“You can hardly tell that tree took a beating,” Mark said.
“I was worried Caroline had gone overboard. I don’t think you could fit one more ornament on it, but it is stunning.” Angela looked to each branch, staring in awe at how it hardly looked like the sorrowful little tree from a few weeks ago.
A few weeks ago. That triggered more memories. When they’d cut down the tree, she had no idea her mother was bringing Florinda to Sutton. She had no idea they would be married before the holiday or that she’d be snuggling up to Mark on the couch on Christmas Eve while Papa and Dorothy were settling in at the house on Hickory.
“Now I’m feeling kind of sad we didn’t put up a tree at my house.”
“Why is that?” Mark asked.
“For Papa and Dorothy. I’m not sure it feels like a holiday over there,” Angela said. “Maybe she’s put up some decorations.”
“I bet Papa isn’t too worried about it,” he said with a sly grin.
Angela smiled too. This had to be one of her favorite moments of the holiday every year. A quiet house, a festive tree. All is calm. All is bright.
Mark stroked the side of her hand as he held it in his—a small motion, but it drew her attention. No ring. There was a pang of—what? Sadness? No, that wasn’t it. Melancholy, perhaps. She’d told Mark not to buy a new ring. He’d said he would if it didn’t turn up before March. They didn’t know they’d be getting married on the winter solstice instead of the spring equinox.
But she’d had a feeling that it would turn up. As unlikely—no, as impossible—as it sounded, she had thought it would. She sat up and shook off the thought, not wanting anything to ruin this perfect moment.
“What is it? Are you cold?” Mark pulled her closer.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Is it safe to wrap some presents? She’s been asleep about an hour.”
“We think she’s been asleep that long,” Angela answered. “But yes, it should be safe.”
She pulled the presents from the hall closet. Mark went to the office at the back of the farmhouse—the one room where Caroline never ventured—and rolled out the bike he’d managed to disguise with a green canvas cover he used for the lawnmower.
“I don’t think she suspects a thing.”
Angela sat cross-legged at the foot of the tree with a few presents spread out in front of her along with an assortment of wrapping paper, bows, and ribbon. Mark joined her. They whispered quietly as they worked, wondering what time Caroline might wake them up in the morning. Maybe she wouldn’t even care about her presents since she’d already received her Christmas wish.
“She’ll be pulling on her boots and begging to go see the trees,” Mark said.
“And I’m good with that,” Angela said. “I’ll stay out there with her until my toes get cold, and then I’m coming back in.”
“Good, because I’ll be making breakfast.”
“Since when do you cook?”
“I don’t, but I can hope for a Christmas miracle, right?” he said, placing a wrapped present next to the village.
Angela laughed, but the melancholy returned at that word. “Mark, do you think ... ? Never mind. We need to fill her stocking.”
“What? Ask me.”
“The trees. The miracle trees. Do they create love matches?
“We’re married, aren’t we? The way I see it, we can say it was either the trees or your mother’s calculated efforts.”
Angela couldn’t resist the laugh. “Let’s call it the trees.”
“Pretend you’re not seeing me do this,” Angela said. She went to the kitchen and returned with a stocking for Mark and put it under the tree.
“No fair,” he said. “You didn’t tell me we were filling stockings for each other.”
“I don’t need a stocking,” Angela said.
Mark stood and reached for Angela. “Are we done?” he asked expectantly.
“Almost.” She kissed him and then went about rearranging some of the presents and the village while Mark stood watching her.
She sat back on her heels and took one last look, excitement welling up inside her. A sparkle from the tree caught her eye. Of course, the entire tree sparkled, but this was a glimmer at the base of a branch next to the trunk. She knelt down and crawled closer to the tree, careful not to crush the mirror ice pond.
“Angela? What is it?”
She reached toward the glimmer. Something was lodged in the bark of the tree where the branch jutted from the trunk. It was cool to the touch.
“Is there something wrong with the tree?” Mark asked.
She was now on one knee and bracing herself with the other leg. She wobbled a bit as she used both hands to grasp the small, round, glittering ...
“Mark, I’m trying to ... there’s a ...”—she moved the branch and pulled it free—“a ring!”
Too stunned to speak, Angela collapsed to the floor. She turned the ring over and over. A diamond band. Some dirt in the channel, but sparkling and gold.
“Mark, could this be?”
“Let me see that.” He said as he reverently took it from Angela’s grasp and strained to see it in the light from the tree. After a moment he looked wide-eyed at Angela. “This is it. This is the ring. The ring! I don’t know how it could be. It was in my pocket, and then the flood.” He sat down on the sofa, and Angela sat next to him. He held the ring out where they both could see it.
“The water carried it to that tree,” Angela whispered, as if it were too risky to say it louder.
“The tree Caroline chose. For the farmhouse.”
“And for us,” Angela said.
Mark took the underside of the shirt he wore and rubbed some of the dirt from it. Then he took Angela’s hand and asked, “May I?”
She watched as the ring came to rest at the base of her finger. They hugged, and she might have cried, but not so much that she couldn’t return the kiss Mark gave her.
“Your grandmother’s ring—it’s beautiful. Thank you,” Angela said, resting her head on his chest.
“I didn’t tell you?” Mark asked. “Wait, I never had the chance.”
She lifted her head to see his face. Why the worry in his tone?
“It wasn’t my grandmother’s.”
Angela gulped at that. “Your great-grandmother’s, then?”
“It’s the ring my Dad bought ... to give to ... Cathy.”
“To my mom?” Angela stared at the sparkling band already resting on her ring finger. How was it possible? When would she stop being amazed at this life with Mark? It was like he’d given her a part of the past—her past, along with the promise for their future.
They held each other on the sofa for hours—hours they weren’t counting—until they admitted they would need some sleep before Caroline came to wake them.
Angela found Mark crouched by the fireplace. When she stepped up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, he stood and hugged her. Something she would never get tired of, she was sure.
She’d had this idea from the moment she’d woken up, but with Caroline and the trees and presents, she hadn’t had time to tell Mark. She was also afraid he might not agree, but she needed to ask before Cathy arrived.
“You know how I was having trouble finding a gift for my mom?”
“Our mom,” Mark teased.
“Right.” That would take some getting used to, Angela thought. “Last year, I don’t know how Caroline knew, but she knew, and Cathy loved the music box. But this year I haven’t been able to think of anything.”
“I thought you said you found a photo album.”
“Yes, a discount photo album. An empty one for her Europe pictures.”
“I thought that was a great idea for the woman who has everything,” Mark said.
Angela paused. This was harder than she thought it would be. The risk of offense felt greater than ever.
“She doesn’t have everything, and there is something money can’t buy her. Something I
have.”
Mark looked at her intently now. “Angela, the farm isn’t for sale,” he said it half-jokingly, half seriously.
Angela slid the diamond band off of her finger and held it up.
“You’re sure this was the ring your father bought to give to my mother?”
Mark stared at the ring. “The appraiser said as much.” He looked at her as another quiet moment passed. “You’re talking about the ring.”
Angela nodded, holding her breath.
“You want her to have the ring?” Mark asked.
“Only if it’s okay with you. I love it. You know I love it. But when I woke up this morning, it was the first thing that came to my mind, how this amazing ring needs to be hers.”
Mark smiled and nodded. “Of course. It’s your ring now if you want your mom to have it. Of course ...” he paused, “I don’t have another ring, though.”
She hugged him. “I know. And that’s not what matters.”
Angela planned that after dinner, when there was a quiet moment for the two of them, she’d give her mother the ring. But Papa and Dorothy had arrived a little early and Angela had gotten started in the kitchen preparing dinner. Cathy showed up and offered to help—yes, to help—with dinner. And Mark was not going to be left out. Caroline had started helping but then convinced Papa to take her on another tour of the trees.
She and Dorothy and Cathy and Mark were in the kitchen peeling potatoes and sautéing vegetables. As Angela reached for a serving bowl in front of Cathy, her mom grabbed her hand.
“What’s this? You do have a ring!” She studied Angela’s hand. “Very nice, Mark. Was this a Christmas present? What am I saying? It had to be.”
Angela looked to Mark with raised eyebrows. Was now the right time? At the risk of delaying dinner, Angela began.
“Mom, here.” She slid the band off and gave it to her mother, who thought perhaps Angela was giving it to her for closer inspection.
“You realize you’ve already gotten it dirty?” Cathy reached for a dishcloth to wipe it off.
“Mom, I was going to try and clean it and give it to you later.”
“What do you mean, give it to me?”
“I want you to have it.”
Papa and Dorothy looked confused at what she’d said, but no one was more bewildered than Cathy. “What are you talking about? Mark, what does she mean?”
“She means you can have it.”
“For heaven’s sake. Just because I asked you about the ring a few times.” She shook her head and was handing the ring back to Angela as Mark continued.
“That was the ring we found in the box last year.”
“I remember,” she said.
“The ring my father bought for a girl he wanted to marry,” Mark said softly.
Cathy gasped.
Dorothy started to weep. “Alberto, I need a handkerchief.”
“For me?” Cathy said as the realization washed over her. “For me.”
She and Angela and Mark moved to the front room by the fireplace. Cathy had been mostly speechless and stared at the ring for the better part of ten minutes. She finally looked to Mark and then to Angela. She reached for her daughter’s hand and put the ring into it.
“This is yours. All yours. To know it was meant for me once is enough. More than enough. You’ve given me a gift, to find out that someone I thought had fooled me truly loved me. And to know that a part of that love story and that miracle continues with you. That’s all I need.”
Angela tiptoed away from Caroline’s room after confirming she was asleep. With all the miles the nine-year-old had hiked with Papa around the trees, calling it her best Christmas Day ever, Angela suspected she was sound asleep.
The fire dwindled to a few glowing embers. Mark sat on the couch facing the lighted tree. Angela joined him, sitting close enough that he could put his arm around her. She tucked her legs up under the blanket.
Christmas night always provided relief. The stress of the holiday was mostly over. Tonight she felt more than that. Peace and contentment and, yes—joy.
“Do you have any more pain in your leg?” she asked as she gently rested her hand on his knee.
“It’s healed fine. Can hardly see the scar.”
Mark lifted her hand and examined the ring. “Do you like it?”
“Of course I do!”
“Are you sure? Would you like a new ring?
She sat up to face him, not sure he could be serious. “Thank you for the offer, but don’t you know what this means to me?”
He sat up a little straighter and shook his head.
“Every time I look at this ring I’m reminded of not one, not two, but more miracles than I can count. Maybe when the next one happens I won’t be so surprised,” she said as she twirled the band on her finger. “But you know what? Maybe I will.”
“Why is that?” he asked, touching her cheek with his hand.
“The trees and you—this life and our love—will always be a glorious wonder to me.”
The End
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the readers of my first book, The Christmas Tree Keeper, who cared about the characters and story and asked for more. Their enthusiasm and confidence kept me going through countless rewrites and revisions.
I give sincere thanks to Anna DeStefano of Precision Editing. To Heidi Brockbank, Sabine Berlin, and Michele Preisendorf of Eschler Editing—the skilled editors who worked hard to help this story come to life. I am in awe of their expertise and wisdom.
I offer heartfelt thanks to Valerie and Peggy, my allies in the whirlwind, for their indispensable support. And to all of the fabulous members of ANWA, my writing group, for continued feedback and friendship.
To my beta readers and those who aided my research, for their vital insights: Cathy, Valerie, Peggy, Jorie, Sofia, and Spencer.
To Laura J. Miller for her gorgeous cover work and E. A. Smart III for another lovely and fitting illustration.
I owe the most gratitude to my family for their love and support. To Steven for tireless tech support. To Marissa for celebrating the milestones with me. To Lauren who, when I was so close to the finish line said, “You can do it, Mom.” And to Grandma Johnson who advised, “The book could have a little more kissing.”
And to my husband Steve, for making room, not just for a room full of books but for a girl who likes to write them.
About the Author
Tamara Passey, author of the #1 Amazon bestseller, The Christmas Tree Keeper: A Novel, loves crafting a story. She was born and raised in Massachusetts around a large family, one that has served as inspiration for most of her writing. She was named Arizona Young Mother of the Year in 2013 and contributes marriage and family articles to FamilyShare.com. She loves most creative endeavors and when she isn't writing, you can find her reading, baking, or cross-stitching. She lives with her husband and children in Arizona.
Visit Tamara and sign-up for her newsletter online at www.tamarapassey.com.
The Tree Keeper's Promise: A Novel (A Shafer Farm Romance Book 2) Page 21
