the beehive of yellow curls pinned on top of her head led them in an a cappella rendition of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.”
Kat merely listened at first, enchanted by the way their collective voices echoed throughout the cavern, so pure and ethereal it gave her chills.
And Jack? His rich, velvety baritone wrapped around her like a warm blanket, lulling her into such a serene state, she almost forgot where she was.
“I think we’re coming up to the last few songs,” he whispered, breaking her trance. “Why don’t you give the next one a try?”
Although she hadn’t sung a single note since her mother died, something in his earnest, hopeful expression provided the nudge she needed.
As the hauntingly beautiful melody of “I Wonder as I Wander” reverberated through the cavern, Kat closed her eyes, soaking it in.
The words escaped in a whisper at first, but as Jack tightened his grip, her confidence grew. When she found the harmony, their voices blended together, strong and soulful, as interwoven as their entwined fingers.
Losing herself in the transcendent sound, Kat found herself back at Hope Hideaway, snuggled in bed beside Helena while she sang her to sleep—the only time she’d ever felt her mother’s love.
The hairs on Jack’s arm stood on end as Kat’s angelic voice washed over him. No, angelic didn’t do it justice. She had the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard; he could listen for hours on end, soaking up every syllable.
And when they transitioned to their last song of the evening—a departure from the more traditional carols—Jack found himself leaning toward her, straining to catch every dulcet note.
But a few lines into “River” by Joni Mitchell, Kat’s voice broke.
Glancing down, he noticed her cheeks glistened in the lantern light.
His stomach clenched. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, but the tears continued to tumble. Without a word, he tugged her hand, leading her back the way they’d entered.
Once outside, he turned to face her, gazing into her tear-filled eyes with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” She sniffled, roughly wiping her damp cheek.
“Here, come with me.” He led her down a narrow footpath to the Clearwater Cavern Visitors’ Center. Beside the rustic, log-hewn structure, an event area boasting a roaring firepit, log benches, and picnic tables arranged with snacks and hot cider awaited the carolers.
After settling Kat on one of the benches, Jack filled two paper cups with piping-hot cider and carried them back to the firepit, sitting beside her. “When you’re ready, I’m here to listen.”
She gazed into the amber liquid as if studying the subtle wisps of steam curling into the frigid air. “That was my mother’s favorite song,” she said quietly. “Whenever I had a nightmare, she’d sing me to sleep. It was the only time she felt like—” She bit her bottom lip, as though afraid to continue.
He scooted closer on the log, silently offering his support.
Kat drew in a breath and slowly released it with her confession. “It was the only time she truly felt like a mother.”
His heart wrenched. “I’m sorry I brought you here. I didn’t realize—”
“Jack, I’m glad we came.” She met his gaze with a soft smile. “It’s silly, but I keep Helena’s Joni Mitchell CD in my car, hidden beneath a bunch of papers in my glove compartment. It’s like a part of me wants to remember the happy memories. But the other stronger part of me can’t bear it.”
She glanced at the flickering flames, the golden glow highlighting her wistful countenance. “Fern always says that love is generous. It chooses to see the good in people. But if I did that—looked for the good in my mother—I might have to let go of other things. Things I’ve clung to for most of my life. Honestly, the thought terrifies me.”
Kat’s vulnerability resonated with Jack on a deep, personal level. There were things in his own life that had festered far too long.
But he wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to uproot them.
Or if he was even willing to find out.
Chapter 19
“You’re all set,” Paul said in a wrapping-up tone. “But Jack, have you been out to the property recently?”
“Yeah, why?” Jack twirled a pen between his fingers, unconcerned.
“It’s gone downhill over the years. It’s going to take a lot of work to turn it into someplace inhabitable, let alone an inn with paying customers. Not to mention a ton of money.” He paused before adding with a chuckle, “Not that you don’t have plenty of that.”
“Thanks for your concern, Paul. I’m willing