I hoped Pete and I had crossed paths, that he'd decided to go to my mom's house after all. But when I called my mom, she said he hadn't made an appearance yet and encouraged me to come home.

"He knows where to find you, sweetheart," she said gently.

I knew she was right, but I also knew that I couldn't sit at home and wait. As I drove down Main Street, I spotted my dad's Blazer parked near the inn. I pulled over and peeked inside, but was empty except for a rumpled drawstring garbage bag on the passenger seat. It definitely seemed like Pete had packed up the few things he had and intended to go...somewhere. I started slowly driving up and down the side streets searching for him.

I found him standing on the sidewalk, staring at a white house with lighted garland draping from the rail of the wrap-around porch. There was a plastic sled abandoned in the front yard next to a tiny, misshapen snowman. I stopped the car and watched him for a moment before I got out. He looked lost.

"Hey, you scared me," I said as I approached him. "Your room was empty."

"No need to worry," Pete assured me without looking away from the house. "I wasn't planning to go far."

I stood beside him and followed his gaze. "So. Who used to live here?"

"I did. When I was younger. When my dad was still around." He pointed to the sloping roof over the porch and said, "I jumped from the roof right there and broke my ankle when I was eight. And that upstairs window on the right was my bedroom."

A Christmas tree twinkled in the front window of Pete's childhood home and the aromas of a holiday meal drifted from somewhere nearby; roasted garlic and piney rosemary, warm bread, caramelized sugar.

"Are you too homesick for Christmasy things?" I asked. "Is that why you didn't come over?"

"Come over where?"

"To my house. For dinner. I know it was pretty late notice, I just talked to my mom about it this morning." He still looked completely confused.  "I texted Eric earlier to tell you," I explained.

Pete sighed heavily as he ran his hand over his face. "I didn't get that message."

"Wait, are you serious? He didn't tell you?" He slowly shook his head. "He said you weren't feeling up for it and that you asked him to come in your place. I knew that seemed weird. What a liar! I'm gonna-"

"Don't bother. I already had it out with him."

"You what?"

Pete cast a side-eyed glance at me. "I don't think I should stay there anymore. I thought I could spend a night or two at the inn, but I didn't realize the inn was....defunct."

A grey minivan pulled in the driveway and into the garage behind the house. Three little kids in party clothes piled out through the sliding door. They chattered excitedly as they ran through a lingering cloud from the exhaust pipe, tinted red by the brake lights.  A motion sensing light over the side door switched on and illuminated the family. One of the girls "ooh"-ed as she swayed and watched the gold sequins on her dress sparkle in the bright light.

The dad reached into the pocket of his long coat and pulled out a handful of jingling keys. 

"Reindeer?" one of the kids wondered aloud and all three stopped and craned their necks to search the sky.

The dad patted the top of the boy's head as he jingled the keys behind his back. Then he noticed us watching and raised his hand in a wave. Pete returned the wave and I gently tugged his sleeve.

"Come on," I said, taking his hand. "Let's walk."

"So you really invited me, huh? I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you in person," I said bitterly. "Did Eric tell you where he was going?"

"He didn't tell me directly, but he made sure I heard about it. We had words outside when he was leaving. He seems to think he's first in line if I screw this up." The way he squeezed my hand when he said 'this', like his life depended on the connection between us, made my throat tighten with emotion. "I told him not to hold his breath, because it's not gonna happen."

"Why didn't you stop him? Or come anyway?"

He shrugged. "He said you'd invited him and I believed him. I wasn't happy about it, but I wasn't going to stop him if you wanted him there. After all, he is your friend, right?" Pete let the question hang between us for a moment. After what he'd done, I wasn't sure my friendship with Eric was worth defending. "Anyway, after yesterday I was feeling pretty confident that we'd be just fine, even if he tried his best to win you over tonight, if that was his plan."

"What a jerk," I muttered, still dumbfounded.

My dad's words of warning from back in October rang in my ear. He said that Eric struck him as the type of guy who was used to getting what he wanted and pitched a fit if he didn't. He might have been right.

"I don't think he's actually a bad guy," Pete admitted. "I think he really cares about you, and he's worried that if things end between us you'll fall apart, even if he does plan on standing by to clean up the pieces." He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly. "But it got me thinking about how I was the one who left you for dead in a pool and he was the one who pulled you out. And maybe that means something."

"No. No, no, no," I protested. "That means nothing. I get a say in this and I want you."

"Can you say that again?" Pete asked with a grin.

"I want you, I want you, I want you!" I said louder each time as I swung our hands together.

"I don't think that snowman balloon over there heard you," he said, pointing to a glowing inflatable snowman a couple of houses away. "Better tell him. I don't want him getting any ideas."

I stepped in front of Pete, draped my arms behind his neck and kissed him instead.

"That should get the picture across," he said. Then he took my hands from his shoulders, held me at arms length and smiled admiringly. "You're a knockout."

He spun me around and my skirt twirled. I was wearing the red dress from the thrift store that may or may not have belonged to Joan, but to me it would always be Joan's dress.

Pete sighed. "So what do I do now?"

"If you don't want to go back there, you can probably sleep at my house. There's technically an extra bedroom, it's like an office with a couch in it. Dr. Navarro told my mom why you were staying with them, so I don't think she would turn you away." I shivered a little with excitement and nervousness. "But, that'll be later. We have somewhere else to go tonight."

"We do?" he asked warily.

"I want to take you home for Christmas, if you'd be okay with it. I've been talking with Liz, and I think I figured out a good year for you to visit your mom."

Not surprisingly, Pete's face was unreadable. The idea was a lot to consider.

"You mean back then?" he asked. "And we'd go together?"

"Exactly."

"I don't think she'd want to see me."

"Are you kidding? She's your mom, Pete. She'll be happy to know you're alive. I have to warn you, though, I don't know if June will be able to see you. The reason some people couldn't see me in the past, or at least until they were forced to, is because they're still alive now. June is still alive, and I'm not sure if you belong here now or back then or if it even makes a difference when it comes to her paying attention to you or not."

As we walked, I'd been leading him toward city hall. We stopped at the edge of the parking lot and I pulled him out of the light and into the shadow of a pine tree.

I gripped his hands tight and asked, "So? Are you in?"

"Alright. Yes. What do I have to do?"

City hall transformed from modern, unremarkable and institutional into a red brick Neo-classical building with tall white columns. It was the same sight that had made it clear to me back in June that I'd landed in the Palmer of the past. The 'Season's Greetings' banner I remembered from a photograph of Walter and Rose was draped from the balcony and a cluster of decorative bells was hanging in the front gable. The parking lot disappeared and was replaced by a thick blanket of snow with cleared sidewalks that criss-crossed in the middle at the small icy pond.

The bells began to chime mechanically as Pete and I pulled ourselves from a snow drift. His face was pale and he stumbled as he stood. I was a little afraid he was going to throw up, either from something like sea sickness or nerves or a combination of both.

"You're probably going to feel tired from the time change," I said as I held his elbow to steady him. "Maybe a little dizzy, too."

He smiled nervously, hooked his arm through mine and started to walk in the direction of the home he left behind, but I stopped him.

"They moved," I explained as I led him the other way.

We stopped in front of a brick ranch house with colorful lights strung along the eaves and a Christmas tree sparkling in the wide front window.

"Your mom remarried and she and June live here now."

"This used to be Bill's house. Remember my boss at the garage? His wife passed away shortly after they built this place."

"It still is his house." I watched his face as it sunk in. "It's 1957, and Bill is your step-dad." I gave him a minute to process that information before asking, "Are you ready?"

Pete's mother answered the door, threw her hand to her mouth with a yelp and then embraced him violently, pressing her fingers into his back so hard that her skin blanched. When she let go, tears were streaming down her face. Sylvia wilted a bit when she looked up at Pete again and Bill caught her by one arm while Pete grabbed the other.  They walked together to the dining room table where Sylvia collapsed into a chair. My feet were still glued to the porch. For a second, I considered quietly sneaking away, but then Pete was taking my hand and leading me into the house. 

"Do you remember Vanessa?"

"Hello, Vanessa." Sylvia's mouth curled up in a tight, close-lipped smile.

Oh crap, I thought. She does not like me. I wondered when exactly the department store incident happened, if it was before or after this or if she even remembered it.

Sylvia gave the impression of a quick recovery, hopping back to her feet and blotting her tears with the skirt of her red and green apron, but she was still visibly shaking.

"We just got back from your aunt and uncle's," she said. "If we'd have known you were in town, you could've come. Did you have any dinner? I can warm up some soup for you."

"We're alright, Mom. Don't go to any trouble."

"I'll warm up some soup."

Sylvia walked into the kitchen and we followed her. She whipped open a cabinet, pulled two bowls down and leaned against the countertop for support as she gaped at Pete.

"You're so thin. What are you feeding him, Vanessa?"

"Uh, you know," I choked on my words in surprise, "all the usual stuff."

"How long will you two be in town?"

"Not long," Pete said. "Just for tonight."

"Just for tonight?! It's Christmas Eve! Where on earth do you have to be tomorrow?"

When Pete didn't answer right away, Sylvia muttered to herself as she took a metal pot from the refrigerator and set it on the stovetop. Pete pulled a chair out for me at the small kitchen table and we both sat.

"We're in between places right now," Pete finally said.

"What about the land you bought?" she asked. "Do you think you'll ever come back home and build on it?"

"I figure it's been foreclosed by now."

"I paid the taxes on it with the money you sent home," she said as she waved a wooden spoon erratically. "The rest of it is in your bank account."

Pete dropped his head in his hands. When he lifted his head again his eyes were watery. "That money was for you, Ma."

"And how was I supposed to know that?" she snapped as her green eyes flashed. "Four years and not a word, Peter."

Bill stood by Sylvia's side and squeezed her shoulder. "You know what, Vanessa, why don't you have a seat in the living room? I'll bring you a drink."

In the living room, ten year-old June was perched in an armchair with her feet tucked underneath her, completely engrossed in a book. It was strangely comfortable knowing she wouldn't pay any attention to me. I didn't feel like I had to strike up an awkward conversation with her.

I gravitated toward the Christmas tree and admired the mid-century ornaments; glass blown glittered orbs, felted snowmen with sequin eyes, tiny wooden Nutcrackers and drummer boys, painted clothespin angels and soldiers with pipe cleaner arms, and glass icicles. Aluminum starbursts and strands of shimmering tinsel reflected the light from the oversized colorful light bulbs.

A nativity scene, dripping with moss and lined with straw, was nestled beneath the tree. The manger was still empty. I wondered where they kept the baby hidden until Christmas morning. My bet was that he was in a coffee can tucked away in the pantry or something. My grandparents always squirreled things away in coffee cans: spare change, safety pins, pop can tabs for charity.

I sat on the chartreuse couch and waited, while the crackling sounds of old Christmas songs drifted from a record player. Pete and Sylvia were still speaking in heated whispers in the kitchen when Bill came out and set two mugs on the coffee table.

"How's it going in there?" I asked.

"Well, they have a lot to catch up on, that's for sure." Bill's forehead wrinkled as he scratched his eyebrow with his thumb and sighed. "I'm going to step outside for a smoke. Feel free to go ahead and get started," he said as he gestured toward the coffee table, "I made 'em strong."

The mug was a creamy beige color and said "Tom & Jerry" in gold Gothic lettering. The frothy whip on the top was sprinkled with nutmeg. It smelled amazing, like warm cloves and cinnamon. Bill wasn't lying, the alcohol burned going down and instantly warmed my insides.

I was warming up by the fireplace when Pete eventually made his way to the living room. He watched June for a minute before he said, "Hey there, Junie." When she didn't respond, he asked, "Who are you listening to?"

"It's Elvis Presley." As June took in the sight of her long lost brother, shock flickered on her face for a second before she dropped her gaze back to the page and asked cryptically, "Where have you been?"

I couldn't help but smile. I could already see similarities between her and Liz. But sadness passed over Pete's face. Four years was a long time in the life of a kid. He'd missed a lot.

Bill and Sylvia came in and stood behind the couch. Sylvia wrung her hands and looked at me expectantly. Nobody sat down and it made me uneasy.

"Go on, then," Sylvia encouraged Pete with a nod.

Pete offered an apologetic smile before he took my left hand and slid a ring onto my fourth finger. "She wants you to have this."

"I told him his wife needs a ring," Sylvia explained. "And my mother's wedding band is certainly better than nothing."

"Ohh, I can't-" I began to tug the ring off of my finger but I couldn't get it past my knuckle. The thing was stuck on my finger but it felt like it was wrapped around my neck.

Sylvia strode across the room and patted my hand. "You can," she said with a fierce look in her eyes. "And you will."

"Thank you." I tried to gulp down the knot in my throat. "This is really...special."

"And while of course you're welcome to stay here, Bill thought you'd be more comfortable at the inn tonight."

"There was room at the inn!" Bill announced, beaming with pride at his timely joke. "Consider it a late wedding present."

"But you'll have to check in before ten o'clock and it's a quarter past nine," Sylvia said. "So you can go get settled in and meet us at church for midnight mass."

A whimpering sound came from the stairway and a little girl in a nightgown appeared.  She clutched the rail and rubbed her eyes.

"Mommy?" Sylvia quickly strode over to the stairs and the girl dove into her arms. "Did Santa come?" Sylvia spoke quietly into her ear and then she said sleepily, "You hafta go to feep so he can come."

She shifted the little girl to her hip and smoothed her staticky blonde hair with her hand.  "This is Robin." Sylvia smiled at Pete almost guiltily. "Your sister."

Robin nuzzled her head shyly onto Sylvia's shoulder.

"Hi Robin," Pete said. "How old are you?"

Sylvia repeated, "He asked how old you are."

She slowly uncurled three fingers from her tiny palm. "Fee."

~~~~~~

On the walk to the inn, Pete was quiet. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but I imagined it was too much to put into words. With two younger siblings that barely knew him and a step-father he actually liked, would he want to stay? Getting him back to the life he left behind was the whole point all along, wasn't it? Was I selfish to want to keep him?

"I have another little sister," he finally said. "That was a surprise."

"I'm sure you're not the only one Robin surprised. Your mom must have been at least forty when she was born. Sorry I didn't warn you, but I didn't know about her."

"It's okay," he said. "I don't expect you to know everything."

"So what did you tell your mom?" I asked.

"I told her the truth. She said you disappeared in front of her eyes at a store once, so she believed me, I think."

"Yikes," I cringed. "I forgot to tell you about that. So you told her the truth, except for when it came to us being supposedly married?"

"She assumed and I didn't correct her. It seemed to make her feel better."

"Even though I don't feed you enough?" I joked.

"I know it's silly, but I knew it would kill her to imagine me out on my own, taking care of myself. So I let her believe what she wanted to believe."

The Palmer Inn's leaded windows and snow-covered roof glittered in front of us and a nervous chill ran through me.

"I should call Stan while I'm here," Pete said.

We checked in at the front desk and I waited for Pete in the lounge while he called Stan from a phone booth in the hallway. I doubted that Stan would get the truthful version about where Pete had been, but he at least needed to know Pete survived the fire at the cabin.

The hotel room was dark and a bit suffocating. Pete switched on a lamp with a fringed, gold brocade shade and the dim light illuminated the dark wood furniture and maroon and gold decor. I draped my coat over an armchair and walked over to the window to take in the nighttime view of the river. I couldn't even look at the bed. A radiator clinked and hissed in the corner.

Pete came up behind me, pushed my hair to the side and kissed below my ear.

"I'm not ready," I blurted. "To have sex."

"I'm not either," he said as he grasped my hips spun me around to face him. "I should probably let these ribs heal for at least four to six weeks."

"Okay," I laughed nervously.  "I wasn't sure how far you wanted to take this fake marriage thing. And it's Christmas Eve and it's snowing and I love you," I gulped a short breath and continued, "I love you so much and there's a bed and a ring stuck on my finger and it all feels very, very...." Romantic. Charged. Final.

It felt final. It wasn't that it seemed too soon, because I felt as though I'd known Pete forever. It was because I feared that if we took it that far, there would be nowhere left to go and that our time together would culminate on that night and fizzle out. I was afraid that my plan to have Pete reunite with his family would backfire on me, and he'd choose them. I was afraid that I was a horrible person for wanting him to choose me. My breathing was becoming shallow and rapid and I was spiraling.

"Smell the soup, cool the soup," Pete reminded me as he stepped back. "Will it help if I get the ring off?"

I nodded quickly while I took a deep breath through my nose.

He twisted the ring until it stopped at my knuckle and then he wrapped his mouth around my finger. The edges of his teeth glided all the way to my fingertip and then he smiled, producing the gold band between his teeth before pocketing it.

"Thank you." I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Pete sat on the bed and leaned back with his head in his hands.  "As for the bed, it's pretty standard. Nothing to worry about."

"Ew, don't lay on the cover." I yanked the thin burgundy bedspread out from under him and he exaggerated rolling off of the bed.  "They don't wash these."  I pushed the bedspread to the floor and laid on my back on the crisp white sheets with my hands folded over my stomach.  Pete laid down on the other side of the bed in the same position.

"I love you, too," he said.

"I didn't plan on saying it for the first time in a stream of verbal diarrhea. It just came out."

"I wouldn't imagine it any other way."

The faint scent of bleach on the sheets took me back to the morning after I met Pete, when I woke up in June's bedroom with the smell of chlorine clinging to my hair, confused and still clueless about what had happened to me.

"I do, though," I said.  We turned on our sides to face each other and our eyes locked. "I love you."

Pete brushed his thumb along my cheekbone, tucked my hair behind my ear and rested his hand on my neck, before retracting his hand and apologizing.

"It's okay," I said. "I only wanted you to know I'm not ready to 'go all the way,' as you say. This night has been a lot as it is."

"We have about an hour if you want to rest."

"No way. I had to pretend to be married to earn this room, I don't want to completely waste it."

~~~~~~

Before we had to leave for midnight mass, I went to the bathroom to fix my makeup. When I came out, Pete was sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped. His elbows rested on his knees, which were bouncing up and down nervously.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm afraid to let you out of my sight."

"Why?"

Pete reached for my hand and placed my palm against his face. Then he breathed in deeply and stopped fidgeting. "Because if you leave me here, I have no way to reach you."

"I'm not going to leave you."

"But if you did, I wouldn't see you again until you wanted to see me. It's not quite fair is it?"

I remembered how he'd found me at the pool after we had an argument at the drive-in, after I'd already attempted and failed to travel back to my own time. I was heartbroken and angry and had fully intended to leave him and never come back.

"I promise I won't do that to you again. And if you decide to stay here, I'll always come back to see you, as long as you want me to."

"I'm not staying here," he said bluntly. "Why would I stay here?"

"To be with your family. And it would be easier for you. I'd completely understand if that's what you want to do. I don't need to swim in a pool or jump in the river anymore to come back. And I swear I didn't bring you here to convince you to stay, but once I saw you with them, I realized you're kind of a missing piece in the puzzle, you know? Maybe we can figure out a way that you can be with your people and I can be with mine and we can still be together."

"No," he said resolutely. "Your people are gonna be my people now, and I'm coming back with you. The life I used to want isn't the life I want anymore."

A wave of relief and joy crashed over me. I pushed Pete back on the bed and fell on top of him and kissed all over his face. I was probably going to have to fix my makeup again.

~~~~~~

Grandma Rose's funeral was one of the last times I went to mass at Our Lady Star of the Sea. Six decades before that, everything about the church itself was nearly the same. For Christmas, there was an Advent wreath hung from the ceiling over the center aisle and the altar was decorated with red poinsettia plants and a large nativity scene.

The well-rehearsed murmurs of the congregation and the earthy pine aroma of frankincense combined with furniture polish and candle wax took me back to every mass I'd ever attended, before Grandma Rose passed away and going to church slowly and quietly became optional.

She was there, a few rows in front of the pew where I sat with Pete and his family. The church was so packed that I didn't worry about her spotting us. Pete received a few curious looks when we arrived, but once we filed into our seats, no one seemed to notice his sudden and fleeting reappearance in Palmer. Walt was sitting beside Rose. In 1957, his years in the service would have been over and they would be settling into a new life together.

In five years, my dad would be baptized in this church. In eighteen years, while serving as an alter boy at midnight mass, he would accidentally light the advent wreath on fire. Walt would race to the wreath at the center of the church and try to put out the flames with his hymnal until someone arrived with a fire extinguisher. My aunt would tell the story every Christmas for years to come.

I telepathically sent Rose a silent thank you for keeping the letters and postcards from Pete and building a hidden compartment in her sewing table to stash them. She was full of surprises, even after she was gone.