Once we arrived in town, the day seemed to fly by. Silver foil stars and angels were laced across the main street high in the air, the Colorado winter sun glinting brightly off them. Vendors had stalls all up and down the road, everything from hot chocolate and baked goods to handcrafted holiday gift items. There were groups of kids from the local dance studio performing numbers every half hour on a low stage at one end of the road and church choirs and carolers crooning holiday songs from one at the other end.
The entire town seemed to be out and about to celebrate the season with each other, and we couldn’t have asked for better weather. Jake and I took advantage of the fresh air and bright sun to shop for a few small holiday gifts for our friends and came across an antique wooden milk crate with an elaborate iron handle that would make the perfect container for Jake’s craft beer bottles at the wedding the following evening.
After stashing it in the truck, I pulled Jake down the road to a holiday stall where I found a few bits and pieces, including the perfect white burlap ribbon and a strand of silver stars to go with it.
“What’s that for?” Jake asked.
“I’m going to make a fancy bow for the beer crate. You’ll see,” I told him. “And then I’m going to make Bennett, Xander, and Lucky matching scarves for the wedding.”
Lucky had mentioned the ceremony taking place outside, and I realized I had the perfect Oscar de la Renta green and red cashmere boucle I could use to make a set of matching holiday scarves for the three of them.
I was in the midst of reaching for another, larger piece of the burlap material when Jake suddenly stiffened at my side. I turned to look at him and saw that he’d gone white as a ghost, his vision fixed on the small crowd of people a few stalls down. Jake’s eyes were wide and his breathing began coming out in pants as he quickly scanned the area around us, then focused his attention back on the crowd.
“Jake?” I said softly as I tried to make sense of his demeanor.
He looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.
“Jake,” I repeated, this time grabbing his hand. He jerked it from my grip and looked down at me as if he was surprised to see me there. Then his eyes shot back to the crowd. A tall man with dark hair separated from the crowd and began walking our way. The way Jake was looking at him was freaking me out.
“Do you know Mr. Tash?” I asked.
“What?” Jake asked, his gaze once again jerking to me.
“Mr. Tash,” I said, nodding to the man who was about a hundred feet from us. “He’s Becky’s uncle,” I added.
Jake studied the man for a moment, then began to relax. “Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “He, ah, looks different.”
Mr. Tash waved at us as he walked by and Jake waved back, but it took him several beats before he stopped looking around us. “You okay?” I asked, though I knew he wasn’t. It was just my way of inviting him to explain what the hell I’d just witnessed.
“What? Yeah, of course,” he said quietly. “Just lost in thought, I guess.”
He’d been a hell of a lot more than that, but I let the subject go when he pointed at the ribbon in my hands and said, “Is that the one you’re going with?”
An hour later, after a cup of warm cider, Jake was himself again and was in the process of pulling me down to the stage at the end of the street where the pageant was to be held.
Sure enough, five of the students whose outfits I’d helped design or make were performing in the production of the Christmas pageant. We cheered like crazy when they took their final bow, and Jake insisted on taking photos of me with each child when the pageant was over. Nothing made me happier than when one of the student’s fathers tackled me into a bear hug when he saw me.
“You have no idea what a difference you made in my son’s life,” he said with damp eyes. “He wants to be a fashion designer now and made his own costume for the drama production he’s in this semester. Thanks to you, he believes he can do it. His mom and I have been trying to tell him to follow his heart, but for some reason, he still thought he had to grow up to be a lawyer or accountant or something. Having role models like you and his drama teacher, Anastasia, have made such a difference to him, Oz. Thank you again for volunteering your time to help with this event.”