Chapter 16 Maddie
MADDIE
The next morning, I’m walking with Jake and Dylan down Celestial Lane, the main street in the village. Memories are everywhere here for me, but they’re all good ones.
And I’m about to make some more.
After we admired the improvements to the house yesterday, Jake had to get to work. But he promised Dylan that the workers would be back to decorate the tree today.
Understandably, Dylan didn’t like that idea at all.
So instead, we’re out this morning to shop for lights and ornaments so we can decorate the tree ourselves.
Jake declared that he’s taking the day off to help, but I’m not sure if Dylan and I believe him. I keep glancing over at him, happy to see the big man looking more relaxed and thoughtful than usual. But I’m still worried that the phone will ring and take him away.
To his credit, he really seems to be realizing how much all this means to Dylan. Maybe he’ll give himself permission to loosen up his schedule a little more in the future.
These pleasant thoughts have my guard down, so that when we arrive in front of the Angel Mountain Christmas Shop, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest by a horse named Nostalgia.
Everything is exactly as I remember it. The interior shelves are lined up with the mossy green window mullions, so that each shelf is its own beautiful display, complete with pine boughs, twinkle lights, and sprigs of holly.
And on each one is a perfect vignette of my father’s beautiful creations.
One shelf has two wolf cubs in sleeping caps and footie pajamas, holding candy canes. A pair of adult wolves holding mugs sits beside them. This is a really popular set, and they’re some of my father’s oldest sculptures, from before I was born.
A family of lions sing Christmas carols on another shelf, as a gazelle in a Santa hat hides behind a little Christmas tree, smiling.
These are a little newer, from when I was a kid.
I remember my father struggling with the clay model of that gazelle.
The slender legs had to balance the weight of the round belly.
I watched him frown and scratch his chin, and reshape the legs and torso again and again.
And of course I remember the Eureka! moment when he realized that a sack of gifts would counterbalance the belly.
When it was done he swept me up in his arms and danced me all around his workshop.
“Are you okay?” Jake asks softly, rousing me from the past.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “It just brings back memories. Happy ones, though.”
“What memories?” Dylan asks.
I swallow, worried I’m going to cry.
“Maddie’s father sculpted these little animals,” Jake tells him, so I don’t have to speak. “Or most of them?”
“All of them,” I say, nodding. “He loved making these.”
“He made all of these?” Dylan asks, his eyes wide.
“Well, he sculpted the originals out of clay,” I explain. “And then they were made into resin copies in factories, and other artists painted them.”
“Did you paint them, Maddie?” he asks me excitedly.
“Thankfully no,” I tell him. “I’m not a very good painter. But there’s a factory right here on Angel Mountain where some of the figurines are produced and painted.”
“I want to see,” he tells me, grabbing my hand like we’re going to head right over there.
“Maybe one day we’ll stop by,” I tell him, remembering that my stepmother could be in the process of shutting the place down already for all I know. One day should probably be pretty soon if I don’t want to miss my chance. “Right now we need to think about your tree.”
That reminder has him letting go of my hand and heading right into the shop by himself, sending the bells over the door jingling and releasing a draft of warm, cinnamon-scented air to greet us.
“Are you sure you’re okay doing this, Maddie?” Jake asks.
There’s concern in his blue eyes, and I believe to my bones that if I tell him I’m not okay he will march the three of us out of here immediately.
“Very sure,” I tell him, meaning it. “This is really, really nice.”
He nods and we both head for the door, he’s probably as eager as I am to make sure Dylan isn’t getting into any trouble.
Jake holds the door for me, and places his hand on the small of my back as I enter. It’s the lightest touch, but I feel electricity sparkle through my whole body.
What is that all about?
But his hand is gone in a heartbeat and the next thing I know, we’re following Dylan through a forest of decorated Christmas trees as “Carol of the Bells” plays from the overhead speakers.
By the time we’re finished shopping and pulling up to the chalet again, I’m wondering if Jake wishes he’d called the workers back in after all.
He bought just about everything in that shop, and I do mean everything. Even Dylan was impressed, and I don’t get the feeling he’s ever seen his parents show a lot of restraint in a store.
It will probably take us half the day just to unload the SUV, but we’re all so happy that it doesn’t matter.
On the way out of town, I made Jake stop at the local pizza spot, Slice of Heaven, and I ran in and got us all chicken parm sandwiches on Amoroso rolls—my treat—just like Dad and I used to eat those last few years when we came up here.
They smell incredible, even better than I remembered, and once all our purchases are piled up by the tree, we sit at the dining room table to eat them right off the wax paper wrappers.
“This is nice,” I say, admiring the table.
Instead of just the plain wood, now there’s a beautiful table runner in reds and golds, and pretty white candles, each set in a nest of red berries.
“It feels like Christmas,” Dylan says happily.
He’s got sauce all over his face and he’s making quick work of a sandwich that even looks big in his dad’s hands. In the pizza shop I almost decided to just get one for the two of us to split, but I knew he’d like the idea of having his own. Now I’m glad I did.
“These are good,” he adds, taking another enormous bite.
Jake laughs. Yesterday that booming sound would have echoed off the empty walls and floors, but now it sounds just right—exactly the kind of noise that belongs here.
After that, we’re ready to get down to business. First, Jake stands on the ladder with the lights while I move around the tree, stringing them into the branches as Dylan shouts to let us know if they look even.
Once the lights are in good shape, we cover the tree in decorations.
There are shiny balls, little bells that actually ring, feathered birds, and one of each of the Foster’s Christmas tree decorations they had in stock.
The little animals designed to hang on trees are smaller than the regular figurines, but no less unique and beautiful, and so many of them carry special memories of my dad.
Jake cleared it with me before he bought them, and I found myself happy to say yes. I’m having the best day I’ve had in a long time, and it feels good to have a little piece of my father here with us as we make some new memories.
When we’re all done, we step back to look.
It’s definitely not as polished or put together as the rest of the house, and it probably has twice as many decorations as it should.
We also placed each one exactly where Dylan wanted it, which means it’s not exactly a balanced look—there are clumps of balls or animals here and there.
It’s not going to win any decoration contests.
But to me, it’s the most beautiful tree in the world.
“It’s perfect,” Dylan says echoing my own satisfaction as he looks up at it.
“I think so too, buddy,” Jake tells him, taking his hand.
Dylan uses his other hand to grab mine, and for a moment the three of us stand there, hand in hand, enjoying the happy sight of a lovingly decorated Christmas tree like we’re a real family.
It’s the kind of moment a girl could get used to, if she’s not careful.
“I hope you two are ready for one more surprise,” Jake says at last, his deep voice breaking the friendly silence.
Half an hour later, we’re back at the lodge, standing by the old red barn and watching Michael climb into the carriage.
“Ready for you, Mr. Stone, Miss Foster, and Mr. Stone,” he says, his eyes twinkling.
Jake gives me a hand up into the carriage and I feel light as air, not just because it’s effortless for him to help me up, but because I’m happy.
I told him what carriage rides at the lodge meant to me last night, and he listened, again, then did his best to recreate it.
Dylan gets helped up next and he squeezes himself right beside me.
And finally, Jake swings up onto the carriage and settles in on the other side of Dylan.
“Everyone comfortable?” Michael asks.
When we all nod in agreement, he pulls out a blanket and drapes it over our laps. It’s thick and warm and Dylan shivers with delight as he snuggles in, exactly the way I used to when I was his age.
Michael climbs up to the front and clucks to the horses. They move forward, their bells jingling, and Dylan laughs with delight as we head slowly up the mountain.
All day the air has been crystalline and the taste of snow has been dancing on the tip of my tongue. So far though, not a flake has fallen.
Dylan and I wrote another letter to Santa this morning, and as usual, he asked for snow. His dad might be able to buy all the ornaments, and half the town while he’s at it, but there’s no way he can give his son this one gift.
I’m starting to think maybe Dylan’s Christmas wish just isn’t in the forecast. But as the path curves I feel a tiny frozen kiss on my cheek, and then another.
“It’s snowing,” Dylan chirps, amazement ringing in his voice.
“Is it?” Jake asks.
“Just flurries,” I say. “But it counts.”
“It worked again,” Dylan cries out.
He’s obviously talking about his letter. But this is the first sign of snow.
“What do you mean again?” I ask him.
But he’s too busy sticking his tongue out trying to catch a stray flake to answer, and for the second time today Jake Stone is laughing without holding back. The joyful sound rings out through the trees and the shimmering air, and I feel too happy to remember what I was asking in the first place.
This is it.
This is the happiness my parents felt when we were all together—I just know it. This is what my dad meant when he said Angel Mountain would take care of me.
As the trail curves in and out of the trees, Dylan gets quiet and the next thing I know, his little head is resting on my shoulder.
“He had a busy day,” Jake says softly, his eyes on his boy.
“He had a wonderful day,” I add. “Thank you for doing all of this for him. And for me too.”
“I would do anything for you, Maddie,” Jake says, his blue eyes locking on mine.
And I don’t even look away, because I’m ready for this now—ready to throw my heart wide open to him.