Page 69 of Saved By Noel
“Yeah, it does. Here’s hoping the fireworks go off when they’re supposed to. And that the kids think it’s exciting and not gimmicky,” I reply.
“Oh Clark, the more gimmicky, the better. The kids will totally eat it up,” Clara says with confidence. “This whole week has been amazing. Even better than I dreamed.”
“If it’s better than the dreams of Christmas fanatic Clara, daughter of Joseph and Holly, then we must have done something right,” I respond with a smirk.
Clara laughs—that musical, magical laugh that lights up her whole face. “You’re practically Clark Griswold now.” She taps my forearm. “Might need to add some Christmas lights to the tree trunk here.”
I resist the urge to grab her hand and hold it there in the crook of my arm, wanting the heat of her touch searing through my sleeve.
As we walk toward the river, Clara says, “There’s one thing I keep wondering about. This festival turned out flawless—all the decorations, the supplies, the tents. But this had to be expensive. Where did you find the money for all of this?”
Heat rushes from my neck up to my face, even though Clara’s not touching me at all. “Oh, it just worked out. Found some pools of funding to get things going,” I attempt to evade.
“Right, but how? Did you tap into state funds, or a private grant?”
“More like a private grant,” I respond, hoping she’ll drop it. I glance over at her, and she’s staring at me intently.Not dropping it then.
I sigh. “When my parents and Sam passed away, I received life insurance settlements from all three of them, plus the inheritance they left behind. The money has been sitting in a trust fund, so I decided to put some of it to good use.”
Clara’s mouth drops open, and she comes to a standstill. I pause beside her, regretting telling the truth.
“Clark, that’s . . . unbelievably generous. I’m . . .” she trails off, wide eyes locked on mine.
Her appreciative attention makes me sweat. My palms get clammy. “That inconceivable, huh?” I joke. I’m trying to dispel the tightness in my throat caused by the way she’s regarding me. But her lips do that adorable “I’m trying not to laugh at your bad jokes” twitch, and the tightness comes back full force.
Chase nudges my hand with a whine, giving me an excuse to look away from Clara. “Uh, Chase did good with Pops today. Thanks for thinking of that,” I awkwardly transition.
“Of course,” she responds quietly. We continue walking to the river in silence. Clara might think this is a comfortable silence, but I’m experiencing rock-in-my-shoe discomfort. More accurately, I have a rock in both shoes. One, because I’m kicking myself for admitting to her that I paid the festival start-up costs.The other because I’m losing the raging internal battle against my desire to be close to her.
We reach the river’s edge, and Syd takes the microphone. She does a masterful job of hyping the kids up for the send-off. Syd could have had success as a children’s librarian or voice-over actress in another life.
“Everyone wave goodbye to Santa’s elf as he paddles to the magic portal to the North Pole!” Syd says. All the kids are cheering and waving and jumping and generally losing their minds. It’s clear that they ate their fair share of the bakery treats. Good thing Becky kept the parents dosed on caffeine to keep up.
Syd has an ear piece so she can coordinate her countdown with the fireworks, but I still worry that the timing could go amiss. She starts counting down from ten, and I hold my breath until there’s an explosion of fireworks right on the count of one.
If the kids were losing their minds before, they’re having full on, out-of-body experiences now. I make a mental note to avoid this particular event for the next two weeks, if at all possible. I glance over and notice moisture pooled in Clara’s eyes, her hands clasped over her heart. The soft light makes her content smile look almost angelic.
There goes that string again, vibrating, tightening, pulling me toward her. It would be the easiest thing in the world to wrap an arm around her shoulders, tuck her to my side. Lean down and kiss her temple. Lean further down and find out if her lips are as soft as my imagination has decided they are.
I’m surprised when Chase paws at my leg, whimpering next to me. Given Clara’s teary eyes, I would have expected him to be plastered to her leg, lending her emotional support. But he’s peering up at me with his concerned little eyebrows.
You’re right, boy. You should be concerned about me. Because I need Clara to be okay, even if it will mean I’m not.
“I’m going to drive down and help Davis out with the canoe. I’ll see ya next weekend,” I mumble to Clara. I turn away from the bewildered expression on her face and make my way through the crowd, Chase close on my heels.
I don’t look back.
Chapter thirty-nine
Clara
“He could be scared to get close to someone again after what happened to his family,” my mom muses from the passenger seat of my car. We’re driving down for the second weekend of The First Noel, and my dad is following in their car. They have to be back for church on Sunday, so they won’t get to see the musical performance tomorrow night or the Letters to Santa send-off. At least they’ll get to see the festival and the parade tonight.
“You sound like Mads. She said the same thing,” I respond. I’ve been trying to honestly share about my complicated feelings for Clark. I’m usually an open book with my mom, but my inability to figure Clark out has made me less confident to talk about how I feel. Being able to focus on the road and not make eye contact has made it easier to open up. Not that she was surprised to hear me admit that I’m attracted to him.
“Well, maybe we’re right, then,” Mom says. “If I’d lost my whole family in one blow, I might be afraid to let someone close again.”
“True. Although, he wasn’t especially close to his family in the first place.” I chew my lip. “I don’t know. Syd told me that Clark’s always been a private person who doesn’t really let people in. Which also makes sense, given his childhood. But he’s let me get close enough as a friend to spend all this time together planning the festival. I mean, he caved and let me plan this festival in the first place!”
