Page 22 of A Little Merry

As we continued to walk along, I thought about the whole cutting down a living tree and realized I didn’t want to do that. I couldn’t purposely be responsible for killing a perfectly lovely tree, albeit a Christmas tree.

“Do they sell any with their roots, so I or rather we can replant them after the holidays?”

“Yeah, they do, as a matter of fact. If the tree is small enough, they’ll pull it up and put it in a pot for you, if that’s what you want. Personally, it doesn’t matter to me, either way.”

“Great. If it doesn’t matter, then I can’t kill two of these lovely trees, but I would love to take home this little guy, and how about that one for you?” I pointed to a smaller one in the next row over. I stood in front of a four-foot tree that had somany branches, I could barely see a trunk. His couldn’t be more than three feet tall. Perfect for his shop. They were absolute perfection. They deserved to go on living after Christmas.

“I don’t know. This one might be too big to dig up with its roots. The other one is perfect.”

“Can we ask?”

“Sure,” he said. “Let me do the talking. I know the owners, and he grabbed the tags to take back up to the barn while I sat with our trees.

While he was gone, I had a little talk with the universe, asking for the honor of becoming this tree’s mama. Wanting to take it home and promising to decorate it this year and every year from now on. I even gave it a gender, a boy, and named him Nick.

As far as Connor’s little tree… I named her Jingle Bells, and I made the same promise to her as well.

When I saw Connor on his way back, while hanging off the side of a small backhoe, I knew my ask had been granted.

I let out a loud squeal and hugged both of our new baby pine trees.

It took Joe, with the hoe, approximately one minute to uproot thick Nick, and another minute to uproot Miss Jingle Bells, my new fierce evergreen friends.

Once Nick and Jingle were safely out of the ground, we followed Joe back to pay. Once they were placed in their new red pots and watered, they were even taller than either of us had expected. And once we got them back home, and I placed Nick on the small square table my dad had constructed in college for his dorm room, Nick shot up to be as tall as me.

For now, little Miss Bells sat on the wide windowsill, gazing down on her new hometown.

I cracked open a bottle of Prosecco, added a shot of OJ to our glasses, set out our meal on the table, and for the next hour, wesat and chatted about everything from his coffee shop to my past and why I moved to Cricket. We truly got to know each other, which had seemed impossible yesterday morning when we first met.

Now, as I sat across from him, on my third glass of wine, full on some of the best pie I’d ever tasted, I felt as though I had known him all my life. Not only was he easy to talk to, but he was easy on my eyes, had an infectious laugh, and a wicked sense of humor, which I absolutely loved.

“I can’t believe you were ever a scrawny twenty-year old,” I told him, admiring his broad shoulders and muscled chest. The man was simply delicious to look at and fun to be around.

“You can’t hang with Lucas without hopping onto his workout workshops. He’s an amazing coach. But I can’t believe you once hated Christmas,” he said, after I’d confessed my deepest secret.

Not the why, just the result. “I did. For the longest time. So, I can relate to you and your two best friends. I know what it feels like to hate the happiest time of the year, and I will do anything to make each of you love it again. I think I succeeded with Ethan. Lucas is still a work in progress, and you… well… maybe once you watch my favorite ChristmasGilmore Girlsepisode, you’ll come around. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll do anything to bring you back around.”

He blinked a couple of times, then crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Wait a minute… did you say anything?”

I chuckled at his inuendo. “Within reason, of course. I won’t hurt anybody or any living creature, but I’ll try my hardest to help you love Christmas again.”

“Like you did for Ethan?”

“I suppose he told you about us?”

“Not the details, but yes. He might’ve mentioned a thing or two about painting on a new… um… canvas.”

He sipped on his mimosa, which was almost gone.

I leaned on the table, thinking how I’d like to feel his mouth on mine. “Ethan was easy. He wanted to love Christmas again, but he thought society wouldn’t let him. Once I convinced him that it didn’t matter what anybody else thought, he embraced his inner joy. Despite the little tree you bought today, I can tell you might be a bit more of a challenge.”

He smirked, and my insides turned to mush.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because your reason is triggered by a memory… a strong, hurtful memory.”

“Maybe it’s time to let it go… although, I like being the town grump.”

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