A Sprinkling of Christmas Magic: Christmas Cinderella

The vicar gave the signal for all to rise for the last hymn, ‘Adeste Fideles’, his favorite. Finn let the lines of the beloved song swell and echo around him. The congregation sang it in Latin, of course. There he went, smiling again.

The congregation began filing out during the last verse and Finn felt his father at his side, his voice low and supportive. ‘Go to her, my son. If she’s what you want, nothing on earth will be able to stop you.’ Finn heard more than saw the smile in his father’s voice. ‘Don’t worry about the haste of things. Who can explain love once it happens? Besides, she’s practically been one of us since she was eight and could walk over. If you love her, she will be a credit to you and to all of us.’

Finn clasped his father’s hand. ‘Thank you.’ It was a blessing, a confirmation. He’d spent the afternoon closeted with his father, talking it over, making his case more to himself than to his father. He wanted to be sure, for Catherine’s sake. Over his father’s shoulder his mother smiled softly, her eyes sparkling with gentle tears.

Finn let the others move ahead. He waited until Catherine stepped into the aisle and approached the Emersons. ‘Might I walk you back, Catherine?’ he asked quietly.

The eyes that searched his face were worried. He wanted to erase that concern. What did she imagine he had to say? ‘I’d like that.’ Catherine stepped away from her parents before they could answer for her. She slipped an arm through his and let him lead her away, careful not to light any clothing on fire with their flames.

Outside, they blew out their candles. ‘Make a wish, Catherine,’ Finn whispered, closing his own eyes and blowing out the flame.

‘That’s only for birthday candles,’ Catherine corrected.

‘I think Christmas candles count too,’ Finn argued softly. He drew her apart from the crowd gathering and dispersing in the churchyard. It was too cold for anyone to linger for long, but for now, the crisp air felt good after the heat of bodies in the church. Overhead the sky was midnight velvet pierced by the diamond sparkle of stars—a silent night, a holy night, a night of love and for love.

‘I need to tell you why I didn’t come on the Yule log cutting this afternoon.’

Catherine paled, her eyes going to the toes of her boots where they peeked from beneath her dress. ‘I thought so. You seemed like you had something on your mind when you picked me up yesterday.’ She looked up and bit her lip.

‘I did. It’s not something a man shares easily or without risk and I needed more time to work up my courage, I suppose.’

‘I’ve never known you to need any more courage than what you already had.’ Catherine gave him a half-smile, although he could see the effort cost her. Whatever she thought was coming, she was trying to make it easy for him. ‘You were brave enough the day you climbed the apple tree. I might still be up there.’

Finn gave a short laugh. ‘I was very scared that day. I don’t like heights, you know.’

She smiled, a little wider this time, and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. ‘I know and you did it anyway.’

Over her shoulder he was aware of Lady Eliza staring, her cheeks flushed before his mother put an arm about her and led her away to a sleigh. Catherine turned and followed his gaze.

‘Did you have something to tell me about Lady Eliza?’ Catherine prompted. ‘A happy announcement, perhaps?’ Finn could hear the strangled pain and he understood. She’d thought he’d come to tell her he was marrying Lady Eliza. Some of the guilt he felt in the church came racing back. He’d not meant to hurt Catherine. Oh, how differently she must see events than he did! The realisation galvanized him into action.

‘I’m not going to marry her,’ Finn said, relishing the relief that flooded Catherine’s face. ‘I’m going to marry you. If you’ll have me,’ he added. He rushed on. ‘I know it’s only been a few days, but really we’ve known each other for a lifetime, if you think about it. It’s not all that strange. We don’t have to go on expeditions if you’d rather not. I don’t know if I can stop spouting inconvenient Latin phrases, but I can try. We—’

Catherine put a hand to his lips. ‘Wait, let me answer. You don’t have to explain anything. Yes. Yes, I will marry you and, no, you don’t have to stop the Latin phrases. They’re a part of you. I don’t care if we go or stay, I just want to be with you, wherever you are.’ Then she was crying. ‘I thought...’