C
HAPTER
17
Green's Tree Farm was a good fifteen miles away from Linden Corners, just north up scenic Route 22. Janey and I had stopped first to pick up Gerta Connors. She was in need of a tree for the holidays, too, and I had agreed to help her chop it down. In the back of the truck I had packed an ax, as well as a saw. Ask me which was better for the upcoming task, I wouldn't know. Guess we'd find out. I'd never fetched my own Christmas tree before, not unless you counted going down to the local deli on any corner in Manhattan. Get your tree there for a hefty price, haul it home yourself. Took all of five minutes. So this adventure had all the hallmarks of something new and fresh and possibly laugh-inducing.
As we drove, Janey seemed to come around. As though the cloud she'd been living under had passed, the wind taking it and returning sunshine to her sweet face. Up in the sky, however, another weather pattern was brewing. Thick clouds hovered above us, and the snow had just begun to fall when we pulled into Green's parking lot.
“Glad I wore my warm boots,” Gerta said, hopping into the cab of the truck. “Will you hold my arm, Janey, while we go hiking up that mountain?”
“Sure,” Janey said.
“Thank you again, Brian, for helping me out.”
“Isn't that what we do in Linden Corners?” I asked.
Gerta looked back at Janey, sitting in the rear seat. “He learned fast, didn't he?”
“Sometimes,” Janey said.
They both laughed at my expense. I just drove, and finally we reached the lush forest. Snow-covered hills and endless rows of trees greeted us. We got out of the truck and immediately were taken in by the fresh pine scent wafting all around us. This was nature, and right now I was glad to be part of this trek into the wilderness.
Albert Green Sr., the rotund, jolly proprietor of the tree farm that had been in business for three decades, greeted us personally. He handed out a brochure that described the various types of trees we would find on our trek, as well as a map of the trails.
“Let me know which one you get, I'll give you top-notch instructions for caring for it,” he said, his weathered face cracked with a smile. “Heck, you'll be able to keep it fresh till Memorial Day, ha ha.”
“Why would we want to keep a tree in the house for that long?” Janey asked him.
We all laughed at her innocent comment, though based on her scrunched-up nose I could tell she'd been serious. Still, the happy exchange instilled in us the right mood in which to launch our journey. I figured it would be quick and easy, find a tree, cut it down, pack it up, leave. Not so when a fickle little girl is among your party, and she announces she's not leaving until she's found the perfect tree for Christmas. With thousands of trees surrounding us, I think Janey intended to inspect each and every one until she made a choice.
Green's Tree Farm was a magnificent spread, set against the rising thrust of the Berkshire Mountains. I realized we weren't far from the Massachusetts border, and who knows, the amount of time we spent walking through the cultivated, snowy paths, maybe we had already crossed into our neighboring state. Along the way we saw many other fellow tree-hunters, some of whom had been successful and were already carrying their prize trees down the side of the mountain and back to their cars. As I trudged through the snow, the cold winter air penetrated through my boots, and I felt envious of those who were headed back toward the warmth of their cars. But Janey's infectious joy kept me going, warming my insides. As she went running up the trails, pointing to tree after tree, then dismissing them with the grace of a queen before her subjects, she laughed and giggled and brought out smiles on my and Gerta's faces.
“Oh, that child,” Gerta said. “So irrepressible.”
No surprise, we found Gerta's tree first, since I think she was tiring of trekking through the snow and hills. We had to call to Janey, who was at least fifty feet ahead of us.
“Ooh, George would have loved this one,” Gerta said, standing before an eight-foot, sweet-smelling Douglas fir. “He just adored the Christmas season. He was such a good man, but the reason he liked this season was, he said, it made other men good. Peace on earth, that was my George.”
A picture of George Connors popped into my mind, him behind the bar and welcoming me inside its cedar walls, asking me what I'd like to drink. Recovering from a case of hepatitis, I had been forbidden to drink alcohol, and so I contented myself with an unexciting glass of seltzer. George had offered up no judgments, and it had been the start of a great, but far too short friendship between us. So now it was a distinct privilege to be chopping down his widow's holiday tree. Once again I felt like I was part of the Connors' family, not just their employee.
“Timber,” I called out, feeling like a modern-day Paul Bunyan. Except I had used the saw, since I had no confidence in my ability with an ax. I might injure someone. That someone being me. As the saw slid out the other side of the trunk, the great tree crashed to the ground. From behind I heard someone say, “Yeah, but if we weren't here, would it still make a sound?”
We turned around to see Mark Ravens, my relief bartender, standing before us, an ax positioned ruggedly over his shoulder. At his side was Sara Joyner, wrapped up in a blue parka. Her face poked out from behind the fur lining, highlighted by her red lipstick. We laughed at his corny joke, shook hands all around. Janey had never met Mark before, and she smiled easily when he said it was nice to finally meet her. She, of course, giggled. He charmed her that quickly. They said they were there to get Sara's tree, since Mark was currently living with his parents and, as he explained, “They use an artificial tree. I hate those things, the pine scent is like one of those air fresheners used in cars. Helping Sara, well, that's been fun.”
“He just likes using the ax,” Sara said. “A macho thing, I guess.”
I tried to hide the saw.
So Sara and Mark joined us in our search for the perfect tree, Janey explaining they could have the second most perfect. For the rest of our time, Janey kept soliciting Mark's opinion on trees, and when he declared one particular seven-footer to be “as perfect as perfect can be,” our quest was finally over. I think Mark had sensed our weary nature. Gerta thanked him for his good taste, as well as his speed in finding it, and we laughed because we were all tiredâexcept for Janey. Determined to put a crowning touch on the day, I asked Mark for his ax and after a couple of weak swingsâand with the crowd cheering me onâI hacked my way through the trunk of the tree. As the thick wood separated itself from the base, it was Janey who this time yelled out, “Timber!” Sara chose the tree right next to the one Janey had picked and at last our day was complete, our mission a complete success.
We brought our three trees back down the mountain, loaded Gerta's and Janey's into the truck, and then paid Mr. Green. He said we'd picked some nice ones and did as he promised, gave us sensible instructions on how to keep them fresh throughout the season.
“And they'll look darned good with lots of tinsel,” he told Janey.
“Icicles,” she replied.
We said our good-byes to Mark and Sara, and as we pulled out of the lot, I caught sight of the happy young couple in my rearview mirror. They were locked in a tight embrace, kissing against the mountainous backdrop, snow falling all around them. As though they were part of a Hollywood movie, set designers working overtime for the perfect romantic moment. That was when I noticed Janey was watching them, too.
“Are they going to get married?” she asked.
“I don't know,” I said, wondering what made her think such a thing.
“I think so,” she announced with confidence.
C
HAPTER
18
When we returned to the farmhouse, it was late afternoon and the sun had already dipped below the horizon. Cold air had settled over the land, so much so I could see my breath blowing before me. I asked Janey if she still wanted me to take her over to Ashley's. She declined.
“I don't need to see her, not today.”
“What about the sleepover?”
“Nah, I didn't really want to.”
“Okay, go upstairs and warm up. I'll take care of the tree.”
She bounded into the house, leaving me to my happy work. I unloaded the tree and proceeded to unwrap the strings from its body. As I carried it into the backyard to settle back into its proper shape, the fresh scent filled me with the Christmas spirit. Suddenly I couldn't wait to decorate it, Janey and I singing carols while we adorned the tree with lights and ornaments and shiny tinsel . . . icicles.
I went inside and made some hot chocolate and took it up to Janey's room. She wouldn't be drinking the cocoa, not now. Guess the excitement of the day, or maybe the range of emotions that had toyed with her, had caught up to her. Whatever the reason, she was plain tuckered out and had fallen asleep. I tossed a blanket over her and closed her bedroom door.
When I returned downstairs, a knock came at the front door. I peered through the curtain, saw that Mark Ravens had dropped by.
“Hey, Mark,” I said, while standing on the porch in my stocking feet. The temperature had dropped significantly in the hour since coming home. I rubbed my arms. “Quickly, come in. It's bitter out there.”
“Thanks, hope I'm not disturbing you. I know you've got to get to get to the tavern soon. I've got work, too, down in Hudson. Got to hit the road soon,” he said, removing his winter coat.
Saturday night was one of my nights at the tavern, and it was usually one of the busiest. But I still had a half hour before happy hour began. Besides, if I was a few minutes late, it meant Janey could rest that much longer. She was having dinner with Gerta and would then help her with her tree decorating. As they had said, the two were going to establish a new tradition. As it was, Saturday night was Gerta's regular night for watching Janey. I'd only asked Janey if she wanted to go to Ashley's to test her mood.
“So, what's up?” I asked Mark as the two of us sat around the kitchen table. I grabbed two Cokes from the fridge and set them down.
“It's about Sara.”
“I figured,” I said. “You two have gotten, what should I say, cozier, since the last time I saw you?”
He smiled wide, the smile of a man in love. “Oh, way beyond that, man. Brian, I'm crazy about her. I think she feels the same about me. It's funny, all those times I went to the Five-O, it just never occurred to me to ask her out. I don't why, maybe my hungry stomach ruled my blind eyes when I was there. And then one day she's at the tavern and I can't take my eyes off of her.”
“Martha's waitress uniforms are not exactly complementary.”
He laughed. “Well, what I was wondering, since things are getting serious, and I want to show her that I'm responsible and all that. . . .”
“Mark, just spit it out. Work awaits us both.”
“Right. Yeah. So, you know that apartment above the bar?”
“I know it very well, as a matter of fact,” I said. “I lived there when I first moved to Linden Corners. Great little place. What, are you interested in renting it?”
“Definitely. I've been saving up a lot of cash living with my folks, and also what with the holidays here the tips have been good latelyâat the bar and down at the hotel in Hudson. So I'm thinking maybe I can make a go of it, especially if, well, if I ask Sara if she wants to live there with me.”
I was struck suddenly by Janey's earlier comment, wondering if these two lovebirds did indeed have marriage in their future. Moving in together was just the first step. If so, I had to give Janey credit for being the astute observer. I was happy for them, and proceeded to fill in Mark about the apartment's amenities and charms and drawbacks and suggested one night soon I give him the grand tour, “just so it's the right fit for you. And for Sara.”
“Good idea,” he said, “though I'm sure it'll be fine. What's the rent?”
“That's up to Gerta, Mark. I'm just the hired help. Gerta owns the building.”
“Okay, I'll talk to her about it, thanks, Brian. I can't tell you what a big help you've been to me. A few months ago, I had no girlfriend and not much money and suddenly I'm in love and looking for a new place to live and thinking about the future. Man, who would have thought it, huh? Life can change on a dime, can't it?”
“Sometimes on a nickel,” I remarked, knowing all too well what he meant.
I was glad to be able to help him get on his feet. Linden Corners had embraced me with such ease and genuine warmth, it was nice to return the favor, even if Mark wasn't exactly new to town like I'd been.
“Well, duty calls,” Mark said, rising from his seat. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, Mark. Let me know if Gerta quotes you a stiff price. I'll talk her down a few hundred.”
Mark's face temporarily paled, until he realized I'd been kidding.
“I can't spend all my money on rent,” he said. “There's Christmas coming, and things can be expensive, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure, sure,” I said, walking him to the door.
He headed out, a noticeable spring in his step. As Mark's car pulled out of the driveway, I wandered into the dark living room and took a seat in the recliner. Using what little light was left of the day, I gazed about the room looking for the ideal spot for the tree. But as much as I tried to think about the upcoming holiday, I kept returning to Mark's cryptic comment.
Things
were expensive. Was he planning on buying a ring for Sara?
Life was moving forward for so many of us. For Mark and Sara, for my friend John and his girlfriend, Anna. I had to wonder, though, was it moving in the right direction for me, as well, and for Janey? Never in our short-lived relationship had problems existed between us. She was as charmed by me as I was by her. It had been like that from the moment we had met at the base of the windmill. She'd been playing a game that day. This morning, though, I'd seen another side of her and it had been no game. I had to hope that I'd seen the last of that behavior. I hoped the little bundle of energy who had taken forever to pick out the perfect Christmas tree remained.
Like I said, denial has its comforts.