Page 33 of Celebrating the Season

We crunched through the fresh powder, the crisp air biting at my exposed skin. I breathed deeply, savoring the sharp scent of pine and woodsmoke. This was my element—the quiet solitude of the forest, the challenge of taming nature’s fury.

I handed Boaz a snow shovel from the side of the porch. He took it gingerly, eyeing the long handle with trepidation.

“You know, when I said I’d help out around here, I was thinking more along the lines of washing dishes. Or alphabetizing your DVD collection.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or providing certain other…services.”

Heat bloomed in my chest that had nothing to do with exertion. I cleared my throat. “Services, huh? Well, how about you service this path first, hotshot?”

Boaz’s laugh rang out, bright and infectious. Despite the biting cold, warmth spread through me at the sound. There was something magnetic about his energy, his enthusiasm for life. It stirred feelings I’d long thought dormant.

“Alright, alright. Put me to work, you despot.” He brandished the shovel like a sword. “Point me at thy snow, good sir, and I shall vanquish it forthwith!”

I couldn’t help but grin at his antics. “Save some of that energy for later. We’ve got a long morning ahead of us.”

As I positioned my own shovel at the edge of the porch, I snuck another glance at Boaz. His cheeks were already flushed from the cold, dark curls peeking out from under his hat. He caught me looking and winked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Christ. What had I gotten myself into with this one?

I dug my shovel into the snow, the satisfying crunch breaking the crisp morning silence. Beside me, Boaz mirrored my movements, his brow furrowed in concentration. We fell into a steady rhythm, the repetitive motion almost meditative.

“So, uh, is there, like, a special technique to this?” Boaz asked between breaths, his words coming out in little puffs of vapor. “Or do I just keep scooping until my arms fall off?”

I chuckled, pausing to lean on my shovel. “Try to push more than lift. Use your legs, not your back. And take breaks when needed.”

“Roger that, boss man.” He flashed me a grin, then stumbled, nearly face-planting into a snowbank.

I reached out to steady him, my hand lingering on his arm. “Easy there. No need to impress me with your snow-shoveling prowess.”

Boaz laughed, the sound warming me more than any amount of physical exertion could. “What, you mean my natural grace and athleticism aren’t dazzling you?”

“Oh, I’m dazzled all right,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

We continued working, the pile of cleared snow growing. Boaz kept up a constant stream of chatter, jumping from topic to topic with dizzying speed. His energy and ability to find humor and excitement in even the most mundane tasks captivated me.

After about an hour, I straightened, my back protesting. That’s when I noticed the view beyond our little bubble of activity. The morning sun had broken through the clouds, casting a glow across the snow-laden landscape. The trees glistened, their branches heavy with pristine white powder.

“Boaz,” I said softly, touching his arm to get his attention. “Look.”

He turned, following my gaze. His constant motion stilled for a moment as he took in the scene before us. “Holy shit,” he breathed, eyes wide with wonder. “That’s fucking beautiful.”

I nodded, drinking in not only the view but Boaz’s reaction. His face was open, awestruck, a childlike joy lighting up his features. It made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he continued, his voice quiet. “I mean, I’ve seen snow before, obviously. But not like…this. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

“It never gets old,” I admitted. “No matter how many winters I’ve seen, there’s always something magical about moments like this.”

Boaz turned to me, his brown eyes sparkling. “Thank you,” he said. “For sharing this with me. For…all of this.”

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. I swallowed hard, hyperaware of how close we were standing, of the warmth radiating from his body despite the cold air around us.

“You’re welcome.” I cleared my throat. “We should, uh, get back to work. The deck’s not gonna clear itself.”

Boaz nodded, but his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer.

We made our way toward the shed, and I noticed Boaz’s labored breathing. His usual chatter had dwindled to occasional grunts of effort and his movements were becoming sluggish. The kid was putting up a hell of a fight, but it was clear he was running on fumes.

“Hey,” I called out, leaning on my shovel. “How about we take a breather?”

Boaz looked up, his face flushed from exertion. “No, no, I’m good,” he panted, stubbornly pushing forward. “Need to catch my second wind.”

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