Turning the gun off, I set it down and pull off my mask and eyewear. The blue and violet melt into each other, and I love how the blue drips into the green. The gold gives it a sheen, and once the handles are back on, I think it’ll look amazing.
I smile. I like it.
Removing the sling Jake had me put my arm in, I look down at the bandage, not seeing any blood seeping through. I don’t really need the sling, especially since it was my left arm injured, and I’ve been doing fine with just my right hand today, but Jake was right. Keeping it immobile helped with the pain.
I pop two aspirin with a drink of water and pass Noah and Jake as I walk back into the house.
Washing my hands, I look out the window, seeing the snow-drenched branches and needles, a light wind kicking up the powder on the rock cliffs around the barn and stable. From this view, the barn looks fine. I can’t see the other side and the whole corner burnt out. Thank goodness most of it is still useable. The boys spent the morning cleaning out the rubble and patching up what they could with the supplies we had on hand before laying down fresh hay.
The red light on my phone lights up as I dry my hands, and I turn it on to see a missed call from Mirai. I let out a sigh.
If I talk to her, what should I lead with? How I was injured by falling debris in a barn fire or how we were in a police chase or how I’ll be lucky to make it out of here next summer not pregnant?
No. I’m not ready to let the world in.
I ignore the call.
But I catch sight of the date on my phone and do a double take. It’s almost December. Christmas.
All of a sudden, I glance outside and see the trees that surround us. They look just like Christmas trees. I lean over the sink to check them out. I doubt Jake ever did much decorating when the boys were kids, but I’m sure he put a tree up. He’s not a Grinch.
And I’m sure he shopped for a tree right in his own backyard.
Pushing off the counter, I almost leap to the closet, grabbing my coat, hat, and gloves. I slip everything on quickly and then kick off my sneakers and slip my feet into my boots. Wrapping my scarf around my neck, I race through the kitchen and into the shop, grabbing a pair of cutters off the tool rack and stepping outside before Jake or Noah can pull their heads out of the bikes to ask me questions.
The cold nips at my cheeks and nose, but the clouds are rolling in, promising more snow, and something can’t keep the smile off my face. I step through the snow, knee deep as I climb the small incline between the stable and the shop toward the most perfect tree laying ahead. I noticed it months ago, but with the snow on it, it’s even more beautiful. It’s fifteen feet tall and full around the bottom as it grows into a sharp point at the top, perfect shape for a topper.
But I’m not cutting it down. And I won’t ask Jake to. No, it would be a shame.
I do need some fringe off it, though. It has plenty.
Walking up, I curl my toes in the boots against the cold snow that slipped in and bat at the branches, dusting off the snow.
I lean in, closing my eyes.
The scent of the pine and snow smells like Narnia and Christmas. I can almost smell the wrapping paper.
I reach out with my cutters and take one of the twigs attached to a bough. I squeeze the handle, prying the small branch left and right, but it’s frozen.
The crisp snow falls off a branch and lands on a sliver of my wrist, and I can almost taste the silvery flavor in the air. I pull at the twig, twisting it, but then suddenly someone reaches around me and slices the twig off in one swift motion.
I jerk my head, seeing Kaleb looking down at me. The hesitance that’s usually present in his eyes is gone, replaced with calm. He hands me the twig, and I take it.
“I wanted to make something for the house,” I say quietly.
But he doesn’t reply, of course. Kaleb doesn’t care what I’m doing or why.
Reaching out, he slices off another twig, the needles spreading their snow all over my boots as he holds the branch out to me.
I nod, taking it. I open my mouth to say thank you, but I stop myself. Instead, I meet his eyes and tell him with a small smile. Without waiting for him to walk away, I point to another one, and he reaches around me with both arms, cutting off the twig and laying it in my arms. I reach up, pointing to a higher branch, and he stretches above my head, working his blade again.
We move around the tree, picking nice, long twigs with dense needles, and I’m not sure how long our little truce will last, but I’m sure it will last longer the more I don’t talk.
The next branch breaks off, the snow on it sprinkling over me and landing on my eyelashes and nose. A glob lands right on my cheek, and I wince, shaking my head and brushing off my face. I smile, but I don’t laugh. I don’t make any sound. When I look up, Kaleb is watching me with an amused tilt to his lips.