“I thought it was just for the money, you know? A way to drum up tourism for a few months a year, but you all really love Christmas, don’t you?”

“We love each other.” All the ways she could think of to describe the sensation either fell short or sounded profoundly cheesy. Better to be accurate. “I think Christmas is just the excuse to love each other publicly.”

The empty field whistled behind them, and their voices stayed in whispers. Being overheard was an impossibility here. Still, they couldn’t help but confide in one another as though they stood in the middle of a crowded room. Time danced on the edge of a cliff while Clark’s chest tightened and his heart hitched in his chest, a movement of muscles Kate heard loud and clear. Her head on his shoulder felt better than any pillow.

“I can’t imagine loving anyone that much. Or being loved by anyone that much. It’s almost freezing, and they’re out there singing.”

“Really? You’ve never loved anyone that much?”

What a sad, empty life. Kate could barely imagine the darkness of a life lived unloved. No wonder he resented them so much at the start. Kate’s nightmares could only conjure up who she’d be without the love of her town.

“My parents, but…” She marveled at the careful way he considered his words. Upon meeting him, she pegged him as the decisive, cold type who spoke and assumed his words would have the desired impact because he said them with such authority. “I think sometimes I forget what loving them felt like. Like, I buried it so deep for so long that it doesn’t feel right anymore. I’m remembering a memory of a memory so I don’t know if it’s real or imagined.”

From her place on his chest, Kate couldn’t get a good view of him. Maybe it was for the best she didn’t. He needed her compassion, but he didn’t need her romance. Torn between his bewitchingly handsome face and her convicted town, she settled for playing with a loose thread on his hastily acquired overcoat.

“I think anyone’s capable of that kind of love,” she said.

“Even me?”

She’d never heard two words so filled with the promise of hope if confirmed and the threat of despair if denied.

“Especially you.”

Neither of them were wearing watches. They didn’t dare look at their phones. There was no way of marking time except for the passing of songs from the assembled crowd below. Kate and Clark remained frozen in their poses, two breathing statues carved from flesh and awe, entranced by the groundswell of spirit coming from Miller’s Point.