The Forever Christmas Tree

by Sandra Hill

  He poured a small amount in two glasses and topped them with a sprig of mint for color. After tasting his, he added another dollop of vodka to the mix. She sipped hers and said, “Wow! You make a great Wild-Ass Elf.”

  “Aw, shucks, Flip, that’s what all the girls say.”

  Claudette and Harry were sitting at the kitchen table making small sandwiches of party rye with paper-thin slices of ham, Swiss cheese, and stone-ground mustard, and crustless sourdough mini rounds with rare roast beef and horseradish sauce. Elmer had boiled up a pile of shrimp yesterday, not wanting to smell up the house today, and he was peeling them by the sink and placing them on a platter with a small bowl of his special homemade dipping sauce. K-4 was preparing some bacon-wrapped jalapeños from his late wife’s family recipe, which he warned were not for the faint of heart, or tongue.

  And Mike and Ike had surprised them all by going down to The Deli early this morning where the owner, Abe Bernstein, son of an old pal of theirs, opened the doors to them and allowed them to purchase, “at a bargain price,” the remainder of the caviar he’d brought in as a new offering to lure in tourists. The caviar would be served over cracked ice with toast points and chopped red onions and lemon wedges for garnish.

  And of course there would be an array of Aunt Mildred’s Christmas cookies. And ginger chai tea for those who requested it.

  A veritable finger feast!

  The nice part was that everyone had a job, even Geek, who claimed his only talent regarding food was eating it. He was bringing in logs, having been relegated to “keeper of the fire.” There was a feeling of family amongst them.

  And the whole holiday festive spirit thing was helped by the snowflakes that could be seen coming down outside, sort of an omen of good cheer. A rare Outer Banks Christmas snow was always appreciated as one of the Lord’s small blessings.

  Raul’s daughter, Bonita Arias, came early, but she was considered extended “family” and welcomed by everyone. And I mean everyone, Wendy thought, but not in a mean way, as she looked over Raul’s thirty-something daughter who was an absolute stunner, with long, silky black hair, a svelte body in a figure-hugging red sheath dress that was demure at the neck and sleeves, but cut off midway to yee-haw in the back, with killer high heels, which were also red, and, get this, seamed black stockings.

  “Who wears stockings today, let alone ones with seams? I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a garter belt, too,” Diane whispered at Wendy’s side.

  Wendy was pretty sure that Diane would be making some purchases on the Internet later today.

  Anyhow, it was hard not to admire Bonita, and not just because of her appearance. She was intelligent, as evidenced by her talking to the guys about her experiences as an oceanographer, who sometimes consulted for ship-salvaging companies. And she had a warm personality, which she extended to all of them, not just to the guys, and not just to the younger people. She was especially kind to Aunt Mildred, her father’s “girlfriend,” which earned her many points in Wendy’s book.

  For a brief moment, Wendy wondered if Ethan had ever met Bonita. If he hadn’t, would he be drawn in like all the others when he arrived today? She decided to go upstairs and change her clothes and put on some makeup. So did Diane.

  It had nothing to do with Bonita.

  Nothing.

  Really.

  The open house was a huge success and some of the folks stayed longer than four p.m., even though it was Christmas Day and they should be wanting to have their own holiday activities. They were having so much fun.

  Midway through the afternoon, Eliza Rutledge arrived. Alone. It turned out that Cassie was having a bad day, and Ethan needed to stay with her.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Is it serious?”

  “We just think it’s a reaction to being on her feet too much the last two days with the parade and everything. Her hip can only take so much stress before it screams for a rest. Plus, she might be coming down with a cold.”

  “Doctor Hale is here, if you need him to go check her over.”

  “Nice to know, but we’ll wait and see.”

  “I have a couple little gifts for Cassie. Can you take them home for her?” Aside from the little blue sweater with silver snowflakes that Wendy had purchased earlier, she’d also put together a basket with a box of ginger chai tea, a bear squirt bottle of honey, and a tea set she’d found in an antiques shop on the square, composed of two delicate cups and saucers and a plate, all imprinted with handpainted pink roses. And a dozen raspberry shortbread cookies, of course, thanks to Aunt Mil.

  “Definitely.”

  By six o’clock everything was cleaned up, and they were all relaxing, mostly in the living room by the tree, where Bing Crosby was crooning something appropriate about a white Christmas in the background. Bonita was still here and was sitting in the dining room with Geek and K-4 and JAM looking over the treasure maps.

  They would all be sitting down to Elmer’s turkey feast at seven, but this was a brief respite before anyone had to get up. Despite all the food they’d prepared, and the masses of offerings that their guests had brought, most of it was gone, and ironically those residing here had eaten little if any of it, being too busy serving and circulating. They were all starved, salivating over the luscious smells in the air.

  Aunt Mildred, sitting close to Wendy on the sofa, with their shoeless feet propped on the coffee table, said, “While we have a quiet moment, I wanted to say something to you, honey.”

  “Oh?”

  “When you go back to California, if you would rather I not have all these people staying here in your house . . . well, I’m perfectly willing to evict them. Oh, not evict evict, but you know what I mean. It’s your house, after all.”

  Wendy put an arm around her aunt’s shoulder and hugged her closer. “Aunt Mil, how can you even ask that? What a joy all your friends are! You—all of you—have made this the best Christmas holiday for me and my friends, and, believe me, we needed this.” She got a bit choked up and had to clear her throat. “Anyhow, as long as you want, or are capable of doing all the extra work, do whatever you want here.”

  “You’re not going to sell the house, then?”

  “Not right now.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever come back here to live?”

  “I can’t imagine that I will. What would I do here? It’s not like there’s a call for special forces talents. But it’s nothing I have to decide anytime soon. As I’ve mentioned before, I have another six months on my current contract before I have to decide whether to accept another extension.” Wendy didn’t add that she was surprisingly confused after this trip home, by her new association with Ethan. Where she’d been sure of her career plans a week ago, she was now thinking . . . well, enough of that for now.

  The day had been so busy that she hadn’t had time to think about Ethan, not too much anyway, but when she went to bed that night, he was on her mind. She hoped Cassie was all right, and she planned to call tomorrow to make sure, and if possible ask the little girl how she liked the gifts her great-grandmother had brought home for her. She wouldn’t go over there, unless invited. She kind of hoped that she was.

  But all that changed at 6:05 a.m. on the day after Christmas when Wendy’s beeper went off, and she heard similar ones going off throughout the house. It was the signal from the Coronado command center for SEALs and WEALS to get on their secure cell phone lines ASAP.

  Bottom line: Liberty was canceled. They were ordered to report back to the base immediately because of a new terrorist threat in Afghanistan, no other details provided but it must be urgent to recall them en masse. Further highlighting the urgency, command had made arrangements for a helicopter to be available at eleven-hundred, on one of the Outer Banks emergency medical airfields, which would take them to the nearest military base for air transport back to California. That meant that they had to be “good to go” five hours from now, when they would be boots off the ground, but it would take at least two hours to get to the p
ickup zone.

  Allowing an hour to pack and inform Aunt Mildred of her departure, that gave Wendy only a two-hour window of opportunity for a necessary task.

  She would not leave Ethan again without warning.

  It was only seven thirty when Wendy arrived at Ethan’s home. Thankfully, there were lights on in the kitchen. If her rental car didn’t announce her arrival, Harvey did with his wild barking. The door was opened by Eliza Rutledge, wearing an open robe over a pair of flannel PJs, before Wendy even stepped on the porch, and the dog bounded out to give her doggie kisses.

  “Harvey! You bad dog. Get in here,” Mrs. Rutledge said. To Wendy, she gave a sudden look of concern. “Is something wrong? Has something happened to your aunt? All that dancing! I wouldn’t be surprised if she fell and broke a hip.”

  Wendy had to smile at the old lady, who was as opinionated as she’d always been. “No, nothing like that. Sorry to barge in so early, but I just got notice that I have to return to base. Is Ethan here?”

  “No. He went over to the tree farm—the one here in Bell Cove. They’re grinding up the unsold trees for mulch, and they like to get an early start.”

  Wendy glanced at her watch. Seven forty-five.

  “Come in and have some coffee, dear.”

  “No, I better not.” If she hurried, she could go to the tree lot, talk to Ethan, and get back to the house with time to spare.

  Just then, Cassie came limping in. Her hair was a wild sleep mess, but, other than that, she seemed okay. “Wendy!” she exclaimed with pleasure, then hesitated, as if unsure about whether she could come over and give her a welcome hug.

  Wendy took that choice out of her hands and not only hugged the girl but kissed her soundly on the cheek, which was thankfully cool. No sign of the fever Mrs. Rutledge had mentioned yesterday. “I came by to wish you a Merry Christmas, sweetheart, since I didn’t get to see you yesterday.”

  “I was sick and Nana left without me,” Cassie told Wendy, giving her great-grandmother a dirty look. Obviously, it was a sore point. “Thank you for my presents.”

  “Did you like them?”

  “I love them. The sweater fits perfect, and it looks nice with my jeans. We can have some tea now.” She glanced over to her grandmother. “Can’t we, Nana?”

  Mrs. Rutledge raised her brows at Wendy.

  “No, I can’t stay. I just came to say good-bye. I’m leaving for California this morning.”

  “Do you have to go?”

  “I do. My boss needs me for some important work.”

  “I thought we might go to the pool again.” There were tears in Cassie’s eyes.

  “Maybe next time I’m home, but you can practice with your dad in the meantime. And here, I’ve written my email address for you to write to me, if you want. Tell me what progress you’re making.” She handed her a slip of paper.

  “My dad showed me a picture of you at the dance. You were wearing a pink gown, like a princess. Were you thinking about me when you wore that color because I told you that I like pink?”

  The gown had actually been rose-colored, although Wendy supposed rose could be considered just another shade of pink. “Absolutely,” she lied.

  “I’ll think about you when I wear the blue sweater, too,” Cassie promised.

  Now Wendy was teary-eyed. When she was back in her car, she wiped her eyes with a tissue and had to blow her nose. Twice.

  The Christmas Shoppe was empty when she got there, but she could hear a grinding noise behind the building. A high-school-age boy came in carrying a small chain saw. With one synthetic diamond earring and tattoos on his arms, Wendy assumed it was the kid that Cassie had a crush on, according to Ethan.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, giving her the once-over in her jeans and hoodie.

  The arrogant snot! “I’m looking for Ethan Rutledge?”

  “He’s out back by the grinder. Do you want me to get him?” He gave her one of those half-lidded looks of conceit, as if wondering if she wouldn’t prefer him.

  Puh-leeze! “Please.”

  In the meantime, something was niggling at the back of Wendy’s mind, something that Matt Holter had said at the Christmas dance. He’d suggested that she go look at the tree. He couldn’t have meant the tree that she and Ethan had planted together when they were only fifteen years old. It must have died the death of most Outer Banks Christmas trees by now.

  Without thinking, she marched out the side door of the shop and to the far end of the lot. Amidst the straggly Rutledge Trees, there it stood. The Forever Christmas Tree. The one that had been destined to be the first Christmas tree that Ethan and Wendy had in their home after they were married.

  Chills ran up and down Wendy’s spine as she gazed upward. It was magnificent. A testament to something important, but she wasn’t sure what. How had it managed to survive when all the others failed?

  Through love, she realized. Faithful, long-lasting, forever love.

  Ethan must have babied this thing, coddled it, protected it through harsh winds and storms. He must have been ridiculed, frustrated, angry at times. But he hadn’t given up.

  Why had she?

  She hadn’t realized that the loud grinding noise had stopped, only that Ethan was standing beside her. She couldn’t look at him, not yet.

  “You’re leaving,” he guessed.

  She nodded. “Emergency callback.”

  “Dangerous?”

  She shrugged.

  “Thanks for coming to tell me that you’re leaving.” Unspoken was the word “again.”

  She refused to rise to that bait. He was the one who’d betrayed her all those years ago. All she’d done was leave. Yes, without giving him a chance to fix things, if he could have. But he hadn’t the right to expect that of her. Had he?

  Maybe in the final analysis, they had both been at fault.

  She was still staring at the tree. “Why?” she asked. “Why did you go to the trouble of preserving the tree?”

  “Ethan’s Folly, that’s what some folks called it. A fool thing to do. Maybe it’s time I cut the damn thing down.”

  She turned now to look at him. “Don’t you dare!” she said with such ferocity that he blinked with surprise. “If you cut down my tree, I will come back and haunt you.”

  He smiled then, a sad smile, probably because she’d referred to it as her tree. “You already haunt me, Wendy.”

  Just then, her phone rang. Checking the screen, she saw that it was a text message from JAM:

  Hey, Flip! Where R U? Car packed. Ready to leave.

  “I have to go,” she said with a sigh. Then, on impulse, she grabbed his face with both hands, tugging him downward, and kissed him, hard. Over her shoulder as she walked away, then ran off, she said, “This isn’t over.”

  “What does that mean?” he yelled after her.

  “I have no idea. Just . . . just take care of my damn tree.”

  Chapter 21

  The first step is the hardest . . .

  The last time Wendy left, Ethan had gone around like a zombie. Now, he was more like a robot. For the past two months, ever since Christmas, so much had happened. Zap, zap, zap. There had been nothing he could do, except hang on and do what had to be done.

  First, there had been the shock of Wendy’s leaving.

  “Dad, she had to go. She does important work, you know. It’s not because she wanted to leave us so quickly.”

  Sad that he had to be reassured by his almost twelve-year-old daughter.

  There had been a few chatty text messages from her, like he was her new BFF:

  Arrived safely bk in CA. Miss OBX already.

  Hmpfh! She missed the island, but no mention of me.

  Then, days later:

  Op completed. All good.

  She must have known that I’d be worried. Nice of her to let me know, but, face it: I would worry every time she went out on an “op” . . . if I knew where she was going or exactly what an “op” is.

  Cold & rainy her
e. How’s the island?

  Great! Now we’re reduced to talking about the weather!

  How’s my tree?

  A bloody pain in the ass, that’s how it is. I picked 117 mites off it yesterday.

  Geek just gave notice. He’ll be a Bell Cove-ite by June.

  And what will you be by June, Flipper? Where will you be?

  He may have had all these thoughts, but he never answered any of her text messages. Not because he was sulking or to prove any stupid point. He was just so confused. Honestly, he didn’t know what to say. He knew how he felt, but was unsure about Wendy. To him, it felt as if the ball was in her court.

  “You’re a fool,” Matt told him over lunch at the Cracked Crab one day when they’d met to discuss some issues that had come up with the land deal over on the mainland. He was referring to his “lack of action” regarding Wendy, not the surveyor’s report. “There aren’t many people who get a second chance, pal.”

  “What do I have to offer a woman accustomed to a life of adventure? Hell, I’m the same Ethan Rutledge I was twelve years ago, but Wendy is an entirely different person now.”

  “So the hell what?”

  “This new Wendy does exciting things, meets exciting people, travels to exciting places.”

  “Yada, yada, yada.”

  “Case in point, I personally witnessed her taking off on a moment’s notice when Uncle Sam called. And she was picked up by a military transport helicopter, for God’s sake. How expensive is that? Which shows just how important she and her gang are to this country. Then she shoots off to some mountains in Afghanistan to rescue three Marines being held by the Taliban.”

  “Wendy told you that?”

  “No, but from the CNN news footage of a special forces mission a few days after she left, I put the pieces together.”

  “I saw that report. Wow! Do you suppose Wendy was one of those yahoos parachuting out of a moving plane?”

  “I don’t want to know,” Ethan said. “Face it, Wendy would be bored stiff in Bell Cove where the most exciting thing that happens is a grinch contest. And the most interesting person in town is Abe Bernstein and his Reuben sandwich.”