Christmas was in two days. The kids had been dismissed early from school today, which gave me plenty of time to get ready - making sure I dressed very warmly out of some residual fear - and head down to the Crown Tavern.

Closed for Private Event read the handwritten sign on the door and I grinned at Jonah's barely legible chicken scratch. I needed to have a word with his kindergarten teacher about that.

Inside, the bar was decorated with a few bundles of evergreen boughs tied off with bows made out of Christmas camouflage. I hadn't even known that existed, but it made perfect sense for this town.

There was also a small circle of beat up folding chairs. I looked around for a second and then had to remind myself that Gabe had left four days ago, heading out to start shooting season two of King of Pain. But I did see Mr. King and Mrs. King, Beau, Finn, and Claire, Sadie and Willa. Dee had come and was waving at me to come sit by her, and there, in the corner like a wispy shadow, was Isobel Tanner. That was it. It really was a very private event.

After a moment, Jonah walked out with a guitar held in his hands. He didn't wait for applause, just sat down at the mic and set the guitar across his lap.

I waggled my fingers at him. He grinned and waggled his back, showing me that they worked just fine. "Thanks for coming," he said into the mic. "I wanted to think of tonight as a kind of memorial service." I hid my smile behind my hand. "Since I missed the first one, and all," he said pointedly to me. "Let's call this my way of making up for that."

He strummed. And then slowly, stiffly, he started to play.

I'd seen Jonah naked by now. This was a different kind of naked. Stripped. Open. Honest.

He sang with his eyes closed, not watching for our reactions, not gauging whether we loved him the way we should. And that made me love him even more.

As the slow song of yearning rang from his guitar, I could barely keep my eyes off him. Every movement was tight with a private grief but also huge with catharsis. With acceptance, with letting go not only of his uncle but of so many things I wasn't sure I'd ever truly know about him but I was more than ready to spend all the time I could finding them out.

I snuck a peek at the private audience. Izzy was openly weeping, her grief wild and uninhibited. Mrs. King was rubbing her back in rhythmic circles as she dabbed her own eyes with a tissue. Foster King was sitting straight backed, his eyes glittering.

It was an echo of Gid's funeral, except instead of saying goodbye, it was like we'd all come by to say hi, to visit and share our memories, some sad of course but most happy and freeing. Dee laughed out loud when Jonah sang Gid's more ribald lyrics, shaking her head.

Behind me, Taylor was wiping the bar, the same spot over and over. He wanted to seem like he wasn't intently listening, but he clearly was. I pressed my lips together and lifted my chin towards him. "Yeah," I tried to say with my face. "You see him now?He's the real fucking deal, so show some respect."

When it was all over, Jonah just looked down at his guitar for a moment. Then he leaned into the mic. "Okay, well I don't know about you guys, but I need a drink."

We laughed and the heavy weight of grief was lifted, and we turned this memorial into a celebration.

Before long, the party was getting louder, with Taylor helping it along by pouring very generous drinks. Dee was holding court, telling everyone who would listen about the time Gid went toe to toe with the school board and walked away with the biggest budget Crown Creek Elementary had ever spent on a musical. "I was on his side but I was scared of him. The man was a legend. I think if he had asked them to build an entire new wing on the school just for the arts program they would have listened to him."

"He almost did," Izzy piped up. Tears were still leaking from her eyes and she tightly hugged the MP3 player Jonah has given her, with all of Gid's demos and tapes burned onto it. He was going to give her a copy of tonight's performance too. The only one that would ever be made.

I looked at his brothers who were laughing with Claire over something.

And then I looked again to see Jonah standing alone. He'd been the performer tonight, but it was Gid we were all talking about. Pride made my chest feel like it was going to burst. I went to him immediately. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head and slung his arm over my shoulder. "Nothing."

"You're the worst liar in the world and you should never play poker. Ever."

He gave me a rueful grin. "No it's just," he pulled out his phone. "I called Gabe, thinking he might want to Skype in or maybe listen over speaker or something, but he never got back to me. Hope he's okay."

"I'm sure he's fine," I said. Jonah sighed and nodded, pulling me close and scratching the back of my head. I pulled back immediately and grabbed his hand. "Your fingers?"

"They work," he said, with a touch of pride.

"Can you feel everything?" I asked, pressing them to my lips.

His eyes darkened. "I feel that."

Heat rushed through my belly and then down to my core. "Don't you want to stay here? You're the man of the hour, aren't you?"

He shook his head. "No. Gid is." He glanced at the laughing knots of people. None of them were even paying us a bit of attention. "Let's get out of here. My fingers have healed enough to play guitar. Now I just need to make sure they can still make you come all over them."

Spoiler alert: They could.