The Enchantment of Christmas Dreaming
We would pretend to be asleep so Santa could come, but our eyes and ears were fine-tuned for bells and reindeer hooves on the roof. Of course, we never stayed awake quite long enough. Parents must have magical powers of their own, because mine seemed to know exactly when we really fell asleep.
Those years in my early childhood were magical because I believed in all the possibilities. There is no way to recapture them except to enjoy Christmas through the eyes of the children in our world. I also like to read about the miracles and enchantment of Christmas in stories. Holiday stories bring back, at least for a time, the joy of believing in the good of humanity, peace on Earth and the wonder of Christmas dreaming.
How dark must it get before Lydia sees the light?
Lydia Sinclair’s life has run off the rails. She has lost everyone she loves and Christmas has lost its meaning. As Christmas approaches, Lydia wants to go to sleep and never wake up again. Perhaps an angel, some ghosts and a childhood sweetheart can convince her that life is worth living again. Can Lydia let go of what once was, renew her joy in Christmas and find the promise of hope for her future?
She felt the heat surge up her neck into her face. Lydia turned away from him and headed toward her house. If she ignored him, maybe he wouldn't insist on asking her about her feelings or about that kiss, and she could escape from her vulnerability.
Just as she reached her back door, he caught up with her, grasped her arm, and turned her around to face him. His sea green eyes were flecked with heated gold as he peered at her. "Don't just walk away. Tell me what I did wrong. Was it because I kissed you?"
She wanted to say something, to tell him that the kiss meant everything to her. It wasn't the kind of kiss that led straight to the bedroom. It felt more like a prelude to something richer, deeper, longer—like an unspoken promise. She tried to form the words but they resisted expression.
He pressed his fingertips to her lips. His voice, when he spoke, rose just above a whisper. "Wait. I know what you're going to say. It's too soon. Hell, you hardly remember me." He held on to her. The wind feathered his hair and swept it over his brow. "But for me, you've been here my whole life." He fisted his free hand and tapped his chest over his heart.
Snow gathered in his hair and melted on his face. He sighed. "All I ask is that you give me a chance. I know it's been hard for you in recent years—so many losses, so much sadness, but when you're ready..." His words trailed off.
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