Page 32 of Home for Christmas in July

“Where would I hide an envelope up here?” I wonder aloud.

He shakes his head. “I guess we can start turning over rocks.”

“Yikes, no. I’m looking for a clue not a nest of timber rattlers.”

“Fair point.”

We stand in stymied silence staring at the rocky ground for a long moment. Then I walk to the edge of the rock and look down. The landscape dissolves into a fuzzy, long-ago memory and I whip my head around and ask, “Is there an easy way down to the blueberry bushes?”

“Sure. It’s a steep footpath, but it’s well-worn. You need a snack?”

“I wouldn’t turn down fresh blueberries. But no, I just remembered something.” My words tumble out in a rush. “Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, Mistletoe Mountain had an Elf Troop.”

“A what now?”

“It was a coed scouting program. It disbanded at some point. But when I was in elementary and middle school,everyonewas in the Elf Troop. And for a few years in the late eighties, letterboxing was all the rage. I know there was a letterbox under the buckthorns. I remember stamping my log there.”

He gives me a blank look. “Letterboxing?”

I grin at the memory. “An outdoor treasure hunt. Think geocaching, but analog. A lot of the clues were word of mouth, and some of them were in theMistletoe Missive. We’d search for these weatherproof boxes. When you found one, you wanted to remove it in secret so you wouldn’t ruin the game for anyone else. Inside, there was an ink pad and a stamp to add to your personal logbook, along with a logbook that you would stamp with your stamp. Then you put everything back and hid the box again.”

“Letterboxing, huh? Never heard of it. And everyone in town did this?”

“Everyone,” I confirmed. “And I specifically remember that Carol, Rudy, and I found the letterbox buried under the buckthorn trees together. We were the third group to stamp the log.” I nod toward the blueberry bushes.

“Huh. You know if the box was still there when the trees were dug up, it might have been destroyed or removed.”

“Sure. But there’s only one way to find out.”

We each take another drink of cool water before closing up our bottles and shouldering our packs. We step off theledge and edge our way down the steep hill, sliding through loose soil and gravel as we descend. Nick’s in the lead, which turns out to be both good and bad.

It’s good, because when I get too much momentum and slam into his back, hard, he breaks my fall. And it’s bad, because when I crash into him, I send both of us tumbling into the tangle of blueberry bushes.

“Oof.” He lands on his stomach with his head under a bush and me sprawled out over his back in a superman position.

I yelp and scrabble off him. I roll onto my back in the dirt beside him, breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” I whimper when I have enough air in my lungs to speak.

Next to me, his broad shoulders shake.

“Are you okay?” I pop up and prop myself onto one elbow, worried that I hurt him. Then he flops over on his back and I can see that he’s shaking with silent laughter. I smack him lightly on the chest. “You scared me!”

He grabs my wrist and holds it flat against his beating heart. “I’m just glad blueberry bushes don’t have thorns.”

Now we’re both laughing, big whooping laughs, as we imagine getting a face full of thorns. His eyes soften, and I realize he’s stroking the underside of my wrist. My throat tightens and my laughter dies. I disengage my hand and sit up.

“Come on. Let’s look for the box.”

He cocks his head and gives me a searching look that I pretend not to notice as I push aside the nearest bunch of branches and peer into the bushes. He squats beside me and swims his arms through the next bush. We spot the greenplastic container nestled at the base of his bush at the same time. We both reach for it.

He pulls back his hand. “You do the honors.”

“Thanks.” I grab the strap and drag the waterproof box through the bushes.

He leans in to examine the container. “Is that a decon container?”

I nod. “Yeah, the troop bought a bunch of them from the army surplus store. They’re perfect letterboxing boxes.”

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