"You sure do," Duncan said, looking at her in his rear-view mirror, grinning at her enthusiasm. This was the most animated he had seen her since the funeral, which justified his decision to stay away from work another day.
Plus, it gave him another chance to see Miriam.
This morning he had gotten another call from Les to make sure he stayed away from work. He wanted to, but couldn't bring himself to stay away completely, so he hit upon the idea to take Celia and Miriam out to the bush to cut down a Christmas tree. That way he could stop at the block, make sure everything was okay.
"Can we have two trees?" Celia asked. "Can I have one in my bedroom?"
"That's up to Miriam," Duncan said, glancing over at her again.
"I think that's a great idea," Miriam said, looking back at Celia, smiling gently. She looked cute with her bright-pink toque, a happy contrast to her copper hair, a puffy, down-filled jacket, blue jeans, and those same flimsy boots she'd worn each time he saw her outside.
"Are your feet warm enough?" he asked, cranking up the heat a bit more.
"I'm good." She grinned, and he couldn't help but return it. He thought being around her would be awkward, especially after last night, but somehow it wasn't.
"But they might not be so warm once we start tramping through the snow. Did you try any of Francine’s—" he choked off the question, before he could finish it.
A shadow of pain flitted across her face as, once again, they both stumbled up against their loss.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
"It's fine. I did try some of them on, but none of them fit." She kept her voice down, as if talking about Francine's boots in front of Celia made her feel guilty.
"You should have told me. I'm sure I could have found something at my mom's place that Esther used to wear."
"I'm okay."
"I know where to go so it won't take that long. And you could stay in the truck, if you want."
"Are you kidding? Cutting down a Christmas tree? In the woods?" Miriam held up her phone. "I'm documenting this. My friends back in Vancouver will be impressed."
"Can we decorate the trees when we get home?" Celia asked.
"We sure can," Miriam said.
"Do you know where the decorations are?" Duncan spun his truck around the next corner, part of his attention on the truckers chattering over the CB radio, the other half on his passengers.
"I found a box when I was cleaning up."
"I'm sorry that no one was around to help you with that job. I should have—"
"It's okay." Miriam waved her hand as if absolving him. "I didn't want to put any more burdens on your family. Your mom is busy, and your sister is in school."
"And I'm a workaholic, according to my partner."
"Are you really?"
Duncan shrugged, his mind shifting back to Les' comment. To the reason he started being so busy. Did it matter anymore? Did he still need to go full-tilt?
"I like to keep busy."
"I know the feeling," Miriam murmured.
"How much farther do we have to go?" Celia asked.
"Not much farther," Duncan said, unhooking the mic from the radio as he got close to the bridge. Truckers and loggers had been jabbering away on it ever since he got within receiving distance, but from what he could hear, things were going well. They hadn't met any logging trucks yet. They'd missed the morning run. He clicked the button on the side of the mic. "Pickup at 10 bridge empty," he muttered into the handset, then hooked it back on the dashboard.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
Duncan shot me a puzzled glanced. "What does what mean?"
"What you just said. About 10 bridge empty."
He laughed. "Sorry, it's so automatic, I didn't even realize I was doing it. I was just calling my kilometers."
"Still confused."
"See those markers on the side of the road? Each one marks a kilometer from the beginning of the haul road, the main road that trucks and equipment go down. So we're about 10 kilometers down the haul road now. The markers let everyone know where everyone is. The road is narrow, and the logging trucks are big, and you don't want to run into one. So every vehicle that goes down this way calls out where they are. Empty means you're going in. Loaded means you're going out. So if I hear a truck call out on the radio that they're at 15 and they're loaded, then that means it's either a log truck or another vehicle coming toward me, and I should watch out for them because we're at kilometer 10 and he's at kilometer 15."
"So you actually do get to use that school-math equation."
Now it was his turn to be confused. "Which equation?"
"The classic, 'if vehicle A is driving 60 kilometers an hour and vehicle B is driving 50 and they are so many kilometers apart, how long before they meet each other.' I could never understand the practical application of that, but here it is. The whole reason for that equation's existence."
Duncan laughed. "Unfortunately, I'm not that smart. I just figure I should watch out for the next few minutes."
"Hey, you pirate," a familiar voice squawked over the radio. "You're supposed to be taking today off, too."
Les. Trust him to be sitting by the radio at just that time.
"I am," Duncan said into the mic. "Just taking Celia and Miriam out to cut down a Christmas tree before you mow them all down."
"There's a really nice patch just back of where
Anton is working."
"I know. I pushed the road in there with the Cat the other day." Duncan glanced at the clock on the dash. "I'll be at the block in about ten minutes."
"Everything's going great. You don't need to check in."
Duncan hesitated. He knew if he stopped by the site he would see something going on that annoyed him. Or something that wasn't being done the way he liked. But he still felt he should.
"Let. It. Go." Les put heavy emphasis on each word.
"Are you sure?"
"All. Is. Well. Don't make me spell it out for you. Take the lovely Miriam and impress her with your manly lumberjack skills."
Duncan felt his neck warm and couldn't stop a glance Miriam's way. Though she was looking out the window he knew she had heard every word.
Did it matter? He wasn't sure, but for now he could look forward to some time with her, and for some reason it felt good.
"Then I'll see you Wednesday."
"That's soon enough."
Duncan hung the mic up, then turned down a spur road. This road was even narrower, and as Duncan called out where he was, he was glad to know they wouldn't meet a loaded log truck on this one. They rode past the block road that would lead to where his equipment was working, fighting down a feeling of the usual guilt. His men were working and he was gallivanting around getting Christmas trees.
No. He was spending time with his niece. As he promised Miriam he would.
For a moment he felt conflicted, but when he glanced over at Miriam and caught him looking at him with a curious smile, he felt better about the situation.
"We have to stop here," Duncan said, parking the truck in a pullout and turning it off. "We have to walk into the bush a ways."
"I'm getting a tree. I'm getting a tree," Celia sang, unbuckling her seat belt and standing by the door. Her excitement was infectious, and as Miriam took her out and brought her around the truck to join him, Duncan smiled down at her.
She reached out one mittened hand and grabbed his, swinging it.
His heart melted. Just a bit.
"I've got to lead the way," Duncan told her, releasing her hand, but patting her on her shoulder. "The trail is just up ahead." He looked at Miriam's boots. "Just step in my footsteps and hopefully your feet won't get too wet."
"I'll be okay," she said with a grin, her eyes bright, her cheeks pink.
He held her gaze a beat longer than necessary, attraction flickering through him. Then he grabbed the saw he had taken and plunged into the bush, taking small steps for Miriam and Celia, trying to shake as much of the snow off
the trees as possible so that it wouldn't rain down on them as they came through.
At the clearing he waited for them to catch up.
"So, we can look around a bit," he said. "Let me know which one you want Celia and I'll see if it will be good."
Celia immediately ran up to the first one close to her. "I want this one."
"Let's get rid of the snow and we'll see if it's thick enough." He grabbed a branch and shook. Snow showered down on him, and Celia laughed. Aloud. The sound pierced his heart. This was the first time he'd heard her actually laugh. He shot a quick glance at Miriam, who was staring down at Celia, her lips pressed together. Then she looked up at him and smiled as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She snapped a photo before he could protest.
"Documentation," she told him with an arch look.
Duncan just shook his head in response, then stood back, angling his head this way and that. "You know what, sweetie? I don't think this is the one," he said. "We can do better."
They tromped through the clearing, checking a few more trees out and dismissed them.
Then, finally, there it was. Duncan could tell in spite of the layer of snow on its branches that it would be a good one. And it was.
"That one looks perfect," Miriam said, full of admiration. She pulled out her phone and took another photo.
"What do you think, Celia?" Duncan asked.
She frowned, tilting her head to one side, perfectly mimicking his actions of a few moments ago, which made him laugh. "I think it's good."
"Then down it goes," Duncan said, saluting her with his wood saw. He pushed the snow away from the base with his boot, getting as close to the ground as possible. He hunkered down and, ignoring the remnants of snow raining down his neck, started sawing.
A few minutes and a neck full of snow later, the tree was down.
"You two will have to help me drag it out," Duncan said, looking over at Miriam who was now on the opposite side of the tree, taking pictures with her phone.
Celia ran over to join Duncan, then stopped and spun around, her eyes wide, frightened.
"What's the matter, honey?" he asked, concerned at the fear on her face.
"I left Jane in the truck," she said, looking horrified. "I have to go back. She'll be so scared."
Duncan caught her by the arm, just before she took off down the trail. "She’ll be okay. She's just a doll."
Celia's eyes grew huge, and her mouth fell open in total shock. Then she flew at him, her arms flailing as she struck at him. "She's not just a doll. She's real. She's real."
Her voice was edged with angry panic, and Duncan dropped the tree trunk, catching her arms. Then, to stop her, he pulled her close, hugging her against him.
She squirmed against his restraint but he kept his arms tight as the fight slowly went out of her. Then she dropped her head against his shoulder. "She's not just a doll," she sobbed. Then she was clinging to him with a frightening level of desperation. "My mommy gave her to me. She said she was real. Mommy said she would be my own friend and that I could tell Jane anything. Jane is my friend. From my mo…mo…mommy." Her last words come out in a broken cry.
Duncan’s heart ached for her as she wilted against him, sobbing. His own throat thickened, too easily remembering his own recent tears.
And it finally clicked for him why Celia had been acting the way she did with her doll. It was her connection to her mother.
His sister.
Duncan choked down his own pain, holding Celia close, and as he did, he looked up to see Miriam looking at him, her fingers pressed against her lips, her cheeks wet with tears.
We're all hurting, he thought, hooking his arm around Celia and lifting her up. Then he walked over to Miriam, opened his arm to her and she leaned in. He laid his cheek on her hair, his own emotions veering from sorrow to a curious sense of connection. Of an emptiness in his life being filled.
They stood this way for a moment, joined by their sorrow. Finally Celia stopped crying and was the first to pull away, her hands planted on Duncan's chest.
"Can we go get Jane?" she asked, her voice catching on the words.
"Why don't you stay here," he said, his arm still around Miriam, holding Celia's concerned gaze. "It will be quicker for me to go get her. I'll be right back."
Celia nodded as she pulled in a shaky breath.
He gave her a reassuring smile then gave in to an impulse and brushed a light kiss on her damp cheek.
"I love you, Dunkle," Celia murmured, laying her head on his shoulder.
Duncan closed his eyes, her words piercing his soul. His gaze sought and found Miriam's. Though he would have liked to kiss her as well, for now he was content with simply looking at her, his arm holding her, her one hand resting on Celia's back, the other on his shoulder. Awareness, as real as a touch, arced between them, connecting them.
This feels right, he thought, his lips curving in a smile.
Their gaze lengthened, and his heart did a slow flip as she seemed to come closer. Her face grew blurry, and his breath quickened. She was going to kiss him. And he wanted her to.
Then Celia pulled away, patting him on the chest, and reality intruded.
"Are you getting Jane?" she asked, frowning at him. "I don't want her to be scared."
"I'll do that right now." He pulled his shaken wits together, catching his wayward breath. “Then I’ll come back and we can cut another tree.”
Miriam pulled away as he set Celia down in the snow. He touched her cold nose with his forefinger, slipped his gloves back on, and trekked back to the truck. His heavy boots dragged through the snow as he left Celia and Miriam behind, but at the same time he felt a lightness in his being that he had never felt before.
He wasn't sure what to do about it, but he stopped himself from analyzing it.
For now, life was good.
"Is this the good side?" Duncan looked over his shoulder at me from his position on the floor as he turned the heavy stand holding the largest tree.
I looked this way and that, then nodded, pulling in a deep breath of tangy, spruce-scented air. I couldn't remember the last time I had smelled a real Christmas tree.
"It looks amazing," was all I could say. The tree filled up the one corner of the living room, dominating the space.
"It's a big, big tree," Celia said, dancing from one side to the other, holding Jane up so the doll could see better. Her happiness surprised me. It was as if her breakdown in the forest had let out some of her own pain, and it helped me understand better why she acted the way she did with her doll.
Duncan pushed his way out from under the tree, sprinkling spruce needles on the carpet as he went.
"Sorry about the mess," he murmured getting to his feet and brushing the rest off his shoulder. "I'll clean it up."
"I'll take care of it," I said, standing back, still trying to take this all in.
A real tree. The wonder of it washed over me as I watched Celia skipping, her excitement making the coming festive season suddenly real. I glanced over at Duncan and thought of that moment we shared in the clearing. And the one before that. And before that.
I felt as if we had come full circle, and I couldn't deny the attraction building between us again.
I didn't want to spin plans and dreams around him. Plans always, always changed.
But yet…
"So, where are the ornaments and the lights for the tree?" Duncan was asking.
"I put them in the basement.”
"Getting them now," he said, turning and walking away.
Part of me wanted to stop him. Decorating a tree with him would add another layer of intimacy to a relationship that was already getting too comfortable.
"What are we doing now?" Celia asked, setting Jane on one corner of the couch. "Are we making the tree pretty? Like my mommy and daddy did last year?"
I tried to mask my surprise at her addressing me directly. Though she had been doing it from time to time, ever since her little breakdown this
afternoon, she stopped talking to me through Jane completely.
"We are," I said. "But first I have to give the tree some water so it stays nice and fresh."
Celia insisted on helping, and we managed to get most of the water from the watering can into the stand. By the time we were done blotting up the excess water and sweeping up the needles, Duncan was back, balancing three packing boxes one on top of the other. "Am I good or what?" he exclaimed setting the boxes marked 'lights' and 'ornaments' on the floor. "Plus, I found a fake tree down there, too, all packaged up."
"Well, if I had known that I could have saved myself cold, wet feet," I protested.
"I did offer to get you some other boots," Duncan grinned at me. "But you refused. Admit it. You enjoyed the adventure of getting our own tree."
His teasing tone made me smile. "I did. Truly."
The many pictures on my phone attested to that. I had given in to an impulse and sent Christine one of Duncan and Celia, dragging the tree through the snow. But as soon as it was sent, I shut off my phone. I knew she would call back with all kinds of questions. I wasn't ready to hear any other voice in my head. I was having a hard enough time sorting out my own emotions where Duncan was concerned.
"So, let's get this party started," he said with surprising enthusiasm.
"You sound almost as excited as Celia," I teased as he pulled open the flaps on a box.
He shot me a quick grin, which faded just a bit. "It's been a long time since Christmas has been fun for me."
Again, our eyes held. Again, other emotions were teased to the surface.
"Well let's see what we can do to make this one fun, too," I said, keeping my tone light.
While Duncan strung up the lights Celia and I went through the boxes of ornaments, trying to decide what we wanted to put on the tree. I couldn't believe the variety of colors and types. We could have decorated three trees with all the ornaments Francine had in the boxes.
Celia was sorting them according to how she wanted them hung on the tree. So far there was no rhyme or reason. Metal ornaments and wooden toys lay beside purple shiny balls and white snowflakes.
This Place: Holmes Crossing Book 3 Page 19
