Page 105 of Happy After All

I’m at the site for A Very Desert Christmas, and the chaos is extreme. It’s nothing like when Nathan and I were here last night, dancing in the silent night with only my voice as a background track.

This is a cacophony.

There is a choir of children rehearsing, there are donkeys. There’s even a camel. The pageantry is nearly obscene.

The cheer is aggressive. And I’m here for it.

I’m rooted, now, in the quirky over-the-top nature of Rancho Encanto, and it couldn’t come at a better time.

Reigna was pretty excited about how the children’s choir was coming along. I’m not a music director, but there is a shrill quality to the performance.

Alice is playing the piano with gusto, and I have to admire her energy.

The nativity scene next to the singing children is also quite a sight, complete with Mary, who is played by Lorena from the Coffee Wagon, and the baby Jesus, who I’m sure is played by Lorena’s new baby, while the part of Joseph is being filled by what looks like a bag of flour. I’m going to have to ask for some more information on that. Is Joseph permanently a bag of flour? Is there an understudy? Is the understudy gluten-free?

I hum as I look at my clipboard, moving through each space to make sure that the map is right and everything correlates correctly.

I’ve already double-checked that the trees are all numbered and my list is right so everything matches at bidding time, and I had a look at the area for our book event, where the chairs are set up and ready to go, so now I’m doing final spot checks on everything else.

We want to make sure all the guests have an easy time navigating through the different activities and shopping opportunities.

The different food trucks excite me most of all.

Every business has offered to do food at cost, with employees donating time, so that any profits can go toward the fundraiser.

I’m amped for the handmade noodles at the truck on the end. Unfortunately, not every truck is serving today, though some are because they’ll get some money from those of us hanging around hungrily getting things set up.

I hear my name, and I’m sure that it’s Nathan. I think I must be hallucinating even as I turn around. This man who wouldn’t even come out of his room a couple of weeks ago is standing here in the middle of this half-assembled nonsense.

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t pass up the chance to check it out with everything in place. I wanted to cast an eye on the venue for the panel to figure out if I needed to bring anything else.”

Except, he stopped now. With me here, with everyone here.

I want to believe he feels the same pull toward me that I do toward him. Toward something more. Something deeper.

I also ... don’t know what I would do if he did.

I’m not sure what to do. If I should move to him and display any kind of intimacy or not.

So I just stand here, clutching my clipboard when I want to be clutching him.

“This is ... interesting,” he says.

I laugh. “You have no idea.” I gesture toward the camels. “There’s livestock, which frankly even surprised me. I don’t have anything to do with the entertainment portion.” I pull a face. “I mean, obviously. Or we would’ve gotten anybody except ...”

“Yep,” he says.

“At night this is going to be amazing,” I say. “I mean ... it’s ... it’s so glorious out here.”

I look off at the mountains, steep and purple, the sun casting gold over the craggy rocks and cacti.

“Yes,” he says.

He’s looking at me, though. Not the view. My heart expands, then contracts.

“Thank you.” I don’t want to seem like I’m thanking him for saying I’m glorious, in case he wasn’t. But my heart hopes.

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