Jules's POV:

Buck and I walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk toward Whit's End, our boots crunching on bits of snow and ice and salt. We didn't talk much—we understood each other's silence.

In my mind, I rehearsed over and over how it would go when I was face-to-face with my mom again—what she'd say, what I'd say. I hadn't been able to think about much of anything else since her phone call the night before. It baffled me that I was so rattled by this. I would have expected my reaction to her visit to be nothing more than stone-cold indifference. But instead, I felt a nervous anticipation. Longing, even. It surprised me to realize that I missed her. A lot.

I'd been so angry with her when I left LA. I was bitter and hurt and lonely, and I'd resigned myself to never feel anything ever again. Since coming to Odyssey, though, I'd opened my heart in ways I never thought possible. Here, I'd found love, acceptance, purpose. And now, I was grappling with how my mom fit into all of it.

"Connie said they're in the Little Theater," I said aloud, more to myself than to Buck, as I nearly dragged him down the hallways and corridors of Whit's End. My pace had quickened with every step until I was almost at a jog. I stopped short, heart pounding, just outside the doorway to the small auditorium. Strains of old, familiar Christmas carols wafted from behind the closed double doors, triggering flashbacks to other times, other places…

"Hey." I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped back, startled. Buck. I'd almost forgotten he was there, though I was still gripping his hand for dear life, as if it were my only anchor to reality. "Everything's going to be okay."

He stroked back a lock of hair that had fallen across my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek.

"I know." My voice quivered as I blinked back nervous tears. I took a deep breath, squeezed his hand once more, and opened the doors.

Mom was seated at the piano onstage, her fingers flying across the keys, while Connie looked on in amazement.

"Mom?"

The music stopped abruptly, and she wheeled around toward the sound of my voice.

"Jules!"

I bolted down the aisle, bypassing the steps and leaping right onto the stage. We threw our arms around each other, and she squeezed me so tight I could hardly breathe. She pulled back suddenly, grasping my shoulders at arm's length, studying me.

"My beautiful, beautiful girl!"

"I missed you so much," I whispered, sitting down next to her on the piano bench and running my fingers across the keys. We just sat there in silence for a moment, the air thick with all the words we left unsaid.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Would you play 'Silver Bells'? You know, like you used to?"

"That always was your favorite, wasn't it?" A warm smile spread across her face, and she began to play, the crystal-clear tones of her voice mingling with the tinkling of the keys. She nodded to me at the chorus, inviting me to join in on the harmony.

Suddenly, we weren't in the Little Theater anymore. I was a little girl again, clad in fleece pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, singing my lungs out while Mom coaxed the magic out of the keys of the worn, old baby grand piano she'd rescued from an old movie set somewhere. Nobody else could make it come alive like she could. I squeezed my eyes closed, losing myself in the memory.

Buck's POV:

I hung back in the shadows, watching as the rift between mother and daughter slowly began to mend, salved with the simplicity of a song.

What I wouldn't give to have known my mother, I thought.

Connie slipped quietly off the stage, making her way toward the door. I followed her lead and ducked out of the theater behind her.

"Oh, hey Buck. I didn't see you in there."

I shrugged. "That was their moment, and I didn't want to intrude. I just wanted to keep an eye on her for a little bit—you know, to make sure everything went okay."

She nodded. "She's lucky to have a friend like you."

"She's lucky to have a sister like you," I countered, tacking on, "and don't you mean 'blessed'?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose I do." She sounded a little surprised, and a little pleased. But I thought I caught a hint of sadness in her eyes, too.