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The center was like a picture postcard of the perfect holiday. The town’s residents gathered in clusters, engaging in conversation, sharing stories, laughter echoing around the room.
Amid it all, Amanda was like a ray of sunshine, her cheer adding to the harmony. She greeted each person, her charm seeping into the atmosphere and endearing her to them instantly.
Jackson leaned against a wall, his eyes trailing Amanda as she mingled with the crowd. She conversed with Tilden, the town’s lumberjack, his laughter booming in response to something she’d said. She seemed genuinely interested, her brown eyes alight with curiosity as she asked him about his work, family, and life in Aspen Cove.
Next, she moved to Goldie, Tilden’s wife, and the town’s social influencer. Goldie’s radiant smile widened at the sight of Amanda, the two of them falling into easy conversation as they shared a plate of pumpkin pie. Amanda’s nose wrinkled when she laughed at something Goldie said. The sight tugged at Jackson’s heart. He saw a little girl with brown eyes in their future.
Jackson watched her interact with Trinity and Wyatt, two ranchers who worked on Abby’s property. He could hear her questions about their journey to the area and what they found here that they couldn’t find elsewhere.
She then moved on to Riley and Luke. They entertained her with how they met when Riley nearly burned down the Guild Creative Center and Luke had to put the fire out. But luckily, they still smoldered for each other.
She dove into the history of the residents, showing a genuine interest in their lives. He realized that she wasn’t just meeting them. She was interviewing them for parts of her own story, which was unfolding daily.
After the feast, the townsfolk cleaned up and moved to the town square, where the tree he’d cut stood tall and majestic under the clear night sky. The cold night frosted his cheeks, but he hardly noticed, because his heart was pounding so hard. The residents approached, each carrying an ornament in their hands and a sparkle in their eyes that mirrored the twinkling stars above.
The Christmas tree, the centerpiece, was a symbol of what they built together. Its branches reached out, strong and inviting, ready to embrace the tokens of love and memories each ornament represented. Under the glow of the moon and stars, it stood bare but beautiful, like a canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of their shared experiences.
Amanda’s hand slipped into his, their fingers intertwining as they approached the tree. They had chosen their ornament, a delicate glass snowflake glinting in the moonlight. The residents stepped forward, each hanging their decorations on a tree branch. Tilden hung a mini saw ornament, a tribute to his work as the local firewood supplier. Goldie placed a miniature phone ornament, a reflection of her passion. Trinity and Wyatt chose horse figurines, evidence of their love for their work at the ranch. Riley and Luke hung an original forged by Riley. Sosie hung a mini painting, while Eden, another town resident, hung a baby Jesus. Everyone brought something that reflected who they were to the town. There were wrenches, books, flowers, glass bacon, plastic crayons, and a pair of mismatched socks from Peter. Every resident was represented, and each ornament added a unique charm to the tree. It was transformed from a plain fir into a vibrant emblem of unity, its branches laden with tokens of love.
Finally, it was their turn. With Amanda’s hand still tucked securely in his, they stepped forward, the excitement coursing through them as he lifted their glass snowflake, its surface catching the moonlight and scattering it like a prism. He hung it on a branch, the snowflake swinging as it found its place amongst the other ornaments. It seemed fitting, as a storm was what brought them together. A raccoon would have worked, too, but there were no such critters in Bea’s treasures.
As he stepped back, he could feel a sense of accomplishment. His gaze lingered on the snowflake before drifting to the woman beside him, her face illuminated under the moonlight, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions.
The town square was abuzz with a shared sense of excitement. The low murmur of the crowd ebbed away as Doc stepped toward the Christmas tree. Everyone's faces were lit by the light of the moon and the twinkling stars above.
The crowd’s pulse seemed like a collective heartbeat that thrummed in sync with his own. At his side, Gunner sat obediently, his eyes alert and watchful. The dog’s warm, furry presence against his leg was a comforting constant in the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling.
Doc’s finger traced over the switch. This moment, the lighting of the tree, was a first for the town, but Jackson hoped it would be a tradition that would be celebrated for years to come.
The crowd held its breath. Time seemed to pause as Doc flipped the switch. A hush descended, the night's silence amplifying the town's heartbeat.
Jackson squeezed Amanda’s hand. Gunner shifted at his side. The dog’s attentive gaze fixed on the tree. The moment had come. It was a memory he knew would be etched deep within the heart of the town, a story that would be retold for years to come. This was his gift to everyone.
The tree erupted into a dazzling array of lights, illuminating the town square, and reflecting off the awed faces of everyone. A gasp swept through the crowd, a wave of delighted exclamations echoing in the night. The brilliance of the lights cast long shadows across the square, the vibrant colors bathing everything in a cheerful glow.
Gunner growled low in his throat; his gaze fixed on the tree. Jackson followed the dog’s line of sight, his breath hitching as he spotted the telltale glow at the tree’s base. The spark that was supposed to herald joy and unity was, instead, a harbinger of disaster.
His grip tightened around Amanda’s hand as the glow intensified, a small flame licking up the side of the tree. “Fire...” he whispered. But it was loud enough. Loud enough for Amanda to hear, loud enough for the word to spread a ripple of panic through the crowd.
In the face of disaster, the beauty of the lights became a cruel irony, a symbol of his failure. The joyous cries turned into gasps of horror as the flames grew, greedily consuming the tree he’d put up.
Aiden Cooper pushed everyone back as the local fire department came to the rescue and doused the flames.
His gaze found Amanda among the sea of shocked faces. Her ordinarily vibrant eyes were wide, her mouth open as she alternated between looking at the tree and back at him. Her hand tightened around his in an attempt to lend comfort, but he found none. The bitter taste of failure consumed him. Gunner whimpered at his side, his intense gaze fixed on the charred remains. The shepherd’s unease mirrored his own, the despair seeping into his marrow. He bent down, scratching Gunner’s ears in a small act of kindness in the chaos.
Amanda, her hand a steady presence in his, looked at him. Her eyes were full of concern but not blame. “We can fix this,” she said.
His mind seized on her words. Fix this? The tree was a charred skeleton. The ashes of the ornaments fluttered around them like grim snowflakes. He’d shattered a precious heirloom, the fragments too tiny and numerous to piece back together.
“This can’t be fixed.” His gaze was still on the smoldering remnants of the tree. “I’ve destroyed everything. You were right. We shouldn’t have used those lights.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
The silence stretched around Amanda as she and Jackson drove back to their cabin. The inky expanse of the night sky was shrouded in an uneasy quiet. The occasional call of a distant creature interrupted the otherwise quiet drive, filling Amanda with unease.
Jackson, who was usually full of cheerfulness, was unnervingly silent. His demeanor had darkened, mirroring the desolate winter landscape around them. As she stole a sideways glance, his downturned face was a sight that pained her, his eyes reflecting a sadness she'd never seen in them before.
The dimly lit windows appeared as welcoming eyes in the cold night as they approached. The chimney exhaled soft plumes of smoke from the earlier banked fire. However, this warm refuge she called home seemed a touch colder tonight.
