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She swiped to answer, the warm familiarity of Meg’s voice instantly causing the room to feel vibrant and alive.
“Hey girl, what’s shakin’,” Meg said with a chuckle that reverberated through the phone.
“Oh, the connection is good today.” It was touch and go in the mountains. “I’m living the dream. Just sitting here drinking hot cocoa and figuring out how I want to decorate the tree for Christmas.”
The ensuing conversation was a warm blend of laughter and friendly teasing. She shared her plans for decorating the cabin for Christmas, her voice animated with excitement.
Eventually, the conversation swerved to an inevitable topic—Jackson. “So, tell me. Have you done it yet?” Meg asked, her voice echoing with a smirk Amanda could almost visualize.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the weather ran up Amanda’s spine. A rush of heat flooded her cheeks, an unexpected reaction that had her flustered. She ran a hand through her hair, her gaze drifting toward the window and the view beyond where she knew Jackson was busy with his work.
“Well,” she began, a coy smile playing on her lips, “Let’s just say that the fireplace isn’t the only thing creating sparks around here.” She could feel Catsby’s eyes on her, his feline curiosity piqued by her sudden coyness.
Meg’s laughter was like the jingle of Christmas bells, tingling through the phone and filling the cabin with its contagious cheer. “And you thought your girlie bits had left with Daniel.”
“Oh, I knew they were still here, but they haven’t come out to play in a long time.” She cleared her throat. “They are still hiding but are interested in making a debut one of these days.”
“But you live together. Surely there’s been some ‘show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.’”
She laughed. “Nope, we are taking it slow.”
“There’s slow, and then there’s sloth. Get a move on it before the cobwebs take over.”
Amanda laughed. “It will all happen when the time is right. We’re just getting to know each other and enjoying that process. I think people rush to the finish when all the good stuff happens in the middle.”
Meg groaned. “But the finish feels so damn good.”
“I do like a good finish.”
“And where might he be at this time?”
Amanda’s heart warmed at the thought of Jackson. She looked out the window toward the forest where he’d gone. The midday sun peeked through the evergreens, casting dappled light patterns on the ground. Her mind’s eye pictured him there, sturdy in his flannel and boots, his breath clouding around him in the cold winter air as he inspected each tree with a practiced eye.
“He’s out finding the perfect Christmas tree for the town square,” Amanda answered, her voice carrying a note of pleasure she hadn’t expected. Her heart was strangely full, thoughts of Jackson interwoven with the spirit of community and tradition. The magic of it all settled deep within her bones.
“You’re donating a tree to the town?”
“It’s the least I could do. They came here and replaced my roof and fixed my porch, and no one would let me pay them. A tree from the surrounding forest seems a small price for their generosity.”
A sense of wonder filled Amanda. She had seen cities with skyscrapers touching the clouds and had been in places where the lights never dimmed, and the noise never ceased. Yet, here she was, in a small town tucked away in the mountains, mesmerized by thoughts of a man chopping down a tree.
She glanced around the room at the rustic wooden beams and the stone fireplace. The cabin itself was a witness to the town’s history, a piece of heritage entrusted to her by Bea. Her fingers grazed the worn wooden table, the grain rough under her touch. Each nick and stain told a story, whispers of times and people past.
Her mind formed an image of a tall evergreen adorned with multicolored lights and ornaments, standing proudly in the town square while the townsfolk sang carols around it. Pine, mixed with hot cider and gingerbread, filled her senses. She could almost hear the town’s joyous laughter, their voices raised in melodious song, and at the center of it all would be Jackson’s tree—her tree.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize Meg was talking until she heard her name. “...da, Amanda, you there?”
“Yes, sorry, Meg, got lost in thought,” she confessed, a sheepish smile on her lips. “I was just imagining the tree lighting ceremony and how wonderful it will be.”
Her voice trailed off, her gaze drifting back to the window. Somewhere out there, among the towering evergreens, Jackson was fulfilling a tradition, becoming a part of the town’s living history. And she was slowly integrating into it too. The thought warmed her more than any mug of hot chocolate ever could.
“And you, my dear, will be in the middle. Embrace it. It’s going to be wonderful,” Meg said. “Then come home and write about it.”
“I’ve written so much in the last few days. It’s unbelievable how this place inspires me.”
“Doesn’t hurt that you have the brawny man giving you kisses and cooking you breakfast.”
No, that didn’t hurt, but it was more than Jackson. It was as if the air around her infused her with the creativity she’d been missing.
