Chapter 15
broom for two
Holly
As Ivar packed the lunch Liv had made into his pack, Holly slid her broomstick—deliberately this time—into the side loops of her backpack. Ivar’s eyes snagged on it. He tilted his head as if he wanted to ask but thought better of it.
“Family tradition, right?” he said instead.
“Something like that.” Casual. She hoped she sounded casual.
He nodded once, as if filing it away. Then he handed her a thermos and gestured toward her map. “So the location you sent me is in a secluded valley. It’s pretty remote and not exactly ideal for toy distribution and manufacturing. Why would that spot even interest you?”
Deflection seemed like her best option, so she handed him his map, the one she’d borrowed. “Thanks for letting me use this. Comparing the two helped me narrow things down.”
“Okay. A—you’re avoiding my question. And B—I don’t see how my map could help you make a business decision.” The map slid carefully into his coat pocket. “You’re a bit of a mystery, and since I’m curious by nature, I did a little research last night.”
“You Googled me?” There was no need to panic. Sure, there were a few truths about her family online, but they were buried under so many falsehoods it was unlikely he’d figured anything out.
Last night, she'd wondered what would happen if he learned the truth. But that didn't mean she'd actually tell him. Still… would it really be so bad if he had?
“I did. And I couldn’t find a thing about you or your family. No business filings, no press mentions. Nothing.” At least he had the decency to look sheepish.
“Well, good. Because I’m a very private person. My family is too.”
“There was no shortage of hits on the Kringle name though.”
Holly laughed, hoping it sounded natural and not stressed. “Of course. That should hardly be surprising. Or were you expecting to find me blogging about Christmas decorations?”
“Believe me, that did not cross my mind at all.”
Wow, that stung in a weird kind of way. Of course she’d never blog about Christmas decorations, but she was a Santa. Didn't she give off some kind of Christmas presence?
“I didn’t realize how many Santa theories there are.”
“Ah. So you toured online forums and conspiracy threads.”
“Well, the internet does love a good conspiracy theory,” he said, flashing her a rueful smile.
“Oh, Ivar.” She gave him a playful bump. Never in her life had she imagined wanting to reveal her secret to someone—especially to someone she’d known for mere days. Days! But she did. She really, truly did.
He’d think she was crazy.
Or would he?
The risk wasn’t worth it. Not if this turned out to be a wild-goose chase and there was no Yule Tree.
And yet… the thought lingered. A crush? Fresh air? The altitude? Or maybe his smile. Whatever it was, the urge to tell him everything was getting harder to resist.
***
They drove as far as they could before setting off on snowshoes. The sun filtered in patches through the trees, and the deeper they went, the quieter everything became.
At first, it was the ordinary hush of snow. Then, even that began to change. The wind stilled. No branches cracked. No birds called. The forest felt almost watchful.
“Is it always this quiet out here?” Holly asked.
“Not usually.” Ivar slowed, scanning the canopy.
Holly followed his gaze and watched as a few ravens circled high above, their black wings catching stray beams of light that seemed to shift in a kaleidoscope of directions.
When she looked down, the snow underfoot wasn’t smooth anymore. It gathered in faint, curling patterns, like ripples leading forward, forming a trail. There was no denying it now: magic stirred in the forest, its signs growing stronger with every step.
“Do you see that?” she asked.
“The snow?”
“Those lines. They almost look like arrows.”
Ivar crouched, brushing gloved fingers along the pattern. “We must be on an animal trail, and the wind is blowing the loose snow.” But he didn’t sound convinced. Checking his compass, he said, “We’re still headed the right way.”
A few paces later, a pair of deer stood watching them from the trees, their dark eyes unblinking. A squirrel clung to a trunk nearby, still as a statue.
“Is it just me, or does it seem like those animals are waiting for us to pass?” Ivar asked, his voice low.
“It’s not just you.”
“Animals act differently before a storm. But no storms were forecast for today.”
She’d only taken a few more steps when the humming began—a low thrum that vibrated through the earth.
Was this what her father had meant for her to feel? The living pulse of a Yule vein? She’d lived above one all her life and had never noticed this sensation. Had she simply stopped detecting it, the way you stop hearing the steady rhythm of a fan? Or was this something new? Something… waiting?
Because now, with each step, it grew stronger. It wasn’t just beneath her feet. It was inside her, in her bones and breath, a steady deep rhythm that urged her forward. Not like a hand tugging, but like gravity remembering her name.
Never had anything reached for her like this. Called to her.
Chosen her.
The weight of her broom grew heavy against her shoulder, and she slowed to adjust the strap. She wasn’t afraid, but falling into step beside Ivar instead of ahead was a comfort. His nearness steadied her, the pull of him almost as irresistible as the one pulling her forward.
She glanced up. Light filtered through the branches, catching his face in fractured glints that made him seem almost otherworldly. Forest and man blending until she couldn’t tell where one ended, and the other began.
She blinked away the image.
“Keep going,” he said. “We’re close.” And in that moment, she knew it was calling to him too.
Her fingers brushed the broom handle at her side to find it vibrating.
They continued, the wind blowing away the snow to form a path.
“This is off every trail I’ve ever taken. We’re heading toward the canyon edge. I’m not sure how we’re going to get down there.”
Not if. But how. Because they both knew instinctively that they must.
A strong, sudden gust of wind whipped through the trees, causing the broom to pulse harder against her side. Then it lurched forward in a burst, sending her face-first into the snow.
“What happened?” Ivar crouched beside her, offering his hand.
“It’s the tree. Your tree. I know you hear it calling you.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His eyes darted toward the horizon. “I…” he began, but before he could say more, the broom shot forward again, this time knocking Holly into him, and they both tumbled into the snow.
“What the heck is going on?” Ivar snapped. “I need answers, Holly. Now.”
“The tree, Ivar. It’s calling us. You know it is.” She tossed her gloves aside, her fingers shaking as she unstrapped the broom, holding it tightly. “We need to go.”
It trembled once. Then again, like a bird ready to take flight. She turned back to Ivar, his expression a mix of fear, disbelief, and wonder. The broom tugged again. She swung a leg over it and held out her hand. “Leave your bag with mine and climb on.”
He didn’t move. “Holly—”
“Please, Ivar.” She met his eyes and held him there. Pleading.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. But I need you to trust me.”
He hesitated for one heartbeat, maybe two, before dropping his bag and climbing on. “You sure about this?”
“Not at all,” she said, smiling faintly. “Now hold on tight. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”
“Wait. What?” he said, his question turning into a yell as they lifted.
The trees fell away beneath them. Wind rushed past. Snowflakes sparkled like stars. The forest became a patchwork of white and green, and Holly laughed from the rush of it all. How she’d missed this.
And Ivar? He groaned behind her, his grip on her waist tightening as they soared forward, then suddenly down, descending into a clearing of untouched snow.