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When she emerged that morning, her brown hair a tangled mess and a sleepy smile on her face, she was a sight to behold. His heart stilled, and his breath hitched. It was a daily reminder of his growing feelings. She caught his gaze, then smiled. Ground coffee beans and fresh morning air filled the cabin. The scent was a comforting ritual, a sensory echo of their shared moments. Her fingers brushed against his when she accepted the steaming mug. An electric jolt shot up his arm, a reaction that had become a common occurrence each time she touched him.
One of Jackson’s newfound pleasures was cooking together in the cabin. Their camaraderie and chemistry were undeniable.
“What can I help with?”
She leaned against the counter, lined with Bea’s ham ingredients that didn’t require refrigeration. “Are you done with the tree?”
He nodded. “Put that last strand of lights up yesterday.”
“Maybe we should have bought new lights.”
Jackson shook his head. “Nope, it’s important that we used what everyone offered.” He took an assortment of donated lights from the residents and strung them together to decorate the Christmas tree he’d secured in the town square. It wasn’t an actual town square but more of a center of a roundabout with several benches that faced a patch of dead grass, but he had to admit that Katie’s vision for its transformation was nothing short of genius. It was as if the space was always meant to have a big tree, and the twelve-footer he cut down was perfect. “All it needs are decorations and people. Doc is going to do the honors and flip the switch.”
Amanda smiled. “I love how everyone comes together to pitch in. The world could learn something from Aspen Cove.” She pointed to a box by the tree. “I set aside a few of Bea’s more durable ornaments for us to bring.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “Now, how can I help with the feast?”
Amanda’s decision to cook Bea’s ham for the Thanksgiving feast came naturally. Bea’s memory echoed in Aspen Cove’s collective consciousness, and even though Jackson and Amanda hadn’t personally known her, they recognized the significance of her contribution to the town. Without Bea, he wouldn’t have met Amanda. Without Bea, the cabin would be vacant except for the resident raccoon, who often knocked on the door as if asking to reenter. If not for Bea, the town would still be dying rather than thriving with new residents that Bea had handpicked to bring it back to life. They were cooking not just a ham but a symbol of unity, a token of love that Bea had once embodied.
“Let’s start here.” She pointed to the original recipe, handwritten by Bea herself. The recipe card was more than a list of ingredients and steps; it was a ticket into the past, a tangible thread that tied the townsfolk to the woman.
Amanda traced her fingers over the worn-out letters, her smile both wistful and respectful. “We need to do justice to this, Jackson.”
Meeting her gaze, he nodded. “We will.”
And so, they embarked on their culinary adventure together, an invisible beat guiding them as they worked side by side. The slicing of vegetables, the careful glazing of the ham, the familiar sounds of simmering sauces, and the popping and sizzling from the stove.
With each passing hour, as the ham slowly roasted in the oven, the cabin was filled with a tantalizing smell. It was sweet and savory, a smell that permeated every corner, curled around each piece of furniture, and seeped into their clothes. As Jackson tended to the ham, basting it one final time before it was ready, Amanda's hand rested gently on his shoulder. He turned to find her standing close, her eyes reflecting the same thoughts swirling in his mind. She squeezed him, her smile reassuring. “We did good, Jackson.” She kissed him. “We’ve got an hour to spare. Whatever shall we do?” She looked toward the hallway.
He didn’t need an invitation. “I’ll beat you there.” He lowered the temperature of the oven and dashed for the bedroom.
* * *
The Guild CreativeCenter was bustling with activity, a hive of excitement echoing with laughter and the murmur of conversation. Streamers hung from the rafters, and tables lined with festive tablecloths held a vast spread of dishes brought in by the residents. The smell of home-cooked meals permeated the air—the savory scent of roasted meats, the sweetness of pies, and the rich yeastiness of warm bread.
Jackson and Amanda entered, a warm roasting pan between them. “I don’t think anyone will notice we’re late,” Jackson said as they found a place on the table for their contribution.
The chatter dimmed as Doc rose to his feet. His presence commanded attention, a demonstration to the respect he held in the hearts of Aspen Cove residents. Jackson’s heart rate slowed as he focused on the older man, who was a father to all.
“We gather here, a symbol of our unity and resilience. We’ve weathered many storms, some real, others metaphorical,” Doc began, his voice rich with emotion. “And today, we honor one of our own who isn’t with us anymore—Bea.”
A hush fell over the room at the mention of Bea’s name. Jackson felt the memories of the woman he’d never met but had come to respect surge in the minds of the people around him.
“Bea, with her spirit and dedication, brought many new faces to Aspen Cove. Faces that have now become part of our family,” Doc continued, his gaze finding Jackson’s. It was an acknowledgment of his place in the town, a place he’d come to call home.
Amanda squeezed his hand, her heat seeping into his skin, grounding him, reinforcing the sense of belonging. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a small smile.
Doc’s words resonated within him. This was what he’d hoped for when he’d arrived. He wanted to be a part of something like a family and as he glanced at Amanda, he saw the possibility for that to happen.
“Without Bea, we might’ve seen the end of our little town. But look at us now.” Doc spread his arms, taking in the bustling room, the array of dishes, and the people. “We continue to grow, to thrive. Because of her and because of us. We are Aspen Cove, and as long as we stand together, our town will never fade away.”
The applause that followed was heartfelt, a cacophony of claps that echoed through the room. A sense of unity filled the space, as powerful as the chill outside, as potent as his connection with Amanda.
Jackson glanced at her. Together, they were part of this place, this family. This was their home, and they would do everything to keep it alive and thriving.
The Thanksgiving feast resumed, filled with joy, camaraderie, and deep appreciation for the town, for Bea and each other. Jackson could not help but feel a stirring of excitement for what was to come: the tree lighting, the holidays, and his gift to the town that had made him feel welcome.
They all grabbed plates and filled them with everything from Bea’s homemade ham to Bobby Williams’s turducken.
