Chapter 4
The frigid air off the lake nipped at Tara’s cheeks as she stood on the porch and shrugged on her wool coat.
Will was already outside, putting several tree stands in his truck.
They were going to get a tree for his place, the cottage, another for Ally’s home, and one to put up in the apartment where Christina and Ryan had made their home.
It was her first winter in Blueberry Hill, a world away from the balmy Christmases in Miami.
She still marveled at the way the mountains looked in December, every pine needle sparkling with frost, the promise of snow hanging in the sky, the smell of the water.
“Boots. Where did I put my boots?” Christina’s voice floated out the door as Tara wrapped her scarf around her neck, her fingers fumbling with the soft wool. She smiled to herself, the chaos of all her children together swirling around her.
The front door creaked open. Ryan bounded out, cheeks flushed pink, eyes dancing with excitement. Angus trailed behind him, tail wagging, tongue lolling, as if he felt the joy pulsing through the house.
“Ready, Mom?” Ryan grinned, zipping up his puffy jacket.
The word—Mom—hung in the air, impossibly bright, impossibly precious.
For a heartbeat, Tara couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened, her eyes prickling with tears as she looked at the boy who had come into her life so wounded and wary.
She remembered the quiet nights when he wouldn’t meet her eyes, the careful distance he’d kept, the ache in his voice when he spoke of his mother.
She’d told him, once, in a quiet moment out on the dock overlooking the lake, that she would never try to replace his mom, that his mother’s memory would always be a part of their family, always sacred, always alive, no matter what had happened in the past. That the affair her ex-husband had with Ryan’s mom had no meaning when it came to how she felt about him.
And finally, that was true. It had taken a lot of soul-searching to be able to look at the product of Harry’s infidelity, but somehow she’d been able to get through.
Part of it was because of Will, his steadying presence and kindness.
She’d said she would do everything she could to honor Ryan’s mother, but that she would be honored, more than anything, if he ever wanted to call her ‘Mom.’
Now, here he was. Hers. Part of this wild, loving, imperfect family.
Tara swallowed, blinking hard, her voice trembling as she managed, “I think so, kiddo. If your sister ever decides on footwear.” She tried to keep her tone light, but her heart was a storm of gratitude and wonder.
From inside, Christina groaned dramatically and thudded across the porch, oblivious to the moment that had just remade Tara’s world.
Ally strode across the walk from her place to meet them all on the porch, face pink from the cold. “Perfect day for picking trees,” she said, glancing at the sky. “Feels like snow’s coming.”
Tara took in her daughters, the boy who had just called her ‘mom,’ the dog sitting at their feet, and the warmth of belonging swept over her so fiercely she thought she might cry right there on the snow-dusted porch. For the first time, it truly felt like home.
Evan and Emily pulled up as Tara locked the cottage door.
Emily stepped carefully over the gravel, one hand resting on her growing belly, Evan hovering protectively at her side.
They’d been to the doctor for a checkup and both looked relaxed, making her wonder if they’d finally let go of the Seattle house even though they hadn’t said anything yet.
Colton texted that he and Daisy were on the way and would meet them at the tree farm.
They split into two cars, Will’s truck leading the way, Evan driving the SUV packed with mittens, a thermos, or three, of hot chocolate, and cookies she’d baked that morning. The caravan wound up the mountain roads, the landscape growing more wintry with every turn.
Henderson’s Christmas Tree Farm looked like something out of a snow globe, the red barn draped in garland, smoke rising from the chimney, twinkle lights strung along the fence, as music played and people came and went, laughing and waving to each other.
They all tumbled out, laughing and stomping their boots, greeted by Mrs. Henderson handing out paper cups of cider.
“Alright, team,” Tara announced, rubbing her hands together, “let’s go find the perfect trees.”
Ryan and Christina broke off almost immediately, arguing good-naturedly about size and shape for the little tree that would go in their apartment over the garage.
Evan and Emily wandered further down the rows, Evan insisting on something “with real presence,” while Ally walked beside Tara, pointing out every tree with an artist’s eye.
Will trailed behind, saw in hand, smile easy. “You ever done this before?” he asked quietly.
Tara shook her head, watching her breath swirl. “Never. Back in Miami, our tree came from a parking lot, and I’d sweat through decorating it.”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re a natural.”
After much deliberation, Tara found her favorite.
A tall, full Fraser fir, the kind she’d only ever seen in magazines, which Evan swore was the same one he’d picked out for the cottage.
Christina called her over to approve a smaller, bushier tree, and with a nod from Tara, the kids got to work.
Will helped Evan and Ryan saw through the trunks, everyone cheering when the trees finally toppled.
Colton arrived in time to pick out a huge tree for his place.
When he hoisted the big tree onto his shoulder, there was applause from a nearby family and then requests for photos.
Ally had picked out two trees, one for her tiny home and a slightly larger tree to put in her greenhouse.
She’d painted the floors in a red and white checkerboard, and Will had brought her an old sled he found at the dump that she could use for display.
Back at the cottage, the world outside was quiet, a few lazy snowflakes starting to fall.
Inside, the air was alive with Christmas music from the radio and the smell of lasagna bubbling in the oven.
Tara arranged mugs and a mountain of cookies on the kitchen counter while the others wrangled the tree through the front door, needles scattering everywhere.
The main tree stood in the living room, reaching nearly to the ceiling.
Ally and Christina sorted boxes of ornaments and lights, Will balanced on a stepstool to drape garlands, and Tara handed out cocoa, soaking in the scene.
The laughter, the gentle bickering over ornament placement, the way the light from the tree shimmered in the windows.
Angus sniffed around, then finally curled up by the fire, exhausted from his adventure.
After dinner, plates cleared and the laughter still lingering, Christina and Ryan hauled their own tree upstairs to the apartment above the garage.
Tara went up and peeked in, giving them a few more ornaments, watching them string lights and argue over the placement of their favorite ornament, a Santa surfing while Angus stretched out nearby.
She went to check on Ally and almost had a heart attack when Mandy jumped out of the tree.
The young cat was a terror, but she was so sweet they all adored her.
When her daughter named the cat, at first Tara had wanted to protest, after all, it was the same name of the woman Harry left her for.
But like her namesake, Mandy was a sweet girl who quickly saw through Harry and kicked him to the curb.
Later, Ally was heading over to Colton’s to help decorate his tree, because she said he was hopeless, and if left to his own devices, the tree would still be bare come Christmas.
Tara walked across the yard back to the cottage, packed up a bottle of bubbly and Will’s favorite apple pie and got in the car to drive over to his place. They would decorate his tree together, just the two of them, and she’d come back in the morning if they didn’t get too much snow tonight.
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The note was still there when Sam returned to her car after another restless night parked behind the abandoned gas station on the outskirts of town.
She’d driven out to the parkway yesterday after spotting the boy with the dog, her hands shaking on the steering wheel, convinced he might have called someone, reported her.
But when she’d finally crept back to town, she hadn’t seen him.
By the time she’d finished doing laundry, she spotted the folded paper tucked under her windshield wiper.
If you need anything, I’m at the cottage on Sugar Creek Lane when I’m not in school. The white one with the red roof. - Ryan
Sam read it for the twelfth time, her fingers tracing the careful handwriting.
Part of her wanted to crumple it up and toss it out the window.
She didn’t need some kid’s pity. She’d been taking care of herself just fine, thank you very much.
But another part of her, the part she tried to keep buried deep, that had been alone for so long, whispered that maybe, just maybe, someone had noticed her. Really seen her.
Bella whined softly from the passenger seat, her brown eyes reflecting the gray afternoon light. The dog had been restless, and Sam knew she needed to find somewhere warmer soon. The temperature had dropped again, and even with the warm sleeping bag and blanket, the car felt like an icebox.
“I know, girl,” she murmured, scratching behind Bella’s ears. “We’ll go warm up in the library tomorrow, they like you there.”
She folded the note carefully and slipped it into her jacket pocket. She wouldn’t use it. She couldn’t. But something about knowing it was there made the gnawing loneliness in her chest a little less sharp.