands now. Maybe he’s not so sure he wants this thing between us to be real. Or maybe he just doesn’t want questions from his family.
Whatever the reason, I don’t want to spin out over it. He can take his time if he wants. I’m in no rush. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.
Hopefully, things will come together for us if they’re meant to.
“This was a fun day.” His deep voice cuts through the cold night air.
“It was fun,” I agree.
“Hope you don’t mind me keeping you up late,” he adds.
“Not at all,” I tell him. “You’re the farmer with the early wake-up. My shop isn’t even open yet, so I can sleep late tomorrow if I want.”
“Most of the farm work is done at this point,” he tells me. “Buck and Dad are just prepping for next year. And selling Christmas trees isn’t really an early morning job.”
“That’s nice,” I say. “So you guys are used to having easier mornings at Christmastime?”
He nods and we keep walking.
It feels like there’s something he wants to say, but he’s not ready to say it yet.
Again, I wonder about today, about the moment at the shop before the lights and sirens, when I was so sure he was going to kiss me.
We must be close to the high school now, because cars are pulling up to park, and townsfolk are spilling out onto the sidewalk, talking excitedly.
“So this is a sing-along?” I ask Roan.
“Kind of,” he says. “It’s also sort of like a talent show, and the church choir sings too. And anyone can join in whenever they want.”
“That sounds really cool,” I tell him, trying to imagine what it’s going to be like. “Is there a set program?”
“Nope,” he says. “People just sign the sheet, and then the mayor calls them up in order.”
“So you don’t know what you’re going to see,” I say, nodding.
“We usually have a pretty good idea,” Roan says. “A lot of people perform every year.”
“Roan Connelly,” a deep voice calls out from behind us.
We turn together and see a handsome man walking beside a pretty lady and a teenage girl with a big pair of headphones around her neck.
“Derek,” Roan says, smiling as the three of them catch up to us. “Good to see you, man.”
“You too,” Derek says, looking me up and down. “Very good to see you.”
“This is Taylor,” Roan says. “She’s opening the bookshop by the tree lot.”
“I see,” Derek says.
“We’ll be coming to visit you soon, then,” the lady says to me. “I’m Darcy, by the way. Derek and I run the new school in town. J.B. is our daughter, and she’s also one of the students.”
“No way,” I say. “I’ve been really excited about your school. Taffy at the library has been telling me about all the books the kids have shared with her.”
“Oh yes,” Darcy says with a smile. “We have some pretty dedicated bookworms.”
J.B. raises her hand, as if to say she’s one of them.
“J.B., if you or any of the other kids want to stop by for an early visit and talk books with me, I’d be honored,” I say. “No pressure, but I’m around anytime.”
“Can we, Mom?” J.B. asks.
“That is such a great offer,” Darcy says excitedly. “Of course J.B. can come, and maybe we’ll bring one or two more kids down with us. Let me get your number.”
Darcy and I swap phones and text each other and I’m feeling super excited by the time we all head into the auditorium together.
It’s crowded inside, but the seats are comfortable. Roan sits on the end of a row and I slide in beside him. Darcy sits next to me, with J.B. between her and Derek.
J.B. slides the headphones that were around her neck up onto her ears now that we’re seated, like maybe she can’t wait another minute to listen to music. Seems like an odd choice for an event that’s all about listening to music, but I’m not judging.
“She doesn’t like this kind of noise,” Darcy says quietly.
“Oh,” I say. “She’s smart to have headphones with her.”
“It’s great,” Darcy agrees. “They’re noise-canceling.”
The mayor steps onto the stage then and begins to speak just as Buck arrives with a few other guys. They take the row in front of ours.
Buck is carrying a guitar case, so I figure he must be the Connelly who plays the guitar that was on the wall back at the house.
“Hang on,” he says. “I just have to sign in.”
“Buck,” Roan says between clenched teeth, like he strongly objects to the idea.
But Buck is already disappearing into the crowd at the foot of the stage.
I wonder why Roan doesn’t want his brother to perform. This seems like a really warm and accepting environment. I don’t get the sense that you have to have a whole lot of talent to join in the fun. And Buck seems like a pretty confident and enthusiastic guy.
The church choir is first to take the stage, and everyone sings along to a beautiful rendition of “Joy to the World.”
It’s magical to feel the whole place reverberating with the diverse voices of the little town. A feeling of warmth spreads in my chest as I do my best to add my voice to the chorus.
When it’s done, the mayor calls up a band called Jimmy and the Mountaineers.
The whole place erupts into applause and I have to smile when I see that it’s a bunch of middle school kids—not really what I was expecting from that name. One plugs in an amp for his electric guitar, another has a keyboard, and the last one grabs the microphone.
They sing an original Christmas song that sounds like it could easily be a classic, and the audience claps along and sings the chorus by the last time around.
When they’re done, they bow and blow kisses as they practically run offstage.
A married couple playing flute and violin are next, and then a girl dances while her sister sings.
I’m really getting into it now, and so is everyone else. It’s easy to see why this is one of the favorite events of the Mingle.
“Incredible stuff tonight, friends,” the mayor says fondly as he steps back on the stage between acts. “Just incredible. Up next, I have one I know you’ve all been hoping for. Let’s put our hands together for Roan Connelly. I don’t see a song mentioned, but I’m sure it’ll be good.”
I turn to Roan, amazed.
“Buck,” Roan mutters, shaking his head.
But people are turning around to look at him now, and he rises slowly, almost dutifully.
Buck howls with laughter in the seat in front of him while everyone else cheers.
Next to us, Darcy and her daughter look as confused as I am, but Derek puts two fingers in his mouth and adds a loud whistle to the chorus of cheers.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” I hear Roan say to his brother on his way past.
“You’ll need this,” Buck says, handing him the guitar case.
Roan narrows his eyes at his brother, then jogs up to the stage. The mayor pushes a chair out to the center of the space and sets up a mic while Roan lays the case on the ground and picks up the guitar with the blue strap.
He holds it almost reverently for a moment, then slides the strap over his head and starts tuning it.
The whole audience has gone still now, and the mayor moves to a spot in the shadowy downstage corner.
I’m literally on the edge of my seat as I watch Roan sit and start noodling around with the guitar.
He’s a big man—he makes the chair look small and the guitar look like a child’s toy. But his fingers dance tenderly on the strings, and what begins as a gentle warmup rolls seamlessly into a familiar chord progression.
When Roan closes his eyes and sings the first line of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” I can barely breathe.
His deep voice is husky and sweet. And the way it blends with the notes of the guitar is mesmerizing. He could probably sing professionally if he wanted to. But what holds me captive is more than just the beauty of his voice.
Roan sings with his whole heart. I feel an ache in my chest just listening. I’ve always loved this song, but his gentle, haunting version reminds me of the longing in the simple melody.
When he reaches the chorus again, he opens his eyes and he’s gazing right into mine.
I can feel the emotion from across the auditorium. It’s like we’re alone, and he’s telling me that I’m his home, that wherever I am, that’s where Christmas is for him.
I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel the tears sliding down my cheeks.
Too soon, the song is over and Roan stands.
The whole crowd goes wild, but Roan doesn’t bow or even wave. He just lifts the strap over his head, crouches to replace the guitar in its case, then heads back down into the audience with all the fanfare of a plumber heading out with his tools after fixing a sink.
“Wow,” the mayor says breathlessly as he returns to the spotlight. “That gave me chills, how about you?”
The crowd roars their approval, but I don’t join them because Roan has given the guitar back to his brother, and now he’s heading over to me.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says as he reaches our row.
I’m on my feet in a heartbeat.
“I’ll text you,” Darcy whispers.
I barely have time to wave to her before Roan takes my hand and marches me out of the auditorium like I’m a naughty child on the way to be punished.
“Roan,” I murmur.
“Not until we get out of here,” he growls.
“But that was beautiful,” I can’t help saying out loud. “I didn’t know you could play at all, or sing, let alone—”
“Taylor,” he says firmly.
We reach the empty lobby at last, and I can just hear trumpets and drums starting up back in the auditorium—it must be band kids doing a number next.
But we aren’t sticking around for it. Roan is heading for the door and since my hand is wrapped in his, I’m headed there too.
At last, we’re outside. The cold breeze feels good on my warm cheeks.
“Okay?” I ask him, looking up.
“Okay,” he says. “Fine.”
But we’re still walking pretty fast. I guess he wasn’t kidding about leaving. We’re headed for his truck.
“Roan, that was amazing,” I tell him, trying not to go overboard since he weirdly doesn’t seem to want applause or praise.
“My brother just likes to embarrass me,” Roan says.
“Your playing is beautiful,” I tell him again. “And your voice is incredible.”
“My mom made me sing in church choir when I was a kid,” he says with a shrug.
“I can see why,” I say. “But it was more than that, Roan. You… you made me feel something. It was like you were singing just to me.”
“I was,” he says.
His eyes flash to mine and I realize that we’ve stopped under a streetlight.
Snow is falling softly all around us, but I’m transfixed by his gaze. His jaw flexes and his blue eyes are bright with longing, and something else too.
But I don’t have time to figure out what because the hand that isn’t holding mine is cupping my cheek as he bends to claim my mouth with his.
His lips are warm and demanding. A million tiny butterflies flutter in my chest as he kisses me like he’s trying to convince me of something I already know.
I’m not falling hard for Roan Connelly.
I’ve already fallen.