Chapter 19 Unbe-leaf-able Connection
unbe-leaf-able connection
Holly
Holly was not one to procrastinate, yet that’s exactly what she was doing. There was no excuse for not calling her father the moment she discovered the Yule Tree. However, when she arrived at the inn from the Maple Mug, she headed straight for the shower.
As warm water cascaded over her shoulders, a strange sensation washed through her.
A warmth pulsed from somewhere deep inside, like an echo of the connection she’d experienced at the tree.
For a moment, her vision blurred. Roots spread beneath her feet, and vines of light climbed upward, twining around her.
Hearts beat together. Whispers carried in the steam.
Guardian. The word came unbidden to her mind, though she couldn’t say why.
She steadied herself against the shower wall, breathless, instinctively aware that these were not her thoughts, but Ivar’s. Was it lingering magic or something else?
Shutting off the hot water, she blasted herself with cold, letting it shock her back to her senses. “Okay, wow. Dramatic much?” she muttered. “I’m not that special.”
With efficiency, she dressed and picked up her phone, unable to procrastinate any longer. Dad would be at home, probably having dinner. She opened their private video app and called.
“Holly, darling.” It was her mother. “How are things in Vermont?”
“Interesting. Are both you and Dad there? Things have taken a bit of a turn.”
“How so?” her father asked, moving into the frame and joining her mother on the couch.
“Well, you’re not going to believe this, but…
” And so Holly explained everything. Well, not everything.
She described finding what she believed to be the Yule Tree, the way it shimmered, the glow of the Yule veins.
But she couldn’t share what happened between her and Ivar.
It was too personal. Too intimate. And she didn’t think she’d find the right words.
When they wrapped things up half an hour later, the reality of the discovery was finally hitting her. She was elated, energized, almost hyper.
But what did she do now?
Her father suggested she return home as they could purchase the land remotely. Winterwood wouldn’t become a new Santa site, but the Yule Tree needed protecting. Returning to NED this close to Christmas made the most logical sense. But she didn’t want logic. Not yet.
There were things she needed to understand, like that hum beneath her skin and the intrinsic pull to have him close. But all that was big picture.
Tonight she needed something immediate because more energy pulsed through her than after four espressos.
She fired off a quick text to Ivar.
Holly: Ranger?
Nothing.
She tried again, but no dots and no sign that the message had been read. No need to worry; he’d had a lot to digest. But maybe she shouldn’t have left him alone. What if instead of going home, he’d driven out of town, never looking back? Except if he left, she’d sense it.
Her call went straight to voicemail.
He could be having dinner with Liv. She ran downstairs, but he wasn’t there.
“I’ve been trying to get hold of him too,” Liv said. “Poor Al wants to go home.”
“I’ll take him,” Holly suggested. “The walk will do us both good, right, Al?” Al thumped his tail.
“I know Al will love it, but it’s on the other side of town and a bit of a walk. Are you okay with that?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Ten minutes later, Holly was bundled up and heading out into the night, Al excited and leading the way.
The dog trotted ahead, tail high, leading her past the decorated square.
Winterwood sparkled like a postcard. Every wreath tied, every candle lit, every handmade ribbon fluttering in the breeze had been made with care.
This was what Christmas meant to these people.
It wasn’t logistics and quotas. It was love shared quietly and persistently.
A lump rose in her throat.
Al nudged her hand, pulling her from her thoughts. They’d reached Ivar’s cabin. His truck was there, but all the lights were out. A knot of worry formed in her stomach. Where was he? Al let out a howl as Holly thumped on his door.
Suddenly the outside light turned on, blinding Holly as the front door burst open. Ivar stood there, blinking sleep out of his eyes, staring at Holly like he’d seen a ghost. Something in his gaze made her heart skip—a recognition, as if he’d been dreaming of her as she’d felt him in her shower.
He gave her a wry smile, but his eyes held something deeper. “Kringle. I don’t have any milk and cookies, but come on in.”