The Librarians And the Advent List

Dec 22

The Door deposited them at a ski resort in Vermont, where Cassandra had called ahead to book a sleigh ride. It was straight out of White Christmas, Stone had laughed, except that they'd actually gotten snow. It was a rather picture perfect slightly old fashioned place, which was exactly what Cassandra had wanted.

Neither had been for a sleigh ride before, so they didn't know what to expect. They were soon bundled up in blankets, with to go cups of hot chocolate to keep them going. It wasn't much different at first from a carriage ride in New York, Cassandra thought, until they started moving.

The horses moved at a steady clip, bells jingling from their harnesses. The air was crisp and cold and smelled amazing as they moved through the woods. She snuggled into Jacob's side and sighed contentedly.

Softly, low enough for only her to hear, he started singing. Just hear those sleigh bells jingling . . . .

Cassandra might have been tempted to sing along, she knew all the words, but this time she let herself appreciate him and his voice.

She'd always been fascinated by magic. But this afternoon in this place, she realized that Christmas magic did exist. It wasn't the magic that they dealt with in the Library, this was the kind of magic that anyone could enjoy if they looked hard enough. This wasn't dangerous magic, this was pure and beautiful and real.

Christmas magic was what she'd hoped would bring her Jacob's heart. And as he leaned over to kiss her as sleigh bells jingled in the snow, she knew it had worked.

Jacob never knew how he'd gotten so lucky. One Christmas, not really that long ago, sentimental and really lonely and actually pretty drunk, he'd made a silly wish on a star. He'd wished to just for once spend Christmas as he really was, with someone who loved him for being him. It'd been a foolish wish and not one he'd have made if he hadn't been so drunk and lonely. But somehow, somewhere, someone had heard that wish. As foolish as it was, it was the one thing he'd wanted for Christmas since he was old enough to realize he was different.

And here he was on a sleigh, horses galloping in front of him, snow flying, like something out of a Victorian Christmas card. Next to him was that someone who loved him for being him. Or at least liked him very much. She hadn't quite said the words, but neither did he. He knew deep down that she wouldn't have told him she was serious if she didn't love him or was very nearly there. And he loved her. For everything she was and everything she did.

So as he leaned over to kiss her, he thanked whoever it was that had given him this perfect gift.

And somewhere in a soup kitchen, Santa paused and smiled.