“And they look like Christmas because Heather hikes up every summer to shear them,” I say.
“They don’t grow wild like this?”
“Not all of them,” I say. “Dad likes to tell people we all need a little help getting in the spirit.”
“Your family likes metaphors,” Caleb says. He walks behind me and wraps me in a hug, letting his chin rest on my shoulder.
We quietly look at the trees together for several minutes.
“I love them,” he tells me. “They’re your little tree family.”
I lean to the side and look him in the eyes. “Now who’s being sentimental?”
“Have you ever thought of decorating them?” he asks.
“Heather and I did that once—in the most eco-friendly way possible, of course. We used pinecones and berries and flowers, plus some stars we bought made of birdseed and honey.”
“You brought gifts for the birdies?” he says. “Very cute.”
We climb back through the brush, and I turn around to admire my trees once more—probably the last time I’ll see them before I leave. I hold Caleb’s hand, not knowing how many more chances I’ll get to do this in my life. He points away, toward my family’s tree lot. From up here it looks like a small, softly lit rectangle. The lampposts and snowflakes that link between the trees brighten their deep green. There’s the Bigtop and the silver trailer. I can see bodies move between the trees, a mix of customers, workers, and maybe Mom and Dad. Caleb slides behind me again and wraps me in his arms.
This is home, I think. Down there . . . and right here.
He runs his hand down my arm that holds the flashlight, and then moves the beam of light slowly across my trees. “I’m counting five,” he says. “I thought you said there were six.”
My heart stops. I move the flashlight back across my trees. “One, two . . .” My heart shatters when I stop at five. I run back through the brush, sweeping the beam rapidly back and forth along the ground ahead of me. “It’s the first one! The big one.”
Caleb walks toward me through brush. Before he reaches me, he knocks his foot against something solid. I shine the light at his feet and then clasp a hand over my mouth. I kneel onto the soil beside the stump, which is all that remains of my oldest tree. At the top of the cut are small beads of dried sap.
Caleb kneels beside me. He takes the flashlight from me and holds both of my hands. “Someone fell in love with it,” he says. “It’s probably in their home now, all decorated and beautiful. It’s like a gift that—”
“It was a gift for me to give,” I say. “Not for someone to take.”
He eases me to my feet and I rest my cheek against his shoulder. After several minutes like this, we begin our walk back down the road. We walk slowly and say nothing. He gently guides me around any holes and rocks.
Then he stops, peering a few feet off the side of the road. I follow his gaze as he steps toward it. The flashlight illuminates the dark green of my tree, tossed on its side and left drying in the brush.
“They just left it here?” I say.
“I guess your tree put up a fight.”
I slump down and don’t bother holding back my tears. “I hate whoever did this!”
Caleb moves next to me and rests a hand on my back. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell me it’ll be all right or judge me for how worked up I am over a tree. He simply understands.
Eventually, I get up. He brushes the tears from my face and looks me in the eyes. He still doesn’t speak, but I know he’s with me.
“I wish I could explain why I’m acting like this,” I say, but he closes his eyes and then I close mine, and I know I don’t need to.
I look at the tree again. Whoever saw it up there, they thought it looked so beautiful. They thought they could make it more beautiful. And they tried, they really wanted it, but it was too much for them.
So they left it.
“I don’t want to be here,” I say.
Caleb walks behind me, aiming the light at my feet as I lead us away.
When Heather calls to see if she can hang out at the lot, I tell her about the tree on Cardinals Peak and that I may not be the best company. Because she knows me well, she comes right over. She tells me I’ve been a “tree-delivering ghost” this year and she’s sad we haven’t spent as much time together. I remind her that whenever I’ve had an hour or two free, she’s been with Devon.
“So much for Operation Ditch the Boyfriend,” I say.
Heather helps me restock the drink station. “I suppose I never really wanted to ditch him, I just wanted him to be a better boyfriend. We started off so great but then he got . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Complacent?”
She rolls her eyes. “Sure. We’ll use one of your words.”
I catch her up on all the drama with Andrew and Dad, and how it required two talks to get my parents to understand why it isn’t an option to not see Caleb in the time we have left.
“Look at my girl putting her foot down,” Heather says. She takes my hand and squeezes it. “I still hope you come back next year, Sierra. But if not, I’m glad this one’s turning out the way it is.”
“I guess so,” I say. “But did it have to get so bumpy?”
“Well, now it means so much more,” she says. “Take me and Devon. He got complacent, right? Every day was the same thing and so boring. I was considering breaking up with him and then that Snow Queen thing happened. It caused tension, but then he gave me my perfect day. Where we are now, we earned this. And you and Caleb definitely earned these next few days.”
“I think we’ve earned enough for the next few years,” I say. “And Caleb’s earned enough for a lifetime.”
An hour later, Heather leaves to work on her surprise gift for Devon. The rest of the day moves slowly with customers trickling in. I count out the register at night and put everything away that needs to be locked up.
Mom walks over as I flip the switch to turn off the snowflake lights. “Dad and I would like to take you out to dinner,” she says.
We drive to Breakfast Express, and when we enter the packed train car, Caleb is filling a man’s coffee a few tables away. Without looking up, he says, “Be with you in a minute.”
“Take your time,” Dad says, smiling.
Caleb must be exhausted. He looks straight at us for several steps before he registers who we are. At that, he laughs and then grabs a few menus.
“You look tired,” I say.
“One guy called in sick so I came in early,” he says. “At least that means more tips.”
We follow him to an empty booth near the kitchen. After we sit, he sets down our napkins and silverware.
“I can probably buy two trees tomorrow,” he says. “People are still buying trees, right? Even though it’s so close to Christmas?”
“We’re still open,” Dad tells him. “But not as busy as you look here.”
Caleb leaves to get us some waters. I watch him walk away looking a bit frantic but completely adorable. When I glance across the table, Dad’s shaking his head at me.
“You’re going to have to learn to ignore your father,” Mom says. “That’s how I put up with him.”
Dad gives Mom a peck on the cheek. Twenty years in, she knows how to shut him down when he’s being ridiculous, but in a way that he loves.
“Mom, did you ever want to do anything besides work on the farm?” I ask.
She gives me a quizzical look. “It’s not what I went to college for, if that’s what you mean.”
Caleb returns with three waters and three wrapped straws. “Do you know what you’d like?”
“I am so sorry,” Mom says. “We haven’t even looked at our menus yet.”
“Don’t worry, that’s actually perfect,” Caleb says. “There’s a lovely couple—I’m being sarcastic??
?who apparently need more of my attention.”
He darts off, and Mom and Dad pick up their menus.
“But do you ever have days when you wonder?” I ask. “What would your life have been like if it didn’t entirely revolve around a holiday?”
Mom puts her menu down and studies me. “Do you regret this, Sierra?”
“No,” I say, “but it’s all I’ve known. You at least had some normal Christmases before you got married. You have something to compare it to.”
“I have never regretted the life I chose,” Mom says. “And it was my choice, so I can be proud of that. I chose this life with your dad.”
“It’s been an interesting life, that’s for sure,” Dad says.
I pretend to read the menu. “It’s been an interesting year.”
“And there are only a few days left,” Mom says. When I glance up, she’s looking sorrowfully at Dad.
The next afternoon, Caleb’s truck pulls up to the lot with Jeremiah in the passenger seat. The way they get out laughing and talking, they look like two guys who’ve never had a painful gap in their friendship.
Luis walks up to them and takes off a work glove to shake their hands. They all chat briefly before Caleb and Jeremiah head to the Bigtop.
“Lot girl!” Jeremiah says, offering me a fist bump. “My boy says you may need extra help pulling this place down on Christmas. Where do I sign up?”
“Won’t you have plans with your family?” I ask.
“We do all our presents Christmas Eve before mass,” he says. “Then we sleep in and watch football all day. But I kind of owe you one, you know?”
I look between the two of them. “So everything’s okay here?”
Jeremiah looks down. “My parents don’t exactly know where I am right now. Cassandra’s covering for me.”
“She’s covering on one condition,” Caleb says. He looks at me. “On New Year’s Eve this guy’s the designated driver for the entire cheer squad.”
Jeremiah laughs. “It’s a tough job, but I’m up for it.” He starts walking backward away from us. “I’m going to find your dad to ask about teardown.”
“What about you?” I say to Caleb. “Are you going to help us tear the place down?”
“I’d spend the day here if I could,” he says, “but we have traditions I wouldn’t feel good about leaving. You can understand, right?”
“Of course. And I’m glad you can all be together,” I say. Even though I mean it, I won’t be glad to see Christmas morning come. “If you can find any time to duck out, I’ll be at Heather’s for a little while, exchanging gifts with her and Devon.”
He smiles, but his eyes mirror the same sadness I feel. “I’ll make it work.”
While we wait for Jeremiah to return, neither one of us knows what else to say. Leaving feels so real now . . . and so soon. A couple of weeks ago it felt like this day was far away. We had time to see what could happen and how far we could fall. Now it feels like it all happened too late.
Caleb takes my hand and I follow him around to the back of the trailer, away from anyone. Before I can ask what we’re doing, we’re kissing. He’s kissing me and I kiss him like it could be the last time. I can’t stop wondering if this is the last time.
When he pulls back, his lips are deep red and a little swollen. Mine feel the same. He holds the side of my face and we press our foreheads together.
“I’m sorry I can’t help on Christmas,” he says.
“We only have a few days,” I tell him. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“Come with me to the candlelight service,” he says. “The one Abby told you about.”
I hesitate. I haven’t been to church in forever. It seems like on Christmas Eve he should be surrounded by people who believe what he believes and who feel what he feels.
His dimple returns. “I want you there. Please?”
I smile back at him. “Okay.”
He starts to return to the lot, but I grab his hand and pull him back. He raises an eyebrow. “What do you need now?”
“Today’s vocab word,” I say. “Or are you done trying to impress me?”
“I can’t believe you doubt me,” he says. “Truth is, I’m really getting into these weird words. Like today’s, it’s diaphanous.”
I blink. “Another one I don’t know.”
He raises his arms in the air. “Yes!”
“Okay, that may be the word,” I say, cocking an eyebrow, “but what does it mean?”
He cocks an eyebrow right back. “It’s something delicate, or translucent. Wait, you know what translucent means, right?”
I laugh and drag him out of hiding.
Luis waves us down and comes jogging over. “The guys and I picked out a perfect tree for you,” he tells Caleb. It’s been great to see Luis become part of the lot family. “We just finished putting it in your truck.”
“Thanks, man,” Caleb says. “Give me the tag and I’ll pay for it.”
Luis shakes his head. “No, we got this one.”
Caleb looks at me, but I have no idea what’s going on.
“Some of the baseball guys, they think it’s cool what you’re doing,” Luis says. “And so do I. We figured we could kick in a few bucks from our tips and buy this one.”
I nudge Caleb with my shoulder. His good deeds are becoming contagious.
Luis looks at me, a little nervous. “Don’t worry, we didn’t use the employee discount.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t worry about that,” I say.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The day before Christmas Eve, Heather picks up Abby and brings her to the lot. Abby has been bugging Caleb to see if she can help me out because, apparently, she’s wanted to work on a tree lot since she was a kid. Even if that’s an exaggeration, I’m happy to indulge her.
At the far end of the Bigtop we set up two sawhorses and lay a plywood piece the size of a door across them. We pile that high with tree clippings, and the three of us stuff the trimmings into paper bags and let customers take them home. People love to decorate table settings and windowsills with these before their families come over. The bags are going almost as fast as we can fill them.
“What’s this secret you got Devon for Christmas?” I ask. “My bet’s on a Christmas sweater.”
“Well, I did think about that,” Heather says, “but I went with something better. Wait here.”
She runs back to the counter to where she left her purse. Abby and I look at each other and shrug. On her way back, Heather proudly holds up a two-foot-long, slightly twisted red and green . . . scarf?
“My mom’s been showing me how to knit,” she says.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Christmas is in two days, Heather.”
She looks at the scarf, defeated. “I had no idea it would take this long. But I figure after I leave here, I’ll lock myself in my room and watch kitten videos for however many hours it takes to finish.”
“If nothing else,” I say, “it’s the perfect way to ascertain his love.”
Abby stops filling a bag. “I forget, what’s ascertain?”
Heather and I both crack up.
“What I think it means,” Heather says, stuffing the scarf in her pocket, “is if Devon really loves me, he’ll wear this crappy scarf like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever received.”
“That’s what it means,” I say, “but that’s not really a fair test.”
“You’d wear it if I gave it to you,” Heather says, and she’s right. “If he can’t give me that same devotion, he doesn’t deserve his real gift.”
“Which is what?” Abby asks.
“Tickets to a comedy festival,” she says.
“Much better,” I tell her.
Heather tells Abby about the perfect day Devon gave her as a
n early Christmas present. One day, Abby says, she wants a boyfriend who’ll carry a picnic to the top of Cardinals Peak for her.
Heather smiles while stuffing her next bag. “It’s not like he didn’t enjoy himself up there.”
I throw a handful of tree trimmings at her. She does not need to expand on that with Caleb’s little sister right here.
Once Abby’s mom picks her up, the conversation turns to my love life. “It feels like there’s so much left for us here, but I’m leaving way too soon.”
“And next year’s still up in the air?” she asks.
“Not very high in the air,” I say. “In fact, it’s highly doubtful. I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t see you next winter.”
“It won’t feel like Christmas, that’s for sure,” Heather says.
“My whole life, I’ve wondered what it would be like to stay home after Thanksgiving,” I say. “To have the chance of a white Christmas and experience things normal people do over the break. But to be honest, wondering about it is not the same as wanting it.”
By now, Heather and I have stopped filling bags.
“Have you discussed this with Caleb?”
“It’s been hanging over us the entire time.”
“What about spring break?” Heather asks. “You don’t have to wait forever to see him again.”
“He’ll be at his dad’s,” I say. I think about the winter formal tickets I hid behind our picture. To give him those, I would need to know for certain where we stand. I’d have to know what we both want. It would mean leaving here, but bringing the promise of him with me.
“If Devon and I can figure it out,” Heather says, “so can you and Caleb.”
“I don’t know if that’s true,” I say. “You get to be together while you do it.”
After we close for the year on Christmas Eve, my parents and I have dinner in the Airstream. The roast beef has simmered in the Crock-Pot all day, so the entire trailer smells delicious. Heather’s dad made and delivered corn bread. From across the tiny table, Dad asks for my thoughts concerning not coming back next year.