“This is the first tree my great-great-grandfather ever planted on our farm.” Deacon moved closer to the trunk. There was a small, engraved, gold plaque that he read aloud. “Winters family tree. A million needles, a million more memories.” He ran his thumb over the embossed lettering. “There was an entire forest of trees here when he settled the land, but this was the first tree he planted by hand and got to watch grow from a seedling. He even kept a journal that recorded its height year by year and when he couldn’t measure it by hand anymore, he’d say, ‘The family tree is as tall as a rail car this year,’ or ‘It’s as high as a bridge now.’ My great-great-grandmother loved this tree so much that they didn’t even bother with an indoor Christmas tree. They’d just decorate this one out here each year instead. My grandparents did the same and so did my mom and dad. But my parents also liked having a tree in the house to pile presents under for me and Cody, so growing up we had one of those, too.”
“Do you put up an inside tree now?”
“If I get around to it. Honestly, since it’s just me, I don’t always see the need for one,” Deacon admitted. “But I brought you out here because this tree is what inspired me to start offering living trees for rent from our farm. I guess you could call this our original living Christmas tree.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, saying all of it out loud makes it feel a little silly. I just thought that it might be interesting to you.”
“It’s more than interesting, Deacon.” Kate stepped forward. “It’s inspiring. And beautiful.”
He blew out a sigh. “I’m glad you think so. I think so, too. I love that even though the land was filled with trees, my great-great-grandfather thought to plant one just for himself. It was like he really knew he was creating a legacy. He was so intentional. I’m trying to learn from that and hope to be the same.”
Kate wondered if he was intentionally trying to make her fall head over heels for him, too, because that was definitely happening. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Deacon.”
“Sure. Happy to.”
Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, Deacon shrugged his shoulders to his ears. “I suppose it was an awful long way to take you just to show you a tree that—for all intents and purposes—looks just like every other one out here.”
“I’ve traveled much farther for a story before.”
“You think this is for a news story?”
Kate’s heart stuttered and her face flashed with a burst of heat, that awful, humiliating moment of saying the completely wrong thing. “I just…I mean, no. I get that not everything needs to be broadcast on television…”
“Do you think people would actually be interested to learn how my great-great-grandfather started this farm?”
Kate had assumed Deacon’s first reaction was one of accusation but there was a lift to his voice now, a cadence of hope surrounding his question.
“I think people would love to hear about your great-great-grandfather, this tree, and his plan for the farm. This is really what it’s all about.”
The sweetest smile crossed over Deacon’s lips. “I guess I don’t really have a pulse on what people find interesting,” he admitted, laughing at himself. “I was worried the whole drive here that you would think this was a complete waste of your afternoon.”
“An afternoon spent with you wouldn’t be a waste.” Kate surprised even herself at how easily that confession slipped between her lips. “Thank you for bringing me. We don’t have to do it now, but I’d love to film you and this tree before my assignment wraps up.”
“It’s a date,” Deacon quipped and when Kate’s eyebrow popped up, almost as a challenge to that statement, he amended, “Well, not like a date-date, of course. It’s just a saying.”
“Well, shoot. I was hoping it wasn’t.”
Deacon looked like someone had just heaved a sack of potatoes at him. He almost stumbled back. “What?”
“I said, I was hoping you meant it as a real date. Not just as the saying goes.”
If Kate had told him she was actually one of Santa’s elves on assignment from the North Pole, he couldn’t have appeared more shocked. “You want to go on a date?” He paused as though she needed time to really gather her wits before answering. “With me?”
Insecurity began to unwind in Kate’s belly. She pulled at the bulky knit scarf around her neck, almost willing it to swallow her whole. Things were rapidly growing awkward and she now feared that miserable truck ride back that Deacon had alluded to earlier. “I think maybe I’ve read things wrong.”
“You haven’t,” Deacon said in a rush. “At least not on my end.”
Their eyes met. “Oh.”
“Kate, I’d love to take you out,” he said. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d want that.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” He shocked her even more when he stepped forward to take her hand in his. “How about tonight?”
Kate swallowed. “Yeah. Tonight’s good.”
“Great. Six o’clock?”
“Six is perfect.”
They stood there for a beat, their eyes locked and hands joined, when Deacon suddenly swiveled around. “Ready to head back?”
She followed as they began their short hike to the waiting truck, hand in hand, wearing matching smiles like teenagers who just found out their crushes were reciprocated. There was fluttering in her chest that Kate almost didn’t recognize. Deacon consistently surprised her in the best ways and he took that up another notch when he slipped his hand out of hers and lowered his arm onto her shoulder to pull her closer into his side instead.
“You know, you’re really beginning to grow on me, Kate Carmichael,” he said, giving her a playful little jostle.
“Is that so?” She looked up at the man beside her, the one who, minute by minute, had effortlessly worked his way into her heart.
“It sure is.”
Deacon
Deacon was nervous and he didn’t often get that way.
In just a few short days, he had gone from being annoyed by Kate to being completely charmed by her. It was a surprising transition, to say the least. This pull to be with her was strong and it made him do things he wouldn’t otherwise do.
Like leave the tree farm entirely in his brother’s hands.
When Deacon returned that afternoon and asked Cody if he’d be willing to close up the farm that evening, Cody’s eyes about tumbled from his head and his chin nearly hit the ground. He’d never been tasked with something like this, but not because he couldn’t handle it. No, that was all due to the fact that Deacon would never dream of being anywhere but the farm the first day they were open to the public.
But Kate sure had him dreaming of other things.
Once Cody recovered from the initial shock, he assured his big brother that the farm was in more than capable hands. Marla was equally encouraging. Deacon noticed her telling smirk, though, like maybe she was in on something he wasn’t. Right then, he wondered if there was more to hiring Kate than just the opportunity to drum up a little publicity for Yuletide. It wasn’t the first time his mother had tried to play matchmaker. All of her previous attempts had backfired spectacularly but the verdict was still out on this one.
The afternoon sped by as things picked up at the tree farm. There was an expected wave of customers stopping by after quitting time and when five-thirty rolled around, Deacon checked in one last time with his brother before hurrying home to ready for his date.
Once there, he found himself staring at his closet. Each plaid shirt was less impressive than the one hanging next to it. He didn’t have a clue how to dress for a date. All of his clothes were work-wear in both functionality and appearance. He did own one blue and green plaid button up that still had the tags on it, so he threw that on quickly and pulled a clean pair of dark denim jeans from his dresser.
His boots would be a problem, though. A quick shine didn’t suddenly turn them into clean, presentable dress shoes, but it knocked the dirt off a bit and would
have to do.
At a quarter to six, he gave himself a final once-over in the mirror, deciding at the last minute to leave his beloved cowboy hat at home and rake a comb through his overgrown hair instead. He felt naked without his signature hat. It had become his security blanket. But he wasn’t sure it was fitting attire for their evening, and when he knocked on Kate’s barn loft door just fifteen minutes later and she greeted him with an appreciative look that sent his heart racing, he knew he’d made the right decision.
“Wow.” He felt her eyes travel from his head to his toes. “Deacon Winters, you sure clean up well.”
“That’s awfully generous.”
“I mean it. I’ve never seen you without your hat. I was beginning to wonder if you had some big old bald spot you were trying to cover up.”
He ruffled up his mop of hair with his hand. “Nope. In fact, I think I’ve got too much hair. I’m overdue for a cut.”
“Nah.” Kate shook her head. “I like it.”
“Thank you. And you look beautiful.” She had on a sweater in a deep plum hue that contrasted with her fair skin, and while she often wore heavy makeup for the camera, tonight she had used a lighter hand in applying it, revealing a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She was naturally attractive and Deacon knew if he didn’t kick himself into gear, he’d be locked up right where he stood, fixated on this stunning woman in front of him.
“Thank you, Deacon.” She reached behind the door to grab her wool coat from a hook in preparation for the cold that awaited them. When she went to slip her arms into the sleeves, she tangled in the bulky fabric.
Deacon moved closer. “Let me,” he said as he took the jacket by the collar to allow Kate to shoulder into.
“Thanks. I appreciate the help,” she said, then added, “You know, just a couple days ago you were pretty reluctant to offer it.”
A vision of Kate sprawled on the barn floor with Sarge looming above had Deacon both chuckling and feeling a sick bout of remorse all at once. “I shouldn’t have been so reluctant to help you and for that I’m sorry. I just—,”
She swatted his arm with the small clutch purse in her hands. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Deacon. All’s well that ends well.”
He sure hoped that was true.
Motioning for her to go first, Deacon trailed Kate down the creaky barn stairs and out to his awaiting truck. He had kept the motor running, hoping the cab stayed warm in his absence. Temperatures had dropped along with the sun and even for someone like Deacon who was used to this bitter cold, it was still uncomfortable. For Kate, it must’ve been downright freezing.
Once inside the toasty shelter of the vehicle, Deacon set out on the highway. He knew so little of Kate to know if she preferred a plan over a surprise, but he went with his gut and left their evening’s events unspoken as he drove through the snowy Sierras. He figured if she really cared to know, she would ask. Kate wasn’t timid. But the fact that she sat next to him contentedly quiet, her head angled out toward the passenger window, lips parted in awe at the breathtaking scenery, led him to believe she was fine with the unknown.
After a fifteen-minute drive filled with comfortable quiet, they arrived at their destination. The parking lot was nearly filled but Deacon managed to snag the last open spot. “Looks like they saved one for us.”
Kate’s eyes met his and then darted past him to the building at his back. “You brought me to church?”
“I did.” He jingled his keys in his palm, his nerves rattling out with the noise. “I know it’s not your typical first date setting, but tonight they’re wrapping the gifts collected from last week’s toy drive and I don’t know,”—he shrugged—“I just thought something about that might be fun. But if you’d rather go to a movie or dinner, that works for me, too. Whatever you want.”
“This is great, Deacon.” She placed her hand over his trembling one. “I love it. Right up my alley.”
“They’ll feed us, too,” he assured, knowing it was dinnertime and that she was probably just as hungry as he was. His stomach had growled at least three times during their drive. “And let me tell you, these church ladies sure know how to cook.”
“Sounds like the perfect evening.”
They hurried from the truck to the building, the low temperatures motivating them to move rapidly from Point A to Point B. But the church was predictably warm, both to Deacon’s body and his spirit. He loved this little mountain town church. The wooden pews that were just the right level of uncomfortable to keep you awake during Pastor Tomlin’s meandering but well-meaning sermons. The worn hymnals with loose spines and tattered pages. And the people. His friends, neighbors, and family that made up the congregation were treasures in and of themselves. This place was a haven to Deacon. Always had been. And tonight, he was so happy to share it with Kate.
“Deacon Winters!” They had barely crossed the threshold before Dottie Mason was racing to him with two flapping hands. “I told the gals you’d be coming by tonight, but they didn’t believe me, what with it being opening day at the tree farm. I sure hope it was an enormous success. We’ve been praying, you know. Each week in our little prayer circle, we pray that this year will be even better than the last. We just love that you’ve kept the legacy going. Your father would be proud. Real proud.” She rocked him back and forth in a hug that bordered on a dance move. “So wonderful to see you, son. Daryl’s going to be thrilled to have some male company. He’s outnumbered at the present moment.”
When Deacon moved further into the room and Kate stepped out from behind him, Dottie’s eyes when wide behind her wire rim glasses. “Hey, now. Who is this beautiful lady?” Without hesitation, she wrapped Kate in a hug and danced her into the church.
“This is Kate Carmichael,” Deacon introduced. “Kate, this is Dottie. Dottie and her husband, Daryl, own the best feed store this side of the Sierras.”
“We’ve got everything you’ll need to care for all your animals, from hogs to frogs,” she said in a singsong voice. “Maybe you’ve heard our little jingle on the radio?”
“Kate’s not from here,” Deacon answered for her. “She’s based out of Sacramento.”
“Oh, very nice. Very nice.” Dottie’s head swiveled around like an owl’s at the sudden holler of her name. She lifted a finger. “Sounds like I’m being summoned. You two make yourselves at home. We’ve got loads of toys to wrap and lots of papers to choose from. And if you leave hungry, well, that’s all on you.” She chuckled. “I think I counted something like thirteen casseroles in the kitchen. And the dessert table’s looking pretty well-stocked, too.”
“Thank you, Dottie. We’ll get settled in.”
“Nice meeting you,” Kate added.
“You too, dear.” Dottie gave a wink and then scurried off just as her name was called a second time.
Deacon took a breath. He looked over Kate in apology. “You overwhelmed yet?”
“Not even a little bit. I love how friendly and welcoming everyone is.”
“Yeah? I was hoping you didn’t feel ambushed. Dottie’s sort of the unofficial greeter around here. She likes to know who’s here and who’s not and she’ll sure as the day is long give you grief if you miss a Sunday sermon. Not much gets past that woman.”
“Nothing wrong with a little accountability.”
Deacon smiled, grateful she wasn’t put off by Dottie’s boisterous welcome. “Looks like the toy bins are just over there.” He tipped his chin toward the far wall lined with round barrels that overflowed with donations big and small. “Want to pick out a few gifts and then find a place to get situated?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Moments later, they were seated at a long plastic folding table, a stack of presents ready for wrapping and several rolls of paper sprawled between them. Christmas carols filtered through the outdated speaker system. There was the white noise of chatter with bouts of laughter sprinkled here and there like sweet sugar. To Deacon, the room felt like an embrac
e—all of his favorite people, memories, and activities housed within these church walls.
It had been where he’d learned amazing grace, both in tune and in practice. When he’d lost his father back in his teenage years in an awful car accident just outside their farm, the church rallied around the Winters like they were their very own. Even though Deacon had grown up in the congregation, he’d pulled away in those adolescent years. He withdrew even more after his dad died. Any attempts to reach Deacon were met with opposition, obstinacy, and challenge. Eventually, as the years passed, there came a time when he needed that support again. Maturity and humility let him accept it this go around, and he was so grateful for these grace-filled people who welcomed him home with open, loving arms.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Kate glanced over at Deacon, noticing his pensive gaze.
“You owe me two cents now, you know,” Deacon teased. “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that.”
“You should know by now I’m always happy to throw in my two cents.” She kept her focus trained on the scissors and wrapping paper in her hands as she measured and cut a strip for her package.
“I see what you did there.”
“Pretty great, right? I’m very punny.” She made air quotes around the word and then reached across the table for the spool of clear tape. “But really, any chance you want to share what you were thinking? You seemed pretty lost in thought.”
“Do you go to church?”
She ripped off a tab of the tape and played with the sticky side between her thumb and index finger. “I grew up going to one. My mom and dad weren’t big on organized religion, but I had a childhood friend that would take me each week with their family. I loved it. There was this huge organ and when it was played, I could feel the music vibrate in my teeth. It was so loud. So powerful.”
Christmas at Yuletide Farm: A Small-Town Christmas Romance Novel Page 9