She’d been to the nativity as an observer a couple of times in the past, long ago. It hadn’t impacted her deeply on those occasions.
But this time it had. In just a few hours’ time, Shay had become a fervent supporter of Misty River’s live nativity. She’d dress in costume until she was a very old angel, indeed. Or she’d help in other ways to ensure that Connor’s mom’s project of the heart continued.
By rights, the transcendent experience she’d been having should have protected her from thoughts of Connor and Molly. If only it had. She’d been unable to stop herself from keeping an eye on Connor and trying to figure out Molly’s identity. Still no success at that.
Was there any chance that Molly was her? She’d thought for a split second that maybe there was a chance when he’d brought a plant to dinner the other night. But he’d had lots of opportunities that night to tell her if she was Molly. And he hadn’t taken any of them.
So, stop getting your hopes up, Shay. This was a case of wanting something badly enough that you’re imagining it into existence. He probably asked Molly out tonight and she probably said yes and you’re definitely going to act happy for them.
The choir performed its final song. Then Penny thanked the community members, the choir, the cast. As Penny closed in prayer, Shay’s gratitude mingled with a dash of disappointment. The most wonderful evening she’d had in a long time was coming to an end.
“We praise the one who sent His son,” Penny prayed. “The true source of hope. The true source of love. The true source of peace. The true source of life. Merry Christmas. Amen.”
“Amen,” the crowd responded.
The choir burst into a few famous bars of the “Hallelujah Chorus.” “‘And He shall reign forever and ever!’” they sang.
When they finished on the last triumphant note, everyone clapped enthusiastically. It was only then, when people drifted toward their cars or toward the barn to take off their costumes, that the volume of conversation rose. Shay and her fellow angels chatted warmly for a few minutes, then dispersed.
She looked up, taking one minute longer to seal this night into her memory. On a sigh, she headed in the direction of the barn, a few hundred yards away.
As she walked, the hem of her coat thumped against the front of her ankles. She caught sight of Connor cutting toward her from where he’d been working serving cider.
Tenderness welled high and fast.
He’d been humble enough to ask for her help and good-natured enough to take her advice. He looked gorgeous this evening in her favorite “artist in residence” outfit from their shopping trip. Cardigan. Blazer. His hands were sunk in the blazer’s pockets and his cheeks were doing that hot rugby player thing again.
They came to a stop facing one another. An angel and a handsome, wildly talented, auburn-haired man.
“Good evening,” he said. She loved his perceptive gray eyes. The lips that tilted up at the very edges. His was a thoughtful face, the face of a man who was observant, who took time to care about people.
He’d been a thoughtful kid, she remembered. But that characteristic had only increased over time.
A pang of yearning so real it felt like a hunger pang struck her.
“Good evening,” she replied.
“How was the nativity for you?”
“Incredible, actually. I was—am . . . sort of awestruck by it. Not just it—the scene we helped portray tonight—but by the actual thing tonight represented. My mind is blown right now.”
“I know what you mean. It has that effect on a lot of people, which is why Mom champions it every year.”
“I intend to champion it right alongside her from now on.”
“Me too.” They shared a smile and a beat of mutual understanding. “What are your plans for the next few days?”
“I’ll be spending most of tomorrow with my brother and his wife, which will be fabulous. Then I’ll be spending the rest of Christmas Eve and Christmas day with my mom or dad, which won’t be as fabulous. But will be better than usual, I think, after this. I feel like I’ve had my perspective recalibrated.” She straightened the tall neck of her coat. “What are you going to be up to?”
“All of our usual family traditions. A lot of noise. Some arguing between my sisters, my brother-in-law, and my sister’s kids. So much food we’ll be stuffed. Too many presents.”
“So, in other words, it’ll be pretty great?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad.”
He looked away for a moment, then back at her. “If you have time over the break, would you like to go with me to the Winter Market and carnival?”
Hmm? She wrinkled her forehead, trying to understand. “Connor, your training’s done. The diamond is shining. You don’t need any more practice.”
“I’m not asking if you’ll go with me because I need practice.” He spoke calmly, then studied her expectantly. “It’s you, Shay. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”
Her bottom lip sagged downward, and it was like the choir had struck up the “Hallelujah Chorus” all over again. This time, though, just in her head.
“You’re Molly,” he said.
She lifted her hands to her cheeks. “I am?”
He nodded, smiling. “It’s always been you. For me. For years I thought I’d outgrow my feelings for you, but I never did. They’ll outlast me, I’m sure of it. I love your personality. How daring you are. How honest. I even love your pink tennis shoes. And I really love when you sing lyrics of Broadway songs.”
What!
Her brain cartwheeled back through the things he’d said about Molly. He’d said he’d been attracted to her confidence in herself. He’d said he’d been too shy to ask her out and then circumstances had stopped him. When she’d asked him how much he liked Molly, he’d pointed to a masterpiece of a painting motivated by love.
Oh. My. Goodness. Her hands slid together under her chin, knotting.
“I would have brought you some cider,” he continued, “but we ran out. And I would have asked if you’re cold, but as far as I can tell, you don’t look cold. So I didn’t ask.”
She laughed with joy and astonishment. “I’m definitely not cold.” In fact, heat was rushing up her like tide onto a beach. “I’m Molly?”
“You’re Molly.” He grinned.
She’d been jealous of herself. All along, she was Molly. “Is . . . is a horse and carriage going to come jangling up?”
He hitched a shoulder. “I wasn’t opposed to a horse and carriage, but apparently, grand gestures are only good in rom coms and situations when you know how the other person feels about you. I don’t. Know how you feel about me.”
She was having trouble finding her breath. Maybe because her heart was thumping so fast. She extended a palm, facing it toward him as if she was setting it against a pane of glass. He carefully placed his palm against hers, his artist’s fingers longer than hers. Wonder zinged from the contact. Their hands interlaced. He bent his arm and set their joined hands against his chest, bringing her close to him.
“No woman has ever compared to you in my mind,” he said.