Page 37

“We’d dry them.”

“Dry?”

“Yes. We’d put them in stews and such.”

“I’ve never heard of that. Cherries are usually made into compote or wine here.”

She craned her neck and looked toward the top of the hazel. “It was a lovely tree, especially when it bloomed. I miss it.”

“This one’s beautiful in the spring too. You’ll see.”

She turned to me. “You think I will?”

“Why not? You’re staying here.”

She smiled her cautious little smile. “Right.”

“Let’s go,” I said, stomping my feet. Despite the sun, standing still wasn’t a pleasant experience.

I held the gate open for her, and we set off down the alley, emerging on Kyrkogatan. I led her north, and soon we reached the edge of town. With snow on every surface, it was so bright I squinted. When the pines surrounded us, Lilja took my arm. The road was often used, and so it had two tracks worn into the snow which made the going easy enough. Gray clouds had gathered on the horizon, but they were still far away. A wind, as sharp as a knife, had begun to blow. Another snowstorm was on the way, but not for many hours.

We had walked perhaps ten minutes when I spotted the path leading off the road and into the forest. It had been used by others—not doubt for Christmas tree fetching—because the snow had been trampled flat. Judging by the silence that seemed to echo in the trees, no one was out here now.

“This way,” I said, leading Lilja off the road. “There’s a place with small trees in here.”

The path was so narrow we couldn’t walk arm in arm, and she let her hand drop and took mine. We were both wearing gloves, but the sensation of her palm against mine, even through the two layers of leather, made my heart beat a little faster.

We reached the clearing much too soon because I liked her hand in mine, and on the way back, I would be occupied with carrying the tree. Footprints dotted the snow, and there were several fresh stumps. I took off my gloves because I would need a proper grip on the axe.

“You choose,” I said. “But if it’s too big, you’ll have to help me carry it.”

She smiled at that. “I don’t mind helping.”

“I know you don’t, but trees are heavy. Even these little firs.”

I watched as she made her way around the clearing. The snow was ankle deep, and she lifted her hem as she walked between the trees, studying each one. Since her very first day in my shop, she had done this exact thing, as if each object she looked at held something only she could see. As if everything she saw, even the most mundane, was special. Tilting her head and biting her lip, she was so very endearing, and my throat tightened.

“It’s almost a shame, isn’t it?” she said, touching a branch. “I mean, they’re just babies.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“If we let them grow, they would become so tall they could gaze out over the forest. Now they’ll never have the chance.” When she turned to me, her eyes were filled with tears.

“We can leave them,” I said.

“What about Alma and Helena’s decorating?”

I thought about that. It was a tradition, but Lilja had a point. It was a shame to fell them when they were so little. Perhaps there was a way around it?

“I’ll think of something,” I said.

“Like what?”

“I’ll build a tree.”

“You’re so busy.”

“Only until the 23rd. I’ll have all day to put something together.”