The Firefighter and the Virgin Princess by Jemma Harte

the audience
had peeled another layer off the mystery that was Lily Keene, and
seeing her with his nieces backstage had peeled off another. He was
more sure than ever now that he wanted to be with her, but he still
didn't know what she was thinking.
    All his worries disappeared when he held her
hand and he felt like anything was possible.
     
    * * * *
     
    An elderly lady had sat beside her on the
bench and said "Hello".
    Lily smiled and said "Hello" back.
    "That's your family out there, is it? The
two little girls and the handsome young man? I saw you lacing their
skates. How lovely they are and you all look so happy together. It
reminded me of when I was a young mother. You're very lucky."
    About to deny that they were her family,
Lily chose to say nothing. Why bother explaining? Instead she
nodded, smiled again, and sipped her delicious, creamy hot
chocolate.
    Did they look happy together? She had no
idea what they looked like. When she was with Joe she rarely
considered her appearance and that, in itself, was a rarity for
her.
    She looked around and saw several families
out to enjoy themselves on that chilly evening, the kids excited,
the parents long-suffering but valiantly soldiering on. Christmas
was in the air, of course. For once she felt as if she was a part
of it too.
    Lily had spent the last two Christmases
alone, since her grandmother died. Before that she tried to get
home to Boston to stay with the old lady at some point, even if it
was just one night. There would be an exchange of
professionally-wrapped gifts, a glass of chef-prepared eggnog
around the designer-decorated tree in the parlor— not a real tree
of course, for that would leave too many pine needles on the
carpet— and then she was back in the city to dance. Her grandmother
rarely ventured out of Boston and hadn't come to the city at all
for the last two years of her life, so she'd only seen Lily dance
on stage once or twice, in the beginning of her professional
career.
    Having Joe come to watch her felt
special.
    His nieces were cute too, like him. Lily
hadn't known many kids, even when she was one herself. Her best
friend, as she'd told Joe, was Maria— the girl who left ballet
school at sixteen and chose a real life instead. And left Lily
behind too, after they'd sworn they'd be friends forever. Just like
her parents who were supposed to be there for her. Although she
knew it wasn't their fault that they died, an eight year-old girl
couldn't be expected to grasp the concept of a god — a deity to
whom she was supposed to pray every night— being cruel enough to
take her parents away. In her eyes, they'd left her.
    She supposed she'd
separated herself from Joe, before he could do that to her too. But
he came back. He didn't give up, damn him. He made it impossible
to not like him.
To not let him in.
    The old lady beside her leaned over and said
softly, "Make the most of your time together, dear, with the ones
you love. It all passes much too quickly. Before you know it they
grow up and take flight from the nest. Don't waste a moment."
     
    * * * *
     
    When he got off the ice, she was standing at
the barrier, hands in her pockets. "You looked good out there."
    "Will you teach me how to spin around?"
Antonia demanded breathlessly, tugging on Lily's coat.
    "It's called a pirouette, and I'm afraid I
can't teach you on skates, but I can teach you on the floor, if you
like."
    "Yes!" the child bounced gleefully.
    "Yes, please ," Joe corrected her
firmly.
    "Please."
    "Me too," shouted Nicky.
    "Of course," said Lily, beaming. "It will be
my pleasure."
    While they took their skates off, Joe was
thinking about what to say next, how to thank her for coming out
with them, when she said, "Are you going home now on the
ferry?"
    "Yes," replied Nicky, "we're going on the
ferry. Are you coming too, Lily?"
    "You come too, Lily!" her sister exclaimed.
"Then you can teach me to ploo...pirette."
    Suddenly he realized Lily was looking at
him. "I don't know. Should