Page 24 of A Carol of Grace

Thank you, Father, for opening my eyes to what’s truly important.

From the next room came the faintest sound—the soft creak of a bed. Silas smiled to himself, picturing Emmaline curled beneath her quilts, close enough to call for him if she grew frightened during the night. He imagined her waking in the morning, her excitement for the presents and the Christmas Day feast.

Outside, the wind had calmed, and the world was blanketed in a hush as deep as any cathedral’s. The bells from the village church began to toll midnight. Christmas was finally here. The sound drifted up to their window, distant but clear, and Silas let it settle over him like a benediction.

He could feel his heartbeat slowing as he pressed a gentle kiss to Grace’s forehead, the exhaustion of so much happiness finally catching up to him.

“I will never let you go again,” he whispered, the words barely a breath in the night. “I promise.”

Grace, still half-asleep, shifted closer. Her hand found his under the covers and curled around it, fingers threading together, her body seeking his even in slumber. Silas closed his eyes, letting the simple miracle of the moment fill every empty space within him. He pictured their future—the laughter, the quarrels, the shared work, and the private moments that would make up the rest of their lives. He pictured Emmaline growing stronger and even more clever, never doubting for a moment that she was loved.

All the old ghosts—the rage, the regrets, the years wasted in solitude—were finally quiet.

Silas drew Grace tighter against his side and, as the bells faded into the silence, he finally closed his eyes.

In the morning, there would be breakfast and snow angels, and the start of a new story. But for now, in this room full of moonlight and soft breathing, there was nothing to fear, and nothing at all to want.

He finally drifted off to sleep, his dreams no longer haunted.

The End