Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
T he Ferris wheel operator looked mystified that Sophie wanted off already. Sophie waved her hands and called out to him. "Please, Bob! Let us off!"
"Not me," Cindy said, smiling. "I want to spy on you from above! And look." She pulled a bag of caramel corn from her purse and waved it around. "I brought snacks, too!"
Sophie elbowed her and laughed. She felt as though she was about to float into the sky. "Okay. But if you see me pathetically fail with Derek—again—you have to get off the Ferris wheel and come help me nurse my wounds with another round of mulled wine."
"I'll be ready," Cindy promised.
Sophie bounded off the Ferris wheel and clamped the carriage closed behind her. "Be safe," she hollered back to Bob as he started the Ferris wheel up again, sending her sister back into the sky, where she longed to be.
Sophie was back on the ground, her heart pumping. Directly to her right was Johnny the postman with his wife, who was in her wheelchair, happily eating through a big blue tuft of cotton candy. Johnny leaned down to kiss her blue lips. In front of her were her mother and father, Mary and Joe, playing a carnival game with Mike, Isaac, and Beck, of all people. All five of them hollered at Sophie, saying, "Come join us!" But Sophie was on a mission.
"Maybe soon!" she called back as she strode past.
Sophie wove through the crowd, careful not to bump shoulders with anyone, mindful of young children, well aware that everyone was lost in the magic of their own personal moments and probably easily tipped over if she went past them too quickly. Oh, but she needed to find Derek. She needed to be close to him.
But where was he? Time felt spread out and strange. How long had she been looking? He'd been by the burger stall, but now he wasn't anywhere near it. Maybe she'd imagined him? But Cindy had seen him too!
He wasn't a mirage.
Unless Christmas magic was playing tricks on not just Sophie but also Cindy?
Unless Cindy wanted her sister to be happy so desperately that she was imagining things too.
Sophie stalled near the beer tent and the pony tent. She cupped her elbows and peered through the shadows, watching as three twelve-year-old girls rode ponies and giggled together. Sophie fully remembered being twelve at the Christmas Festival. Never could she have imagined it would be her responsibility to make sure the Christmas Festival retained its magic.
He must have gone.
He was on a walk, strolled through the festival, and left.
It was simple.
Easy.
It had nothing to do with me.
Suddenly, she felt someone behind her. Time stood still as her heart pumped, pumped, pumped in her ears. She closed her eyes as, next, through the scents of cotton candy and snow and hot mulled wine and baking dough, she smelled him. It was a smell she'd begun to recognize as singularly his: sandalwood and cologne and something else—something physical, something that could only belong to him.
The Christmas music grew quieter and quieter, and soon, it was as though all she could hear was her breath, her swirling thoughts, and the sound of his voice. "Sophie?"
Sophie turned around. There he was, Director Derek Brownlee, his hands shoved in his coat pockets, his wounded eyes big and open and wet. Had he been crying? Had he been locked away in his cabin, thinking of his wife?
Maybe today was the anniversary of her death.
Sophie swallowed the lump in her throat and gazed into his eyes. It felt just as it had when he'd kissed her that morning on set—like they were the only two people in the world, despite the crowd around them, despite the sound of the carnival rides and the cries of joy.
Derek remained quiet. Was he waiting for her to say something?
Suddenly, Sophie felt exhilarated. She felt as though she could say anything.
"You shouldn't have kissed me," she said. It was the first thing she'd said to him since she'd gone to his cabin with stew.
Derek didn't flinch. He took his hands out of his pockets, and Sophie watched them—his strong and capable hands. Was he going to touch her? What would she do?
He spread them out in front of him and said, "I've been a monster. And I'm sorry."
Sophie was taken aback. She hadn't expected him to label himself a "monster." She certainly never would have.
"No," Sophie whispered, her voice wavering. "No, you're not a monster." She touched his hands and brought them down. He clutched hers and gazed down at them, at their pairs of hands entwined.
She felt as though she never wanted to hold hands with anyone else.
"I know you're in pain," Sophie breathed.
Derek nodded tentatively. "Nothing is easy for me."
Sophie laughed. "Nothing is easy for anyone."
Derek raised his chin, and they looked into one another's eyes again.
"Do you really wish I hadn't kissed you?" Derek asked.
"No," Sophie said. "It was a great kiss."
Derek's smile was crooked and handsome. "It was."
Christmas lights illuminated them.
Suddenly from the bigger stage came the announcement: Randy's band, The Sensationalists, were going to perform Christmassy rock tunes. From where she stood, Sophie could see Randy and his other twentysomething friends, including Tommy from Culinary Tastings, as they paraded onto the stage wearing Santa hats. Willow Creek revelers hurried over to the stage with their mulled wine and hot apple cider and frothy beers to listen and dance along.
Sophie and Derek hung back, their hands still entwined.
To Sophie's amazement, many others from the set of Silver Bells went by, throwing arms around each other, headed for the show. The assistant costumer was hand in hand with the third-level assistant director, and Natalie ate a massive salted pretzel as Brent kissed the top of her head and took her hand. And there were Mike, Isaac, and Beck again, carrying a big stuffed animal that they'd apparently won from the carnival game they'd been playing with Sophie's parents.
None of them noticed Sophie and Derek, the director. They were too wrapped up in their own stories.
Sophie was glad. She didn't need an audience—not now, when she and Derek hardly knew how to talk to each other, let alone how to apologize for misunderstandings and twisted actions and what anyone might call a difficult start.
"Look at this place, Sophie," Derek said under his breath. "It's true you put it all together?"
"I had help," Sophie said.
Derek raised his shoulders. "All good directors have help. But it's the director who has the vision."
Sophie felt a blush crawl up her shoulders, neck, and cheeks.
"Although I have to admit, I've struggled with my creative vision this year," Derek said. He palmed the back of his neck.
His lips looked so utterly kissable. Sophie begged herself not to rise on her tiptoes; she begged herself not to go after him like this. Not until he took the risk first.
Not until he showed her this was real.
She wouldn't embarrass herself again.
"Maybe we should talk about this in private?" Derek suggested, searching from side to side.
From the stage came the first strum of Randy's guitar. Sophie thought she spotted Fiona in the front row, already losing her mind. Her future husband! Her handsome musician lover!
"I know a place," Sophie said, turning to guide Derek away from the burger stall, carnival games, and Ferris wheel to the opposite end of downtown, where the Christmas tree illuminated the town hall. There, Sophie looked down at their hands, still tightly entwined. Would he pull away first? Or would she?
Derek raised his chin and looked at the Christmas tree—looked at it in a way that suggested he adored Christmas. He was swept up in the magic too.
"When I came out tonight, I told myself I wasn't just going to walk around the festival," he confessed. "I told myself I wasn't going to seek you out. Not after what I did last week."
His words tugged at her heartstrings. Sophie filled her lungs with air.
"I saw you from the Ferris wheel," Sophie confessed. "I didn't know what to think."
Derek's eyes were slits. "What do you think now?"
Sophie raised her shoulders. Here behind the massive Christmas tree, they were hidden from the rest of Willow Creek's residents, from the stage, from her parents, and even from Cindy, if she was still somewhere on the Ferris wheel.
For a moment, Sophie considered what she might say. I think I'm falling in love with you. I think we could have a future together.
But instead, she said, "I think you're grieving. I think you're still entrenched in your grief."
She thought, Too entrenched for whatever is brewing between us, maybe . But she didn't say it. Instead, she said, "And I want you to know that's okay. I don't want to rush you out of your grief. It's a necessary human emotion." She swallowed. "You love her. You'll always love her. I don't want to get in the way of that."
Derek's eyes glinted with Christmas lights and tears. "But I don't want to live in grief anymore." He sighed. "I haven't said that since it happened. I've clung to my grief as a shield. As protection."
Sophie adjusted her hands in his and stepped closer to him. Her heart swelled.
"In that cabin, I've had so much time to think and stew and dream alone. And for the first time in three years, I realized I want to step away from my broken heart and rebuild," he said. "Maybe it isn't so strange that I met the person who changed my mind here in Willow Creek. You're the opposite of everything Hollywood stands for. You're kind and loyal and funny; you make people feel comfortable in their own skin; you celebrate everything silly and lame—including Christmas."
Sophie raised her eyebrows. "Christmas is not lame! How many times do we have to go through this?"
But Derek was smiling. He was teasing her.
"You just make everything better, Soph. That's all I'm trying to say," he said.
Sophie couldn't help but match his smile. She closed her eyes, listening to Randy's band sing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," but a rocked-out version that made her shoes vibrate.
"I only have two months left in Willow Creek," Derek said. "And I want to spend as much of that time with you. If you want that too."
Sophie's knees nearly gave out. "What if you change your mind?" She hated how small her voice was.
People changed their minds all the time. They kissed you and ran. They asked you to marry them and moved out a year later.
Derek shook his head. "I won't. I can promise you that." He winced. "But I won't rely on you to get me out of my grief. That isn't your job. I've called my therapist back in LA, and we're going to have bi-weekly video chats." He squeezed her hands. "I'm going to deal with this head-on."
Sophie wasn't sure what to think.
This was a broken man. A man who'd lost everything.
But because of her, he wanted to rebuild himself. He wanted to try again. He wanted to believe in the magic of the world again.
What could she do but open her heart to him?