30

Harper stretched against the top rung of the ladder, securing the center of the string of Edison bulbs zigzagging across Main Street. Several of the town’s public works team had been allocated to help with preparing the downtown for the Christmas Festival—beginning at six o’clock the following evening. After plowing the park free of a foot of snow, the six-man crew set up fifty booths lining the paths crisscrossing the center of town as well as an additional thirty booths inside the community center. They also managed to decorate dozens of four-and-five-foot-tall fir trees with white lights, gold balls, and silver GR insignia ornaments. Despite their combined efforts, Main Street was short nearly two thousand lights when Harper parked her car at dusk. She thanked the men, and sent them home to defrost. She had thought she would have Main Street complete in under an hour.

She was wrong.

Clenching her fingers to restore the blood flow, she glanced at her watch. At her current pace, she would be lucky to finish before the crew came back in the morning to set up the stage and decorate the twenty-foot tree in the middle of the park. Why did she always think she could handle everything on her own?

“Need a hand?”

Standing to the right of her ladder was the practically perfect Bennett Langston. Restoration of blood flow complete.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I visited Aunt Lulu. Dropped off the remaining baked goods for the sale. And now I’m helping you.” He looked up and down the street. “What am I helping you do?”

“What do you know about light installations?”

~*~

Two hours later, Harper stapled the final strand into a telephone pole. Glancing over her shoulder, the classic beauty of gently swaying lights across the small-town parkway filled her spirit to near bursting. “Ben, can you flip the switch?”

A golden glow arched over the main thoroughfare in Gibson’s Run with a click. Of the thousands of people who would descend on this tiny town over the twelve-day festival, each of them would drive through the radiant beauty. Warm tears burned paths against her icy cheeks.

“Wow, Harper. This is stunning.” Ben’s voice tickled her heart with the tinge of wonder she felt and heard.

Climbing down the ladder, she wiped her cheek against her shoulder. “It’s not ‘wow Harper,’ It’s ‘wow Ben.’ I couldn’t have done this without you.” She hopped off the last rung and lifted her gaze to his smiling face. “I’d likely have been an icicle by morning if you hadn’t volunteered.”

“My pleasure.” He glanced at the ladder. “Does this need to go somewhere?”

She shook her head. “The guys from the city will get it in the morning.”

“Can I treat you to some hot chocolate or a tea?”

Harper glanced over her shoulder. Jenna just locked the front door of Maggie’s café, Only the Basics. “It’s a lovely thought, but the only place in town for warm drinks just closed up for the night.”

“Well, then, do you need a ride somewhere?”

“Walked from my mom’s house. It’s just down the block.” She rocked back on her heels as his shoulders slumped.

He waved good night and started walking toward his waiting car. “But you could walk me home. If you’d like. I think I can pull together some hot drinks in our kitchen.”

“I’d love to walk you home.” He stretched his gloved hand open to hers. “Shall we?”

Laying her mittened palm in his, the tiniest butterflies fluttered awake in her chest. They fanned flames, heating her from the inside. The tender connection suffocated Harper’s nearly always-on chatter. She couldn’t seem to think of a single question, fun fact, or interesting topic. Her brain had one thought: Ben. Just Ben.

They fell into an easy pace. She stretched her stride a little longer to match his. The snow crunched under the thick soles of their boots cutting through the silence of small-town Thursday. Their hands didn’t swing between them. The ease of being in his presence slid deeper into her with each step. Part of her wanted to stop time—to transfer this moment to a snow globe−perfectly suspended animation. The other part of her wanted to zoom forward. To be sitting in her mother’s cozy family room, stuffed into a pile of pillows, sipping on hot chocolate, and simply enjoying his company. But neither part would win. Reality would win. Reality always won. And in her reality, the Bennett Langstons of the world were off limits to one Harper Jessup.

She should let go of his hand, release the comfort and security, but her hand seemed to have a mind of its own.

Maybe, only for tonight, she could pretend she wasn’t Harper Jessup? And all the big and little baggage that came with being her could be ignored? And for this moment, he wasn’t a practically perfect Bennett Langston. Maybe, just maybe, they could be two people at the beginning of something.

“Did you grow up here?” Bennett’s low voice cut through the chaotic thoughts in her mind.

“Gibson’s Run? Yeah. Mostly. We moved here before I can remember. My dad was the high school football coach.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “He had a couple seasons in the NFL, but was a better coach than player. He loved football. I think if you tested his blood, it would have been filled with X’s and O’s. Poor guy had six kids. But only one boy. He was constantly torn between treating us like a coach and being a soft, gooey girl dad.” Her heart twisted at the flash of memories clipping through her mind. “Nothing was better than a dad hug. I always felt safe when he held me tight.”

“I’m sure he loved having daughters.”

She nodded and swiped at her cheek. “He died almost eight years ago.”

“Harper, I am so sorry.”

“Thanks. It’s weird. Sometimes I pick up the phone to call him. To tell him something good happening, or whine about a bad day. I forget for a split second he’s gone. And then it hits me with the power of running high speed into a brick wall.” She tugged her hand from his and wiped both of her eyes. Unable to stop the shudder of tears, she turned her back to Bennett.

“Hey,” he said, gently turning her to face him. “It’s OK. Mourning those we love is natural.” He enveloped her in his thick embrace. “Tears are just our bodies’ way of saying words we haven’t invented yet.”

Even through her thick puffer she felt the soothing stroke of Bennett’s hand trailing the length of her back.

She sucked in a breath and held it, trying to stop the onslaught of tears. But she lost. Her body shook with the flow from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowed her face into his chest, and released the sadness constantly at war with her longing for happiness. She fought every day to keep this torrent of pain and guilt at bay. Most days she won. Her positive mantras and never-ending schedule framed the discipline in her life. Grief couldn’t win if it couldn’t catch up. But in this moment, grief caught her. Grief threatened to swallow her whole. Fears and failures she couldn’t voice drowned her in a sea of never-ending guilt.

Why hadn’t she been there when Daddy needed her? He had always dropped anything when she needed him, but the one time he called and asked her to prioritize him, she’d chosen her desires over his need. And then it was too late.

She took in Ben’s soft gaze. Pure human kindness shined through his eyes. How could she taint his beauty?

She shook her head and wiped her cheeks. “You will find, Dr. Langston, I have a disease known as facile clamente.”

“Easy crier? I’ve never heard of the exact diagnosis, but I’ve known quite a few with the illness.”

She shrugged. “Unfortunately, I was the only one in my family with such an ailment. No one knew quite what to do with me in a family of super athletes and academics.”

“Really? Do tell. Your experience may be helpful for future cases. Medically speaking, of course.”

“Well, Dr. Bennett Langston, you just might have a sense of humor after all.”