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"You're crazy. You know that?"
Elias nodded and adjusted his top hat. "Maybe so."
"You're sure you want to do this?"
He smiled at Marta's reflection in the mirror. "Yes. I'm more worried about you. How are you holding up?"
She grimaced and looked away. "I'm ... I don't know. They're leaving, you know," she blurted.
He turned around, his eyebrows raised.
"Going to Germany. Sheriff says he can't prove they had anything to do with it since Arthur's disabled, so he can't stop them."
"How do you feel about that?"
She shrugged. "Upset. Lost. They're not my parents, so why should I care."
He laid his hand on her arm. "Because they raised you, and you love them."
"They stole us. Like they tried to do to the Swedish lady. Like they tried with Mrs. Pinser's kids. Mama ... Mrs. Eisenhower," she corrected herself. "... couldn't have children."
"Stop. Don't do that."
She smoothed his frock coat, a weak smile on her face. "At least I can be happy for you, though I still think you're crazy."
Elias took a deep breath, his hand poised over the door. He'd made up his mind what he wanted to do, and nothing would change it. Nevertheless, he trembled. Marta phrased it well. He was crazy. He rapped at the door and listened to footsteps rattling the house. There's no going back.
When the door opened, Angel's father smiled out at him. "My, don't you look fancy," he said.
Elias shuffled his feet. "Is she ... ready?"
Her father gave a huge nod. "She's on pins and needles. Never seen her like this," he laughed, and he backed up in the door.
Elias mouth fell open.
Angel emerged on the stoop, her bottom lip firmly between her teeth. "Do you like it?" The emerald green gown curved along her slender waistline revealing a skin-hugging bodice accented by cream-colored lace.
"You look breathtaking. Where did you get it?"
She smiled, and the sight of it warmed him. "It was my mother's. Papa gave it to me."
"It's beautiful. You're beautiful," he whispered. He extended his hand.
She swept down the steps, her skirt rustling. "Where are we going?" she asked. "You told me to dress up, but ..."
He grinned and escorted her to the wagon. "You'll see."
The dress fit like a glove, so much so my brothers' even noticed. Papa's eyes teared up as I entered the living room. Taking my hands, he choked on his words. "You look like your mother," he said. Joy settled inside because no higher compliment could ever be paid me.
Elias looked so handsome in his long coat and top hat, but I couldn't imagine why we were dressed up. The dance, after all, was cancelled.
He held my hand as we rode into town, refusing to answer any questions, though I peppered him with them anyway. It wasn't until when we rounded the corner of the park that, at last, I knew.
"Elias!" I cried. My hand went to my throat. "You did this?"
He smiled. "Marta and Hans helped."
My eyes drank in the fantastic vision before me. Adorned with garland and ribbon, the gazebo sparkled. Candles hung from each of the posts and the town Christmas tree glowed at its center. The townspeople had emerged to view it.
"The tree?" I asked. "How did you ...?”
"The mayor said Christmas would come just the same, and we all needed some joy in the midst of the recent sorrow."
He led me up the steps, and I stared in wonder at the beauty. He'd done all this for me, and I couldn’t believe it. I pulled back and sought his face. A grin sat on his lips. "I want to talk to you," he said. "I came here to spend the holidays, thinkin’ I'd suffer through it and return home, then go back to my old life."
He brushed his hand across my cheek and rested his thumb behind my jaw. "I can't do that now because there’s something I want far more."
My entire being tingled with his words. He moved yet closer, and his breath whisked moist on my cheeks.
"I know how things are supposed to be. I know couples court for months decidin’ their future, decidin’ what they want to be. But I don't need time. I need only one thing. I need you. I love you, Angel Taylor. You are my Christmas Angel, and I'm askin’ you to be my wife."
"Elias ..." I paused. I loved this man, and I wanted to agree, but this wasn't about just me anymore. "I love you, so much." I leaned my head on his palm. "But there are other things to consider."
He grew still.
"I’m a mother to those two children. Me, the most unlikely person in town. And it's more than simply doing what their mother asked, it's something deep inside I can no longer deny. They’re my children, and as much as I love you, I love them that much more."
I extracted my hands from his, and despite the flickering candles, the air grew cool around us. "They need someone who’ll love them unconditionally as my papa does me. I can’t expect you to do that." I turned away. I could no longer look in his face. "You deserve someone who can give all of herself to you. Someone pretty and girly. Someone who is all the things I’m not."
But he tipped my face toward his. "I don't want those things. I want you, and I know what I'm getting into." He kissed my forehead. "One month. Two months. Six months. A year. My mind isn't going to change. There isn't any other woman for me. And whether she's in a green dress or a pair of pants, I love her just the same."
My lip trembled. What did I do to deserve him?
"I love her laughter. I love her smile. I love her children. I’ll cherish them and make them my own."
He reached then into his pocket and unfolding his palm, brought out my mama's ring.
"Where did you ...?" I began. I’d searched for it this evening to no avail.
He smiled. "Your father gave it to me."
"Papa?"
He nodded. "I spoke to him and to your brothers. They knew my intentions."
I threw my arms around his neck. "I love you. Oh, how much I love you."
He wrapped his arms around my waist. "Then say, 'Yes.'"
And the words burst from my mouth. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes!"
His mouth covered mine, and all thought fled from my head. I reveled in the moment, in the love he had for me and I for him.
When he withdrew, he stepped back and bowed to his waist. He held out his hand. "Would you allow me this dance?"
I tilted my head. "Where’s the music?" How could we dance without a song? He'd thought of everything else, so I couldn’t believe he’d forget this too.
He pulled me up against him and pressed my head to his chest. "Listen," he said. "Do you hear it?"
"I hear your heartbeat," I replied.
"There’s the music."
And my senses flooded my throat as we swayed together, the lights shining around us.
THE END