Chapter 10
Beau
The town square glows like a snow globe come to life.
Strings of lights loop between the lampposts in swooping arcs, carols drift from the bandstand where the high school choir sings with enthusiasm if not always pitch, and the smell of cinnamon sugar and hot cider fills the air.
Children run through the square bundled in puffy coats, their laughter bright as bells.
It's been a long time since I've stood here. Too long. The last time was with my dad, before the world went gray. But Faith's hand is warm in mine, her presence steady beside me, and suddenly the noise and color don't seem so bad. They seem... right.
The toy booth sits near the big tree, a towering Douglas fir from the Walker Tree Farm and decorated with thousands of lights and homemade ornaments.
My toys are stacked on tables draped in red cloth, each one carefully arranged.
Carved animals, trains with wheels that spin, dolls with hand-painted faces and movable limbs.
Faith spent the morning adding ribbon and tags, making everything look festive.
My name is on a little wooden sign Faith painted herself. It says Handcrafted with Love by Beau Lawson.
I told her it wasn't necessary, that people didn't care who made them. She told me it absolutely was. That they deserved to know who brought magic into their homes.
Now, watching a small boy clutch a carved bear to his chest, laughing as his mom thanks me with tears in her eyes, I think maybe she's right.
"See?" Faith squeezes my hand, looking up at me with those eyes that see straight through to my soul. "Told you they'd love them."
I glance down at her, heart doing that steady ache I'm starting to like. She's bundled in red—her coat, her scarf, that ridiculous pompom hat that started all of this. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, her smile brighter than all the lights strung above us.
She's beautiful. And somehow, impossibly, she's mine.
"Guess you were right about Christmas spirit," I say, pulling her closer against the cold.
She grins up at me, eyes sparkling like the lights above us. "It was never gone, Beau. You just needed a little help finding it."
A little girl approaches—maybe six, with pigtails and missing front teeth—and shyly picks up a wooden doll I'd carved to look like she was dancing. The joy on her face when she hugs it to her chest makes something warm expand in my chest.
"Thank you, mister," she whispers.
I crouch down to her level, suddenly finding words I didn't know I had. "You're welcome, sweetheart. Merry Christmas."
She beams and runs back to her parents, and when I stand, Faith is looking at me with such tenderness I almost can't breathe.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just... you're really good at this."
"At what?"
"Being part of the world again."
I slide my arm around her waist, pulling her close. Around us, the town celebrates. There’s music and light and life. But all I see is her.
"Think I found more than Christmas spirit," I say quietly.
Her laugh is soft against my chest, warm and perfect. "You planning to keep me, Lawson?"
"Darlin', that was decided the minute you knocked on my door and refused to leave."
"Good answer." She tilts her face toward mine. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
Snow begins to fall again… light, drifting, perfect. Around us, the town cheers as someone throws the switch and the tree lights up, thousands of bulbs blazing to life. But I barely notice.
Faith tilts her face toward mine, and for a moment the world goes quiet—just her smile, her warmth, her eyes full of everything I thought I'd lost.
I kiss her under the glow of the Christmas lights, her hand fisted in my coat, her smile pressed to mine.
And right then, surrounded by the magic we created together, I know I'll never spend another Christmas alone.
The mountain will always be my sanctuary.
But Faith is my home.