Page 9 of Evan

I meet her gaze. My pulse picks up as I search her eyes. "I’m glad to hear it.”

She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and I feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her. To pull her close and breathe in the scent of her hair, the softness of her skin.

But I resist pushing the thought away. We're friends, nothing more. And I’m not looking for one more reason to be tied to this town, even if that reason has the most captivating hazel eyes I’ve ever seen.

Instead, I turn to Chad, clapping him on the shoulder. "All right, buddy. Let's get to work, shall we? Maybe your mom can work on a wreath for you to take home while we finish stacking the wood.”

Chad giggles, his face lighting up with mischief. "Okay."

I’m surprised by Chad’s enthusiasm to stack wood, but then I’m reminded of when I was a young boy, happy to do anything with my dad on the farm.

As we set off towards the barn, Molly falls into step beside me, and I feel a sense of rightness settle over me. I’m glad there aren’t any customers to take me away from this moment.

Just inside the doorway of the barn, I show Molly the pile of boughs, cut wire, and tools needed to create a wreath of her own. “Go ahead and get started. It won’t take us long to stack this wood.”

As the sun sets behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, we finish up the woodpile and make our way inside the barn. Chad is dragging his feet now, his energy flagging after a long day of excitement and adventure. Molly is holding up a beautiful wreath, admiring her work.

“Wow,” I look at the perfectly symmetrical circle of evergreen branches. “You didn’t tell me you were an expert wreath builder.”

Molly’s cheeks blush and I search for anything else to say to keep the flush of happiness on her face. “I’m not, but this was so much fun.”

“You want a job?” I asked, half serious, but suddenly the idea is the best one I’ve had in years. Molly raises a brow, her eyes searching mine. She can’t tell if I’m joking or not. “Seriously.” A plan formulates in my mind. “You can work here as little or as much as you’d like when you’re not at the diner. The pay isn’t monumental, but I’ll do the best I can. And I’d be happy to keep Chad here with me after school.” I can see the thought racing through her mind. “Just for the holiday season. I think it would help both of us out.”

She brushes the hair back from her face. “I…I… I think that would be amazing.”Her eyes are glowing, and I can’t tell if they’re lit with emotion or barn light. “You’re an answer to a prayer.”

Chad tugs on his mom’s sleeve. “Do we get to work for Mr. Evan?” His tired eyes brighten. Molly scoops him up, balancing him on her hip with a practiced ease. "I think so.” She glances at me, and I exhale. “But first we better get you home to bed," she says, her voice warm with affection.

I nod, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of saying goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She smiles, her eyes searching mine. “I’ve got the morning shift, but we can come after I pick Chad up from school.”

“That’ll be great.” I can already feel the anticipation for tomorrow, like a seedling ready to sprout.

We stand there for a moment; the silence stretching between us, heavy with unspoken words and unspoken feelings. Then Chad yawns, his head drooping against Molly's shoulder, and the spell is broken.

"I should get him home," Molly says, her voice soft with regret. "See you tomorrow."

I nod, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “See you then.”

As I watch them drive away, the taillights of Molly's car disappearing into the gathering dusk, I head back to the barn, my mind already racing with plans for tomorrow.

Suddenly, the tree farm feels new and exciting, and it’s all because of Molly and Chad.Perhaps there’s hope for even a grumpy old Scrooge like me finding his Christmas spirit.

I smile to myself, shaking my head at the thought. It's a cheesy sentiment, the kind you'd find on a holiday card or a made-for-TV movie. But somehow, standing here in the fading light of a December evening, it feels true.

Feels right.

I take one last look around the farm, at the trees and the barn and the house that's waiting for me just beyond and for the first time in a very long time, I’m happy to be home.

Six

BETTY

The chilly December air fills my lungs as I appear at the edge of Evan's Christmas tree farm, the scent of foliage and damp earth mingling in a fragrant dance. It's early, the sun just beginning its steady rise, but already I can sense the stirring of life, the gentle hum of anticipation that heralds the start of another day.

I walk among the rows of trees, my fingers trailing over the frost-kissed needles, marveling at the way they glisten in the nascent light. Each one is a tiny miracle, a witness to the power of nature, of growth, of the indomitable spirit that drives all living things to reach for the heavens.

And yet, as I attune my angelic senses to the farm's energy, I feel an undercurrent of restlessness, of discontent. It's Evan, I know, his spirit still yearning for something more, something beyond the confines of this small-town life.

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