by ID Johnson
“I’m not on speaker phone am I? You know how I hate that.”
“Have I hung up on you, yet? No, you’re not. You know what, Mom, I’m getting a bunch of texts. They might be from Delaney. I’ve got to go.”
“Have fun, dear.”
Melody hung up before she could say more and glanced down at her phone. “I’m going out for a tour of the farm on Josh’s tractor. Hope you don’t mind!”
“No problem,” she shot back. Then she added, “Just be careful.”
“Will do. If you and Michael and Michael’s dad decide to head back to town, just let me know.”
Melody shook her head. Now Delaney was doing it too. “Okay,” was all she said, figuring she could play along with this game.
“So what did your mom say?” Reid asked as Melody slid her phone into her coat pocket.
With a sharp exhale, Melody answered, “She said to go ahead and get the tree.” He nodded once and then returned his attention to Michael. “It’s okay—you can say I told you so if you want to.” She hoped he realized she was teasing, though part of her wanted to know how he could possibly understand her mother’s intentions better than she did herself.
He looked back at her with a crooked grin. “I’m not that kind of a guy,” he said. “I’m just glad you won’t have to do this again next weekend. I mean, it’s a lot of fun—once a year. No one wants to do it twice do they?”
“Josh might want to,” Melody muttered. “I mean—I guess he must really love Christmas trees.”
Reid laughed. “I guess so. It seems like a nice little operation they’ve got here.”
“Yes, I agree. Very… quaint. Cozy.” Remembering the texts she said, “Delaney went off to explore, so she said I didn’t need to wait for her if we get done earlier, but… unless someone else offers me a ride….” She ended her sentence on a loud exhale, her eyes looking away from him, down at the ground and then over her shoulder.
“Hmmm….” Reid began. “I did see a nice older couple out in the parking lot coming in around the same time as us. Maybe they’d give you a lift—if they’re headed that direction.”
“Oh? Do you see them anywhere?” Melody asked turning around on the bench so that her knee was bent and she could look over her shoulder. She felt her leg brush against his and despite the chilly conditions, warmth spread up her body. “Do you think they’d mind?”
“Maybe. You do have a tendency to ramble on.”
Her mouth gaped open, and he began to laugh. “I’m just kidding,” he said, emphatically, but Melody swatted him playfully on the arm. “That was your word not mine. I will be more than happy to give you a ride home, Miss Murphy. It’s the least I can do after you’ve sacrificed your Saturday to help my child find the perfect tree.”
“Well, maybe I’ll just sit in the back with Michael then,” she said turning back around and crossing her arms.
“Oh, come on,” he said, standing and stepping over so that he was in front of her. “Speaking of Michael, let’s go get him and get this show on the road before we all get frostbite.”
He reached out both hands in front of him, and Melody took them, still pretending to be offended. He pulled her up to standing, and she came to a stop just before him, the toes of her boots nearly touching his. She held her breath for a moment, all pretenses pushed aside.
Wearing the same crooked grin as before, he quietly said, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t.”
“And I’m sorry if I asked too many personal questions.”
“It’s fine.”
Reid held her gaze for just a moment, and Melody found herself wondering what it might be like if he leaned in for a kiss when a snowball came flying right past their heads, making a whizzing sound as it sped by, breaking the magic spell.
Reid turned and stepped out of the way, and Melody could see that Michael was standing just a few feet behind where his father had been before, chuckling as he bent over to form another ball of snow.
“You think that’s funny, buddy?” Reid asked, his voice nothing but playful. He leaned over in the snow and scooped up a handful, forming it into a perfectly round shape as Michael let his next projectile go, this time hitting his dad in the shoulder. Reid pretended to be severely injured as Michael doubled over laughing.
“You’ll pay for that!” Reid shouted and lightly tossed his snowball into Michael’s blue coat, hitting him in the chest and sending him into even more of an uproar.
“Help me, Miss Melody!” Michael shouted.
“Help you?” Melody echoed, not sure what she should do.
“You better not,” Reid warned her, forming another snowball. “You might be walking back to Charles Town just yet.”
Melody was already backing over to where Michael was standing and as he threw another zinger in his dad’s direction, she packed a snowball herself, squatting down rather than bending. She went ahead and made several while she was there, and right before she stood, Michael shouted, “Duck!” and a snowball went flying right over her head.
“Aiming for my face?” she yelled, laughing.
“Hey, I’m just a lousy shot, I swear,” Reid replied.
Melody stood, four snowballs in her arms, and let them all go. Three of them hit him squarely in the chest and shoulders while the fourth went sailing over his head, barely missing an older woman walking by. Reid turned to see it, as Melody covered her mouth in a silent scream.
“You almost hit that old lady!” Michael shouted, and though the woman never even turned to see what was going on, Melody could just imagine what might have happened if the wayward projectile had knocked her over.
“I think that’s enough snowballs for now,” Reid said, walking over to them, cautiously, as Michael still held a snowball in each hand. “But,” he said putting his hand on Melody’s shoulder, “I owe you. And I never forget a debt.”
Melody broke into a sheepish smile. “It was his idea,” she said, gesturing at Michael with her head.
“Oh, I know. And he will pay, too,” he confirmed, eyeing his son in a playful, but menacing way.
“You’re silly, Dad,” Michael said, clearly not frightened by the threat.
“Why don’t you drop that snowball, tell your friends goodbye, and let’s go pick out a couple of trees, all right? One for us and one for Melody.”
“Two trees?” Michael exclaimed. “All right!” Without even going over to them, he turned and shouted over his shoulder, “Bye guys!” A few of the other kids shouted back, but most of them were so busy building their fort or tossing snowballs at each other, they didn’t even notice he was leaving.
“Michael, I’m assuming you want to pick out a tree and cut it down?” Reid asked as they began to walk toward the Christmas tree forest.
“Yeah!” he shouted, hopping up and down.
“All right. Why don’t the two of you head out, and I’ll go see if Payton has a saw we can borrow, okay?”
“Okay!” Michael exclaimed. “Come on, Miss Melody, let’s go!” He grabbed her hand, and Melody smiled at Reid before she found herself being dragged off into the rows of Christmas trees, Michael’s excitement starting to influence her as well. There was really nothing like the joy of a child at Christmas, and getting to experience his enthusiasm was one way to take her mind off of the difficult reminders the season had brought of late. Without a care in the world, Michael began his inspection of each tree the Taylor Christmas Tree Farm had to offer, and Melody wondered if they might just be there until next Christmas!
Chapter 7
Reid borrowed one of the many saws the Taylors had on hand for their customers to use to cut down their trees and was given two tree tags, one for Melody and one for himself. Then, he set out to find his son and their new friend. It didn’t take him long to spy them only a few rows away from where he and Melody had been sitting watching Michael play. He knew his son well enough to anticipate a lengthy selection process.
He made his way through the snow, wh
ich was now deep enough to cover his boots, thinking about his conversation with Melody. She had been more forthcoming with information than he had expected, though he still wasn’t exactly sure what it was about Christmas music that made her so upset. It sounded like her father really loved this time of year, and being a musician, he must have had a great fondness for the holiday classics. Maybe that was one of the reasons why Melody was struggling today. The holiday season must hold a lot of memories for her.
Sitting on the bench with her chatting, watching Michael play, tossing snowballs at each other—all of that had been more fun than he would have expected. There was just something about her, an innate quality of goodness and light, it was difficult to see her disposition change from being so joyful to so disheartened with just the mention of a particularly sentimental phrase or a song on the radio. He wondered what she must have been like before her father died. She was probably one of those people who seemed never to have a care in the world. Now, she was able to hold that illusion most of the time, but he could definitely tell when she was thinking about her father. Part of him knew he wasn’t ready to pursue a relationship with her, or anyone, at this juncture in his life—but he also wanted to protect her and show her that the tragedy of losing her dad didn’t have to prevent her from making the most of Christmas or any of the other sentimental remembrances she had of special times with her dad.
Michael was holding her hand as he led her from one tree to the next, carefully inspecting each branch, every trunk, and Reid wondered just how long this infatuation would last. Whatever it was that had made Michael seek Melody out, would he keep wanting to spend time with her? How long would she continue to placate a little boy she wasn’t even related to? Then, there was the million-dollar question: if Reid did decide to allow his growing feelings for Melody to blossom, what would happen if things didn’t work out? He didn’t think Michael could bear to have another woman he loved walk out of his life. For that matter, neither could he.
Catching up to them, he pushed those thoughts aside and asked, “Well, have we got it narrowed down at least?”
“Not even close,” Melody laughed. “This one is too skinny. And that last one had a few bald spots in the front. The one before that wasn’t green enough.”
“I see,” Reid nodded. “Which one should we try next?” he asked his son who was still looking intently at the too skinny tree.
“That one,” Michael said, pointing at the next tree over, and he headed that direction, Melody following along still holding his hand and Reid bringing up the rear, wondering if there was anything he could do to speed this along.
“What type of a tree are you looking for, Mel?” he asked as Michael muttered that this tree was too green and moved on to the next.
“Well, my dad usually wanted a really tall, full tree. But since it’ll be up to me and Mom to decorate it this year, I don’t think I want anything much over my own height. I’ve got to be able to reach the top branches.”
“Do you have an aversion to ladders?”
She giggled. “No, but it’s hard to trim a tree from a ladder. I don’t like moving it around in a circle. I’d rather just be able to reach the top.”
“I see,” he nodded. “Any particular type you’re looking for?”
“Not really. Dad liked blue spruce, but I’m more of a ‘I’ll know it when I see it’ kind of a gal.”
“Yeah, Michael’s like that, too, except for he doesn’t want to take the chance that he’s missed out on anything, so even when he’s found the perfect tree, he’ll still want to look at all of the rest, just to be sure.”
Melody’s eyes widened. “Good grief. This is a big farm. We could be here a while.”
“I know,” Reid admitted. “So… it becomes our job to hasten the child along. This is how he usually ends up with a new toy or a treat he doesn’t need.”
Melody nodded, but since she was not a parent herself, he doubted she had any understanding of a perfectly timed bribe.
“Wow! Look at that one!” Michael exclaimed, letting go of her hand and running toward a very full Douglas Fir.
At about six and a half feet tall and nearly four feet across, the tree was nearly perfectly formed and a velvety green. Reid thought it looked like the perfect tree and it would fit exactly in the spot he intended to place it in the living room. “I think this is the one, buddy,” he said, bending to whisper in Michael’s ear.
“It’s awesome!” he said. “Santa could leave me so many presents under this tree.”
“Well, then, let’s cut it down, and then we’ll help Miss Melody find her tree.”
Michael pulled his eyes away from the tree and looked around the lot. “But… we haven’t looked at those trees down there yet. What if there’s a better one?”
“Then I’ll get that one. Or we can trade. But I think we better get this one before someone else comes by and snatches it up,” Melody explained, eyeing a couple walking along with their two daughters just a few rows behind them.
Michael looked at the two little girls and his eyes narrowed. “They’re not getting my Christmas tree,” he said, deliberately.
“All right then, let’s cut ‘er down,” Reid said, offering Melody an appreciative smile. “But remember, once we make the first cut, it’s our tree. There’s no fixing it.”
“Okay,” Michael nodded.
Reid looked at him for just a moment, making sure he wasn’t about to change his mind and demand they keep looking, and when Melody put her hands on his shoulders and said, “You are going to have the best Christmas tree Santa has ever seen,” Michael beamed, and Reid dropped down to the frozen ground to saw through the thick trunk.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Melody asked.
“Just make sure it doesn’t fall on you—or me,” he replied. He cut through most of the trunk, leaving just enough to keep it from tumbling over and then crawled out from underneath the branches. “Mikey, you want to finish it off?”
With a proud smile, Michael scurried under the tree, and Reid climbed under next to him, guiding his hand as the saw cut through the last little bit, sending the tree crashing to the ground.
“Timber!” Melody fake shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. “My dad always shouted that, every year. Don’t you guys shout timber?”
Reid couldn’t help but grin at her as he found his footing. “Guess we forgot.”
“Well, you should’ve remembered,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “It’s very important.”
Reid pulled one of the tags Payton had given him out of his pocket and attached it to the tree as Michael exclaimed, “I’ll shout it next time, for your tree, Miss Melody. What is that tag for, Dad?”
“It’s so that the tree farmers know this is our tree. In a little while, they’ll come gather up all of the trees that the customers have cut down and bring them to the front on one of their tractors. Then, they’ll shake off all of the loose needles and tie it up so we can take it home,” Reid explained.
“Cool,” Michael said. “Let’s go find Miss Melody’s tree!”
“Okay,” Reid replied as Michael grabbed her hand and began to lead her off. “But this is her tree, so you’ve got to let her decide which one is perfect for her.”
“All right,” Michael mumbled. “You should get a great big one like us, Miss Melody.”
She laughed and said, “I think I want one a little bit easier to manage this year, Michael. But we’ll make sure it’s extra special.”
“Does Santa Claus come to your house, Miss Melody?” he asked as he trudged through the snow toward a tree that already appeared to be way too tall for what Melody had described, “or do you get skipped ‘cause you don’t have any kids?”
Melody looked at Reid as if she wasn’t sure exactly how she was supposed to answer. He shrugged and she began to stammer, “Well, I think he must still come. The cookies we put out are always nibbled, and I always have something in my stocking.”
“Good,�
�� Michael said, that answer seeming to satisfy him. “I know exactly what I’m gonna ask Santa for for Christmas this year.”
“You do?” she asked. “Is there a new toy you want?”
“Nope,” Michael replied with a matter-of-fact tone, and Reid braced himself for where this conversation might be headed. “But I can’t tell you, or else I might not get it,” he said, looking up at her with his blue eyes wide.
“Oh,” Melody nodded. “That makes sense.”
“What do we think of that tree over there?” Reid asked, gesturing at one a few rows ahead that looked like it fit the description of what Melody was looking for.
“That one is kinda short for Miss Melody’s house,” Michael observed.
“I think that one looks just about right,” Melody said. “Why don’t we head over and check it out.”
Michael seemed reluctant to skip the few trees between where he was standing and the tree in the distance, but when Melody started walking that direction, he went along. He was quiet for a few moments, and his father wondered what question he was mulling over. Eventually, Michael asked, “Miss Melody, do you ever think about asking Santa Claus for a new dad?”
Melody stopped for a second, looked down at him, and then regained her composure enough to continue walking. Reid considered whether or not he should change the subject or apologize for his son, but before he did, Melody said, “No, Michael. I’ve never thought about that before.”
“How come?” Michael asked, his voice completely innocent. “You miss your dad, don’t you? Don’t you wish you had another one?”
“Well,” Melody began, clearly choosing her words carefully, “I do miss my dad very much, but I know that Santa can’t bring him back. He might bring me a very nice step-dad someday, I guess, although I don’t think my mom would even consider that. But that wouldn’t be nearly the same as the dad I had before.”
Michael seemed to contemplate that answer for a few seconds before he said, “I hope he brings you a new dad someday, Miss Melody. You’re nice and you should have a dad again.”