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I place my hand over my chest. Did I just crash or something?
“Hey!” A man interjects after his shoulder bumps into mine. “The sidewalk is for walking, not standing, loser.”
I open my mouth to apologize but no words come out. Apparently, my body hasn’t regained full function.
I step aside and draw a deep breath. What on earth just happened?
I try to figure it out as I continue walking but give up on it. I don’t know. I’m not sure I even want to know. At any rate, I’m back to normal now. I’m fine.
I’m fine, I repeat to myself as I turn my head to the other side of the street.
No. I’m not hoping to catch another glimpse of him. I’m just… looking at those pretty Christmas lights, that’s all.
My eyebrows furrow. Wait. Christmas lights?
My jaw drops. Oh, right. Tonight is when they’re putting up the Christmas tree in the park. How could I forget?
I cross the street and walk in the direction of the lights. As I approach the park, I hear carols drifting through the air and I smile.
I just love the holidays. I love the lights, especially when they’re all that’s on inside the house. I love the shiny ornaments, particularly the gold and silver ones. I love the smell of tinsel. I love the crunch of wrapping paper. I love the crackling flames of a fire in the hearth. I love the music. I love just seeing people gathered together with smiles on their faces.
Yup. I’m a sucker for Christmas. It’s the only thing that can light me up more than the thought of a nine-hour surgery or the smile of a patient after waking up from one I’ve successfully performed.
There aren’t too many people at the park. Probably most of them are wrapped up in their own Thanksgiving celebrations. There’s a man suited up as Santa, though, giving out candy canes to children, and some men and women dressed up as elves handing bags of food to some homeless people. There’s also someone selling chestnuts and a group of carolers in red and gold singing on a platform.
I stand right in front of the platform, close my eyes and listen to them sing. They’re good. Maybe not as good as the Ray Conniff singers I love listening to at this time of the year, but they’re hitting most of the notes. If anything, I wish they sounded more genuinely joyous, but it is cold here at the park, especially when the breeze blows.
Suddenly, I hear a snap. I open my eyes just in time to see a branch above the carolers falling.
Shit.
I clasp a hand over my mouth as fear grips my chest but let out a sigh of relief as the branch gets tangled in a string of lights which prevents it from crashing down on the carolers.
Thank goodness.
Or so I think until I hear a thud. As I look at the platform, I see most of the carolers glancing behind it, their song barely audible now. I run to the back of the stage and gasp as I see a woman lying on the ground.
I rush to her side. “Are you alright?”
She nods. “I was looking at the branch and the next thing I knew, I fell.”
I glance at the platform, where there is now an empty spot in the back row. How high is it? Three feet? Four?
“Are you in pain?” I ask her.
“No,” she answers as she sits up. “But I think I hit my head.”
She touches the back of it and I push her hand away so I can look. No blood. No bruise. It looks fine. Even so…
“How is she?” a voice asks me.
“She hit her head, but there’s no wound,” I answer. “She doesn’t appear to have a concussion, but…”
I stop talking as I turn my head only to find myself staring into a pair of dark brown eyes. Eyes looking out from a face of perfectly attractive features. The same face I was staring at earlier.
Holy shit.
“I’m fine.” The caroler tries to get back on her feet. “I need to sing.”
She manages to stand up, but then staggers and stumbles back. The man in front of me catches her.
“You should rest,” he tells her. “And maybe go to a hospital to get your head – ”
“I’m fine,” the caroler interrupts. She turns to me with a pleading gaze. “Please. I have a solo coming up and I’ve been practicing for a month.”
“It’s only Thanksgiving,” my real-life McSteamy answers. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance to sing a carol at least once in the next month. Who sings carols this early anyway? God knows the holidays last long enough. Let someone else do it. You’re in no shape to go back up there.”
“No one else can do it,” she reasons. “And I can’t let them down. I can’t…”
