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“Who doesn't want to help a food kitchen succeed?” Isaiah asks me.
“I don't know. It’s not like anybody in town has cared before.”
“That's not true,” Jody says. “Sure, maybe the city council has its priorities all wonky, but the townspeople? They care.”
“And maybe it isn’t about caring. Maybe it's about whether or not you asked for help,” Annabelle says, touching the heart of the issue.
“You’re right. I haven’t asked. My pride has just gotten in the way.” Just like now with Filson. “I haven't reached out of my comfort zone and done anything to make the soup kitchen work. I've just been spending Granny's money as she spent before me. If she hadn't died of a heart attack, maybe we could have worked together to come up with a better plan. But she was gone in the blink of an eye and that meant I blindly followed in her footsteps.”
“This fundraiser could raise enough money for the next six months,” Jody says. “I know that's not a whole year, but it's something.”
“It's more than something,” I say. “It would mean Granny's legacy wouldn't die.”
They show me the PowerPoint presentation they put together. They have a venue space reserve at the community center. Local chefs have donated food for the event. Isaiah has a friend who moonlights as a DJ who is willing to play and Jody says that making it a family-friendly affair means everyone in Snowy Valley is able to come.
“All right,” I say. “Sounds like we have a plan for New Year’s Eve.”
Annabelle claps her hands. “Now all we need are dates. I mean, I guess not you. You have Filson.”
I bite my bottom lip. “I don't know about that,” I say. “I think I kind of messed it all up.”
Jody and Isaiah lift their eyebrows. They've heard plenty about how Filson's been helping me at the house in the last few weeks.
Annabelle, though, is doing more than raising her eyebrows. She's raising hell. “Are you kidding me, Maple? You want him; he wants you; so go make it happen.”
I shake my head. “I really messed everything up.”
“Then go fix it,” she says. “Gosh, have you not learned anything?”
I smile at my friends who have managed to cheer me up on one of the worst days. “I think I finally have.”FilsonI don't expect to see Maple on my front porch. But there she is, waiting for me when I come in from the woods. I’m dragging a tree with one hand and holding an axe in the other. Sammy is barking up a storm, running ahead of me. Maple’s eyes lift when she hears Sammy bark. In my heart, I'd be lying if I didn't feel that goddamn lift myself.
Something about seeing her there in her pink hat and scarf reminds me of her showing up here at the beginning of the month asking me for help, even though I knew it hurt her to have to ask for anything. She's a stubborn girl who doesn't want to need someone. Anyone. But the thing is, I know she needs me.
And I know she made a mistake. When I look into her eyes, I know she knows it, too.
“Maple,” I say, placing the axe against the woodpile. It's like an angel fallen from heaven is sitting on my doorstep. Snowflakes falling around us. We're high in the wild mountains, but we're safe here together. Smoke curls from my chimney, creating a smell around us that can only be described as Christmas.
I have a tree in my hand, and I plan on putting it in my cabin. And this year, it looks like maybe I don't have to do that alone. Maybe Maple can help me. Maybe she can be my Christmas wish come true.
“You want to tell me why you're here?” I ask, knowing my voice is gruff and full of hard edges. Wishing I was a softer kind of man, but then I suppose I am since I’m carrying a Christmas tree. Maybe I'm softer than I give myself credit for.
She shakes her head, standing to meet me. “I’m so sorry, Filson. I messed up. I messed up so bad and I need you to forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, but I want you.”
“You came all the way up here for an apology?” I ask her. She nods. I drop the Christmas tree and walk closer. “I don't know what you're getting at by selling that house, Maple. It's your home. You planning on moving away?”
“I don't know where I'm going.”
I nod slowly, not saying anything. Letting the words sink in.
“I’m hoping if it sells soon enough, we can close before the New Year.”
“So soon?”
She nods. “Right before the new year.”
“Did you want to tell me why you are selling the house?” I ask. “Because it’s gonna be hard to accept your apology if I don’t at least get an explanation.”
