by Carol James
He leaned his cheek on the top of her head and whispered, “So, Miss Mary, time to fight back.” Drawing away, he picked up his mug and headed toward the back door. “Sleep well.”
7
Jake set the eggs and milk on the counter. He felt like having waffles and sausage this morning. He’d almost skipped cooking and gone to the cafe down the street, but if he had, she’d know something was up.
He’d hardly slept last night. Thoughts had raced around in his mind, and as soon as he would rein in one, another would break loose. And they all had one thing in common: Mary. He kept telling himself he didn’t understand what was going on. But by three o’clock, he finally admitted he did. It had been years since he’d been this attracted to a woman. He just didn’t understand how it had happened so fast. How long had they known each other? Three, four days? It sure felt a lot longer than that.
Last night, when she’d shared her story and leaned against him, emotions he hadn’t felt in years exploded within him. He’d had to dig deep to round up every drop of self-control he possessed. Rather than take advantage of the trust she’d placed in him and do something he’d regret, he’d left. Besides, she was liable to think he was crazy if he told her how he felt. And maybe he was.
So, her ring was missing for a good reason. Twice—both times before Christmas—this Drew guy had called off their engagement. Once should have been enough. She should have never taken him back. Once would have been enough for him, anyway.
Wrong. Sometimes relationships had a way of complicating the truth. Alicia had come back three times before he’d finally come to his senses. He was more than his job, but she couldn’t see it. Or didn’t want to see it. He would never fit into her mold for a husband. Better to discover that before they were married than after.
“Good morning.” Her voice was flat.
He turned toward the doorway. “Good morning to you. How’d you sleep?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had better nights.” She dropped down onto one of the chairs. “Jake, about last night, I think I might have overstepped the boundaries. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position.”
The only awkwardness was how hard it had been not to hold her tighter. “Hey, no problem. What are friends for?”
She responded with a slight smile.
Time to change the subject. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m fixing sausage and some of my world-famous waffles for breakfast. But I think by the time we eat, we’ll have to call it brunch. Check the clock.”
She jumped up. “I had no idea it was so late. What about painting the buildings?”
“We’re finished enough. Everything looked great when we left yesterday. We’ll do some touch up after they’re set up outside once we can see them at night under the lights.” He poured the batter into the waffle iron. “Besides, I think there’s something else more important we need to do today.”
“Really? What?”
“It’s a surprise. A ‘thank you’ for all your hard work on the nativity. Eat up and then go put on some warm clothes. We’ll be outside.”
~*~
The truck rambled down a back road through the Texas hill country. Mary had no idea where they were going. When she’d asked as they backed down the driveway, he’d answered, “You’ll see. If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Right then, she’d decided if he could play a game, so could she.
Something had happened in the last twenty-four hours. This person Mary barely knew had become a friend, and that’s exactly what she needed right now.
As she looked at the clock on the dashboard, she repeated the question she’d asked every ten minutes since they’d left the house. “Are we there yet?” She glanced over at Jake just in time to see him grin.
“Whew! Right on time. I was afraid you were about to miss one.” The amber flecks in his eyes sparkled.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have any other choice since you won’t tell me where we’re going.”
“Should be over this next rise up on the left.”
As the truck scaled a small hill and rounded a sharp bend in the road, the entrance to some sort of ranch or farm loomed ahead on their left. The iron gateway was covered with Christmas lights and greenery. Black metal letters spelling out their destination arched above the entrance. Walker’s Tree Farm.
Jake eased the truck in line behind the other vehicles. “We’re here.”
“A tree farm?”
“A Christmas tree farm.”
“But Jake, my parents have a tree at home.”
“I’ve seen it in the storage room. That’s not a tree. It’s PVC fringe on metal rods.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle. He was right about that. “A Christmas tree farm as in a ‘cut-your-own-Christmas-tree’ farm?”
“Now you’ve got it.” He pulled the truck into a parking space and killed the engine. Then he turned to face her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never cut your own tree before.”
“Never. I’ve never even had a live tree. Mom always thought they were too messy.”
He opened the door and stepped out of the truck with Riley close behind. “Well, Miss Mary, it’s about time you had one.”
The welcome booth was up on their left with some picnic tables clustered to the side. “Why don’t you and Riley go have a seat? I’ll get some info and join you.”
Riley followed her to one of the tables. As she sat down, he curled up under her feet. A family sat a few tables away: a mom, a dad, and three kids who all appeared to be under school age. The youngest was in a carrier on the dad’s back. Her heart ached. Christmas was a family time, and this year, she had no family to share it with. Riley rested his head on her leg. “Except you, buddy,” she whispered as she scratched behind his ears.
“I got us some fuel. Give me a hand here, would you?” Jake grinned as he held out a plate mounded with Christmas cookies balanced on top of two Styrofoam cups. A bow saw hung on his arm. “No telling how much hiking we’ll have to do to find the perfect tree.”
She set the plate on the table, and he handed her a cup. Hot chocolate. “Great idea, Jake.”
Before he sat down, he pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and spread it on the table in front of them. “A map.” He scooted in across from her. “What kind of a tree do you want?” Pointing to different areas on the map, he listed her choices. “They have Virginia pines, Leland cypresses, or cedars.”
She sipped the chocolate. “I don’t have any idea. A tree’s a tree.”
“What? You are so wrong.” Jake’s cookie hand froze halfway to his mouth. “Is a dog a dog? Or a person a person? A flower a flower?”
“Well, if you’d told me ahead of time where we were going, I would have had time to think it over. I don’t know.”
“Oh, I see how this is going to go. It’s my fault you can’t make up your mind.”
When she looked up at him, he winked.
“Glad you’re taking responsibility for your decision,” she teased back.
Jake glanced over the map. “Then I’ll take responsibility for another one. I know exactly what we need.”
They finished their refreshments and then headed toward the west. Running ahead and then back and then ahead again, Riley impatiently urged them forward.
At the field, Jake spoke. “OK, I chose the type. You choose the tree.”
She knew the trees before them. She couldn’t have named them, but she recognized them. Grandpa and Grandma always had a tree like this. “Oh, Jake, these are perfect.”
He grinned. “Cedars. The old-fashioned, Texas Christmas tree. March on.”
She walked down the first row and up the second. About halfway down the path stood her tree, tall and full. Except on one side where there was a gap between the branches. “This is it.”
“This one?” Circling the tree, Jake inspected it from top to bottom.
“Yes, this one.”
“But it’s got that h
ole in it.” He stared at her, obviously waiting for her to acknowledge her failure to see the tree’s imperfection and choose a better one.
“I know. That’s what makes it perfect.”
“OK, this one it is. Did you bring any gloves?”
She shook her head and leveled her gaze at him. “I would have if you’d told me where we were going. I didn’t know I’d need any.”
“Fair enough.” As he smiled, he pulled a pair of gloves out of his jacket pocket and handed them to her. “Put these on so you can hold the tree while I saw it.”
She hadn’t realized just how large his hands were until she put his gloves on. Drew had always teased her about having “man-hands” because hers were as large as his. The truth was not that her hands were big, but that Drew had small hands for a man.
As the tree began to move with each stroke of the saw, she held it fast. Fixated on Jake’s every movement, Riley sat at her feet, occasionally barking his encouragement.
The image of the family in the refreshment area pushed its way back into her heart. Maybe she’d been wrong. Family could be more than just blood relatives. Sometimes it was as much a matter of choice as birth. She glanced first at Riley and then at the man who was working so hard to make this Christmas special for her. At this time, during this brief season of life, this was her family.
~*~
Jake was on his hands and knees with cedar branches stuck in his hair, tightening the screws on the tree stand he’d picked up at the hardware store. “What about now?” He peeked out from behind the tree.
Mary cocked her head to one side. “Looks good from this angle. Let me check another.” She circled the tree until she was about a quarter of the way around. “Yep, it’s nice and straight.”
He stood and walked over beside her. It looked good to him, too. Except for one part. “You’re sure you want that hole on the front side?”
“Absolutely.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply in. “Oh, I smell Christmas. We just need some spiced cider simmering on the stove to make the effect complete.” She smiled up at him. “My grandparents always had a cedar tree like this.”
“Well, in all honesty, it’s a juniper. See those bluish berries? But everyone I know calls it a cedar. Even the tree farm. So cedar, it is.”
She picked up the brown plastic grocery bag they’d given him when he’d paid for the tree. “What’s this?”
“A little bonus gift from the tree farm.” He hadn’t been sure whether to keep it or not.
She opened the bag and pulled out the bundle of sprigs. “Mistletoe.” Her smile faded as she jammed it back into the bag. “I won’t be needing any this Christmas.”
Confirmation he should have thrown it directly into the trashcan. “I’ll take it out to the garbage when I leave.”
Her gaze was far away.
“So, you want to start decorating? I’ll drag the boxes over here and put the lights on for you.”
She glanced at her phone. “If you’re sure. It’s getting a little late.”
“Don’t have to be anywhere until tomorrow afternoon. I think we’ve got time.” He began carrying the labeled boxes from the corner over to the tree. He opened the one with “LIGHTS” printed on it. “White or colored?”
She smiled. “My grandparents always had colored lights on theirs.”
“Colored it is then.”
As he strung the lights in the tree, she rummaged through the boxes until she pulled out one that was about a foot square.
“Here it is.”
Carrying the box as if it held a fragile treasure, she gently placed it on the coffee table and unwrapped the obviously prized possession. She withdrew an odd shaped brown ball from the pillows of tissue paper. A gourd.
“My dad gave this to my mom the first Christmas they were married. They couldn’t afford a tree or any other decorations, so he made this, their only decoration that year.”
She held it out toward him. A large hole had been carved on one side. Set inside the empty gourd on a bed of excelsior were primitive clay figures. Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus. A nativity. Intricate carvings of the city of Bethlehem covered the outside of the gourd. A small hole for a light—the star—had been drilled in the back.
“That’s quite a work of art. I see now why you wanted a tree with a hole in it.”
She smiled at him. “Yes, this is always the first ornament we put on, or in, the tree.”
Hanging it by its stem, she gently tucked her family’s heirloom into the waiting nook in the tree. It couldn’t have fit more perfectly if he’d clipped out the branches himself. As he plugged the star into the extension cord, a soft warmth radiated from the tree.
He stood beside her. “Great job, Mary. You chose the perfect tree.”
“Good to hear you admit it.”
As they stood side by side, last night’s yearning returned. He wanted to draw her close again. But he wouldn’t. Not unless she made the first move.
“Thanks so much, Jake. This is the best thank you ever.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She leaned her head against his shoulder.
“You’re very welcome.” She’d opened the door, so he’d step through. Gently he drew her near, but not too near. Only as near as one could possibly be and still fall into the “friends” category. Now it was her turn.
She smiled up into his eyes and then eased away. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Shoot.” He’d do just about anything she asked. As long as they could do it together.
“Will you help me put on the rest of the decorations?”
“You betcha.”
8
Jake’s truck had been gone all morning. Last night, he’d said he didn’t have anything planned until the meeting at church this afternoon. But, obviously, something had come up. At any rate, his whereabouts was none of Mary’s business. She wasn’t his mother.
Yesterday had been the best day she’d had in a long time, and all because of Jake. Last night’s embrace had been...confusing. It was meant to be casual, but the pounding of his heart against her arm as he held her near had surprised her. She would have interpreted it as attraction if he hadn’t been involved with another woman.
She picked up the mistletoe he'd forgotten to throw away last night and tied a red velvet bow around the stems. The doorway between the foyer and the living room looked bare without the bunch Mom hung there every year. They’d already wiped out one family tradition by getting a live tree. It would be a shame to eradicate another.
Mistletoe in hand and thumbtacks in her pocket, she climbed up the step ladder until she could reach the top of the doorway. She pushed the thumbtacks through the red ribbon and into the wood frame overhead.
As she backed down the ladder, the dinging of the front doorbell made her jump. Very few people knew she was home. Maybe it was the mail carrier or a salesperson. She peeked through the peephole. A Mercedes sedan was parked on the street, and a well-dressed man and woman about Mom and Dad’s age stood on the porch. Probably some friends of theirs she’d never met. No...wait, they were familiar. She recognized them, but they were older than the images she’d seen.
She glanced at her reflection in the hall mirror, smoothed her hair, and then straightened her sweater and jeans. Smiling, she pulled the door open. “Hello.”
Blank stares met her, and the man glanced at the street numbers above the door.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “We must have the wrong address.”
“You’re looking for Jake?”
The couple exchanged glances.
“You’re his parents, right?”
“Yes, but—” The woman frowned.
“I’m Mary Sherman. My parents are his landlords.” She held the door open. “Won’t you come in?”
A smile of what certainly appeared to be relief covered Jake’s mother’s face as they stepped into the foyer. “Thank you. I’m sorry for the confusion. Jake told us your family would be out of town for Christmas. So, I�
�m sure you can imagine our surprise when you opened the door.”
“Of course. My parents are gone, but I had a change of plans. So here I am.”
The frown blanketed Jake’s mother's face again.
Oh dear, she thought they were...“Oh, we’re not...I mean, Jake’s staying in the garage apartment out back.” Once again, thank goodness he’d insisted.
The kitchen door slammed, and Jake rescued her as he strode into the living room. “Mom, Dad? I headed home as soon as I got your text. Sorry I’m late.”
Jake’s mother offered him her cheek. “We were just getting acquainted with your surprise hostess.”
Jake kissed his mother and then shook hands with his father. “Wait ’til you hear how Mary and I met.”
As Jake recounted the first night, Mary slipped into the kitchen to make some refreshments for the four of them. She wasn’t exactly sure how, but she’d gotten off on the wrong foot with Jake’s mother, so maybe some coffee and cookies would repair the situation.
She placed everything on a tray and carried it out to the living room.
Jake’s father burst into laughter. “Well, Mary, I’m glad he recognized you from your pictures.”
“Me, too.” Mary smiled. “Spending Christmas in jail wasn’t exactly what I’d planned.”
“Just like spending it here wasn’t, either?” Mrs. Wolesky’s tone scolded away their lightheartedness.
“Lori, let it go,” Jake’s father interjected under his breath.
The next few seconds crept by like hours as they sipped their coffees until Jake broke the strained silence. “How’s Chris?”
“How do you think he is?” his mother spit back.
As Jake made no further attempts at conversation, Mary searched in vain for something to say.
“Alicia sends her love.” The anger in Jake’s mother’s voice had been replaced by gloating.
Alicia...that must be the woman in the pictures with Jake. An unexplainable sense of loss came over Mary.
“She can’t wait to see you,” Jake’s mom pressed.
