Page 87 of Catching the Mistletoe

“It’s really something,” I agreed, glancing at the ceiling, the walls, the seats.

“Over here.”

Following Julia, we made our way to the baggage compartment at the end of the carriage, where a stack of backpacks were lined up, each one bearing the child’s name.

“These backpacks are filled with essential items, toiletries, snacks, and a personalized Christmas present for each child.”

“Amazing. Just amazing.” Arabella had a pack open and was checking out the contents.

“Indeed.”

Then we braced ourselves. One by one, a kid’s name was read out and they would hop on, a look of wonder, or suspicion, on their faces as we took it in turns to hand over their pack.

“Hi, buddy,” Arabella greeted a skinny, timid boy, whose eyes were wide as saucers as he stared at his backpack.

“Hello,” he responded shyly, accepting his gift.

“Have a good day, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Arabella and I exchanged a glance, and I could see the emotion shining in her eyes.

Once all the packs were handed out, Julia’s voice cut through the noise like a razor blade. “Alright, kids, everyone, find your buddy and take a seat.”

Julia’s voice had Arabella and me exchanging a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips were twitching at Arabella’s cheekiness.

“Kidding. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

After all the kids were seated, we found two empty seats in the middle of the carriage and sat down. With a hiss and a jolt, the train’s engine revved to life, each gear clicking into place as if giving its own nod of approval for the journey ahead.

“This is incredible.” Arabella’s eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and honestly, the way she was gripping the windowsill, it was like she was afraid the train was going to float off without her.

The train chugged along through a snow-draped landscape, the rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks blending with the hushed oohs and aahs of the kids. A fine layer of snowflakes swirled around us, landing on the windows and frosting the glass like some kind of winter magic.

The world outside was a rolling expanse of white, punctuated by dark, leafless trees next to frozen fields and icy ponds. Occasionally, we’d rumble past a sleepy little town, the colorful Christmas lights winking at us from porches and lampposts.

The trees were coated in a layer of frost, their branches dusted with snow, the sky a brilliant, cloudless blue.

Inside the car, it was a whole different atmosphere. Kids were animatedly chatting, some pressing their noses against the cold window panes, others pulling toys out of their pockets and sending them on wild adventures across the empty seats.

“I just love it so much.”

I felt Arabella’s energy like a tangible thing and, unable to resist, I reached over and linked her fingers with mine, pulling her hand into my lap. She gave me a wide-eyed look, since we were always super careful about PDAs when the cameras were around. But I couldn’t stop myself and now that I had her hand in mine, I wasn’t letting go.

Dragging her eyes from mine, she turned to look back out the window, but the way she was rubbing her thumb across the back of my hand had my heart squeezing.

“Look at those mountains.”

“They’re spectacular.”

“This is the type of view you just can’t capture with a camera.”

“True.”

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