38

“Blue, white, gold, red, and then green? Is that right, Harper?” Mayor Donaldson asked, scanning Harper’s color coded “cheat sheet” dictating the order to flip each switch for the choreographed lighted wave effect she was trying to achieve.

“Yes, sir, the lights will start on the north end of Main Street.” Harper lifted her gloved hand pointing in the general direction of Columbus, Ohio. “They’ll roll around the fountain. Then to the trees lining the path leading up to the community center entrance. The outside of the community center will light. The big finale will be when you push the green button to light the tree.”

“It sounds simply stunning, Harper. Here’s hoping it all works.” The mayor handed Harper her color-coded guide, pivoted from the stage, and began shaking constituents’ hands.

“Ignore him.” Jane Barrett said as she stepped onto the platform designated for the mayor’s opening speech. “He never believes anything will work until after everything is complete and successfully over. Last year he spent the entire three days of the Labor Day Carnival convinced someone would be stranded on the replica of the original Ferris wheel the historical society brought in for their display. The ride worked perfectly and the whole event was written up in Southeast Ohio Sightings. Donaldson has the article framed in his office and mentions the success of the Labor Day Carnival before any meeting on any town event or festival. I imagine your light display will be an equally lovely feather in his cap.”

“Thanks Jane. I’m grateful you gave me the opportunity.”

Jane waved her hands. “I didn’t give you anything. I’m in charge of the dance and happen to be an advisor to the Christmas Festival committee. The committee selected you as the design lead based on your excellent presentation and your extensive body of work on other events. I do have to say I am thankful another Gibson’s Run girl is making an impact at home. I know you’re in Columbus, so am I most days, but isn’t it nice to come home and make our little town shine bright?”

Harper nodded, unable to speak through the tears welling up in her eyes.

“I have a few things to check on for Saturday. I’ll see you after the lighting.” Jane walked toward the community center.

Harper’s heart warmed when she saw Jane slip her hand through the crook of her husband, Lindy’s, thick arm. The two were a near perfect couple. Harper hoped she would have a similar comfortable easiness with someone someday.

On a sigh, she turned to scan the crowd and her gaze locked with Bennett Langston. The butterflies that awoke the prior night flapped their wings, stirring awake every cell in her body.

“Hello, Harper.”

“Hi, Ben.” She stepped off the platform, her neck tilting back to catch his gaze.

“You ready?”

She shrugged. “As ready as I can be. Only thanks to you and your help.”

“My pleasure. When is the official lighting?”

Glancing at her watch, her stomach churned at the time. “In about two minutes.”

Ben wrapped his long arm around her shoulders and squeezed, showering her frame with a shiver of tingles. “Don’t worry. I saw the preview last night. It’ll be perfect.”

“Aunt Harper!”

Harper spun and squatted as her niece Emma launched her four-foot frame into Harper’s waiting arms.

“Oof.” Harper let loose a puff of air. “Ems, how many of Grammy’s cookies have you eaten this week?” She pushed the tight, knit cap back from Emma’s smooth forehead and smacked a kiss.

“She’s eaten my body weight in sugar since Sunday.”

Harper glanced up as her brother, Ryland, and his fiancée, Tessa, closed the final steps to her. The couple’s hands were intertwined, and the glow of joy-filled happiness radiated off them like a bonfire. The three-dimensional reality of Ryland’s contentment filled her with immense pleasure, but no matter how hard she tried to stifle the green-eyed monster, she felt jealousy burn a hole in her heart each time she thought about her single status. She loved her life. Being single allowed her to pursue her career and her dreams without the worry and consideration of a husband or a family. But, as she was now the only non-coupled Jessup sibling, her mother’s disappointment was heavier than a weighted blanket.

Shaking the green-eyed monster off, she stretched to stand and stepped into her brother’s open arms. “Thanks for coming, little brother.” She snuggled into Ryland’s oversized embrace. If she squeezed her eyes tight, she could almost imagine she was in her father’s wide arms.

“You know you’re only eleven months older than me, Harp.”

She stepped back, looping her arms across her middle. “Yes, but wise beyond my years.”

“Aunt Harper, who dat guy?” Emma pointed her mitten covered hand toward Ben.

Harper swallowed against the thickness challenging her clear airway. “Umm, Emma, Ryland, Tessa, this is Ben Langston, Mrs. Penhearst’s nephew.”

Tessa extended her hand to Ben. “Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you. Lulu has told me so many stories about you over the years. She’s very proud of you.”

Ryland glanced at Ben and then swiveled his focus back to his fiancé. “Is this the doctor?”

“I believe so.” Tessa’s smile stretched with a touch of a smirk across her face.

Widening his stance, Ryland tugged Tessa back to his side. “We’re getting married in less than a month, Doc. Stay on your side of town.”

“Ryland!”

“Excuse me?” Ben asked with a stutter.

“You heard me. Em, give your aunt a hug. We need to get back to Grammy.”

“Ryland Jessup, what has gotten into you?” Harper was stunned. Her brother was usually the kindest, most welcoming of all the Jessups. Alternatively, her sisters tended to be a little judgy and confrontational. She wouldn’t sic them on her worst enemies.

Ryland snatched Emma into his arms with a grunt and turned without saying good-bye.

Tessa chuckled. “You’ll have to excuse Ryland. Lulu didn’t think Ryland was getting around to proposing fast enough last spring, and she offered to introduce me to her very handsome, very single, doctor-nephew.”

Ben’s face flashed seven shades deeper than fresh tomato soup. “Oh, gosh, I mean…I don’t know…Aunt Lulu can be…umm.” He shifted his gaze to Harper. His eyes pleaded with her.

Harper laced her arm through Ben’s and squeezed. “That’s just Mrs. Penhearst being Mrs. Penhearst. I didn’t realize she was using you as a pawn to drive my brother’s feet forward, but your sacrifice was for an excellent cause.”

“Ryland would’ve eventually gotten around to asking me,” Tessa said. “But it’s nice Lulu thought a little poke was in order. Don’t be mad at your aunt. Her heart was in the right place.”

Ben’s brows pulled tight toward the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure how I feel about Aunt Lulu offering me as a sacrifice. Does she do it often?”

Harper patted his thick bicep and tried to ignore the increase in butterfly belly activity with his nearness. “Your aunt is nothing if not the second-best busybody in town. Sissy Jenkins will be the reigning queen even after she meets Jesus face to face. No need to worry. She hasn’t tried anything serious like trying to set you up with someone perennially single, like me.”

His brow softened and the corner of his full lips tilted up. “Now, that’s some busy-bodying I could get behind.”

Harper’s heart sped to the pace of an Indy Car in its final lap. Sinking into liquid brown depths of Ben’s focus, her breaths came in a short staccato rhythm blocking out the world in a hazy buzz. With chilled fingers, Ben gently traced the line of her cheekbone, linking a single finger under her chin. He slowly lowered his mouth towards hers. A cloud seemed to consume them on all sides wiping out people and noise. All she could feel was the racing of her heart, the gentle touch of his hand and the heat from his breath as he drew nearer.

“Reeek!” The shrill of the microphone snapped Harper’s focus toward the stage. Mayor Donaldson was arranging the microphone to his height. The crowd around Harper and Ben seemed to close tighter, dissipating the cloud of intimacy.

Stepping from Ben, Harper wrapped her arms across her chest. Despite the thickness of her down jacket, she could feel her heart racing. The chilled December air burned against her heated cheeks. Her forced focus on the mayor’s speech did little to quell the zoom of chaotic thoughts.

What had she almost done? And in the middle of town—with nearly every person she had ever known in eyeshot? This kind of carelessness was what caused her to miss her dad’s final days. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, be so unfocused and open. Not again. She’d almost missed the most important moment of her career, and embarrassed her family all in one stupid moment of weakness. She’d promised herself nearly a decade ago, when she’d tossed a handful of dirt on her father’s casket, she would never risk everything for momentary passion again. And, yet the burn of her cheeks and buzz in her ears were all the evidence she needed: she had failed. All it took was one handsome doctor and she was willing to make a fool of herself, yet, again.

The pull of Ben’s gaze tugged at Harper. One little pivot and she could easily fall back into his embrace and the tender touch promised in his arms.

She tightened her grip and focused on Mayor Donaldson’s words.

“…and, in honor of the fiftieth annual Christmas Festival, we have a few surprises over the twelve nights, but tonight, my fellow Gibson’s Run-ians, we have a very special citizens only treat. One of our locals, Harper Jessup, has designed a lightening ceremony ready to knock all your mittens off.”

Or at least it better. Harper silently filled in for the mayor.

“Let’s count it down together, shall we? Ten…nine….” And the crowd joined the mayor. The sound seemed to rumble under Harper’s feet.

“…two….one!”

The mayor began to push the buttons.

“Blue,” Harper whispered watching the lights wave on over Main Street, illuminating the street with a golden glow.

“White.” The light stretched around the town’s iconic fountain, highlighting the architecture of the essentially dry statue.

“Gold.” The trees and booths lining the pathway to the community center twinkled like stars nestled in the sky.

“Green.” From the bottom of the thirty-foot tree, the lights rioted up the branches with near musical movement. A roar of applause, cheers, and whistles filled the air, but Harper lifted a silent thank you to God for allowing her vision to become a reality.

“And with that stunning display, the Christmas Festival is open!” Mayor Donaldson shouted over the ripple of clapping and din of dozens of conversations.

“Wow,” Tessa said with a squeeze of Harper’s shoulders. “That was even more beautiful than I imagined. I should go find your brother. Emma’s probably chatting his ear off about their house lights after that phenomenal display. Congratulations.”

Harper sucked in her cheeks and gave a little nod. Dozens of people were waving and began walking toward her. They wanted to offer congratulations, but if she couldn’t get some room to breathe, she would start bawling like a baby who’d lost a pacifier.

“Follow me.” Ben clasped Harper’s gloved hand and tugged her through the crowd toward Main Street, away from the festival.

In a near run to keep pace with him, Harper waved and nodded to the townspeople congratulating her on the success of lights. As they broke through to Main Street, she released Ben’s hand and quickened her pace. She needed air. She didn’t want to show the weakling little Harper, crying yet again over something ridiculous. Why must her emotions, good, awful, and everything in between, be expressed with tears?

“It’s all right to cry, Harper.” Ben’s voice was low and soothing. His tone melted through her spirit, easing the weight threatening to crush her.

She turned to him, and lifted her gaze to his towering frame and kind focus. “I always cry. I am so weak.”

“Tears aren’t weakness. Tears convey how you feel. They show authenticity.”

Ben closed the distance to Harper, gently pulling her into his embrace. Resting her head on his chest, she felt the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. The strength of him triggered the release of tears she’d been trying to control.

Her tears flowed from a mixture of relief, joy, and sorrow. The same cocktail she’d been mixing in her heart since her father’s death. Sorrow over his passing. Relief she had accomplished something for which he would be proud. And joy, because she knew God would let him know. Harper wasn’t sure how she would find her way past this drink or how she would find the strength to not look back while she tried to move forward, but there was one piece of her history that would never let her truly be free to move fully into the present, no matter how much she longed to be there with the gentle man who offered her the simple comfort of his embrace.

Pressing her palms against his chest, Harper pushed out of Ben’s arms. She wiped her tears and slowly walked to one of the several benches dotting Main Street. She’d spent hours chatting with friends, sketching in notebooks, and reading books on each of the benches donated in honor of fallen soldiers. The benches honored their final resting places, reminded the town of the sacrifice, and that simply sitting was a treasured gift of freedom.

Settling on the bench in front of the physical therapy center, Moving with You, Harper patted the open space. Ben quickly answered the summons.

“I love this town,” Harper said.

“That’s quite evident.”

“Not because of the pieces and parts, like these benches or the old fountain. Or even all the unending festivals. I love this town because my dad chose this town for his family.” She shifted to face Ben. “He chose to give up the opportunity for a pretty big career, one where he would have been a celebrity. Instead, he gave his children a chance to be children and the center of his world. My dad allowed himself to become ordinary and gave his children a chance at being extraordinary.”

“Sounds like the perfect dad.”

She swiped at a chilled tear and nodded. “Not perfect, but nearly. I made a mistake just before my dad died. I chose selfishness. I chose someone else over him. And that one choice has haunted me. Because of the choice my last words with my dad were spoken in anger. In hatred of this town, I truly love so much. In hatred of a childhood, he sacrificed everything to give me. And so, when I am able to accomplish something, even if it is a little thing in the scheme of life like the Christmas Festival lights, I feel this mix of sadness and joy. Because, I think, I believe, my dad maybe is a little closer to forgiving me.” Harper sucked in her lip, tasting the liquid salt of her tears.

“Harper, you have to start forgiving yourself. I’m sure your dad forgave you.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know. You don’t know what I really did. How horrible…all because I chose—”

“Harper!”

Her name from that voice made bile rise through her system. Slowly turning toward the sound, she lifted a silent prayer she was wrong.

She wasn’t.

“Marco?” The name flitted over her lips. A name she thought she’d never say again.

“Ciao, mia bella!” Draped in a black overcoat, with a thick burgundy scarf knotted effortlessly at his neck, Marco Aquino seemed to have appeared on a cloud of guilt. Gliding across the street, he was every bit as beautiful as he was eight years ago when she’d first met him in Rome. Just under six feet tall, he had black hair filled with waves as thick as the Mediterranean Sea and eyes reflecting the ocean’s blue. His high cheekbones, thin patrician nose, and full lips made him seem as if he was one of Raphael’s paintings come to life.

Marco snatched her from the bench, clutching her to his chest and kissing each of her cheeks. “Oh, mia bella, it has been too long, no?”

“Nope,” Harper shoved against him. “Not quite long enough, Marco.”