Page 51 of Christmas Treasures

Max straightened and waved goodbye. She returned the gesture, wishing he didn’t have to go. She could imagine too easily Max and Bianca staying the night. The three of them having breakfast the next morning, planning a day together. She could also easily picture her and Max alone after they’d put Bianca to bed. Talking and kissing before the fire. Max taking her upstairs. She abruptly stopped there. If she thought too much about what she’d like from him, she might explode.

The idea of a future with Max and Bianca nearly knocked her to her knees. For a long time, she’d only lived day to day, but now, seeing Max’s SUV making its way down her driveway, the idea of a family felt so right. Was it possible that someone like her could actually be in a happy family unit?

She didn’t go back inside until his headlights disappeared down the driveway. When she closed and locked the doorbehind her, Fig was waiting for her, his eyes big. She knelt to pet him, murmuring, “I know. We’re in trouble here.”

He purred, as if to assure her that—no, they were just fine.

That evening,the three of them set out for their adventure. Max had gotten Camilla off to the airport that morning but had gotten back in plenty of time to pick Charlie up.

Bianca jumped out of the back seat and twirled in a delighted circle, her laughter sweet in the quiet night.

Max grabbed three flashlights and a thermos of hot chocolate from the back.

“All right, my lovelies, are we ready?” He handed each of them a flashlight.

“Yes, yes,” Bianca said, hopping from foot to foot.

“Remember, you have to move like a cat. Quiet. Then you stop and listen. If fortune’s with us, we’ll hear a barred owl,” Max said.

Charlie translated quickly to Bianca, who nodded solemnly, her small mittened hand clutching the flashlight to her chest.

They started out across a snow-covered field, the stars and moon brilliant against a wide violet sky. Charlie stopped after just a few steps, her breath catching at the sight before her. It was too beautiful to rush. The full moon hung suspended in a cloudless sky, bathing the world in blue-white light. Yesterday’s snowstorm had blanketed the fields in a perfect, unbroken sheet of white, glittering under the stars.

They trudged slowly toward the forest’s edge, each step muffled by the thick snow. At the tree line, Max led theminto the woods, his flashlight cutting a soft path through the shadows. Bianca clung to Charlie’s free hand.

They moved carefully, the hush of the woods wrapping around them. The air was sharp and clean, laced with the scent of pine and earth. Snow-laden branches creaked occasionally overhead, and twice they heard the scurry of a hidden creature under a bush. Despite the thickness of the trees, Charlie glimpsed pinpricks of starlight stitched into the dark canopy above them.

About five minutes in, Max lifted his hand, signaling them to stop. Charlie and Bianca halted at once, peering upward into the skeletal branches. From deep within the darkness, a sound rose. A low, haunting call that trembled through the trees like an ancient song.

Charlie froze, heart pounding with a profound sense of awe and wonder.

“That’s him,” Max whispered. “Can you hear what he’s saying? ‘Who cooks for you?’”

Bianca giggled into her mitten, and Charlie found herself smiling too, feeling suddenly giddy. Her cheeks were frozen, but inside, a warmth spread through her chest, so fierce and pure it made her eyes sting.

“Want to try responding?” Max asked.

Charlie shook her head. “No, it might scare him away.”

“Good point,” Max said, smiling.

“Plus, it seems disrespectful,” Charlie said. “To mimic perfection.”

He stepped between them, pulling them to his sides. Together they stood under the trees, listening.

The owl called again. Did he sound lonely? Or was he speaking to Charlie?Who cooks for you?

She wanted to answer back, but she didn’t know the answer.

Charlie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, breathing itall in. It was impossible to stand here and not believe in God and miracles and second chances. The woods told her the story of life, of love. Of the simple pleasures that came with being alive. But one had to be willing to let them in, to see the magic where some only saw darkness. Max saw it. Bianca did too. She could too. If she were brave and good, as they were. But was she?

She would think upon this night, she promised herself, when she doubted the beauty in the world.

And she was overcome with gratitude for this man who made her laugh and feel young and free and this little angel of a girl and an owl who called to her in the middle of a December night.

13

MAX

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