Chapter Two – Sarah
Sarah stared out of the window at the distant mountains, their snow-capped peaks still shrouded in mist even as the sun rose higher.
There was something magical about the view from her mom’s kitchen window, much like the town itself when she’d arrived just before midnight, tires crunching over salted streets as fresh snow fell.
The porch lights and shop windows haloing the empty town square had made it look like a snow globe with the flakes still settling.
Somewhere, a single wind chime had rung as softly as a sleigh bell. Or maybe it had been Santa doing a test run on his sleigh. Sarah smothered a smile; she’d been spending too much alone time with her daughter, and her imagination was running wild.
But this morning the snow had cleared, and the sky was clear over the mountains that had stood here for millennia and would still be here long after she was gone. They gave such a sense of permanence.
Unlike her marriage. Unlike so many things she’d thought were permanent.
Sarah sipped her coffee, letting the warmth seep into her hands.
The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread.
Her mother’s way of making the world seem right, even when it wasn’t.
Pat had always been like that, creating order from chaos with flour-dusted hands and a sympathetic smile.
A tea towel hung on the oven read BE MERRY in slightly crooked embroidery; it shouldn’t have helped, but it did.
The sound of muffled footsteps made her turn. Pat entered the kitchen, already dressed in a cozy Christmas sweater and jeans, fluffy reindeer slippers scuffing the tiles.
“How are you feeling this morning, sweetheart?” Pat asked, moving to the kettle. “I thought you would still be in bed after your long drive yesterday.”
Sarah gave a half-smile; she’d slept well until she woke at the first light of dawn.
Then the usual worries began to fall, soft and relentless as snow—one thought, then another—until she felt smothered by them.
“It feels like I’ve gone backward and forward in time all at once.
My old bedroom feels both exactly the same and completely different. ”
“That’s because you’re not the same girl who left,” Pat said, measuring loose tea into a strainer. “You’ve lived a whole life since then.”
A life that had just imploded. Sarah swallowed hard. “Thanks for taking us in, Mom. I know it wasn’t part of your retirement plan to have your daughter and granddaughter crash-land back in Bear Creek.”
“Nonsense.” Pat waved away her concern. “This house has always been too big for just me. And Bear Creek is a good place to...regroup.”
The carefully chosen word made Sarah’s throat tighten. Regroup. Not recover. Not hide. Just gather herself before the next step.
Whatever that might be. Sarah had not gotten that far.
“I’m just worried about finding enough work,” Sarah admitted. “Freelance graphic design is steady in the city, but out here...” She trailed off, staring into her coffee. “What if I can’t make enough to support Emmy properly?”
Pat settled across from her with her steaming mug. “The internet reaches Bear Creek just fine, last I checked. And I heard the town council might need someone to redesign all of its tourism materials for next year.” Her eyes twinkled. “I might have mentioned my talented daughter was moving back.”
“Mom,” Sarah groaned, but there was no real annoyance behind it. That was her mom. Already working her quiet magic, making connections without seeming to try. “You’re impossible.”
It was a knack Sarah had not inherited from her mom, but she sure wished she had. What she wouldn’t give to make any kind of connection right now. A connection that might help restore her sense of self-worth and soothe her battered self-confidence.
The failure of her marriage hurt. Hurt deeply. Not because she could not bear living without her ex-husband, Liam. No, that wasn’t it at all.
She’d be just fine without him. But Emmy, her dearest, sweetest daughter, now belonged to a broken family with her parents living miles apart.
What effect would the breakup have on her? Would Christmas morning feel hollow without the shape of what used to be?
Sarah pushed the overriding feeling of guilt back down. Divorce—separate lives—would be better than staying in a bitter marriage. And that was where her relationship with Liam was heading if they had stayed together.
He’d let them both down too many times.
A creak from upstairs made them both glance at the ceiling. Emmy was awake. They exchanged a quick look, and their conversation paused.
There was an unspoken rule that they would never talk about Liam and the divorce in front of Emmy.
Moments later, the thunder of feet on the stairs announced Emmy’s imminent arrival. She appeared in the doorway, still in her star-patterned pajamas, her hair rumpled and her grin as bright as a string of fairy lights.
“Today’s the day!” she announced, with arms stretched wide. “We’re getting our Christmas tree! Grandma Pat said North Peak Pines has the best trees in all of Bear Creek! Maybe even the entire world!”
“We are? Today?” Sarah widened her eyes in exaggerated surprise. “I thought we were staying in and doing the laundry!”
“Mom!” Emmy put her hands on her hips. “You promised! You said we could get a tree as soon as we arrived in Bear Creek!” She turned to Pat. “Grandma, tell her!”
Pat merely chuckled and sipped her tea, amusement crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Promises are promises.”
Emmy dashed to Sarah, wrapping small arms around her waist. “You’re just teasing,” she said with certainty. “You wouldn’t forget tree day.”
Sarah’s heart squeezed. Even with everything changing in Emmy’s world, she still trusted her mother to keep the important promises. Sarah smoothed a hand over Emmy’s tangled hair.
“Of course I didn’t forget,” she said. “We’ll go right after breakfast. But first, cereal for you, young lady. You have to keep your strength up if you’re going to chop down a tree.”
“Mom,” Emmy said with a roll of her eyes. “The tree farmer chops the trees.”
“He does?” Sarah asked as she reached for Emmy’s favorite cereal, which Pat had bought specially and hidden behind the porridge like contraband. “Now that’s a relief. Now, sit and eat.”
Emmy needed no further prompting, sliding into her chair as Sarah poured cereal and milk.
Sarah nibbled at a piece of toast, watching her daughter’s animated chatter about ornaments and lights and where the tree should go.
The simple joy on Emmy’s face made something ease in Sarah’s mind, pushing back against her worries.
Maybe she hadn’t made a mistake bringing them here. Maybe this quiet town with its mountains and traditions was exactly what they needed. She could almost see the living room glowing with Emmy’s handmade paper snowflakes in the window, a tree brushing the ceiling, and hot chocolate mustaches.
When Emmy dashed off to get dressed, Pat wrapped Sarah in a quick, tight hug.
“Stop fretting,” she said softly. “You’re a wonderful mother. Emmy’s going to be just fine.”
Sarah felt her mouth turn down at the corners. She shrugged slightly, unable to find the words for the doubt that had been her constant companion since signing the divorce papers.
“I’m not so sure about that,” she finally whispered. “It’s going to be strange for Emmy on Christmas morning without her dad.”
Pat gently tilted her daughter’s chin up, the gesture so familiar it made Sarah feel eight years old again.
“You are a wonderful mom,” she said firmly.
“And we’re going to make this the best Christmas ever.
We’ve got gingerbread houses to make, carols to sing, and a star to hang. There’s work to do!”
Sarah took a steadying breath. “Well then, we’d better go choose a tree.”
“We’d better.” Pat was about to shuffle out of the kitchen, then stopped and snagged a knitted scarf from a hook and looped it around Sarah’s neck with an efficient tug. “Wrap up warm. It’s a cold one!”
Thirty minutes later, they were all gathered by the front door, bundled against the December chill. Emmy wore her favorite pom-pom hat, practically vibrating with excitement as they stepped outside.
Pat inhaled deeply. “Mmm. Smells like snow.”
Emmy immediately copied her, sucking in a dramatic breath and releasing it in one long gush. “How do you know?” she asked, her exhale forming a cloud in the cold air.
Pat chuckled. “I’ve lived here long enough to know.”
Emmy skipped toward the car, turning back with bright eyes. “If I live in Bear Creek long enough, will I know the smell of snow, too?”
“Yes, honey,” Pat said, unlocking the car. “You’ll have plenty of practice, believe me.”
“I love snow!” Emmy declared as she climbed into the back of the car. “I’ve never seen a white Christmas. It’ll be just like on a Christmas card.” She pressed her mitten to the window and drew a lopsided star in the fog.
They drove through town, past the twinkling lights already strung along Main Street.
Emmy chattered about which decorations she liked best, counting the snowmen in shop windows.
Sarah felt herself relaxing as they wound through the quaint streets, now decked in holiday cheer.
A hand-painted sign outside the bakery promised GINGERbrEAD MEN & CAMPFIRE COCOA, and the post office door wore a wreath fat with dried oranges.
Sarah and Emmy had often visited in the summer when the town was filled with tourists. But never at Christmastime. Liam had always been against the cold and the snow, preferring to spend Christmas in the city where there was no danger of being snowed in.
What had they been missing! Bear Creek seemed to embrace the season fully. Even the mailboxes wore knitted scarves.
Maybe her mom was right, this was going to be the best Christmas ever!
As they approached North Peak Pines, something fluttered in Sarah’s stomach.
Not anxiety, but something lighter. Anticipation, maybe.
The feeling intensified as they pulled into the gravel parking area.
The smell of wood smoke and sap welcomed them while neatly printed arrows pointed the way—CUT & NET, WREATH BARN, COCOA.
Her designer’s heart approved of the clean fonts and clear contrast.
She stepped out of the car, tugging her beanie lower against the cold, and found herself staring directly at a man across the yard. Broad-shouldered and tall, with dark hair pushed back under a knit cap. And he was staring right back at her, his hands stilling on the axe he’d been sharpening.
For one suspended moment, the world narrowed to just them, connected by an invisible thread that made her cheeks warm despite the cold. He didn’t move closer. Instead, he simply tipped his chin, a silent hello that somehow felt…so very intimate.
Emmy bounded from the car, breaking the spell as she threaded her small hand through Pat’s.
Pat waved casually. “Hello there, Michael. We’ve come for your best Christmas tree.”
Emmy jumped up and down, her pom-pom bouncing. “The biggest one! With lots of branches for my new ornaments!”
The man—Michael—seemed to shake himself from whatever trance had held him. His face transformed with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made Sarah’s heart perform an unexpected somersault. He glanced at Sarah for a beat longer, then turned his attention to Pat and Emmy.
“The biggest and the best,” he said, his voice deep and rich. “Let’s see what we can find.” He paused by the path and, with a small, respectful nod toward Sarah, added, “Mind the ice. Step in my prints if you like.”
As Emmy tugged Pat toward the rows of trees, Sarah found herself unable to move, struck by a ridiculous thought that had no business forming in her head just three months after her divorce.
She tucked her hands into her pockets, laughed at herself under her breath, and followed his boot prints anyway.
And a voice in her head told her that Michael of North Peak Pines might just be the biggest and best man she’d ever met.