I look at the small flame on my candle burning.

“With the dawn of redeeming grace.”

“One by one, the light is passed and the entire room becomes filled with the glow.”

“Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth.”

His voice is soft. “Look up.”

I look to the stained glass windows. There’s now a warm glow coming from inside. The glass shimmers in reds, yellows, and blues. The song continues and I hold my breath.

“Silent night… Holy night.”

The lyrics are sung all the way through one more time. Eventually, inside the church and out here, there is total silence.

Caleb leans forward. With a soft breath, he blows out his candle. Then I blow out mine.

“I’m glad we came out here,” I say.

He pulls me close and kisses me softly, holding his lips against mine for several seconds.

Still holding each other, I lean back and ask, “But why didn’t you want me to see this from inside?”

“For the past few years, I never felt as calm as the moment my candle got lit on Christmas Eve. For just an instant, everything was okay.” He pulls himself close, his chin on my shoulder, and whispers into my ear, “This year, I wanted to spend that moment only with you.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “It was perfect.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The church doors open and the Christmas Eve service is over. It’s after midnight and the people leaving must be tired, but each face looks filled with a peaceful happiness—with joy. Most of them don’t say anything as they walk to their cars, but there are several tender wishes of “Merry Christmas.”

It is Christmas.

My last day.

I see Jeremiah hold the door open for a few people, and then he walks over to us. “I saw you duck out,” he says. “You missed the best part.”

I look at Caleb. “Did we miss the best part?”

“I don’t think we did,” he says.

I smile at Jeremiah. “No, we didn’t miss it.”

Jeremiah shakes Caleb’s hand and then pulls him into a hug. “Merry Christmas, friend.”

Caleb says nothing; he just hugs and closes his eyes.

Jeremiah pats him on the back, and then he wraps me in a hug. “Merry Christmas, Sierra.”

“Merry Christmas, Jeremiah.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he tells me, and then he walks back into the church.

“We should start heading back,” Caleb says.

There’s no way to describe how much tonight has meant to me. In this moment, I want to tell Caleb that I love him. This would be the time, right here, because this is when I first know it’s true.

I can’t say it, though. It’s not fair for him to hear those words and then have me leave so soon after. Saying it would also sear them onto my heart. I would think of those words the entire ride home.

“I wish I could stop time,” I say instead. It’s the most I can give either of us.

“Me too.” He takes my hand. “What’s next for us? Do we know?”

I wish he could give me the answer to that question. It feels too insignificant to say we’ll keep in touch. I know we will, but what more?

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

When we get back to the tree lot, Caleb kisses me and then takes a step back. It feels right for him to start pulling away. There is no Christmas miracle that can keep me here or guarantee us more than we have now.

“Good night, Sierra.”

I can’t say that back. “We’ll see each other tomorrow,” I say.

As he walks to his truck, his head is bowed, and I see him look at the picture of us on his keychain. After he opens his door, he turns to me one more time.

“Good night,” he says.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

I wake with a mix of clashing emotions. I eat a small breakfast of oatmeal with brown sugar before heading over to Heather’s house. When I get there, she’s sitting on her front stoop waiting for me.

Without getting up, she says, “You’re leaving me again.”

“I know.”

“And this time, we don’t know when you’re coming back,” she says. She finally stands and holds me in a long hug.

Caleb’s truck pulls into the driveway with Devon riding shotgun. The two of them get out, each holding a few small wrapped gifts. Whatever sadness Caleb carried as he drove away last night seems to have disappeared.

“Merry Christmas!” he says.

“Merry Christmas,” Heather and I say.

Both guys give us each pecks on the cheek, and then Heather ushers us into her kitchen, where coffeecake and hot chocolate are waiting. Caleb declines the coffeecake because he had an omelet and French toast with his mom and Abby.

“It’s a tradition,” he says, but he does drop a peppermint stick into his hot chocolate.

“Have you jumped on the trampoline today?” I ask.

“Abby and I had a backflip contest first thing.” He holds his stomach. “Which wasn’t the smartest thing to do after breakfast, but it was fun.”

Heather and Devon sit back in their chairs, watching us talk. It could be one of our last conversations and they seem in no rush to interrupt.

“Did you tell your mom you’d already found it?” I ask.

He sips his hot chocolate and smiles. “She threatened to give me all gift cards next year.”

“Well, she found the perfect gift this year,” I say. I lean over and give him a kiss.

“And on that note,” Heather says, “it’s time for our gifts.”

I almost can’t watch as Devon begins unwrapping his floppy-looking present. He draws out the uneven and still-too-short red-and-green scarf. He tips his head, turning it over and over. Then he smiles, possibly the biggest, most genuine smile I’ve seen on his lips. “Baby, you made this?”

Heather smiles back and shrugs.

“I love it!” He drapes the scarf around his neck and it barely hangs past his collarbone. “No one’s ever knit me a scarf before. I can’t believe how much time you must’ve spent on this.”

Heather is beaming and looks my way. I give her a nod and she scoots herself into Devon’s lap, hugging him. “I have been such a bad girlfriend,” she says. “I’m sorry. I promise to be better.”

Devon pulls back, confused. He touches the scarf. “I said I liked it.”

Heather moves back to her seat and then gives him an envelope with the comedy show tickets inside. He seems pleased by that, too, but not as much as by the scarf he continues to wear proudly.

Heather hands an envelope across the table to me. “It’s not for right now,” she says, “but I hope you’ll look forward to it.”

I open a printout that has been folded into thirds. It takes me a few seconds to decipher that it’s a receipt for a train ticket from here to Oregon. Over spring break! “You’re coming up to see me?”

Heather does a little shimmy dance in her seat.

I walk around to Heather and hug her so tight. I want to see Caleb’s reaction to her coming up to see me but I know I would overanalyze any look on his face. So I give Heather a kiss on the cheek and hug her again.

Devon places a small cylindrical gift in front of Caleb and then one in front of Heather. “I know we already had our perfect day, but I got the same thing for you and Caleb.”

Caleb weighs it in his hand.

Devon looks at me. “It actually has to do with you, Sierra.”

Caleb and Heather unwrap their gifts at the same time: A Very Special Christmas scented candles.

Caleb inhales deeply and then looks at me. “Yep. This’ll drive me crazy.”

I grab a candy cane, put it in my cup, and stir. I feel so overwhelmed at this moment. The morning is moving too fast, but it’s my turn to give presents now. I push one of the small wrapped boxes across the table to Heather.

“Good things come in small packages,” she says. She rips into the wrapping paper and then opens a hinged black velvet box. She holds up a silver bracelet that I bought downtown, where I also had it engraved with latitude and longitude: 45.5° N, 123.1° W.

“Those are the coordinates to our farm,” I say. “Now you can always find your way to me.”

She looks at me and whispers, “Always.”

I hand Caleb his gift. He’s meticulous about removing the wrapping, taking off one piece of tape at a time. Heather’s shoe touches mine beneath the table, but I can’t stop watching Caleb.

“Before you look inside,” I tell him, “don’t expect it to have cost anything.”

He dimple-smiles and takes out the glittery red box.

“But it took a lot of care,” I say, “and a lot of tears, and a lot of memories that I will never let go of.”

He looks down at the box, with the top still on. When his dimple fades, I think he knows what’s inside. If he does, he knows how much it means that I’m giving it to him. He carefully lifts off the top. The painted-on Christmas tree is faceup.

I look over at Heather. Her hands are clasped and pressed against her lips.

Devon looks at me. “I don’t get it.”

Heather hits him on the shoulder. “Later.”

Caleb looks stunned, his eyes staying on the gift. “I thought this was in Oregon.”

“It was,” I say. “But it needs to be here.” The gift that arrived with it, tickets to a dance that I don’t know if I’ll attend, is still in the trailer hidden behind our picture with Santa.