by ID Johnson
“Thank you, Michael,” Melody said, smiling down at him, but Reid could tell in her expression that it was a forced smile and that she was likely thinking no one could ever replace her father.
“Michael, why don’t you run ahead and stake out that tree before those other people get there,” Reid suggested, gesturing toward an older couple moving at the speed of molasses.
“Okay!” he shouted and took off as if he were sent by the king to keep the enemy off of the drawbridge.
Once he was out of earshot, Reid turned to Melody and said, “I’m sorry about that. He asks so many questions. We are working on appropriate questions versus inappropriate questions, but he doesn’t really get that yet.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, and her smile looked more genuine this time. “I just wasn’t sure what to say. I’m guessing his reason for asking doesn’t have as much to do with what I want for Christmas as it does with what he wants.”
Reid’s forehead crinkled. “What do you mean?” he asked, not sure what she was getting at.
Melody cleared her throat. “Nothing. I mean, I might be way off base….”
“Melody, what are you trying to say?” he asked, though he was beginning to understand what she was getting at.
“I just wonder if all of this—wanting to spend time with me—is because Michael misses his mother. Maybe he wanted to know if I was looking for a new dad to see if it would be all right if he asked Santa for… a new mom.”
Reid grew completely still, unsure how to respond to that, not sure what to think about it, and not wanting to deal with the implications either. At last he said, “I don’t think that’s what he was asking for.”
“Okay,” Melody said quickly. “You definitely know better than I would. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
“No, don’t be sorry.” He put his hand on her arm briefly and then pulled it away. “It’s just… Michael hardly ever even mentions his mom. I think he’s pretty happy with our situation the way that it is.”
“Right,” Melody replied. “And you do such a good job of taking care of him. I’m sorry—I was probably reading too much into it.”
“Stop apologizing,” Reid insisted, beginning to walk toward Michael again. “You just never know with that kid.”
“Right,” Melody repeated, following him, but Reid could tell there was something bothering her now, some sort of a distance between them, and he really didn’t like it. Not at all.
“What do you think, Miss Melody?” Michael asked, eyeing the tree with great scrutiny. “It’s short. And there’s a spot right here with hardly any branches.”
“I like it,” Melody said, smiling. She stretched her arm. “I can reach the top. And I can always put that spot in the corner or fill it in with some garland.”
“So this is the one then?” Reid asked, looking at her with the same expression he had when he’d made sure Michael was ready for him to cut the last tree down. “Once I cut it, there’s no going back.”
“I’m sure,” Melody nodded.
“Do you want to cut it down yourself?” he asked, holding the saw out to her.
Melody looked at the saw, the tree, and then the ground. “No thanks. I think I’ll let you.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, taking a step back. “It’s kind of nice having a man to do the hard part for a change.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her. “I guess it’s the least I can do for all of your help.” Leaning into her ear, he whispered, “If it wasn’t for your persuasion, Michael would still be twenty yards back there, telling every single tree why it just doesn’t measure up.” She smelled like vanilla with a hint of peppermint, and even though his intention had been casual, he found it more difficult to step away from her than he had expected. He couldn’t help but notice her cheeks were turning a nice shade of pink, and he wondered if that was entirely due to the light breeze that continued to make the snowflakes dance or something else.
Luckily, he’d have a moment to compose himself as he made his way into the privacy provided by the branches of the tree. This trunk was not nearly as thick as the last one had been, and in a few seconds, it was just about to fall over. He carefully pulled himself back out, and asked, “Who’s making the final cut?”
“Miss Melody, it’s your tree. You wanna do it?” Michael asked.
Melody looked at him with wide eyes and then back to where Reid was still sitting on the ground. She seemed hesitant, but after a moment she said, “Okay. Why not?” and dropped to her knees, ducking under the branches as she made her way into the shelter of the tree.
Once she was there, lying beside him under the branches, Reid momentarily forgot that their purpose was to continue cutting through the trunk. Her hair cascaded around her, framing her face, and even though she was dressed in a color similar to the snow that had accumulated around them on the cold ground, her eyes were bright and her skin glowed. He imagined running his hand across her cheek would feel like satin or porcelain, and it wasn’t until she asked, “What do I do now?” that he recalled that they were supposed to be cutting the tree down.
Carefully, he brought the saw around so that it was in front of her. “It’s almost ready to fall. Just put the saw in that wedge, right there, and run it back and forth a few times.”
“Like this?” she asked, once he’d helped her get the saw in place.
The inviting scent of vanilla scattered his thoughts again, for just a moment, as he reached across her, and gently resting his hand on top of hers, he said, “Yes, just a little more pressure.” With just a few more quick movements, the tree was completely dislodged, and it tumbled over onto the ground, leaving them looking up at a pristine blue sky between the fluffy snow clouds.
“Timber!” Michael shouted, and Melody began to laugh. Even though Reid wasn’t exactly sure what was so funny, he laughed, too. She had that joyful expression back in her eyes, and the idea of laying there in the snow with her, of making snow angels, or wrapping his arms around her to keep her warm, was so inviting. Unfortunately, Michael was not the only one who would likely be looking at them oddly, so he pulled himself away from the daydream and managed to climb to his feet.
Melody was sitting now, but she was still laughing and hadn’t managed to stand just yet. “Come on,” Reid probed. He offered her a hand which she eventually took, and he pulled her to her feet.
“Can I put the tag on?” Michael asked, tugging on the bottom of his coat.
Reid had to pull his eyes away from Melody, who was standing so close to him once again, the idea of tasting her lush, pink lips crossed his mind for the second time that day. “Sure you can, buddy,” he replied, as if he hadn’t just been contemplating making a first move on a pretty girl for the first time in as long as he could remember. He fished the tag out of his pocket and handed it to Michael, willing to let him try to put it on before he rushed over to help.
Melody had finally stilled herself, though she had her hands over her face, as if she was afraid she might burst into another fit of giggles if she didn’t physically hold them in.
“What is so funny?” he asked, turning to face her.
“I honestly don’t know,” she replied, removing her hands from her face, though she was still on the cusp of losing it again. “It was just such a magical moment, cutting down my first tree, and then Michael yells, ‘Timber!’ I don’t know. Something about it just caught me off guard, I guess.”
“He was just following directions,” Reid reminded her.
“I know,” she giggled. “I guess that’s why I thought it was so funny.”
Once he saw that Michael had the tree tagged, he picked up the saw and said, “Come on. Let’s head back up to the front and see if they’ve got any hot chocolate. I’m freezing!”
Once the trees were paid for and loaded up, and they’d spent about an hour looking through the shops and sipping hot chocolate—which wasn’t nearly as good as Delaney’s—Reid opened the pas
senger side door for Melody, and she climbed into the cab of his truck, thankful for the running board.
He closed the door and went around to make sure Michael was buckled in. While she hated using her credit card, she’d had no choice since she hadn’t planned on purchasing a tree that day, and she was thankful she’d slipped it into her back pocket, along with her ID before she left home, just in case of an emergency.
Reid shut Michael’s door and checked the trees one more time before he slipped in beside her. The truck was already running, and she could feel some life coming back into her toes and fingers as he put on his seatbelt and asked if they were ready to go. Melody nodded and glanced over at Delaney’s old truck, hoping her friend was having a good time and that she’d be safe driving back to Charles Town by herself, especially since the snow was starting to pick up now.
“That was so much fun!” Michael exclaimed. Melody turned her head to look at him and couldn’t help but smile. He had a hint of a cocoa mustache, and he’d just pulled his hat off so his hair was standing on end, full of static. “Thanks for coming with us, Miss Melody. You’re good at picking out trees.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” she replied. “It was a lot of fun.” Realizing the truck had warmed up pretty quickly, she took her own hat off, but was careful to smooth her hair down as she did so, hopeful not to get the same mad scientist effect Michael was now sporting. She shoved her hat and her gloves into her coat pocket.
“Warm? Too warm?” Reid asked, glancing at her as he made his way down the narrow dirt road.
“Just fine, thanks” Melody assured him. She wondered if she’d ever return to Taylor Tree Farm, and if so, under what circumstances. Would it be with Michael and Reid? With Delaney? With her own family someday, with a husband she had yet to meet and kids she hadn’t even begun to dream of? Her mind was still pondering the possibilities when she realized Reid was talking to her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did you ask me something?”
“I asked if you thought you’d need help getting the tree set up once we get it back to your house,” he said with a smile.
“Oh, well, I thought my mom and I could handle it just fine, but she said to ask you if you wouldn’t mind helping,” she replied, honestly. “My mother is usually more of a damsel in distress than I am.”
“What’s a damsel?” Michael asked.
“It’s like a princess who needs a knight or a prince to rescue her,” Reid explained.
“Your mom is not more of a princess than you, Miss Melody. You’re a princess, and she’s more like a ….”
“Michael?” his father warned.
“A queen,” Michael said emphatically. “I was just gonna say queen.”
Melody laughed. “What did you think he was going to say?”
“You never know,” Reid replied, shaking his head. “Queen is fine.”
“I’m a princess, huh?” Melody asked, turning to face the little boy. “And does that make you my prince?”
“Nope,” Michael replied, smiling at her sheepishly. “My dad.”
Melody felt herself blushing and promptly turned around. She had inadvertently set him up for that one—but she had no idea what to say.
Reid was laughing, and glancing back at his son through the rearview mirror, he shook his head again and muttered, “More like the court jester.”
“What?” Melody asked, swatting him playfully in the arm. She didn’t say more, not willing to divulge that she’d already imagined what it would be like to be a princess, trapped in the highest tower of a castle in a far away land, Reid swooping in at the last second to save her from the evil king. Then, to Michael, she said, “You have a vivid imagination, my little friend. I was just saying my mom likes it when gentlemen volunteer to help her with things around the house, and I usually try to do it myself.”
“Like the door knob?” Michael asked.
“Exactly,” she nodded.
“My dad helped you with that, too,” he reminded her, and Melody heard Reid stifle a chuckle next to her.
“That’s because your dad is very helpful and considerate,” Melody replied.
“And charming,” Reid added, “like a prince.”
Michael burst into a fit of giggles, and Melody couldn’t help but smile at Reid, who momentarily pulled his eyes away from the road to catch hers. She had no idea if he was beginning to feel the same way about her as she was about him, but moments like this gave her hope. For better or for worse.
The rest of the ride was fairly quiet. Michael was tired; she could tell by his yawning and the fact that he wasn’t asking lots of questions. The snow continued to fall, and Melody was content to stare out the window at the unspoiled winter landscape. Fields covered in fresh snowflakes, hills capped in white, and trees collecting blankets of ivory on their branches. The radio was off, and even though she could still hear the song as the snow tapped and tinkled against the truck, she was thankful not to be bombarded with holiday music.
Her hand rested next to her on the seat, and while the cab was spacious, she imagined what it might be like if Reid were to reach over and take her hand in his. Of course, she doubted that would happen at all, and particularly not with Michael in the truck. But what would it feel like to sit here, staring out the window, watching the snowfall, holding his hand? Surely the weight of the world would melt away, and she could breathe without the restraint of her grief pressing against her heart.
The outskirts of Charles Town came into view, and Melody glanced in the mirror to see that Michael’s head had lolled to the side. He was asleep. Maybe Reid wouldn’t want to bother with assembling her Christmas tree stand and wrestling the spruce into place when his son was so tired.
“He’ll wake up as soon as the truck stops. Guarantee it,” Reid whispered with a knowing smile.
Melody returned his smile and then turned her attention back out the window. The town was always beautiful, but there was just something about all of the old houses at Christmas time that made her feel warm inside. “What made you choose Charles Town?” she asked, quietly, turning her head so that he could hear.
Reid shrugged. “I have an aunt and uncle who live in Harper’s Ferry. They suggested it might be a good place for Michael and I to start over. I’ve always wanted to start my own restoration business, and there’s definitely plenty of supply here and in the area.”
Melody nodded. “What did you do in Montana? Where at in Montana?’
“Billings,” he said, and the word came out as if he’d had to force it. “I worked as an architect for a fairly well-known builder there, designing houses for new subdivisions.”
“Wow,” Melody said, controlling her enthusiasm so as not to wake Michael. “That sounds impressive.”
He shrugged again. “It probably sounds more impressive than it actually was. I mean, I definitely made a good living. But after six years of doing the same thing, working for the same boss, I finally decided I needed to get away from that place and see what I could do on my own.”
Though she desperately wanted to ask the burning question—where was Michael’s mom?—they had just turned onto her street, and she realized now was not an appropriate time. That would have to wait for later—if there was a later. As he backed into her driveway in the spot closest to the door, she desperately hoped there would be a next time, even though she had no idea exactly what the nature of their relationship was. Did Reid only tolerate her because Michael was so enamored with her, or did he genuinely like her as well, and if so, to what extent?
As soon as Reid turned the engine off, Michael’s head shot up off the window. “Are we home?” he asked, his voice sounding crystal clear, as if he’d never even been asleep.
“We are at Miss Melody’s house,” Reid reminded him, and she smiled over her shoulder at the little boy who gave one more yawn and unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Yay!” Michael exclaimed, and Reid grinned at her as if to say, “I told you so” before exiting the vehicle to open Michael’s
door for him and help him out.
Melody pushed her way out of the cab of the truck as well, not thrilled to be back in the cold but knowing it was only temporary. Michael ran around the side of the truck and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go see if my mom got the Christmas tree stand out,” she said, and Reid followed them up the wide brick steps to the front door.
Before she even reached the door knob, her mother flung the door open. “Oh, good! You’re home!” she called, as if all of them lived there. “I just finished a batch of my famous chocolate chip cookies, and they’ll be ready to take out of the oven in just a minute.”
“Yay!” Michael shouted again. “Your cookies are the bestest!”
“Oh?” Sarah asked, looking from the little boy to her own daughter.
“He may have sampled them last week,” Melody explained. “Mom, this is Michael. And this is Reid.”
“It is so nice to meet both of you,” Sarah replied, shaking Michael’s hand and stepping out of the way as he barreled through the door. She shook Reid’s hand as well and dismissed his apologies for his son’s behavior. “No worries,” she said, “it’s been a long time since there’s been a little one running down these halls.”
“Actually, it’s only been a few days,” Melody reminded her mother as Reid followed her into the house.
“You know what I mean,” Sarah said, still smiling. “The pitter patter of little footsteps does a soul good.”
“What about the clunking of snow covered boots on your parquet?” Reid asked before he yelled at Michael to come back and take off his boots.
Melody was careful to dislodge any leftover flakes before she walked into the living room, Reid doing the same. “Did you get the tree stand out?” she asked.
“I did,” Sarah nodded. “I thought we should try something different this year. Your father preferred that corner over there, but I thought it might look nice right here, in the window.”
Melody considered her mother’s suggestion as she stood with her arms spread wide before the large picture window at the front of the room. She’d already moved the table that was usually there across the room, and it now occupied the place where Melody expected to see the Christmas tree stand.