Page 119 of Deck the Hauls

Emily picked up her cracker and held it out to me. “My turn now!”

We yanked the Christmas cracker, and it popped again, the contents falling to the floor near my feet. I bent down, retrieving a green paper hat, her joke and a plastic, very fake-looking, diamond ring. I handed them to Emily.

“Good thing that lady from the ice-skating rink wasn’t here to witness that, or she might think you were proposing again.”

I laughed. Maybe next year? The thought took me by surprise. But we would be together a year by then, which wouldn’t be completely rushing it. And it would be a lovely Christmas memory to override some of my not-so-good ones. Where could I do it? If we drove back from Emily’s parents’ house after dinner—it was only fair that we’d take turns spending Christmas with each other’s families—perhaps I could do it behind the cabin, in the clearing surrounded by trees, where I usually chopped wood. I gave myself a mental shake. I was getting way too far ahead of myself.

Emily was now wearing her green paper hat, which looked rather adorable, and was reading her joke, the plastic ring on her ring finger.

“Oh, this one is perfect for you.” Emily grinned. “Why are Christmas trees bad at knitting?”

She stared at me expectantly.

“Because they…fir-get how to do it?”

Emily laughed. “Not a bad try, but no. They drop their needles.”

I shook my head, laughing. “Also terrible.”

On the other side of the table, Jake, in a yellow paper hat, read out his joke.

“What did the beaver say to the Christmas tree?”

He looked around the table. We all shrugged.

“It’s been nice gnawing you!” Jake said.

I groaned. “That one hits a little close to home.”

“Could it be a beaver?” Emily asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“You’ve got a problem with beavers?” Jake asked, leaning forward.

“Something is eating our fir trees, but I don’t think it’s a beaver because there’s no water nearby.”

Jake nodded. “They usually stay within about a hundred feet of water.”

“If you send me a photo of the marks on the tree, I can see if I can figure it out,” Dad added.

“Thanks, Dad.” It was nice, talking to my family about farming challenges. It felt just like old times. After I’d left, I’d shied away from speaking to my parents about farming, unable to shake the feeling that I’d hurt them by leaving their farm and not wanting to hear anything that could relate to Jake. But there didn’t seem to be any obvious resentment on their part.

The microwave beeped. “The lasagna’s ready.”

I ducked into the kitchen and pulled out the steaming-hot tray of lasagna. My mouth watered as I headed back to the dining table and placed the tray on a wood trivet.

Emily and Kelsey were laughing as I sat down.

“You missed another terrible beaver joke,” Emily said.

“It was probably for the best.” Kelsey dabbed her eyes with a paper napkin.

I raised my eyebrows. It was great my ex and my new girlfriend were getting on, but bad beaver jokes was taking it a little far.

“I don’t want to know.”

“Everyone, please help yourselves,” Mom announced, passing Emily a serving spatula.