Grinchland

Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

SILAS

I really needed to stop agreeing to Clara’s plans if she uses the phrase, you’ll just have to wait and see. Every time I let her lead, I found myself doing things I definitely did not want to do.

I knew this was a bad idea, and yet, I’d not only agreed to let Isabelle come, but I’d also agreed to let Clara drive after she’d insisted.

I really hoped she’d keep her promise by keeping Christmas out of our plans.

Isabelle seemed to be reacting well to the holiday cheer Clara had already let into our small town, but I wasn’t going to trust a full baptism into the holiday season.

And I didn’t believe that Clara was capable of anything short of a full baptism.

“So, where are we going?” I asked for what felt like the hundredth time today.

I was sitting in the front seat next to Clara while Isabelle sat in the seat behind me. I glanced around at my surroundings. “And why are we headed to Jordan?” It was two towns over.

Clara shook her head. “I told you it was surprise. Why do you keep trying to ruin it?” She shot me an annoyed smile before she flipped on her blinker and took a left.

I glared at her. “This isn’t fair, you know. Everything has to be a surprise with you.”

She laughed. “Are you shocked? My favorite holiday is the one day a year you give the most surprises.” She shrugged. “I love seeing people’s reactions.”

“It’s not fair.”

She shrugged. “I think you’ll get over it.”

She began to slow, so I glanced over my shoulder to see a sign that said McCall’s Christmas Trees next left. My eyes bugged as I glanced over at her.

“You promised.” I hated that I felt so betrayed by her. “This goes against our agreement.”

“It doesn’t,” she started, and I whipped my gaze back to her. “Hear me out.” She glanced around the car and finally pulled out a receipt from the cupholder and handed it to me. “What would you call this?”

I gingerly picked it up, confused as to where she was going with this. “An old receipt.”

She shook her head. “Not that. What’s it printed on?”

I held it up. “Paper.”

“And paper comes from…”

I narrowed my eyes, starting to see her intended connection. “Trees,” I said in a tone that I hoped told her I was not amused.

“And how do we harvest trees?”

She’d reverted to talking to me like I was one of her students. I folded my arms across my chest.

“By cutting them down,” Isabelle piped up from the back seat.

I glanced at her from over my shoulder.

“And are you saying that they are celebrating…” She paused and glanced back at Isabelle. “C-h-r-i—”

“I get what you’re saying.”

“—every time they cut one down?”

I shot her a look. “No. Obviously not.”

Clara’s smile was triumphant as she nodded. “Right. They aren’t. So we can do it, too.” She slowed and took a right down the snow-covered gravel road. The Christmas tree farm loomed in the distance.

I sighed. She got me this time. “Fine. But we’re not d-e-c-o-rating”—I got tired of spelling the word—“it.”

I could tell that was not the answer Clara wanted, but she didn’t argue, instead she just shrugged. “Fine.”

I nodded. “Good.” I was really curious if, by the end of the night, she was going to spin decorating the tree the same way. I couldn’t imagine she’d be able to actually do that, but I wouldn’t put it past her to try.

We shifted and moved with each dip and bump in the road. When we got to the parking lot, Clara found the closest spot to the entrance and took it. I sunk lower into my seat, grateful that we were a good thirty minutes from Grinchland. The last thing I needed was for someone from town to see me.

It would make for an awkward and strained meeting.

Isabelle was out of the car before I’d even unbuckled. Thankfully, Clara seemed just as eager and had joined her. They were standing next to one another, staring at me expectantly.

“There goes my hasty retreat,” I muttered to myself as I pressed the tongue release and let the seat belt retract across my chest. I took my time finding the door handle. Just as I cracked the door, Isabelle was there to pull it open the rest of the way. “Thanks, Belly,” I said half-heartedly.

“Come on, Daddy. You’re taking for-ever.” She placed her little hands on her hips and gave me a withering look.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I climbed out of the car, stretching until Isabelle tried to shut the door but just ended up swinging it into me. The force took the wind out of my lungs, and I bent forward with a gasp.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“So why are we here?” Isabelle asked as she turned toward Clara. She rose up onto her tiptoes a few times. She was excited.

“We’re here to cut down a tree.”

Isabelle’s eyes were wide. “Why?” she whispered.

I stepped out from behind the door so I could slam it closed. “Yeah, Ms. Snow. Why do you want to cut down a tree?”

Clara shot me an annoyed look before she squatted down in front of Isabelle so she was now eye level with my daughter. “To put in my house.”

Isabelle laughed. “Why would you want a tree in your house?” She paused. “You don’t have any dirt.”

“Yeah, trees need dirt,” I said, enjoying the chance to razz Clara.

Clara flicked her gaze up at me for a moment before she turned her attention back to Isabelle. “Because I think they are pretty and smell good. Lots of people have plants in their homes.”

Isabelle stopped, and a thoughtful expression passed over her face. Then she began to nod slowly before she knit her eyebrows together. “But trees are bigger than flowers.”

“True, but it’s not impossible to put a tree in your house.” She leaned forward, holding Isabelle’s gaze. “What do you think? Do you think you can help me pick one out? I’m in desperate need of your expertise.”

I waited to hear Isabelle’s response. Finally she nodded. “I think I can do that.”

I smiled and wrapped my arm around Isabelle’s shoulders. “Lead the way, Ms. Snow.”

We spent the next thirty minutes looking at trees that looked exactly the same, even though Clara tried to convince me that they were different.

She kept going back and forth between a blue spruce and a Douglas fir.

I was bored and antsy and trying really hard to feign interest, but my patience-meter for picking a non-Christmas Christmas tree was moments away from reaching max capacity.

Needing something to do, I grabbed Isabelle’s hand. “I’m going to walk around with Belly,” I said over my shoulder to Clara, who was in a heated discussion with the tree farm owner over the life expectancy of the two trees.

Thankfully, Isabelle didn’t fight me. She settled her little hand into mine as we started walking down the aisle.

“It’s weird, Daddy,” she said as she swept her gaze around. “These trees were cut down. How’s Ms. Snow going to plant them in her house?” She paused and pointed to the cleanly cut bottom of a Christmas tree.

“She can put it in a bucket of water to keep it for a bit longer, but it will eventually die.” The last few words came out a whisper.

I rarely talked about death. It felt like, in a way, I was talking about Nicole.

I hated that death was a concept that was already an integral part of my daughter’s life.

Not addressing it felt immature, but I didn’t know how to explain to my five-year-old daughter that her mother was never coming home in a way that she would understand, so I just avoided the topic altogether.

When I talked about Nicole, it broke me, so I just avoided it.

Isabelle’s eyes were wide as she studied me. Then her little lip quivered. “So that tree is dying?” she asked as she pointed to the tree at the far end of the line. Its needles were already turning brown and its branches were sparse. It looked like it was placed there to be discarded later.

I wrapped my arms around Isabelle and hoisted her up. I pressed my lips to her cheek before I blew a raspberry in it. “You have such a kind heart,” I said.

She giggled, but there was still a hint of sadness that told me she wasn’t going to be so easily distracted. Thankfully, Clara appeared between the trees with a relieved smile on her lips.

“There you two are,” she said as she started to walk toward us. “I’ve been looking for you.”

For a moment, this whole situation felt right. Clara, looking for us, finding us, and then walking up to us like…we were together. I wondered if this was what it would feel like to be a little family, just the three of us.

I blinked, that thought taking me completely by surprise.

I wasn’t spending time with Clara because I wanted to find a wife for me and a mother for Isabelle. I was with her because she was leaving in a few short months, and I wanted my life to go back to normal once she was gone—preferably before that if I won the wager.

I was spending time with Clara now so I didn’t have to spend time with her in the future. Thinking about us as a family…that was never going to happen.

I forced myself from my thoughts and back to the present. Clara was glancing around, her cheeks flushed, and there was a sparkle to her eyes. “I just can’t decide which one to get,” she said as she blew out her breath.

Her gaze met mine for a moment. My thoughts of us as a family returned, and for some reason, they rendered me speechless. Clara knit her eyebrows together a moment before she turned her attention to Isabelle.

“What do you think?” She leaned in. “Which tree should I get?”

Isabelle was quiet for a moment before she pointed toward the dying one at the end of the row. “The one that doesn’t have friends.”

Clara looked confused as she followed Isabelle’s gesture. “The one that doesn’t have friends?” She glanced back at Isabelle first and then to me.

I bumped Isabelle a few times. She had such a tender heart and I loved her for it. “She’s talking about the one that’s dying.” I nodded toward the brown tree.

Clara followed my motion and her expression softened as she stared at it. A soft smile spread across her lips as she glanced back at Isabelle.

“Is that the perfect one?” she asked.

Isabelle nodded. “I think so.”

Clara paused. “I think so, too.”

Once again, I was rendered speechless. I’d seen Clara’s house. A half-dead Christmas tree was not part of her aesthetic. She lived and breathed the quintessential Christmas experience. Why was she agreeing to this tree?

“You don’t have to get that one,” I assured her.

She shook her head. “Nope. It’s the perfect tree.”

She didn’t stop or look back as she marched off and reappeared with one of the employees who looked like he’d just turned eighteen. He had floppy brown hair and wore sunglasses and a name tag that read Taz.

“That one,” she said as she pointed toward the tree that Isabelle had picked out.

Taz glanced at her like she was crazy. “That one’s dead.”

Clara shrugged. “We want it.”

“It was going to be collected later today to head to the wood chipper.”

Clara stared at him. “Are you saying I can’t purchase this one?”

“No, I’m not saying that. I just…” He glanced back at me as if he were looking for backup.

I just shrugged. “It’s what the ladies want.” I could tell that Taz wanted to keep talking about this, but I just shook my head. This was a battle that he was not going to win.

“There’s a no return policy if it…well, it’s already dying, so there’s a no return policy.”

Clara shook her head. “That’s fine. I don’t have any intention of returning it,” she said as she started rifling around in her purse and finally emerged with her wallet.

I couldn’t help but stare at her, confusion coating my mind.

I thought I’d had her pegged. She was just an overly zealous consumer who thought the meaning of this time of year was the amount of presents under her tree and the number of Christmas lights adorning her house. I thought she was Martha May Whovier.

But buying a dead tree that would stand out like a sore thumb against her other decorations was the opposite of who I thought Clara was. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about this revelation.

Clara must have felt my stare because suddenly she looked up and locked her gaze with mine. She studied me for a moment before she drew her eyebrows together. “What?” she asked as she brought her hand to her cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

I shook my head. “No.”

She dropped her hand. “Then why are you staring at me like that?”

“You’re confusing me,” I confessed. As soon as the words were out, I wished I could take them back.

“I’m confusing you?” she repeated back to me.

I nodded. “I don’t like it.”

Clara didn’t look apologetic or like she had any intention of giving up her annoying Christmas-ban-breaking ways. Instead she just frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said in a tone that told me she really wasn’t apologizing.

I bumped Isabelle a few times and she squealed. “Good, you should be,” I said flicking my gaze to Clara, who was staring at me with sheer confusion.

“If you want to pull your car around, we can get you loaded up,” Taz said as he handed Clara back her card.

Our conversation drifted to the back of my mind as we focused on trying to get the tree tied to Clara’s car. For a moment, I wanted to ask her why she didn’t just let me drive, but then decided against it. With the tree now strapped to the roof, we climbed back inside and Clara drove off.

“Back home?” I asked.

Clara laughed as she took a left. “No. The day has only just begun.”