Page 74 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
“Tonight, we’re going to warm up, get some rest, and wait for the storm to pass. Tomorrow, we’ll assess the damage and figure out what needs to be done.”
I cuddle against him, and his arms wrap around me. I’m so thankful he’s here with me. Just his presence gives me strength.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JJ—
The ridgeline that once bore next year’s crop of trees is now barren except for a few half-charred trunks. There are also several other rows of trees toppled from the strong winds, and most of our pre-cut trees set in stands in front of the cabin have been blown over. Branches and shrubbery litter the road.
The gift shop appears to be intact, but the little kiosk we use for ringing up the trees has some roof damage. All this I survey from just a quick walk of the property. It’s barely sunrise, but I wanted to know what we were getting into before Rebecca woke up. She was really torn up about it last night, and I can only imagine what she’ll think when she sees the destruction.
Returning to the cabin, I start a pot of coffee. I’m definitely going to need some caffeine to get through today.
It’s not long before the aroma wakes Rebecca, and she shuffles into the kitchen.
My eyes trail over her body. She may be slow moving, but she’s already dressed in boots, thick leggings, and an oversized sweatshirt with our logo printed on it.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please. Have you checked the damage yet?”
I pour coffee into two thermoses and hand her one. “Yep.” I don’t elaborate.
“Is it bad?”
“It’s… not good, babe.”
She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes like she’s mentally preparing herself. “Okay, let’s go see it.”
We walk the property, and I point out all the destruction I saw earlier. Plus, we walk a bit farther, noticing half of our wooden sign at the front of the property has fallen over on one side.
With each new problem we see, I notice a little of the hope drain from her face. By the time we return to the cabin, she looks completely defeated.
“How will we ever recover from this? I mean even if we get it up and running by Saturday, how are we going to make up for next year’s crop?” She sits at the table and drops her head into her hands.
It cuts me, seeing how much this place means to her and watching her dream disappear. I lay a hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “Hey, what happened to my little optimist?” I try to tease.
“She had the rug pulled out from under her again,” Becca mumbles into her hands, not bothering to look up.
“Come on, baby.” I slide a chair next to her and tug her onto my lap.
She immediately bursts into tears, her head dropping to my shoulder. “I guess you’ll get what you wanted.”
I ease back. “What are you talking about?”
She lifts her face to me, dashing away the tears streaking down her cheeks. “You never wanted this place.” She gestures toward the outside. “Now, I’m sure to fail. What was I thinking? I could never handle something this big. It was all just a foolish pipedream.”
The words sound like something she’s heard before—something my brother would have said.
“I don’t think that,” I whisper. “Okay, sure, I didn’t want the place, but I see how talented and capable you are here. How good this place is for you.”
“Well, now it’s gone.”
“All right, Becca, knock that shit off. Work the problem just like you always do. Pull out a list or clipboard or whatever shit you do that has you coming up with brilliant ideas. I’m here. I’ll pull in help. But you need to get your head straight.”
She blinks at me like she can’t believe I just said that to her, and I wonder if I crossed a line.
“You’re right. I’m not some mopey person.”
