Page 70 of Snowflakes at the Little Christmas Tree Farm
When he comes back from another run into the Balsam firs, he’s got another fallen tree, which he saws at the base and rolls alongside the previous one.
I can tell he’s flagging when he goes to get the third one. His shoulders sag and even from this far away, I can see how rapidly his chest is rising and falling, how every time he bends over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, it takes him longer to get back up.
By the time I’ve dug the second channel all the way out to the edge of the land and back to where Noel is, I’m knackered. My limbs are shaky from the exertion, my legs are burning, my arms are trembling from the frenzied digging, and my fingers are cramping after being wrapped so tightly around the handle of the shovel for so long. Noel’s panting for breath but he doesn’t stop working, pushing a third huge tree trunk into a formation between the river and the Balsams.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says without looking up.
The words hang in the air between us. No emphasis. No explanation. I’m not even certain that he’s talking about the auction.
I push my shovel into the ground and lean on it, letting out a huge sigh. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because of this. Because I knew what it would look like. Because I didn’t intend to get involved. I certainly didn’t intend to fall in love with you.’ He sinks to his knees and leans over, his elbows on his thighs, his chest heaving. He looks so shattered he could collapse.
Every part of me is sodden and heavy with rain, but his words make me feel like the sun has just come out. Butterflies in my belly take flight under sunny skies and rainbows.
‘You’re wrong, you know,’ he says. ‘About everything you’re thinking. I know what it looks like, and Idon’tblame you for thinking it, but it’s not that at all.’
The rain is bouncing off his shoulders and all I want to do is wrap myself around him and give him a hug. I force myself to think sensibly and get to the bottom of this while he’s talking. ‘You’ve done so much for this place, spent so much time helping me and teaching me. You’ve let me use your land for the caravanandthe space on your stall. You’ve grown trees for me. You’ve gone out of your way to make sure customers come back this year, and from day one, you’ve said I don’t belong here. Why would you do any of that if you’re not planning on being the next buyer? You’ve made it blazingly obvious that you don’t think I’m going to stay.’
‘Ithoughtthat. I don’t still think it. You’ve surprised me every day. You’veimpressedme every day with your fresh ideas and positivity. You’ve made me feel excited about life again because of how muchyou’reexcited about this place. I was trying my hardest not to get close to you, because the last time I fell in love with someone …’ His voice breaks and he stops.
‘They took everything they could get out of you and then left?’
He looks away.
‘How could you ever think that?’ I ask, even though I already know the answer is because of how badly he’s been hurt before. ‘You’re amazing, Noel. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. You’ve made me believe in myself. You’ve made me believe in magic. You’ve made me laugh when it was the last thing I felt like doing. You’ve made me feel capable of jumping headfirst into this huge life change and like I wasn’t crazy for doing it. And you’ve made me feel like I’m home.’
‘You’ve made me feel things too, Lee. You’ve reminded me of what it’s like tofeel, to connect to someone other than a Chihuahua. I was existing in a closed-off box until you got here, and you reminded me of what it’s like to have someone to share your life with, to let someone be part of the good times and the bad. I never thought I’d want to let anyone in again, but I didn’t have a choice with you. You were under my skin from the moment you walked off with my dog on the first day, and I’ve been falling for you every moment since then. You think I haven’t been aware of this lie between us for every second of every day? I missed the opportunity to tell you when we first met, and it just got worse from there. I knew what it looked like. I knew what you’d think because I’d think exactly the same thing. And I was too head-over-heels to risk what I knew would happen when you found out.’
His words make my legs feel weaker than they do anyway. The urge to throw my arms around him doesn’t dissipate, and I kind of hate myself for thinking the worst of him without even giving him a chance to explain. ‘Why didn’t you buy it yourself?’
‘I tried, but Evergreene’s son refused to sell it to me. He hated my guts because Evergreene was like a grandfather to me, but their relationship was strained and uncomfortable. He wasn’t interested in this place. He ransacked it for valuables and handed it over to the estate agent, but no one wanted it. I remained the only offer, he still refused to sell to me, they got fed up with him, he got fed up with no one falling over themselves to throw money at him, and it ended up going for auction.’
‘And you were going to win the bid.’
‘I wasn’t giving up without a fight. Even though he’d refused my offer, I had every right to bid on the auction, and the winning bid is a legally binding contract. He knew it and I knew it. That’s why it took so long for him to give up and send it to auction – because he knew there was a good chance I’d win.’
‘Why didn’t Evergreene just leave it to you?’
‘Because he had more faith in his son than he deserved. He thought that inheriting it would inspire some as-yet-undiscovered sentimental side and bring him back here to become a Christmas tree farmer. All he wanted was for this to stay a family business, for his son to take over from him like he’d taken over from his father and his father from the father before him. I’ll always be second best to his real son, but I love this farm as much as he did, and he would’ve loved you. You’ve got the relentless enthusiasm a place like this needs. And buying a Christmas tree farm without even seeing it is exactly the sort of thing he’d have done.’
‘You’re not second best.’ I sink down beside him and my knees splash droplets of mud over us both. I slide my hand down the side of his face and lift his head, forcing him to look at me. ‘You’re knackered, but you’ll never be second best.’
He closes his eyes against the relentless rain and lets out a long breath, and I brush his hair back where I’m still holding his head up. ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you when I found out and given you a chance to explain. Iknewyou weren’t like that, Noel, but I shut down and pushed you away.’
‘I should have told you. God, I know Ishouldhave, but I knew it would make you question my—’
I kiss him. I half-expect him not to respond, but I can’t stop myself doing it anyway, and my hands tighten in his hair when he surges up and kisses me back, letting out a moan of desire that echoes how I’m feeling too.
His arms slide around my waist and he overbalances, pulling me down with him until I’m lying on top of him in the mud, our wet clothes dragging against each other’s as his lips don’t leave mine.
His hair is wet, tangled, muddy, and so is mine as his fingers stroke through it and pull it aside. His lips trail across my jaw and down my neck, his wet skin sliding against mine, my fingers curling into the sodden material of his long-sleeved T-shirt. Everything’s wet and slippery and I’m pretty sure we’re both covered in more mud than you would generally want from a kiss, but none of it matters, because he’s here and he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Everything but his kiss has faded away. I’ve forgotten how cold I am, how wet I am, and how much water is still pooling around us. I haven’t forgotten how shaky my limbs are but I’m not sure if that’s from the digging or just a side-effect of kissing Noel. I vaguely register the rumble of cars on the road and the slamming of doors, but I don’t think anything of it.
‘And you tried to tell us there was nothing going on between you.’ Fiona clears her throat and Fergus lets out a whoop.
‘See? I told you they were getting jiggy with it!’
