41. Signs
forty-one
Signs
W alter calls me to come help with his twenty-five-foot tree. I say, “Yes,” without hesitation. It’s for her. It’s for him. It’s for the town. Exposing myself to town square and all the fucking festivities feels like Kryptonite without her.
But not knowing what she’s thinking, or where she is, hurts just as much.
Putting one foot in front of the other to come what may is what has to be done.
All I want is for her to thrive in every way. If I’ve hurt her bad enough to send her straight back to Chicago to her ad agency, then that’s what was supposed to happen.
If she’s taking the opportunity to see her Christmas festival through, then she’ll have her tree.
I’m sure Walter expects her here with me, but he’s not nosey enough to ask.
We’re trying to figure out if we can fit this sucker on his trailer without dragging the top of it, where it’s thinner and could shed valuable branches. Or worse, break apart on our way in. The tree’s every inch of twenty-five feet and the perfect shape.
“I left extra on the trunk thinking we might need it for balance, depending on the stand June wants us to use, but she’s pretty even all the way around. I think we can go ahead and shave that extra off so we can haul her, without risking dragging the top.”
“Let’s do it.” I hold the end up for Walter to slice the trunk.
He lifts his chain saw and gives it the smoothest shave imaginable. The man’s got every tree trimming and pruning tool known to Christmas tree farms, and he uses this standard chain saw like an artist.
He could probably carve a ballet dancer’s point shoe with that thing better than a shoemaker. His patience is unrelenting, and it’s made him who he is.
We wrap the bottom back up so we can slide her back onto the trailer.
“Kourt, being sorry is poison. It’s venom on the inside. The same as regret, guilt or hate. What’s on your mind, son?”
“I’m not sure you have a sage antidote for this one, Walter. I don’t think anybody would.”
“Kourt, I didn’t ask because I’m Cherokee. I can’t read your fucking mind, son. I asked because I’ve known you since you were eight. You’re only this quiet, with that look on you face, when something’s troubling you, or you think you’ve done something wrong.”
Walter offers me a cigarette.
I pass and light his for him. “Do you believe in signs, Walter?”
“Believe in them, or are you asking me if I think they exist?”
“The latter.”
“Signs are everywhere, Kourt. In nature for all the animals, hell, at the car wash for people. Every turn we take in life has a different hill, lock, path, door, walkway, elevator, or waterfall. Each of those elements provide their own version of signs. Some of them are warnings that could save your life. Some of them are friendly reminders to stop and watch, enjoy, go the other direction, or do better next time. I don’t think you’re asking me if there are signs.
I think you’re asking me if it’s okay to acknowledge them. ”
“Are you saying we go through life ignoring them?”
“Every second. We ignore them for selfish reasons, to stay on the path we want. Apathy or being complacent is so much easier than choosing to follow something that makes you do.”
“Makes you do?”
“Yes, Kourt. You must always do something. It’s the doing that counts, not the apathy.”
I look at him like he just achieved world peace. “The doing.”
“Your Erika asked me to open up my tree farm. Now all of Blitzen and surrounding counties have a beautiful live tree in their living room they experienced getting with their family. The fire department is that much closer to the firetruck. My people were heard by your people at the Calling of the Bears. And you and I are loading the biggest Christmas tree Blitzen has seen for a couple hundred smiling children and adults. It’s the doing .
Ignoring signs is fear, or worse. Apathy. ”
“Walter, I can’t—”
“Do you love her?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Then do something about it. The signs led you or her down a path. If you ignore them— you stop. It’s not about believing in signs. It’s recognizing them along the way. If you do nothing, you go nowhere.”
Well, fuck me.
“That, and you’re a fool if you fuck that up.”
By one o’clock Walter and I have the tree set up, he’s waving bye, and June and I are untangling the massive net lights. Once we get that thing draped across the tree, where we can reach an outlet, the hard part is done. It’ll just be the fun of decorating the thing before tomorrow.
My heart thuds as I glance at the clock tower attached to the courthouse one more time. The hands seemed to have moved a little past one, and each minute passing makes me think she left. Or worse—she just didn’t come.
A voice in the distance makes my pulse pick up. I’m behind the tree so I can’t see her, but I see June’s eyes light up when she does, and I maneuver as quickly as possible around the tree to put my eyes on her.
Shit. Dammit. Hell. Fuck.
What is that tool doing here? Erika’s holding two hot chocolates while her Chicago buddy holds a turkey leg and a Christmas cookie, and the two of them look like they’re about to go fucking caroling.
So—he flew down here then?
I gotta hand it to him. And according to Walter, he did something. I called it from the beginning. But he wouldn’t be the person she thought he was if he didn’t try, and I’m not worried. She’s worth the friendly competition.
She’s worth more than that.
I just have to remember, he’s her friend. Her best friend. He’s her Helen.
Keep telling yourself that, and you’ll believe it.
My knuckles crack, I’m holding my fists so tight. Again, when this is over, and she’s back in my arms, he’ll still be the best friend. For her, I have to respect that.
“June, this is my best friend, Archer, from Chicago. He just flew down, and I thought we could put him to work.”
“So nice to meet you, Archer. We’ll take all the help we can get.” June smiles up at him and he shakes her hand.
“He’s the one who sent the skating rink,” Erika announces.
“Well in that case, give me a hug, handsome!” June hugs the prick.
He’s not a bad-looking guy, but I wouldn’t throw around handsome. He’s a walking GQ ad for the sole purpose of baiting women. He and Ellis should open up their own think tank.
“We can go pull all the boxes out—” Erika jumps right in.
“Kourt got them all a few minutes ago after he set up the tree,” June explains boasting a smile, as I slide around the tree with a large ornament, and extend my hand.
“You must be Archer.”
He looks me up and down before shaking my hand. I see his fucking jaw work when he notices I’m a lot taller.
“We should have a whole crew here before too long. Decorating’s usually a favorite,” June persists.
Blue eyes rise to meet mine and I realize, off June’s words, I’m standing next to a bare Christmas tree with an ornament in hand.
The exact story I told her about Angie.
Erika’s eyes water as she stares into mine—speechless. She’s so hurt for me and worse—much worse—by me. I don’t want her to ever feel that way. Not about her favorite part of the year, and what she’s done here. And I don’t want to ever hurt her like that again.
I extend the ornament in my hand to give it to her, as a pained smile invades my face.
Archer reaches out instead and swipes the big red diamond-shaped plastic between us. Fucker.
“And you must be the basketball coach. Heard you played a good game.” Archer is as snarky and clever as they come.
Erika and I look over at him.
“The fundraiser, of course, with Jet Holloway. Nicely done.”
“Thanks. It’s ah, Kourt. Nice to meet you, man.”
Before my eyes can find hers again, Helen trails the corner of the courthouse with a massive box. She marches up the steps in heels, and plops it down with the rest of the decorations.
“I’m so sorry in advance June. I know I’ve been little to no help, but mom made me bring these and just FYI, Rebbeca Choi is off her leash and out roaming the festivities with my grandmother. They’re probably going to stop by to help decorate. I’m so sorry.”
“Helen, I haven’t seen your mother in ages. It’ll be wonderful to catch up. You can tell her we have chairs back here, if your grandmother wants to sit and take a break.”
“Thank you, June.” Helen slides into our little circle in front of the tree, and it nearly kills me when I see her squeeze Erika’s hand.
“Helen this is—” Erika nods toward Archer, but Helen’s eyes are already locked on the guy. Even weirder, his are devouring her with a strange mix of alarm and excitement.
What the fuck?
Erika shifts uncomfortably.
June clears her throat. “Well, this is a peachy group, the four of ya. Either you slept together, one of you owes the others money, or two of you have a secret,” June pipes in to state the obvious.
Apparently it’s that there is an additional pink elephant in the group other than me and Erika.
“Nonsense. We just met.” Helen chirps.
I’m with June. Did they meet already? Because it looks like my best friend knows her best friend.
I don’t know this googly-eyed fuck, but I know Helen Choi.
“Oh, to be young again,” June sighs and reaches for a box of large red bows.
A mic squeals, “Merry Christmas Blitzen!”
Mayor Harris calls out from the main stage. “Looks like our town tree decorating is well underway! And just a friendly reminder to get your tickets up front for tomorrow’s Christmas Eve ceremony, when we’ll light her up. Thank you all for your help and generosity!”
Car doors shut behind us and a slew of more people approach the tree.
Thank God—until, “McShotty! You owe me a date.” My platinum blonde nightmare and food drive colleague ascends the courthouse steps.
“Nice work, buddy. Looks like you’ve got your Christmas dance card full.” Archer says it loud enough for everyone’s eyes to cut toward me.
I try to find Erika’s.
“Erika?” A guy in a fitted Christmas sweater pokes his head around the corner, beaming.
Erika turns her attention to him. “Grinder Switch Coffee Press? Home of the Holiday Mountain Brew! I love your product and marketing.” She beams back. “Are you setting up?”
“Yeah, actually, if I could pull you over about the slot we have. The guys just need to know the best way to face our ten-foot canopy, in case we end up with a line of people. Which way would you like our store front to face?”
“Oh, you’ll absolutely have a line. Let’s go take a look.” And… she’s off, leaving me with several pairs of eyes burning a hole through me, and I smell Kelsey’s signature perfume far too close.
My head cranks slowly to the side to find her an inch away, staring up at me.
The only thing that could make this remotely better would be if all of Judge Angelina’s hounds, pointers, and setters combined, were here. Barking. In unison. Racing to the tree to knock it down.