Chapter 12
Jack
Great job, Jack.You stopped physically driving Delia out of your life and switched to emotionally pushing her away. Way to double down.
My hands clenched around the steering wheel until my knuckles ached as I wheeled into a parking spot and slammed on the brakes. The truck was agonizingly quiet, and I had the urge to switch on the radio, but I wasn’t sure I could handle any more Christmas music. A single jingle bell or a lyric about falling in love under the mistletoe would send me spinning back into a dark void.
Which was why showing up at the town’s holiday festival was a terrible idea. There was zero chance of me getting out of this unscathed. But even knowing that, I still had to come. The festival was probably one of the last times I’d get to see Delia with a smile on her face.
Our paths hadn’t crossed much the last couple of days on the farm. Mostly because I’d spent them hiding—I mean cutting down trees—in the field. Ironically, the business had picked up due to word getting out about the donated tree. Customers even paid full price, so I was riding that high, even though underneath it all, I was lower than low.
Christmas was next week, and Delia would be gone for good. My life had turned into an Advent calendar of misery, each door giving me a taste of something sweet, only to lead to the day that would hurt the most. Today was another one of those doors that I just had to open.
I climbed out of my truck and was instantly hit with a wave of merriment in the air. A gut punch all things considered. The streets were lined with people funneling into the town square and the bustling winter market. Every year, vendors set up booths selling homemade items and baked goods. Businesses hawked their wares and special holiday promotions. A band played and hot chocolate flowed like a velvety rich river.
The striking tree I’d cut and had delivered earlier in the week stood in the center of the square, already decked out with glittering balls and bows, and long swaths of lights, waiting for its grand moment.
“Jack!”
I tensed at hearing my name and spotted the mayor stepping down the platform steps. Becky’s father was a gruff man with a trim beard and silver streaks in his hair. He wore a long black wool jacket with the town’s emblem pinned to his chest.
“Mr. Mayor,” I said, angling my head in greeting. Preparing for the worst, I folded my arms over my chest and squared my stance. Might as well get the backhanded comments out of the way so I could move on to the next stop on Jack’s Tour of Misfortune.
The mayor’s features drew together, and he smoothed the lapels of his jacket. He looked uncomfortable as if he wasn’t sure how to start, and he stalled, waving to families as they passed.
“Look, Dad! It’s the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen,” a little boy crooned, reaching out to touch the needles as his family huddled around the towering tree. I watched as they marveled over the size and took guesses at how many ornaments were used and how many strings of lights it took to reach the top.
They used to do that at the tree farm too in years past. Kids would rush through the fields, shouting in delight when they’d found the one for them. They’d watch in awe as we wrapped the tree in twine and attached it to the roof of their car, knowing presents would soon sit beneath those decorated branches.
The tension eased from my shoulders, and an incredible feeling expanded inside my chest.Unbelievable…Even though we hadn’t been part of those families, we were soaking it all in. Just like Delia had said. Their joy had transferred to us and that had made what we were doing special.
Maybe that was why my dad had loved the farm so much.
Clearing his throat, the mayor turned his attention back to me. “Jack. I know this is a tough time of year for you and your family, and in recent times there’s been a lot of conflict. But you did all right, helping us out this year, and that needs to be said.”
The mayor extended his hand, and I hesitantly reached out to shake it. “Thanks, sir.”
“If you’re around next year, we’d like to do business again. Not a donation. This time we’ll place an order in advance. Just speak with my assistant.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Could I make it another year? Did I want to? Those hadn’t even been questions until recently.No,and No. Don’t bother asking.But now? Maybe I should give it some thought.
“I’ll let you know, sir. Thank you.”
He clapped his hand on my back and then wandered off into the crowd. Almost in a daze, I followed the stream of people, walking under a huge festival banner, and into the holiday market. Grandma Jean and her ladies’ club had a booth set up somewhere in the throng of vendors. That’s where I’d find Delia, likely taking notes for her article while absorbing all the Christmas vibes. There was enough here to last all year.
I walked the edge of the market, stopping to peer at some of the items. Grandma Jean could use a new scarf, something navy blue with moons and stars would look nice, or maybe some scented candles. I’d have to come up with something and grab some of that silver wrapping paper. A bow would be good.
It had been ages since I’d bought any Christmas presents, and even if I did, where was I going to put them? Under the bare tree in the common room? Next to the mantle void of stockings? A laugh formed in my throat. I really was a Scrooge.
“Excuse, me.” A little girl tugged on the sleeve of my coat. “This is for you.”
I stared down at her as she passed me a candy cane with a slip of paper tied to the end. After she scurried off into the crowd, I removed the paper and read the note.
Check your pocket.
My brow wrinkled as I patted down the sides of my coat. There was something thin and square inside my pocket, which was odd since there hadn’t been anything there when I left the inn. Kind of like how there hadn’t been a heart in my cappuccino foam or snow in the forecast the day we went tree hunting, yet we got six inches.
Must be magic.Grandma Jean’s go-to saying whispered in my mind. I was starting to believe it.
