Kate’s first thought, as it always was when things went horribly, horribly wrong (or, to be completely fair, even slightly wrong) was, “How did I screw this up?” If a stranger’s high heel broke or the set for the Fezziwig mansion got slightly burned by an errant candle fire or no one could agree on how to fairly split a bill at a restaurant, Kate’s immediate reaction always passed go, did not collect two hundred dollars, and zipped straight to self-blame.
She abandoned Woodward House behind her, fully intending to return once she cleared her head. The problem with this entire plot of hers came down to one simple fact: being near him drove her crazy.
Crazy didn’t accurately describe it. He just…robbed her of any ability she possessed to take decisive, bold action. Kate’s performance reviews with The Christmas Company—both during her time as a volunteer and as an employee—always highlighted her excellent ability to think clearly, no matter the circumstances. During times of crisis or mild inconvenience, she took charge and steered the ship back on course. When she got near Clark, however…she might as well have tried to steer the Titanic through nighttime fog.
He made no sense. He surprised her with peeks of his heart and then tore it away when she stepped closer to get a better look. When he offered to drive them on their Christmas Box deliveries, when he gave Bradley that candy bar… Those actions pointed to something specific, to a truth he either wanted to hide or didn’t know he had inside of him at all.
He was secretly a good man. He wanted to open himself up to others. But something—fear or pain or resentment—kept him from doing so.
This entire impossible-to-balance calculation led to Kate trudging through the back forty of Woodward House. Thin bands of frozen rain slapped her cheeks. After less than five minutes exposed to the elements, her bones themselves shivered from the cold. Texas never froze, of course, not properly. Snow happened rarely and people usually took it as a sign of the End of Days. But, on days like today, it did get cold enough for Kate to wonder if she would catch her death just trying to get some fresh air.
The forty acres of land stretched between the faux Victorian manor house and the edge of the hill overlooking Miller’s Point upon which that house sat. It stirred Kate with its beauty. The old legend of the original Woodwards always included some storyline about Jedediah Woodward, the founder of the town and the company, who bought this land because his bride-to-be—whom he’d never met—apparently loved to paint. He thought buying her a landscape to explore and inspire her art might endear his unseen bride to him. Apparently, the gesture went over fairly well, seeing as she gave him thirteen children.
As she approached the end of the tree line, where a log bridge crossed over an icy river, Kate gave Annabella Woodward some credit. If a man gifted this land to her, she’d probably give him fifteen children. At least.
Stopping at the river’s edge, Kate leaned back against a granite boulder and surveyed the vast landscape around her. The rock was not exactly the most comfortable of recliners. She made do anyway. A view so beautiful deserved to be looked at. She could think of no better place to collect her thoughts. The tall evergreen trees followed the river down to a broad estuary in the distance. Unlike the half-frozen, half-cold spit rain, the river really had frozen over, halting the rushing water with a thin top layer of ice.
In the spring especially, she could understand the appeal of Jedediah Woodward’s gift to his wife. In a time before flu medicine, one generally appreciated a warm, leafy landscape more than a cold, wet one. Today, with plenty of cold pills and doctors on hand in town, she enjoyed the view for its resilience. Everything froze. Everything died in winter. But that was all the more reason to flourish and blossom come April. Kate sat on the edge of it all, taking in deep breaths of fresh tree breezes as she reckoned with her failings.
She’d failed him, the man with eyes as cold as this landscape. Something in Clark wanted to come out. She saw the hesitant hope hiding in his distant eyes. So why was he being so cruel to her? What had she done to deserve his devil-may-care attitude? She ran circles around this question, poking and prodding and second-guessing every decision she’d made this morning. Every turn she took led her to another brick wall. Every time she thought she’d grabbed onto an answer, her hands clutched at empty air.
She’d been kind and open and honest with him. Maybe she’d been a bit pushy and he made her heart race when he even glanced at her with his hypnotic green eyes, sure, but overall, she’d done nothing but try to help him.
For the first time in a long time, Kate considered the possibility of someone else’s failure. Maybe she hadn’t failed him. Maybe nothing she could do would open him up. Emily could be right about him. Maybe he just…wasn’t a nice guy. Maybe he’d been cruel to her to get her to leave.
With that horrifying yet liberating thought, the full weight of his insults bayoneted her in the chest. You don’t care about me. I don’t care about Christmas. I don’t care about you. She heard them the first time, but blamed herself for their stings. Now, she accepted the full weight of his hatred. It burned her worse than the frostbite she was no doubt getting out here in this rain.
It occurred to her how every thought she had about him might have been the product of projection. She assumed everyone could be made to love Christmas because she loved it. She assumed he had a tragic backstory because she lived through a tragedy. She assumed he liked her because…well, against even her best judgment, she liked him. Sure, he could challenge the Grinch for grumpiness and Scrooge for Greatest Miser of All Time. But weirdly, she almost found it endearing, his little freak-outs any time she introduced something new and exciting into his world. He struggled with the basics of human interaction, but she swore he contained good inside of him.
Maybe she’d misjudged his character. Maybe he had nothing inside of him but hate and lumps of coal. She trudged through the woods to clear her head so she could eventually make her way back to the house with fresh eyes and a clear heart, ready to take on anything he threw at her. Now, she could only remember the words Michael always said when she ran to him for advice. Sometimes, he said, you just gotta know when to quit.
He said it knowing full well she’d never quit. But today…she considered it.
The crack and crunch of leaves behind her ended the internal debate. Kate spooked at the noise—she didn’t think a murderer would ever come to a nice place like Miller’s Point, but she’d watched enough Lifetime movies to know it was at least remotely possible—only to slump back down against her rock when she recognized the intruder. For some reason, the man who couldn’t stand the sight of her and didn’t care about her at all tracked her down through the rain.
A cynical shade cast over his sudden appearance. Not literally, of course, as she stared out at the frogs sticking to the iced-over river instead of turning to give him her full attention. Was her being on his property a legal liability for him? Did he want her to sign some kind of injury waiver or something?
“H-hey. You’re a fast walker,” he said. Sudden arrivals didn’t catch her attention, but labored, hard-fought gasping did. She turned her head just enough to survey him out of the corner of her eye. A small, eternally happy part of her almost giggled at the sight. Not only was he red-faced and anxious and bent over his knees to catch his breath, but the children of Miller’s Point often pretended to be dragons when their breath puffed in front of their face. Imagining Clark on all fours, feigning a mighty dragon’s roar, would’ve brought a less angry Kate to sidesplitting laughter, but as it was, she built a fence of hurt around her.
On the one hand, she needed him to save the town. And she couldn’t leave him alone if she thought he had a chance of finding even a sliver of hope. On the other, she selfishly wanted an apology. Her love of Miller’s Point and her belief in the goodness of the human heart would eventually dominate any selfish bone in her body, but for this one moment, she indulged in her own pain.
“Only when I’m running away from something. What are you doing here?”
“You’re going to get sick.”
“You don’t care.”
“You’re still on my employee insurance until January 1.”
“Good to know.”
A pause. Kate didn’t know what he expected by coming down here, and she didn’t know what she expected him to say. She knew what she wanted him to say, but she couldn’t imagine the words I’m sorry ever escaping his lips.
He circled her stone to stand before her, trying to force her to look at him. “Listen—”
“I listened to you all day. I listened to you trash and run over everything I tried to do to make you happy.”
“You don’t owe me anything. You don’t need to make me happy.”
“You don’t get it, do you? It’s not about you. It’s about humanity.”
“Great. Another soapbox speech about the magical healing powers of Christmas?”
“No. I won’t waste it on someone who refuses to listen.”
Kate kicked a pebble. It skidded along the dead grass down to the river, where it limply slid across the cracked-ice face of the still water. So, this was defeat. She’d worked so hard to avoid it, she hardly recognized the emotion. Defeat was wanting to scream the truth at the top of her lungs only to have him shove his fingers in his ears and refuse to listen. Defeat was standing in the rain and having someone else tell you it’s perfectly dry.
He didn’t get her, and she didn’t get him. Defeat.
“I hear you.” Despite the frost and the perfect cleanliness of his suit, Clark lowered himself to the grass. She couldn’t escape his Ireland eyes and their self-serious absurdities. “I’m listening. It’s just not for me.”
“Christmas is for everyone,” she said, for what felt like the millionth time since his arrival here.
“No, it’s not.”
“But it can be. Christmas is a spirit. Christmas is a way of treating people.”
This was perhaps Kate’s most deeply held idea about the holiday season. Christmas was there to celebrate the birth of Christ, of course. The name said as much, but because of that, not in spite of it, Christmas had to also embody all of the goodness of humanity. Christmas wasn’t just about saying “God bless,” but about going out into the world and living that message no matter the personal cost. The only way to truly celebrate Christmas, as far as Kate was concerned, was to stand up for people and love them completely…even if they hurt her.
“Kate…” Clark trailed off and suddenly forgot how to make eye contact. His big hands must have been very interesting, considering he wouldn’t stop staring at them. “I think you’re an…” He coughed. “I think you’re an extraordinary woman.”
“What?”
“You are kind and generous to a fault, even if you were generous with my money—”
“I only spent your money on you.”
“You’re funny and beautiful and witty and you clearly care about others and—”
He went on, but she stopped listening after beautiful. He thought she was beautiful? Even she didn’t think she was beautiful. She tuned back in only after her ears stopped ringing.
“I can see what you’re trying to do. I know you’re just trying to help. It’s a very kind gesture. I just don’t want it. I have rules and standards for my life and they just don’t include Christmas. Or wasting money. So, I think it would be better if you just go on ahead to your friends’ place for Christmas. You’ll have a better time.”
Kate had only played dodgeball once in her life. This conversation reminded her of being the only person on one side while a barrage attack came from the other. He’d told her, in his stilted Mr. Darcy way, that he liked her, then immediately proceeded into why she needed to spend her holidays without him.
And he’d called her beautiful. His stream of consciousness declaration came out nervous and unfiltered. Had he even realized he called her that?
She changed the subject, if only to keep her heart from exploding with the possibilities. This time, she didn’t attack him. A sigh, heavier than any winter wind, blew out of her, releasing the anger and hurt. Clark hadn’t managed to say sorry, but he would. She believed in him. Besides, she didn’t know how to hold onto anger. It wasn’t in her character.
“You know, they’re right. I’ve never left someone alone on Christmas.”
“You probably bring them to the festival, don’t you?”
“Not always.” Kate took a chance. Clark hadn’t responded to grand acts of magic or her charming personality. All she had left was her honesty. “Once, when I was eighteen, I’d finally gotten the part of Belle. She’s Scrooge’s love interest when he’s younger. I’d always wanted to play her. She has this beautiful gown and she’s just awesome, standing up for herself and breaking up with him when he’s not good for her anymore—”
“You like her because she broke up with him?”
“It would have been easy to live with something bad. It took courage to break free and start over.”
“I see.”
He wasn’t convinced, but she pressed forward. In her opinion, he could learn a thing or two from Belle.
“Anyway, this was the only time I was going to be able to play her. I was getting too tall for the costume. I only barely fit into it that year as it was…” She sighed again. “And then Michael broke his leg in the big State Championship football game our senior year of high school. He was going to just stay home that year by himself while everyone went to the festival on Christmas Eve because his parents were working there, but…”
“No one should be alone on Christmas,” Clark finished for her.
“Yeah.”
“You gave up your big dream just for him?”
Kate scoffed and rolled her eyes.
“My big dream is playing Scrooge. But unless I start growing a beard and some other chromosomes, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“You know what I mean. You sacrificed for him.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Like you’re sacrificing for me.”
A clear delineation of thought erupted between them. Kate didn’t see it as making a sacrifice. She understood she’d made a sacrifice, but she didn’t see it that way or remember it that way. Like tonight, for example, she couldn’t imagine ever looking back on it as, “that one Christmas I let a mean guy sneer and yell at me all day.” She imagined she’d remember it as, “the year I helped save the town and the soul of a handsome but lonely man with a hidden heart of gold.” In the same way, she remembered her eighteenth Christmas as the one where she and Michael played Go Fish until midnight and watched The Muppet Christmas Carol on repeat until four in the morning when they both fell asleep on the couch. She woke up with swollen feet because she’d slept in her shoes. She remembered laughing until her sides hurt and eating so much frozen pizza covered in turkey she almost threw up.
Instead of letting him in on this secret, she chose instead to tease him. She liked teasing him. The tops of his ears always turned bright red, a fact that tickled her and made her wonder how many people in his life ever had the guts to make jokes at his expense.
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Why not?” He furrowed his brow.
“Because I actually sort of like Michael.” She shrugged. “Jury’s still out on you.”
“You don’t like me?”
Kate didn’t think of herself as a vengeful person, but she internally cheered at the hurt in his voice. It lasted only for a moment before she thoroughly hated herself for it. He’d hurt her when he said he didn’t care about her. Part of her wanted him to hurt, however horrible that desire was.
“Have you done anything to make me like you?”
“Well…” He stumbled. “I mean…”
“Uh-huh,” Kate retorted, triumphantly, happy to have a reason to smile again. She’d been frowning for too long. “So, why would I like you if you haven’t done anything to earn it?”
“I can be nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They sat in unmoving silence for one minute. Then two minutes. All the while, Kate stared. When he finally got uncomfortable with her gaze, he raised his eyebrows in confusion.
“What?”
“I’m waiting,” Kate said, unable to help chuckling.
“Waiting on what?”
“For you to be nice!”
Clark joined her laughter. Not much. Not enough. But it was a start.
“Why don’t we call a truce? A real one this time,” he said, the ghost of a smile still pulling at his lips. “You can have your Christmas, and I’ll have my peace and quiet in my study.”
“My Christmas is the festival. Are you going to give me that?”
“No.”
“But—”
The smile vanished. Clark’s right hand flexed.
“We can’t call a truce if you’re going to be impossible.”
“I am not being impossible!”
“You know I’m not going to give you the festival back. We can’t afford it.”
Here we go again, Kate thought. Two steps forward, one step back.
“That’s not why we can’t have it.”
“It’s a drain on our resources.”
“Maybe, but that’s not the real reason you’re shutting it down,” she retorted.
“Are we really going through this dance again?”
“I’ll do it until you tell me what you’ve got against Christmas.”
“You’ll be dancing forever, then.”
Kate explored two distinct possibilities laid out before her. Either he was a snob who would never attempt to open himself up to her or anyone else, for that matter—a possibility she found remote now that he admitted to liking her, something he never would have this morning—or he was going to flourish into the man she thought he could be. The man she saw hiding behind his thick curtains of cold detachment. Either way, she had to keep trying. The town hung in the balance and a man’s soul was at stake. This was no time to hide at Emily’s house and drink eggnog until she passed out, even if she wanted to.
“Why don’t I make you a deal? Instead of hiding in your office like the saddest man in the world, you spend Christmas with me. Really with me. Not on your phone pretending I don’t exist. And if you still hate it tomorrow morning, you don’t have to tell me why. But if you like it, even a little bit, you have to fess up.”
She wanted that secret. Knowing it could be the change in everything. It could make the difference.
“…Why do I have a feeling you won’t take no for an answer?”
“Because I won’t.” She smiled and popped up from her rock. The cracked face of her childhood Mickey Mouse watch flashed in the dim light peeking from behind the towering fir trees. Already 5 o’clock? When had it gotten so late? There were so many Christmas Eve traditions to get through before the evening was out. Her mind raced with timetables and planning strategies as her boots crunched the frosty grass beneath her feet. The slight shower still trickled overhead, but she paid it no mind; they’d be warm enough once they made it inside and in front of a roaring fireplace. She rubbed her hands together to warm them, not considering the fact that she might look like a plotting, evil supervillain.
“Then I guess I accept your deal.”
All at once, Kate bloomed into her normal self. It was Christmas. Anything could happen at Christmas. And what was more, she was great at Christmas. Renewed faith squeezed her chest.
“Then you’d better get ready for the best Christmas of your life,” she commanded.
“That’s an incredibly low bar to clear.”
“Then you’d better get ready for the best Christmas of all time.”
“You haven’t convinced me so far.” He smirked. “I accept your challenge.”