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She said no more, and I moved on to the locomotive, painting most of it black, but with red and yellow details. Lilja poured out white. We worked in silence for a while. The storm had grown more violent, rattling not just the window frames, but the house itself. When the locomotive was done, I studied her piece of wood. She had painted it with little flowers.

“Lilies-of-the-valley,” I said. They grew in the forest, and I recognized the little bell-like flowers.

“They’re my favorite.”

“Because of your name?”

She nodded. “Sort of, yes. They remind me of… of being loved, I suppose.”

“They’re very pretty.”

She smiled at that before she turned back to her painting.

Because of the horrible weather, Alma stayed over since the snowstorm was so vicious now that even making it next door would be difficult—perhaps even dangerous if she got lost.

We didn’t stay up long. We were all tired after the constant tasks of these December days. My legs were aching from the run back from the forest, and the howl of the storm made crawling into bed seem extraordinarily enticing.

In my room, Lilja and I got ready in the dark like we always did. There was always some nervousness about being alone with her in this space, but tonight my heart was beating faster. I had spent the day gathering my courage. I was going to do it, ask her about that moment in the woods.

The blankets rustled when she lay down. I delayed by checking that the window was closed. Pointlessly, because if it hadn’t been, we surely would have known by the frigid wind and snow that would be whirling around the room.

I assembled the last of the needed bravery and lay down next to her. Like she did every night, she crept closer and put her head on my shoulder. My heart was still pounding— although it wasn’t all from the nerves now. I loved the feel of her cheek against my pajamas. I wrapped my arm around her.

“This is always the best part of my day,” she said.

My throat went drier than it already was. “I feel the same.”

Ordering my thoughts, or attempting to at least, I tried to put the words I wanted to say together into a coherent sentence. Earlier in the woods… Did you want me to… Were you…

I was about to speak, finally, when Lilja moved even closer. Her breath hit my jaw. I turned my head to face her.

“Selma,” she whispered. “I really like you.” Her hand came to rest on my neck. Her fingers weren’t cold anymore.

“And I… I like you more than I can say,” I croaked.

She ran her thumb along my cheek, and before I could bend down the last inch and press my lips to hers, she kissed me. Her mouth on mine was everything I had imagined—but also so much more. Her hand caressed my temple, and I pulled her tighter. My eyes filled with tears because I hadn’t ever thought I’d get to feel this, to experience even this simple but wondrous thing.

It seemed a long time, and like none at all, we kissed. Finally, she pulled away. She pressed her face into my neck, taking a deep breath. “Can I sleep like this?”

“Of course. I’d like you to.”

“Good night,” she whispered.

“Good night, my darling.” My heart pounded once again. Was that too presumptuous? But she didn’t stiffen or pull away. Instead, I felt how her body relaxed into mine. Soon she was asleep and, exhausted as I was, I drifted off as the storm raged outside.

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning, the storm had ceased. Deep drifts lay against the houses of Storgatan, reaching all the way to the windows. We ate our customary oatmeal, then set to work. This was the last Monday before Christmas.

This late in December, Lilja was busy in the store, not with taking orders, but wrapping and handing out the finished toys as customers came in. Helena sewed and I painted, letting my mind wander to the Christmas tree I had promised Lilja. How would I build it? And what materials should I use?

When everything on my tray was painted, it was time to get going on the very last of the season’s soldiers. Luckily, just a half contingent this time. I didn’t set right to carving. Something pulled at me and told Helena I was going next door for a minute or two.

Lilja was wrapping a horse and a cart for Mrs. Nilsson when I passed through the store. Like everything else she did, her work was very neat. She smiled at me over the roll of paper, and I told Mrs. Nilsson Merry Christmas.

Storgatan was busy with shoppers. Little cleared paths led from the middle of the street to every door. All this snow wasn’t practical, but it did put me in the holiday spirit. There was something special about a white Christmas.

It was a bit of a miracle this time of year, but I found Alma alone in my uncle’s shop.