This Christmas

I put the e-reader away and change the music off the hard rock station. That won’t help anyone’s mood. I flip through until I get to a holiday station playing an instrumental melody of ‘White Christmas’. I sit back in my seat and take Will’s free hand in mine.

He tilts his head to me.

“We haven’t been alone in a while,” I start with a sigh. “I don’t care if we ever get there, I’m fine with spending the whole time in this car with you.”

“What about a working toilet?”

I smile. “Humans survived many years in the woods.”

He taps my hand with his thumb. “Poison ivy…” he trails off as his eyes dip to my legs.

I grimace and take my hand away as he chuckles. “You know what I mean.”

The car inches forward. “I know. I just hate traffic.”

“What’s your dad and Mabel doing for Christmas?” I ask.

Will leans his head against the window, glaring laser beams at the cars in front of us. “It’s the first Christmas in some time that they’re together. I think they’re spending it with her Bridge group.” He chuckles. “Dad’s the only guy”

“Do you wish you went?” I ask, knowing he hasn’t had much time with his dad since he got out of rehab for his alcoholism and moved down to Texas with Mabel.

He shakes his head. “I talk to him almost every day and I promised to go down there in February.”

That was news to me. Regret pinches at my chest as I realize we really haven’t talked about him in a while.

The cars start another slow crawl. Will clamps both hands on the wheel and the truck lurches forward. Sometimes Will is still an enigma to me. Even though we worked through the secrets he hid from everyone for two years, I feel like it’s still a reflex for him. I tug at the hem of my shirt and settle into the seat. We just need to get to the cabin, then everything will be fine.

***

It’s not until we get off the island of Manhattan that the roads open up for us. Will takes quick advantage and kicks up the speed of the truck. I adjust my body until I’m comfortable in my seat again.

His attention is riveted on the road and I ponder bringing up his dad again. Or the fact that they didn’t buy much for him. The rational part of my brain protests. When Will came home this past summer, he didn’t have a lot of money. With his dad spending time in rehab this year, maybe they were being frugal? Or maybe they want to celebrate the holiday late in February? I want Will to relax but that won’t happen if I keep pushing him on the subject. I’ll have to do something extra special for him to make his Christmas as memorable as possible. I’ll have to be a little creative.

***

We reach the small town of Holton Village around noon. Even though it’s later than expected, Will’s mood changes considerably. I’m not sure if it’s better or worse. Instead of grumbling he is quiet and contemplative. Even when we stop at the local grocery store it’s impossible to get more than a few words out of him.

His only response to me asking him what he wanted was, “Whatever you want.”

I wonder if the long trip took a lot out of him, so I take the initiative and fill the cart with as much as I can think of us needing.

I want to get him something extra for Christmas, but there isn’t much other than food in the store. Plus, he insists on paying.

As we drive through the small village, decorated for Christmas like a perfect snow globe, the silence stretches between us. I turn my focus to the road. Huge snow mounds line the street and I hope we’re able to get up to the cabin without a lot of issues. Will doesn’t seem too concerned. About anything, it seems.

“It’s just a few miles up ahead,” I say, pointing into the distance, filling the silence. He hasn’t turned the radio back on since we got into the car.

He glances at his phone and nods, reaching for the radio again. I guess I spoke to soon.

“I’m excited to get there,” I say.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, his eyes on the white-coated road.

Maybe he’s concentrating? I turn my attention to the window, watching the people in the village pass by. Some of them carry several bags of packages, while others enter little quaint cafes along the strip. I even see a group of carolers dressed in old-fashioned costumes walking two by two down one side, singing a song. I can’t hear over our music.

At the edge of town the trees thicken and there is more space between the houses. Eventually the trees take over the space completely. I watch the phone screen as our location nears the red flag signaling the cabin. But as we get closer, I don’t see any sign of it. Within a few minutes, we pass the red flag.

“Shit.” Will leans forward. “Did you see the entrance?”

I turn in my seat and squint. I hadn’t seen anything but trees. “No.”

He maneuvers the truck around and slams his palm into the volume button, silencing the car. We move at a slow crawl down the road.

“Becky said there is a one-lane road through here.”

I sit up in my seat and try to help find it, but I don’t see anything. My overactive imagination thinks this is a sick joke and there isn’t really a cabin, and we’ll be stuck traveling back to the City in massive traffic. That or the opposite, getting snowed in for weeks...

“There it is,” Will says as he turns the wheel.

“There what is?” I ask, trying to see what he sees. A small rectangular wooden sign sticks up about a foot from the ground, half of it covered by snow. I can faintly make out the tops of letters etched on the sign, but I’m more focused on the narrow path Will’s truck has to fit through.

“Are you sure—?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

I pull my arms close to me as if it helps to make the truck smaller. The vehicle rocks back and forth, creating its own path in the snow. Branches thwack against the truck and I catch Will cringing with each one. It’s as if he feels each dent and scratch being made by the trees. As old as the truck is, he keeps it in good shape.

I check his phone again but the progress hasn’t changed since I last looked. It appears to be frozen, but the ‘No Service’ at the top of the screen suggests otherwise. I turn my attention back to the road. His mouth is pursed with concentration and I strain to keep my eyes open, wanting to close them and cover my face with my hands at the nail-biting journey through the woods.

After only a few minutes the road starts to widen. Will’s shoulders relax as he presses the accelerator. I sit back in my seat, letting out a relieved sigh.

The corner of Will’s mouth lifts and I hope this is the start of a more positive attitude change.

The trees on either side of the truck push back further from the road and surround what looks like a large meadow. Or might possibly be a meadow if it wasn’t covered with snow. A wooden gazebo sits in the middle of it. I imagine it might be a nice place to sit during the long days of summer. I scoot to the edge of my seat, scanning the rest of the land for what brought us here to begin with. The cabin.

Will keeps to the trees, the truck making a path towards the cabin. I vaguely remember Becky saying the cabin isn’t too far away from the gazebo.

I sit up in my seat, not caring that the Christmas music isn’t playing and trying to ignore how quiet and moody Will has been on this journey. We are here. I have the strong sense Will might have been protecting himself all these years, pretending not to care that he missed out on Christmas, but I will make this one of the most memorable for both of us.

Step one is right in front of us.

Will turns the truck around a copse of trees jutting out from the rest and just beyond is the cabin inside a nook of trees.

The sun reflects off the snow covering the roof and ground around the cabin. A stone chimney climbs the side of the house closest to us, reaching up to the second floor. I imagine us sitting in front of the fire already. A porch wraps around the front of the cabin, offering shelter above the front door.

It’s even more perfect in person.

My fingers tap along my legs as we get closer. Will parks the truck to the side of the house and I don’t wait for him to turn it off before I’m out of there. I zip my coat up around my neck; the wind is stronger than it was in town. I shade my eyes with my hands to admire the place I’m actually going to be staying in for the next week.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

Paper bags crinkle behind me. Will is already unpacking the bed of the truck. I inhale deeply, taking in the fresh air surrounding us, before helping him with the bags.

The few snowfalls in the City this year turned to a brackish slush before I had the chance to enjoy it. Here the snow is untouched and pristine, with only our boots making the first marks. I lag behind, taking in the expanse of land the cabin looks out upon.

I hurry to catch up with Will just as he opens the front door. A blast of warm air heats my cheeks and I remember Becky saying that someone cares for the house when they aren’t here.

Will moves out of the way, giving us both the full view of the place. Against the right wall is a wooden staircase with the same rustic feel as the rest of the cabin. The rest of the floor is open. The doorway spills into a living room with numerous chairs and a plush couch that has seen better days. The corner of the room is a perfect spot for a Christmas tree and my mind whirs with possibility.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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