Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,96
really snow,” said one particularly didactic mother as she reined in her child’s enthusiasm. “They’re creating the look of snow by shaving giant blocks of ice and blowing into the air.”
More wonderful was the way Thuong took my hand in his and started running with the rest of the children. Classical music played over the speakers and “snow” came down until we were ankle deep in the stuff.
Ben and Chaz were trying to make snowballs, but the result was kind of slushy and didn’t stick together. Kids of all sizes raced around throwing up handfuls of icy mush. They dove to the ground to make snow angels. Several couples—Mom and Dad included—danced like dolls in a snow globe.
There was something in the very idea that it could “snow” on the central coast in the height of global warming that made my heart race with heady excitement. Magic—the same desire to believe that fueled the story of Santa Clause—made it easy to imagine, if only for a second, that it was really snowing.
It didn’t snow in St. Nacho’s, yet there we were.
Little miracles seemed to be happening all around us.
With love, anything was possible here. Anything.
Thuong turned to me. “Minerva did all this. It was her idea. When I asked her why, she said we all need a reminder that there’s beauty even in the longest, darkest night. That when you have faith, you’re reborn in the new year just as the sun is reborn.”
“That’s… beautiful. And so is Minerva.” I couldn’t hide my smile as I brushed bits of ice off his hair.
“It made me think about us. About how unhappy I’ve been as I pay off my debts and wait for that magical moment when I’m ready for something good in my life. Someone.”
I nodded. And waited.
“This day has reminded me that there’s been so much good in my life already. I get to be part of your family again. I had Hope House, the chickens, and Horace the hound.” He took both my hands in his. “I have a job here and new friends. I have Minerva and Muse. Today made me realize how grateful I am.”
“I’m so happy for you, Thuong.”
“I’ve been sober over six months.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“There is beauty in the dark times.” Tears sparkled in Thuong’s warm brown eyes. “And you’ve been there to shine the light whenever I needed you. I’m so grateful to be here with you now, Luke.”
My heart was too full. “I’m grateful to be here with you too.”
“You mean that?”
I nodded, throat stinging. “Yes.”
“I think”—he licked his lips—“you might be my soulmate, Luke. I don’t want to do this without you anymore.”
I nodded. “I’m right here. And I promise to listen to you. I won’t always try to fix everything.”
He leaned in and kissed me until snow built up on our shoulders.
I laughed at his expression. “That was… not G-rated.”
My family was the only group paying any attention.
“Do we need it to be G-rated?” he asked.
I was prepared to give him whatever he asked for. “Do you? What do you need? That’s all that matters.”
“I… No.” He furrowed his brow. “No, actually, I… um...”
“Thuong! Luke!” Minerva called us from about ten feet away. “Happy holidays! What do you think?”
“It’s wonderful,” I said. “I love it. You’ve met most of my family, haven’t you?” I started introductions, knowing my mother would take over and I’d get to find out what Thuong had been about to say.
“Uncah Luke.” Chaz threw himself at my legs with his hands stretched up. “Uppy downs.”
“Okay, Chaz. Up you come.” I picked him up and watched as he tried to catch snow in his hands. “You were saying, Thuong?”
“Can we be a thing, but gradual?” he asked. “Like, not a particle accelerator but maybe more like… carrier pigeons?”
I hid a smile. “Are you saying you’d like to take things slow?”
Thuong nodded vigorously. “Maybe take things one day at a time?”
“But a little faster than blown kisses across a crowded library?”
Thuong gave me a playful shove, to which my nephew said, “No pushin’.”
“Exactly,” I concurred. “No pushing. You’ve got it.”
“I love you, Luke.” Thuong leaned in and kissed me gently. “So much that sometimes I feel like I'm going to fly or explode or fall down on the street and just lie there stunned until someone scrapes me off the pavement.”