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"What's that? "
"Pretend snow. Here, you can put some on." She laid a few tufts in his palm, their fingers connecting, which ignited in him the desire to take her into his arms and kiss her.
But he didn't readily move, too intent was he on watching her as she hummed a festive tune and placed cotton wool in strategic places on the branches.
In that instant, he could imagine spending the rest of his Christmases with Isabel—decorating the tree and house, sitting together and lighting the tree candles and enjoying the smell of pine as it filled the room. Morning would come and they'd wake up to wrapped gifts chosen with affection and love… perhaps have a child to toddle beside them…
John shook his head and drew in a breath. It was a hell of a tall dream, one that he'd be lucky to have.
"Now we'll need that," she said, breaking into his musings as she pointed to the box behind him.
He turned and reached into the crate and took out stars cut from flattened tin cans. They hung those, and afterward, she went to the counter and gave him a string of popcorn and dried apricots.
"I was going to put these on the porch, then I remembered the birds. So there went that idea. But now I have a tree. You can put this on."
He did, taking care to string it evenly so as not to mess up her tree. Finally they wired on small tin candleholders and placed the candles in them.
Standing back together, his arm slipped over her shoulder. "Well." She sighed with awe. "It's a lovely tree, don't you think?"
He only had eyes for the woman beside him. "I think you're lovely, Isabel."
Then he took her into both arms, held her close, and kissed her. Melting into his embrace, she spoke against his lips, "Tonight, when the contest is over, we'll light the candles together."
"Together." The word turned into another kiss that sealed the promise.
An old midnight moon gazed down at the crowd standing in front of Bellamy Nicklaus's gingerbread-styled house. The clock had struck twelve, but that seemed an eternity ago to Isabel. She stood next to John, periodically biting her lip and standing on tiptoe to see if she could catch a glimpse of Bellamy through his front window.
Everyone had turned in their berries and he'd taken all the bundles, baskets, and sacks inside to have "Mother" count and string them. How she could manage to do all that in a short time baffled Isabel.
The tree in the yard glittered with a multitude of lit candles. Flickering red flames reflected off the sparkling trimmings that had been hung. Thankfully the air was still to keep the candles burning.
"How much longer, do you think?" Isabel asked John for at least the dozenth time.
"I don't know, Isabel. Soon, I hope."
Through the press of people, she reached out and found his hand, gripping it within her own. And they waited some more.
Finally the door opened and Bellamy came out.
Isabel stared at him with renewed reverence. Santa Claus. Saint Nicholas. How many Christmases had she tried to stay up to get a peek at the elusive man in the red coat? Funny how at the age of twenty-eight, when she'd stopped believing, she could now see him.
For a short few heartbeats, Isabel closed her eyes tight and whispered in her head: I believe. I believe in you. I believe in Saint Nicholas.…
Then she slowly opened her eyes to find Bellamy looking directly at her and giving her a… wink! She smiled, broadly. They'd done it! They'd won! She knew it!
Voices fell quiet as Bellamy came to the front of the porch steps, where Yule and Tide stood like soldiers on either side. Bellamy gave them each a smile, then said, "What was that fruit again?"
"Pineapple," Yule reminded.
"Ja, pineapple," Tide nodded. "Good fruit"
"Juicy; " Yule added.
"Sweet," Tide countered.
"You're making me want some," Bellamy said with a nod. "I think we ought to stop by Pago Pago on the way tonight and get us some."
"Ja, "Yule agreed.
