The Christmas Star Of Willowbrook

By Christmas Eve afternoon, the sky over Willowbrook had changed.

The clouds hung low and heavy, pressing down on the rooftops as though the town were being wrapped in a thick, grey blanket. Snow still fell, but now it swirled and rushed, carried by sharp gusts of wind that rattled shutters and sent shop signs creaking.

Ella stood at the window, her breath fogging the glass.

“It’s getting worse,” she murmured.

Outside, the square looked different from yesterday. The garlands drooped under the weight of snow, and the big Christmas tree swayed slightly in the wind. People hurried past with heads down, clutching coats and parcels.

Grandpa came to stand beside her. “Storm’s coming in properly now.”

“What if no one comes tonight?” Ella asked, her voice barely louder than the wind outside.

Grandpa placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Christmas has a way of bringing people where they’re meant to be.”

But as evening crept closer, Ella’s worry grew.

At supper, Mum glanced anxiously at the clock. Dad sighed as he folded the napkins, his brow furrowed.

“Maybe it’s best to stay in tonight,” Mum said gently. “With weather like this…”

Ella nodded, though her heart sank.

Later, bundled in coats and scarves, they stood just inside the open doorway, listening to the wind howl like something alive.

Snowflakes raced past the porch light, wild and untidy now.

Ella looked up at the sky, hoping for even the smallest sign.

Nothing.

She swallowed hard and took a step forward.

“I still want to sing,” she said.

Grandpa turned to her, surprised. Then he smiled, proud and steady.

“If you sing,” he said, “I’ll be right beside you.”

They made their way slowly toward the square. Only a few lanterns were lit now, swaying on their hooks. The wind tugged at Ella’s scarf, and her boots slipped slightly on the icy stones.

The square was nearly empty.

Ella’s heart thudded.

She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and let her voice rise, not loud, not bold, but clear and true.