Page 70 of Saved By Noel
I pause, a snowstorm of thoughts swirling. “I know Syd said helikesbeing alone. But . . . he still seems lonely. Maybe he doesn’t even see it as loneliness. He has this small world of people he feels responsible for in Noel, but an evensmallerworld of truly close relationships. It’s like he wants life to stay all the same. Never wants anything more.”
Mom is quiet for a beat before responding. “Not everyone has to have a big life. Maybe he’s okay with keeping his world small. Maybe he truly doesn’t care about having more.”
“What if more could be . . . us? And what if it could be beautiful?” Emotion catches my words, and I take a steadying breath. “I guess I just want to help Clark see possibility. He took a risk and let me help the town. And he can see the joy that the Christmas festival has brought to everyone. Why not let me help bring him a different kind of joy?”
At this point, I think my mom knows I’m speaking more to myself than to her. We drive the rest of the way, silently listening to Michael Bublé.
We drop off our bags and my parents’ car at my cabin before driving to the festival parking lot. Positive buzz about The First Noel must be making the rounds because there are almost twice as many people here as last weekend. The town is overrun with crowds and children and Christmas cheer.
I love it.
My parents match my enthusiasm and then some. They buy multiple gifts from every booth in Santa’s Workshop and takepictures at every photo opp. They enjoy baked goods and Becky’s coffee drinks, rounding out the day by cheering on the parade participants.
I’ve been not-so-subtly searching for Clark ever since we arrived, but he hasn’t shown up anywhere. Either he’s nowhere to be found, or he’s actively avoiding contact.
I take my parents to say hi to Syd and Davis at the Letters to Santa tent, where Junior and Addie are busy coloring their letters. Soon, my dad is sitting down beside them, writing his own letter while my mom chats with Sydney.
A throat clears behind me, and I swivel to see Clark. He’s wearing a black fleece jacket, half-zipped to show the hunter-green shirt underneath. His signature baseball cap is turned backward, allowing his shirt to accent the striking green in his hazel eyes. He runs a hand over his beard, drawing my attention to his mouth. Not that it takes a lot to draw my attention to his lips. They’re becoming more irresistible every time I see him.
“Clara—welcome back,” he says.Is he happy to see me? He looks happy-ish to see me?My heart smacks against my chest like a paddle ball.
“I wanted to thank your parents for all their input. We couldn’t have pulled this off without them.”
“Oh.” My heart slowly loses momentum—the missed ball dangling from the paddle string.
Clark steps around me to greet my mom, and my dad stands up to join the conversation.It’s fine. This is good. Of course, he’s grateful for Mom and Dad’s help. Iwanthim to be grateful. This is fine.
After a short conversation with everyone except me, Clark excuses himself. I keep trying to convince myself that everything is fine, but it’s not a very effective pep talk.
Back at my cabin, my parents turn in early, so I sit in the sunroom, marking up edits on a copy of my movie script Iprinted off. Reading all of Clark’s qualities in Jack’s character only leaves me frustrated by Clark’s recent behavior. Again. I give up.
I make a quick pass checking on each of my plants, testing the soil to see if any need water.
How can I test the soil with Clark? How can I find out what he truly thinks about us?
The next morning, my parents load their car, and we make our way to the festival grounds early. We pop in to see Becky, who hooks us up with large, sugary cups of caffeine. We chase the liquid sugar with cinnamon rolls and scones from the bake shop.
After a few hours, my parents say their goodbyes to make the drive back to Kansas City before dusk. I keep hoping Clark will suddenly show up again, but I hope in vain. Hugging my mom by the car, she whispers in my ear, “Don’t stress about him, baby girl. Keep your heart open and see where it takes you.”
My dad wraps me up in a hug next. “I love you, Care-bear. I know you’re worried, but I have a good feeling about Clark. Keep your chin up.”
I guess that confirms that my mom tattled on me to Dad.
“Thanks, Dad. I love you too,” I reply.
Walking back to the festival, I jump in to help Becky with coffee drinks, giving Syd a break. There’s a steady line of customers the entire afternoon, so I grab dinner from one of the food trucks for Becky and myself. Syd mans the drinks while we quickly stuff our faces with warm panini sandwiches. We spend the first several minutes in silence, both inhaling the sustenance.
“So,” Becky starts. This is definitely one of those uncomfortable “so” remarks where I’m expected to fill in the blanks.
“You and Clark are . . . ?” she asks, taking a giant bite of her sandwich.
“Me and Clark are . . . what?” I respond, taking an equally large bite.
Becky rolls her eyes. “Come on. Everyone has lost the pool already. It’s taken longer than any of us bet it would for you two to get together.”
I inhale too quickly and choke on my half-chewed bite. “Pool? Bets? What the actual heck, Becky?!”
She simply shrugs. “Whatever. It’s obvious to everyone that you two are attracted to each other. Not to mention a great match.”
