Christmas on 4th Street (Fool's Gold #12.5)

He couldn’t leave. He’d been driving for two days and he was still within a couple hundred miles of where he’d started.

He told himself to let go. That he had to move on. That there was nothing for him in Fool’s Gold. Not friends, not family and certainly not Noelle. The thing was, he’d never been very good at lying to himself. Everything important to him waited there and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he was so scared to simply accept that.

At the rest stop, he got out of his car, then stood there with no clue as to what to do next. He wanted to raise his fist, but to whom? And for what? There was no one to be pissed at except maybe himself. He’d left her. That was the raw truth. He’d left Noelle, no doubt hurting her. She’d said she loved him and he’d run like some scared little kid.

He walked to the sidewalk, then back to his door, telling himself he hadn’t had a choice. What was he supposed to do? Tell her he loved her, too? Propose again, this time for real? That wasn’t going to happen. Six weeks he could give her. He would have been there for her every second. He would have—

Gabriel swore loudly, startling an older woman walking a small dog. She came to a stop, stared at him, then quickly turned and went the other way.

“I’m sorry,” he called after her. “I’m not crazy or dangerous.”

The woman walked faster.

He got in his car, where at least he could rant without disturbing people and retraced his logic. He would help Noelle die but he wouldn’t share in her life. Was that it? Six weeks were okay, but what about eight? Or twelve? Would he agree to one year but not two?

Life was tenuous, he reminded himself. It could be taken away at any second. He’d seen it countless times.

But he’d also seen his father feeling up his mother after nearly forty years of marriage. He’d seen happy couples of all ages, enjoying what they had. Everyone knew that life ended, but they didn’t live in fear. They lived with joy. They loved and laughed and when it was over, however long that was, they could say there were no regrets.

He started the car and drove out of the rest stop and back onto I-5. This time he was going south, following the signs to Sacramento. From there he would go east into Fool’s Gold. He’d already missed the live nativity, but there was still the Dance of the Winter King and then a wedding. More important...most important...was Noelle. Sweet, beautiful, brave Noelle, who loved cats and was overly competitive about window decorations and who sold gourd nativities. Noelle, who was the strongest person he knew and for reasons he couldn’t ever understand, loved him. She loved him.

The realization of what he’d nearly missed, nearly lost, swept through him. He clutched the steering wheel, knowing the folly of driving too quickly, but unable to grasp what an idiot he’d been.

He glanced at the clock. He would be there in time. He had to be.

* * *

Noelle zipped up the wedding gown that had once belonged to her grandmother. She turned back and forth, pleased the dress nearly fit perfectly. She still had a few pounds to put on, but that would come with time. The strength she’d drawn on to survive her illness was still with her. As were her friends and her store and this town. She belonged.

Loving Gabriel wasn’t a bad thing, she told herself. Giving her heart had been the last part of her healing process. She’d been willing to risk it all and she would again, one day. She would find the right man and they would be happy together. Until then, she would save her grandmother’s dress.

She undid the zipper and slipped on her robe. She folded the dress carefully, using lots of tissue. She had a little time until she needed to get ready for the Dance of the Winter King and the weddings to follow.

She thought of how surprised everyone would be and was pleased she got to be a part of it all. Talk about memories.

Someone pounded on her front door. The noise was determined and insistent.

She hurried to the front of the house and pulled open the door. “What’s...”

The rest of her sentence got caught in her throat as she stared at Gabriel. He looked exhausted—nearly as gray as he had been the first time she’d seen him. There were dark circles under his eyes and she wondered if he’d slept at all over the past couple of days. She would guess he hadn’t been eating. Signs of his suffering should have pleased her, but they didn’t. She wanted him to be well.

He didn’t speak. Instead, he walked into her house, slammed the door shut behind him and then pulled her close. He held on to her so tightly, she could barely breathe. A shudder raced through him.