Chapter 36
yule the man
Ivar
The silence between them was loaded as they walked the wooded trail to Ivar’s cabin. Al thumped his tail, excited they were home, but didn’t bother to move from the rug.
Ivar went straight to the fireplace, bracing his hands on the mantel. “Tell me what’s going on, Holly. Because those drawings…” He turned to her, eyes searching. “You knew something before we went there.”
“You’re right.” Her voice was quiet, trembling slightly, which did nothing to calm him down. “I’ve been trying to find the right words and the right moment.”
He exhaled, dragging his hand through his hair. “Do your best, please, because I’m starting to freak out.”
He busied himself stacking wood in the hearth even though there was no fire. Anything to keep his hands busy with something familiar, something real.
“Henry’s research found references to a legend about the Yule Tree and its… Guardian.” She paused, as if giving him time to brace himself for what was to come next.
“Don’t say it, Holly, please.”
“But it’s the truth. You’re the Guardian.”
He gave a shaky laugh that caught half-way through. “Guardian? Come on.”
“I know how it sounds,” she said quickly, stepping closer.
“But listen. The story says the Yule Tree only reveals itself when the world starts to lose balance—when people forget what connection means. And when it does, it calls someone to protect it. Not a Kringle, not a Santa. Someone rooted to the land.”
He was flooded with confusion and disbelief, not to mention panic. But there was something else, too. A recognition he wasn’t ready to accept.
“Ivar, that’s why you saw the tree as a child,” she continued softly. “Why you’ve been sketching it your whole life. You were chosen long before you understood what it meant.”
“I still don’t understand what it means.” He pressed his palm against his chest, wanting to steady his heartbeat. “And chosen? I’m not anyone special. I’m a failed game designer and a park ranger in a small town in Vermont that no one’s heard of.” His voice cracked with fear.
“You’re wrong,” she argued. “You listen when others talk. You see what others miss. You make people feel safe without even realizing it. That’s not ordinary, Ivar. That’s rare. That’s why the forest trusts you. Why friends and family trust you.” Her eyes found his. “Why I trust you.”
He turned away, staring out the frosted window toward the line of trees beyond the pond. The world outside was still and glimmering, as if it too was waiting for his acceptance.
She came beside him. “My family’s job is to keep joy and hope alive. Maybe yours is to guard where it grows.”
He was silent for a long time. Finally, he whispered, “I thought I was managing okay when I learned that magic was real. Now you’re telling me that I didn’t just stumble upon it by accident all those years ago, but that it chose me?”
Holly nodded. “Exactly.”
He ran a hand through his hair again, the motion slower this time. “You realize how crazy this sounds?”
“I do.” She stepped closer, laying her hands on his chest, his heart. “But I also know you’ve felt it. The searching. The pull the day we found it. The cardinals. The poinsettia you healed. The perfect tree you created.”
“The sounds of the forest,” he continued. “The dreams.” Guardian, the wind had whispered.
He looked down at his hands, calloused from years of fieldwork and trail repair. Hands that built, fixed, held. Hands that, apparently, were meant to protect something he didn’t understand.
California had felt like failure—walking away from a career he’d built, from a life he thought he wanted. The betrayal, the exhaustion, the noise of it all had stripped him bare. He’d come back here to disappear, not to be found.
He’d sought peace. Solitude. But the woods were never truly silent. There was always a hum beneath everything, the faint pulse of life under the snow. He’d always thought it was wind or water.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
That was a lie. He was sure.
Maybe belief isn’t something you find, he thought. Maybe it’s something that finds you when you stop running from it.
And today was the day he stopped running.
He closed his eyes, sending his acceptance out into the forest.
The wind blew, rattling his windows and stirring up snow. Message received. He’d been acknowledged. Welcomed.
What exactly this all meant was still unclear, but with each passing second he became a little lighter, like he was moving toward something he hadn’t dared believe in for a long time—himself.
When he opened his eyes, Holly was waiting patiently, her expression steady.
He opened his arms, and she stepped into them. The embrace wasn’t just comfort—it was connection. Two lives, two callings, two halves of the same promise.
Two entwined branches in the shape of a heart.
He longed to kiss her as if to seal their destiny, but he knew, he knew, this was not their moment.
“What happens now, Kringle?”
“We finish the mission, Ranger. We protect the Yule Tree.”
***
He’d tried to sleep. He really had. However, the tree sketch and the word Guardian appeared whenever he shut his eyes. Even Al had tired of his tossing and turning and left for the living room with a heavy sigh.
He rolled over and reached for his phone. The one person who would understand.
Ivar: Can’t sleep. You?
Holly: Zzzzz. Joking. Don’t know why you’d have any problems sleeping. Just a regular old day.
Ivar: If weird days become more frequent than regular days, does that make regular days weird?
Holly: [mind-blowing emoji]
(pause)
Ivar: Thanks for being there for me tonight.
Holly: Always. We’re in this together.
Ivar: You’re just saying that because a magical tree zapped us with electricity.
Holly: That certainly helped.
Ivar: Next time, let’s aim for fewer life-altering revelations and more cookies.
Holly: Deal. Sweet dreams, Ranger.
Ivar: Only if you’re in them, Kringle.