Lovebirds! They'd been tricked. John was right. Bellamy wasn't Santa Claus. He was a demented old man who'd gotten his holidays mixed up. This was no Christmas prize. This was the trick in a Halloween trick or treat!
The crowd dispersed as Bellamy walked back up the steps to his house, his wife following and then the two bruisers, who waved to the crowd. Many waved them off with a grumble.
Isabel and John were the only ones left on the street. She lowered her arm and her shoulders sank.
"You were right," she dismally croaked. "Bellamy is a crackpot."
To her amazement, John didn't readily second her conclusion. After a long moment, he quietly took the cage from her and began walking. She went alongside him.
The wind kicked up out of nowhere. Warm gusts of the Santa Anas brought an unnatural shower of… snow?
Those scurrying down Main Street paused to see what was what.
Small white petals thickened the holiday sky and sprinkled down with the most delightful fragrance.
A gentleman off to Isabel's side shook his head. "Sun-Blessed," was all he said before running off to his home.
Of course. Lemon blossom petals from the Sun-Blessed groves. But how did there get to be so many of them? This had never happened before. It was a flurry of flowers that looked like real snow. The delicate smell of them filled the air with a magnificent perfume beyond description.
John glanced over his shoulder at Bellamy's house. Isabel followed his gaze. The residence had grown dark. The breezes must have blown the candles out on the tree.
"I'll walk you home," he said in a low voice.
He had distanced himself from her, she could tell. They hadn't won what they had thought and now he was angry. This was it, the end. They'd go their separate ways. It would be as if they had never known one another.
She should have known. Money had ruined her first marriage. Money had just ruined her chances for a second one.
But what about the birds… ?
Who would keep them? She didn't think she could. They'd always remind her of John. It would be too painful.
The road became covered with a snowfall of white blossoms. They clung to Isabel's shirtwaist and sleeves, they lay in her hair. She blinked several from her lashes.
Once at her cabin, John stopped at the base of the steps. She could barely face him. She'd been so sure everything would be perfect tonight.
"I'm sorry we didn't win like you wanted to, Isabel."
Tears filled her eyes. "That's all right. You said all along we were being fooled by a silly old man. I didn't listen to you. I should have."
John set the cage on the porch and put his arms around her from behind. He cradled her close and kissed the side of her neck. How easy it would be to lean into him and to let herself feel better. But kisses and embraces weren't the answer to anything.
"I was the one wrong about the contest," John said, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. "It was real."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because if it hadn't been for hhn, I wouldn't have known you, Isabel. For that, I'll forever be grateful. He said in his notice that the winner would be forever grateful. Well, I am." Then he moved away from her and she heard the shaky intake of his breath. Turning toward him, she brushed the tears from her eyes.
He stood with blossoms dusting his shoulders and hat, softness sifting on a man who'd shown her softness… kindness… love.
"You keep the birds, Isabel. They'd like your place a hell of a lot better than they'd like mine. You've got"—his voice clogged, and he cleared his throat—"got hope around here. They'll like that. Take care of them." Then with a lowering of his head and a shove of his hands into his pockets, he said, "Take care of yourself."
Tears slipped down her cheek as John followed the lane into the night.
When he was gone, she lowered herself onto the steps and buried her face in her hands. Hot tears spilled through her fingers.
Even with every emotion inside her in turmoil, a single thought surfaced and saddened her most.
They hadn't lit the candles on their Christmas tree.