Page 35 of Holly and Ivar
Ivar
Ittookeveryounceof strength Ivar had to sit and listen as Holly spoke about magic, and Santas, and power veins beneath the earth.
Now she was describing an Italian tradition—La Befana, a woman who rode a broom delivering gifts to children, how she was a distant branch of the Kringle family tree, and how that broom was carved from the tree they’d come across today.Holly said it all so matter-of-factly, as if ancient magic and airborne grandmothers were as normal as gravity.
But it wasn’t normal.None of it was.His entire definition of reality had shifted somewhere between the moment he threw his leg over a broomstick and the moment he realized the tree was humming, breathing, and living beneath his skin.
And yet… while standing before that tree, hand in hand with Holly, nothing had ever felt more right.
“I think it’s time I dropped you back at the inn,” he said at last, his voice quieter than he intended.“I need to go lie down.”
“Of course,” she said.“And I should let my family know.But I’ll walk from here.It’s not far.I just need the stuff out of your truck.”
He wanted to protest, to drive her to the inn, but exhaustion pressed down on him like snowfall.“Okay,” he murmured.
By the time he reached his cabin, the world had narrowed to muscle memory: boots off, jacket half-hung on a chair, lights left on.He barely made it to the couch before sleep claimed him.
And then he was back in the forest.
The clearing stretched wide and still, moonlight glinting off the snow.The Yule Tree towered above him, its branches glowing softly.He was drawn closer, moving as if carried by the flow of an invisible river.
The air shimmered.The bark of the tree rippled with faint light, threads of silver weaving downward into the ground, outward toward him.When they touched his boots, warmth surged up through his body.
At his feet, the snow melted away, revealing roots that coiled around his ankles and climbed higher, twining up his legs like vines.They didn’t wrap around him or bind him in any way.Instead, they merged with him, drawing him into the steady, deep, ancient rhythm of the earth.
Forest life seeped into him, threading through his veins until he could sense everything.The sleeping deer in the hollow, the frozen river under its skin of ice, the hibernating bears, the insects deep underground, the sap in the trees, the very heartbeat of the mountains themselves.
And through it all, a steady presence—Holly.A thread of light winding through him.Together, entwined, their hearts beat as one.
Voices carried on the wind, faint but clear, then growing louder and layered like music.Guardian.
He awoke with a jolt, the dream lingering like breath on glass.
He sat up slowly.The fatigue was gone.His mind was clear, his body light, his senses alive in a way he couldn’t explain.He could hear the creak of ice on the pond, the faint flutter of wings in the pines outside, the pulse of Al’s beating heart all the way from the inn.
He waswhole.
Then came the knock at his door.
19
unbe-leaf-able connection
Holly
Hollywasnotoneto procrastinate, yet that’s exactly what she was doing.There was no excuse for not calling her father the moment she discovered the Yule Tree.However, when she arrived at the inn from the Maple Mug, she headed straight for the shower.
As warm water cascaded over her shoulders, a strange sensation washed through her.A warmth pulsed from somewhere deep inside, like an echo of the connection she’d experienced at the tree.For a moment, her vision blurred.Roots spread beneath her feet, and vines of light climbed upward, twining around her.Hearts beat together.Whispers carried in the steam.Guardian.The word came unbidden to her mind, though she couldn’t say why.
She steadied herself against the shower wall, breathless, instinctively aware that these were not her thoughts, but Ivar’s.Was it lingering magic or something else?
Shutting off the hot water, she blasted herself with cold, letting it shock her back to her senses.“Okay, wow.Dramatic much?”she muttered.“I’m not that special.”
With efficiency, she dressed and picked up her phone, unable to procrastinate any longer.Dad would be at home, probably having dinner.She opened their private video app and called.
“Holly, darling.”It was her mother.“How are things in Vermont?”
“Interesting.Are both you and Dad there?Things have taken a bit of a turn.”
