Chapter 18
Archer
Christmas Day
It was one of those storybook Christmases. You know, the kind that looked too perfect to be anything but on paper.
But it was real.
The sky was clear, the air cold, and the landscape was picturesque with a newly fallen blanket of pure snow. The evergreens were draped in white, and the entire house was alive with the scent of cinnamon and baking ham.
Eggnog flowed freely, and for those of us who weren’t too keen on it, sparkling cider did the trick. Classic Christmas carols filled the air, occasionally accompanied by the pop and crackle of the blazing fire.
For the first time in a long time, Christmas Day wasn’t something to endure. Something to try to enjoy just because it was something I was supposed to do. Today, I was filled with happiness and hope, my heart full in ways I thought it might never be.
And it was all because of him.
The second I saw his Subaru appear on the road leading up to the main house, everything I’d been feeling intensified.
My stomach buzzed with anticipation as I waited impatiently by the window, watching him draw closer.
When he pulled up to the house, I pulled open the front door and stepped onto the covered front porch.
His parents came up the sidewalk first, carrying wrapped gifts with oversized bows and a small, wiggling chihuahua.
“Merry Christmas, Archer,” Gail greeted as she ascended the stairs. “Don’t you look festive.”
I glanced down at the Christmas sweater I wore in lieu of my familiar flannel. It was red-and-white-patterned with a large green tree in the center, something my mother had given me a few years back that had sat buried in my closet until I got dressed this morning.
“Thank you,” I said, leaning in to give her a one-armed hug around the casserole dish and chihuahua she was holding.
“Can I take that for you?” I offered, reaching for the dish.
“I got this,” she said, pulling it back. “You just go see Toby,” she encouraged, giving me a little wink.
You’d think, after twenty-eight years, I’d be used to meddling mothers… but it seemed they would always have the power to embarrass me somehow. Laughing as if she knew what I was thinking, Gail continued into the house, she and my mother talking and Teacup barking.
“Thanks for coming, George,” I said, holding open the front door for Toby’s father who had his arms full of gifts. “Did you buy out the store?”
“Not me.” He negated. “But I’m sure my wife tried.”
I laughed.
“Thanks for having us. It’s good to see you, son.”
I was caught a little off guard. Something about the tone of his voice caused a lump in my throat.
He paused in the doorway, glancing around all the brightly wrapped packages in his arms to look at me. “I’m glad you and Toby finally worked it out. Welcome to the family.”
Well. If I’d been nervous about how George might take the news of me and his son, I knew now it was all in vain.
It took a moment for me to speak. That lump in my throat had grown to the size of an orange. “Thank you,” I told him, voice a bit gruff. “That, ah, means a lot to me.”
“I expect a free tree every Christmas from here on out.”
I barked a laugh, his words exactly what I needed to burst the pressure inside me.
“I think that can be arranged,” I mused.
He went on in the house, his voice blending with the others, and I let the door swing closed to turn toward Toby standing at the bottom of the stairs.
We smiled at each other, and I met him at the top of the stairs to pull him in for a kiss.
“Hi,” I said when I finally pulled back.
“Merry Christmas,” he answered.
“This year it is.”
“Best Christmas in a long time.” He agreed.
“Because you’re here.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile as he smoothed his hand over my shoulder. “Well, this sweater is different.”
“A gift from my mom,” I explained.
“Just wait till next year when my mom makes you take a family photo with all of us in matching pajamas.”
I chuckled but then realized he wasn’t laughing too. “Wait. You’re serious?”
“As mistletoe,” he vowed.
There was nothing more serious in Winterbury than mistletoe.
I grimaced.
“Don’t worry.” Toby comforted me. “I’ll hold your hand.”
“Well, I guess it won’t be that bad, then.”
“Come on,” I said, linking our hands and starting down the stairs.
“Where are we going?”
“There’s somewhere I want to take you,” I replied.
“I just got here.”
“It’s to your Christmas present.”
Surprise filled his face. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!”
Laughing, I followed him the rest of the way down the stairs, tugging him in the direction of my truck. He slid all the way across the bench seat, body pressed against mine as I drove us across the property.
“What kind of present requires a drive?” he wondered, cheek resting on my shoulder.
“A special one.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, cheeky.
Soon, the old oak tree came into view, and I stopped the truck right there in the snow.
Toby eyed me suspiciously, and I grinned, getting out of the truck and helping him down from the driver’s side. No, he didn’t need the help, but I wanted a reason to touch him.
“You don’t have your gun, so you aren’t shooting down some mistletoe for me,” Toby observed. “And I don’t see any wrapped packages sitting beneath it.”
“Correct.” I agreed, tugging him beneath the gnarled branches.
“I love it,” Toby declared, throwing his arms around my shoulders.
I laughed. “Love what?”
“My gift.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“It’s a visit to the place we started forever.”
I wasn’t really a sentimental guy, but damn, pretty sure I was feeling some sentiments.
Brushing my thumb across his cheekbone, I said, “It’s over there.”
He perked up, eyes searching. Finally, he said, “If this is a joke, Archer, I’m not laughing.”
Sliding around behind him, I covered his eyes with my hands.
“Hey!”
“Start walking,” I instructed.
“Christmas is not supposed to feel murderous,” he announced.
“Trust me,” I whispered against his ear.
He huffed but let me lead him around the tree, hands still covering his eyes. When I had him in position, I leaned in again. “Ready?”
“I’m about to expire from curiosity!”
I pulled my hands away from his eyes. “Look.”
It took a moment, but I knew the second he saw. His whole body reacted, and then he stilled. After a beat, he glanced over his shoulder. “You did this?”
“Depends on if you like it.”
“Are you kidding, Archer?” he said, voice filled with those sentiments I’d been feeling before. “It’s perfect.” He rushed forward, hands going to the thick, knotted bark covering the massive trunk of the oak.
Tucking my hands in my pockets, I moved forward, standing just behind him and watching his fingers trace the letters I’d carved.
A + T
“It’s just like Hershel and Beatrice,” he said quietly.
I hummed in agreement. “It’s their tree… but it’s ours now too.”
He turned quickly, plowing into me so fast that I rocked back on my heels. Closing my arms around him, I held him tight just as I’d wanted to do for so very long. One hand lifted to palm the back of his head, pressing him even closer, as I looked at our freshly carved letters in the tree.
“We’re forever,” I whispered. “Just like them.”
Toby pulled back. “This is the best gift anyone has ever given me.”
I must have looked doubtful because he gripped my face. “Your heart will always be my favorite.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I said because I couldn’t seem to manage anything else.
“I love it,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning to take about a hundred photos of the trunk. “Now us,” he said, gesturing for me to come closer.
“You mean the five hundred you just took weren’t enough?”
“We weren’t in any of them.”
I pursed my lips.
“Archer Hodge, get your sexy ass over here and take a photo with your boyfriend.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” I said, going over instantly.
“Here.” He thrust the phone at me. When I did nothing, he pouted. “Your arm is longer than mine.”
And just like that, I learned I was wrapped tightly around his little finger because I would literally do anything for that pout.
“Fine.” I sighed, taking the phone and snapping about ten selfies of us with the initials in the background.
“I’m printing these out. Framing one,” he said, hugging the phone to his chest. Bouncing forward, he pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “Thank you, Archer.”
“I have something else for you,” I said, nervous all over again.
His eyes rounded. “You do?”
Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I pulled out a long red ribbon with something metal on the end and held it out.
“A key?”
I nodded. “It’s to the main house.”
“Archer—”
“I know, okay. We just made it official. We’re brand new.
But the way I love you is anything but. You don’t even have to use it if you don’t want.
At least not right away. But I want you to have it, to know that you are always welcome anywhere I am.
That you always have a place with me. This is your home now, at least until I can build us a place that’s all our own. ”
“Build us a place?” Toby echoed.
I nodded. “I’ve always wanted to build my own house here on the farm. I just never wanted to do it without you.”
He said nothing, and a jolt of fear that I was moving too fast or being overbearing again slammed through me. “But if you don’t want to, it’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured. Maybe the farm isn’t where you—”
His palm settled over my mouth, stopping my word vomit.
“I want it. I want all of it. The house. The farm. Most of all… you.”
My eyes searched his and found nothing but sincerity shining in their brown depths.
I whimpered, and he pulled his hand away, and then we were kissing all over again, drowning in each other and dreams I thought might never come true.
The sun was a little lower in the sky when we went back to the truck, our hands not separating at all until we stepped into the house.
“There they are!” Mom called. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“Go wash up,” Gail added.
I gestured toward the powder room down the hall, but Toby shook his head and tugged me toward the large fir taking center stage in the living room.
It was lit with white lights and ornaments we’d collected over a lifetime. It wasn’t the most aesthetic tree but instead harbored decades of memories and love.
“I got you something too,” Toby said, grabbing a small box from the stack his father had carried in.
“You didn’t have to,” I told him.
“I wanted to,” he said, shyly handing it over.
“Did you wrap this?” I asked, taking in the oversized red bow tied around the white wrapping embossed with candy canes.
“Of course.”
“I’m terrible at wrapping,” I murmured.
“I’ll teach you next year.”
I looked up. “You will?”
“Of course.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t wait for next Christmas.
“Open it,” Toby urged.
After untying the bow, I ripped the paper, letting it flutter to our feet, and then pulled off the lid of the small brown box.
The breath in my lungs stalled, and emotion clogged my throat as I stared down at what was nestled inside the deep-red tissue paper.
The Santa ornament.
The one from the tree in the town square. The one that rang with nostalgia, Christmas past and present, one that seemed to reach deep inside me and find the magic I thought had long ago faded.
“The ornament from the town tree,” I said, voice quiet and reverent, as I brushed a finger over the beard. I’d thought about it more than once since seeing it the night of the mistletoe raising. I even considered going back to get it and making a donation to the town so I could keep it.
There was just something about it… something special.
“Where did you find it?” I asked, glancing up. I’d looked for it at the auction right after we delivered the gingerbread gazebo, but it was gone. I’d scoured the entire tree twice, thinking I’d somehow overlooked it. And then I started to wonder if it had been there at all…
“I made it.” Toby’s simple declaration made me jolt.
Head whipping up, I clutched the box in my hands. “You made this?”
He nodded, cheeks tinging a light shade of pink. “Yeah. I like decorating things. Making things. It’s a good way to destress after a long day at the clinic. I made it as our family ornament for the tree this year.”
“You took it back?” I questioned.
“I saw you staring at it. You seemed to really like it.”
“No wonder I thought it was so special,” I murmured.
“What?” Toby asked.
I glanced up. “It’s because you made it.”
He smiled. “I wanted you to have it.”
“What about the town tree?”
“I took something else over to replace it. This one is yours now.”
Still holding the box, I pulled him in, wrapping him up in my arms. We stayed like that for a long time, embracing in front of the glowing tree with the scents and sounds of Christmas all around.
“It’s ours,” I whispered beside his head. “The first ornament of the family tree we will make next year.”
“I can feel it now,” Toby whispered, pulling back.
“Feel what?”
“The magic of the mistletoe,” he answered.
Never in a million years would I have ever believed the legend of the town was true.
But after this Christmas?
I could never be convinced it wasn’t.
“I feel it too,” I confessed. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Merry Christmas, Archer.”
And they lived merrily ever after… forever.