Vermont Christmas by M.D. Smith IV
Erin dumps her fiancé in Georgia, comes back home to Vermont for Christmas, and falls head over wounded heel.
Erin stood in the narrow aisle of the train, jostled by impatient passengers pressing toward the exit. The faint sway of the car seemed to nudge her thoughts toward the past. Out of old habit, her thumb slid beneath her bare second finger, seeking a ring that hadn't been there for over a year. It was gone - long gone - but the ghost of it still clung to her skin.
The attendant's voice broke through her thoughts. "Louden's Crossing! All out!"
The door clattered open, and a rush of frigid December air swept inside. Erin stepped down onto the steel stairs, blinking at the sight beyond - holiday lights twinkling in a dozen colors, oversized candy canes flanking the station doors, and the sweet, resinous scent of freshly cut pines. Charming, yes. But where were her parents?
Her suitcase wobbled in her grasp as she descended the last step. A slick patch of ice caught her heel, pitching her forward. "Oh - !"
A pair of strong hands clamped around her waist, halting her fall. She looked up into the face of a man built like the side of a barn - broad-shouldered, plaid shirt under a weathered fiberfill coat, gloved hands steady on her. His smile flashed white against a neatly trimmed beard.
"Gotta watch that last step," he said easily, setting her suitcase on the platform as if it weighed nothing.
Still catching her breath, Erin noticed his eyes flick to her high heels. He gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. "Vermont in late December... and those? Not exactly snow-country shoes."
The sting in his tone lit a spark in her. She squared her shoulders. "I don't need fashion advice from a lumberjack." She yanked her suitcase upright. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have people to meet."
His brows lifted, his grin widening. "Didn't know you were so sensitive."
"You don't know anything about me," she shot back. "Thanks for the rescue, but I've got somewhere to be." Her gaze swept the platform for any sign of her parents - nothing.
Then his smile faltered, surprise creeping in. "Wait a second... surely you're not the Johnsons' little girl?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Why? What's it to you? And don't call me Shirley."
His laugh rumbled deep, eyes glinting with recognition. "Airplane. I like that. Sharp wit." He crossed his arms, studying her like he was deciding whether to hand over a winning poker hand. "I'm debating whether to tell you this..."
She folded her arms. "Spit it out."
"You must be Erin. Your folks asked me to pick you up. I was headed into town to deliver Christmas trees anyway - they're swamped at the lodge."
Her suitcase handle dug into her palm. "And you are...?"
"Paul Shackleford," he said, with a faint bow of his head. "Neighbor. Big-S Christmas Tree Farm is mine now. Haven't seen you in years - boarding schools, college, life. But here we are."
Erin took a second look at the tall, lean, handsome man. "I'm sorry - didn't mean to be short with you. It's been a long trip. I thought the train would be an enjoyable diversion from..." she looked away and sighed. "But it wasn't."
"Whatever. C'mon, let's get you up to the lodge. My pickup's over there." He pointed to a rusty old beat-up truck.
"So, I'm riding in... that thing?"
"Yep. I'll toss your bag in the back."
Paul told Erin about his business during the thirty-minute ride.
Erin told him about her job in Atlanta as an editor for a medium-size publishing company.
As Paul drove, Erin noticed the firm jawline and beaming smile while he spoke with the excitement of a kid about the Christmas season. His glow wrapped her in warm comfort. No man ever made her feel quite like this, not even Ashby.
They arrived at the lodge, and Dan and Besse Johnson thanked Paul. As Erin reached for the handle of her smaller bag in the truck, Paul's hand was there first, and her palm touched his. A tingling shiver ran up her arm.
"I got it," he said with a warm smile.
Their eyes held for more than a moment, and she noticed the twinkle.
Later, Erin settled in one of her parent's apartment rooms in the rear of the sprawling complex, perched on the snow-covered mountain. Memories of her childhood there flooded back.
The next morning was the twenty-second of December. The weekend guests almost filled the lodge to capacity. It was a Christmas tradition for many. They returned to enjoy the holiday parties, food, music, outdoor entertainment, and ice-skating.
Erin and her mother talked over a rear table in the crowded breakfast room.
"So you've known this Paul, the tree farmer, and his parents for a long time?" Erin asked.
"That's right, sweetie, he was off at college when you were in high school, then you were in college and moved to Atlanta after that, and I don't guess you remember him. After college, he worked for the forest service out of Burlington, then returned to help run and later take over the tree farm."
Erin sipped on her coffee. "Was he ever married, or does he have a steady girl?"
"You must be interested to ask those questions."
"No, nothing like that - just curious. I mean, he is good-looking and all..." She smiled and glanced upward.
"I understand, dear, he is, and the answer is no to your questions, as far as I know." Besse looked at her plate. Then she glanced up, half-hidden under her eyelids. "And what about, you know, Atlanta? Where's -"
Erin interrupted. "I don't want to talk about that right now, Mom."
The phone rang on Paul's table in his den. "Hello?" He tucked the handset of the old phone between his shoulder and his ear, and the long-coiled stretch cord allowed him to return to the countertop separating the kitchen from the den. He sat and continued to eat his omelet.
"You okay, Son?"
"Yeah, Mother. Everything's fine up here. I picked up the Johnson's daughter at the train station yesterday. She's grown up into quite an attractive woman. I barely remember her as a kid."
"Oh, that's nice. So, she's home for the holidays?"
"I guess."
"I worry about you sometimes - all alone there - and no companionship since that disaster with the girl in Burlington. Of course, it wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't left you for your old roommate. But -"
"Mother!" Paul interrupted. "That's two years past - forgotten."
"I'd like to believe that. If so, I -"
"Enough. I'll meet someone someday." Don't dare mention Erin. "Right now, I've got my hands full with the farm at Christmas and something I enjoy doing."
"Please reconsider a visit to Florida - where it's warm for Christmas? Your father and I would love to have you."
"Tempting, but probably not. At least not for another few weeks."
"Then you'll consider it?"
"Sure. Listen, I gotta run. Thanks for the call - glad you caught me before I left."
"I wish you had a cell."
"They barely work at the lodge, no service out here, so this is the only way. But I check the machine for messages often." Paul shoved his empty plate across the counter. "Merry Christmas. Talk to you soon."
"I love you, Son."
Paul smiled and shook his head. His mother always tried to encourage his love life.
He headed outside to feed his ten chickens. They provided all the eggs he could eat, and he traded the excess at the lodge for supplies from their massive kitchen.
The following day, just two before Christmas, Erin wore heavy clothes, a black overcoat, and matching snow boots. She headed out the main door with an empty canvas sack and a hatchet covered with a leather sheath. She walked a trampled snow path around the east wing of the lodge and headed to the pine woods in the distance, but paused when she heard a familiar voice.
"Hey, where ya goin' with that hatchet on this nippy morning, pretty lady?" Paul jogged toward her.
"Oh, hi," she said. Her frosty breath almost obscured her smile. "Am I dressed okay today?"
He cleared his throat. "Perfect. I'm sorry about that first comment yesterday. Where you heading?"
"Going to cut some pine boughs for fragrance in the main living room." She pulled the collar closer to her face. He has a wonderful smile.
"You know how to use that hatchet?"
"Sure. My dad keeps it sharp, but I honed it on a leather strap until I could drag a single hair across it and slice it in half."
"Whew," Paul said with a whistle. "I'm impressed. How about I help you haul them back if you promise not to use it on me?"
She chuckled. "Sure."
Paul wrapped his free arm around Erin and gave her a slight tug - they started for the woods. "Just a little body warmth till we heat up from walking," he said.
Erin looked at his face as he blew another breath of fog into the air. I feel a lot warmer with just that squeeze. "Great."
By the time Erin found branches full enough to cut, they were deep in the pine forest. The skies darkened. They'd walked for about fifteen minutes. True to her word, Erin made quick work of the pine branches except for a large one at the bottom that didn't want to cut. She rubbed her free gloved hand on her coat because of the sticky pine sap. Then raised her right arm for the last swing.
Paul stepped forward to grab the end so she could make a clean cut. She put all her strength into severing the branch. The hatchet cut through with ease and continued to move, narrowly missing her leg, but dug into Paul's left calf through his heavy jeans.
"Owww, holy hell." He grabbed his leg - blood already flowing.
Erin dropped the hatchet in horror, shrieked unintelligible words, and gasped. "We gotta do something. I'm so sorry - oh, all that blood."
Paul gritted his teeth and shook his head, and the tendons in his neck stood out. "Here, take this scarf outta my jacket and help me tie it tight around my leg."
Erin did as he asked, wrapped several turns, and tied it tight around his bloody pant leg.
"Now, let me limp to my house and hold on to your shoulder. It's a lot closer than the lodge, and I got plenty of stuff to take care of it 'til I can get some stitches later."
She didn't argue. With his arm on her shoulder, they moved to the trail, then on to his house. The snow had changed from light and fluffy to thick and wet as they made their way to his cottage.
"Wow, the snow's gotten heavy," Paul said.
It surprised Erin when she entered his front door. His place was neat, organized and had a fully decorated balsam fir tree that blazed with colored lights, some blinking on and off. So different from the zero decorations of the man she'd broken up with in Atlanta.
"Your place is wonderful," she said, looking around. "But let's get you seated."
"Over there." Paul pointed to a wooden armchair with a straight back near the archway to the kitchen. "It's close to water, towels, and my first aid kit."
Paul removed the scarf carefully. He looked at the side of his calf and breathed a sigh. Soon Erin gathered warm water, cloths, peroxide, tape, bandages, and had cut away his pant leg with scissors and a hunting knife.
"The bleeding's stopped. Pressure worked. And look." He pointed around the half-moon shape on the bloody skin. "That razor-sharp blade of the hatchet only sliced a layer of skin. Not deep and may heal back on its own. Let's clean, bandage, and tape it. I can get someone at the Medi-Quick in town to check it later for possible stitches, but looks good - ouch!" He stiffened and gritted his teeth as he cleaned the area with gauze and peroxide.
Erin breathed a sigh, glad that Paul had taken charge. "I'm so sorry." She looked outside. "Oh, I better call the lodge and tell them where I am and what's happened." Howling wind gusts rattled the windows.
Paul pointed to the table. "Use my landline phone over there. No cell service here."
Erin went to the phone and lifted the receiver to her ear. "It's dead. No dial tone or anything."
"Crap," he said, taping the gauze bandage. "Snow's brought down the lines again." He looked out the window at the heavier snowfall. "Coming down hard. Better get back to the lodge while you can."
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine."
"On no, you won't. You walk on that leg, and it'll open up bleeding. I'm not leaving you here, and you sure can't limp far in this weather. First, I'll fix some coffee or hot chocolate, if you have any, and then..."
Before she could continue, the lights went out.
"Dammit," Paul said. "I was afraid power'd be next. Snow's really heavy. I've got matches in the kitchen drawer for my kerosene lanterns. The stove's propane from the tank, and I have a couple of gas wall heaters. Gonna be a three-dog night, but we'll be okay."
"I'm impressed, Mr. Woodsman. You're prepared for anything - anything but me slicing your leg." Erin retrieved the lanterns, and after Paul showed her how to light one, she ignited two others, and warm orange light filled the darkening room.
"Next, there's paper and kindling for the fireplace, for more warmth and light. Extra logs in the rack. We'll be toasty - long as the roof don't cave in."
She froze, lit match in hand. "What?"
He chuckled. "Just joking. Look at the timber beams overhead. They're forever. Sure appreciate you staying to help me. Your dad's bound to come in a snowcat tomorrow looking for you. They gotta be worried since they don't know you left with me."
Later, after dinner, they sat together on the sofa, the fire casting a warm, flickering glow that painted their faces in gold and shadow.
"Great food," Paul said, his voice low and a little rough, the kind of tone a man gets when he's been deeply satisfied. "No one's cooked for me here in... I can't even remember. And without electricity, no less. You've got more talents than I expected."
He brushed his fingers, warm and deliberate, over the bandage on his leg. "And you, Erin Johnson... you're a dangerous woman."
She caught the meaning in his eyes. "You should see me when I'm mad."
They both laughed, but the sound was softer now, more private.
His gaze drifted to her hands, lingering as she unconsciously rubbed her thumb beneath her ring finger.
"I can't help noticing," he murmured, "you touch your hand like a ring used to be there."
"Oh... just a habit." Her voice cooled slightly. "Dead history. Forgotten." She clipped the last word, tilting her chin toward another subject.
But Paul reached for the candy dish beside him, plucking two small candy canes. "Here," he said, offering one, "a Christmas treat - for the chef's reward."
Erin leaned toward him, her shoulder brushing his, and placed the cane between her lips. Slowly, deliberately, she drew it into her mouth, her gaze locked on his. She tilted her head just so, and after a moment, slid the striped candy back out between her lips with a faint glisten of moisture.
Paul swallowed, his lips parting just slightly before he moistened them. His arm slipped naturally around her shoulders, drawing her in, and she let herself sink against him. His warmth wrapped around her, and his scent - clean and masculine, edged with woodsmoke and a faint trace of cologne - made her dizzy with her imagined thoughts.
She had only met him yesterday. And yet, here she was, her pulse drumming in her ears as if she had known him far longer. How could strangers become this close, this quickly?
Paul's arm tightened, his hand settling firm and reassuring at her shoulder. His eyes caught hers, holding them, as though words would only ruin what was happening between them. "I haven't had a woman this close in a long time," he said softly. "The farm keeps me - too busy - but now... now I realize how much I've been missing. And you, Erin... you feel especially right."
His hand gave the smallest squeeze.
They were close enough that his breath touched her skin. Her chest rose, her senses drinking in the heat of him, the faint rasp of his voice. In the quiet - just the gentle crackle of the fire - a current passed between them, unseen but undeniable. She felt herself leaning toward him before she'd even decided to move.
Paul tilted his head. She closed her eyes, and their lips met in the barest, testing touch. It was the kind of kiss that could have ended in restraint - but she wouldn't let it.
She slid her arm around his neck, drawing him into a deeper, more urgent kiss.
His arms encircled her; his hands edged slowly over her back, kneading, caressing, the pressure making her shiver. She let out a quiet sound - half sigh, half moan - and pulled back just long enough to draw breath before their mouths found each other again.
Her skin felt fevered. The taste of him, the strength in his embrace, erased every other thought.
They kissed until the air between them felt thick with heat.
"Being close to you like this..." His voice was husky now, almost a whisper. "I don't want it to end."
The words made her chest tighten, her body answering before her mind could.
A fire was raging through her - not the gentle warmth of the hearth, but something fierce and consuming. The world beyond this moment seemed to dissolve into darkness, leaving only the glow of the flames and the man holding her as though she were something precious he'd nearly lost.
And she wasn't thinking about the past anymore. She was only thinking about him.
The next morning, Christmas Eve, Erin awoke to the sound of heavy machinery in the distance. She snapped awake under the blanket beside Paul and remembered she was wearing exactly nothing. She scampered out from under the sofa covers, grabbed her clothes from the chair and floor, dressed hurriedly, and ran to the front window just as a snowcat with the Snowhill Lodge logo on the side pulled to a stop in the bright sun.
"It's Dad," she yelled to Paul.
"Just so you know," he said, "last night was wonderful." He reached for a pair of loose-fitting khaki pants she'd located the night before and pulled them on.
"Yeah - about that, I may have been caught up in the moment... because recently... well..." She let her voice trail off and saw the enthusiasm drain from his face.
Erin opened the door with snow over two feet high piled up against it as her father stepped out of the passenger side and onto the flexible track of the vehicle, then jumped to the ground and tromped over in the deep snow. "Sweetie, we've found you. I'm so glad you're safe."
"Yes, Daddy, I'm fine. I accidentally cut Paul's leg with my hatchet, and we limped over here. Then, the snow got worse. I couldn't leave him."
Once inside, he closed the door, and they hugged like bear and cub. "I sure hoped you were here. Unfortunately, the phone lines are down."
"I know. We couldn't call for help or tell you, but Paul..."
As Erin glanced over, Paul buttoned his pants. He looked so handsome with his muscled bare chest. Her father lowered his eyebrows at the sight.
Heat rose in her cheeks, and she blurted out, "Oh, I slept in his bedroom while he took the couch. Poor thing. I sliced his calf, trying to cut a pine limb."
Paul took one limping step toward them. "Hello, Dan. I don't know what I'd have done without her helping me after the accident."
"Take it easy, Paul. You can tell me all the details later. Put on some warm clothes, and let's get the two of you back to Snowhill and proper care."
Dan looked at his daughter, then at the bare-chested man.
She saw his raised eyebrow, but waved dismissively.
Guests skated on the ice rink inside the lodge's U-shaped front driveway. Erin smiled, remembering her first boyfriend skating with her and holding her sweating hand.
The three entered the front door. The lodge was still running on generator power, but the guests were loud and merry inside as Christmas music played and scented bayberry candles filled the air. Erin's mother, Linda, ran up to her.
"He found you, and you're alright," she gushed and hugged her daughter.
"I'm fine, but I'm afraid Paul's not." She pointed to Paul with his arm around Dan.
"I'm really okay - just don't want to open up the skin and start bleeding again. My leg's pretty sore."
"I have some adjustable crutches in the back," Linda said. "Dan, sit him down, and I'll be right back." Linda stopped, eyed Erin, and touched her temple. "Oh, I almost forgot during the excitement. Mr. 'you know who' got here a while ago. His taxi followed the snowplow. He said he'd come all the way from Atlanta to see you. I guess he couldn't call your phone."
Linda pointed to a chair by the front desk. The man stood. He wore a blue suit, black leather shoes, and a colorful Christmas tie.
Erin gasped. Her legs weakened under her. "Oh, my God. Ashby."
He hurried toward Erin with outstretched arms and a wide grin. She gawked at him with her mouth open, eyes wide in astonishment. Really?
"I came here to apologize for my behavior at the company party two weeks ago with the ring and everything. We still have something good, my love."
This is terrible. What'll Paul think? Erin stiffened.
Ashby wrapped his arms around her, planted a kiss on her lips, then squeezed her tighter. He glanced up for a moment. "Hello, Mr. Johnson. Nice to see you again." He paid little attention to Paul, other than an eye glance, as if he was invisible.
Before Dan could reply, Ashby put an arm around Erin. "I got news." He moved her toward an overstuffed love seat in the next room. "So much to tell you," he said.
"But... but..." Erin glanced over her shoulder at Paul as Ashby steered her into the larger room. Paul was silent. His arms slack by his side, lips tight, and brows together.
Once seated in the next room, Ashby gushed his news to Erin. "They've promoted me to Vice President of the entire publishing company. Now I can buy us that two-story townhouse in Atlanta we talked about."
Erin pulled back. "That you talked about. It's always what you want. We broke up, remember? It would never work out."
"Oh, I just had too much to drink at the party." Ashby reached for Erin's hand. "We've been together too long to let something like that minor disagreement come between us."
She withdrew her hand and crossed her arms. "Not listening to me, as usual. That argument was just the icing on the cake. We were only a convenient couple. There wasn't anything truly romantic between us."
"Sure there is. I love you. You're beautiful."
Erin gritted her teeth. "I was an adornment for you in public and at fancy dinners. You always talked about yourself and your plans, never what I wanted."
"I thought it was what we both wanted." He reached to stroke her shoulder, and she pulled away.
"Yeah, that's been the entire problem. You never asked what I wanted or cared much about me. That incident at the party was just time to call it quits. It's over, Ashby. And if you want to fire me, Mr. Vice President, you can, but our personal relationship is over. Fini."
"Surely not. I came all this way up here to apologize and take you back with me. I have the ring... and..." He reached into his coat pocket.
"Stop. Forget it. I'm staying over Christmas. I've moved on. Besides, there's someone..."
"You mean that limping lumberjack you arrived with a while ago?"
"Yes."
As the talk continued, Erin became restless, thinking about Paul.
"I can stay over Christmas if that was what it'd take," Ashby pleaded.
"No, you can't. I'm remaining here to help my parents with the lodge. I'll find another publisher if I can't work remote like I did a few years ago."
Ashby's smile disappeared. "You're making it tough for me."
Erin stood. "Your choice about my work. I have other things to attend to, and you need to leave." Erin put her hands on her hips.
He rose to his feet. Anger reddened his face. "I gotta cool off." He stormed out of the lodge.
Erin found her mother. "Where's Paul?"
"Sweetie, he just left with one of the staff in a four-wheel-drive heading into town to have his leg examined. He'll be back soon."
She was glad to hear that and understood the driver would return Paul after treatment in a couple of hours.
She refused to talk to Ashby when he came back inside. Later, she was relieved when he left in an Uber with his suitcase. At least that chapter was over.
It had been almost three hours when the driver returned to the lodge. Erin ran outside, but only the driver got out of the SUV.
"Tillman, where's Paul?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold.
"I'm sorry, Miss Johnson, but I left him at the train station with his suitcase. He said after treatment, he was leaving for Burlington. He didn't say why, but he didn't seem pleased about it."
"Wait a minute. He was going straight to the Medi-Quick and back. What happened?"
"Mr. Paul was about to get in my car, and another guy in a suit stormed out the front door and paced around like he was mad about something. They talked. In a couple minutes, Mr. Paul got in my car and said to drive him by his house first, to get his suitcase, then into town. Later, I waited at the clinic and then drove him to the train station."
"Did he say anything during your trip or at the clinic?"
"He was mostly silent. But he did say the other man said you'd taken his engagement ring back and that everything would be 'peachy' back in Georgia. I remember that term he used."
Erin's face grew red as she gritted her teeth. "This can't be happening." She clenched her fist, but lowered her tone. "That lying SOB!" she hissed.
Puzzle clarified, but Paul was leaving town, and she didn't know where. I've got to catch him.
"Tillman, please drive me to the train station as fast as you can. I've got some important things to explain."
"Certainly, Miss. Don't you want a coat? You're shaking like my old washing machine in spin-dry."
Erin agreed, rushed inside the door, grabbed her dad's overcoat, and returned to the open car door that Tillman held for her. "Thanks, please hurry."
Erin sat in the front seat with her hands on her knees. Both heels pumped up and down. Maybe it would make the car go faster.
It only took twenty minutes. Seemed like an hour.
Once in front of the quaint little station where she'd arrived two days ago, she hurried inside and ran to the counter. "What time does the train to Burlington leave?"
The old white-haired clerk looked up. "I'm sorry, it's pulling out right now. You've just missed it."
Erin moaned, and tears built in her eyes. The passenger cars gathered speed, and she sprinted out to the platform. Waving her hands, she screamed at the faces she saw in the windows.
"Paul... wait... don't go... Paul...." She ran alongside, trying to get the attention of anyone who might hear. She searched the puzzled faces of men and women, looking for that special one - the man who made her heart sing - who believed the lie and thought she didn't care. He had to know the truth.
"Paul... Paul... where are you? Paul." She watched the last car pull out of the station. She looked across the tracks, hoping to see if he heard her and was on the other side. He wasn't.
Tears filled her eyes, and she put her hands to her mouth and face. She bent over, hands over face, continued to sob, still mumbling his name.
With the train gone, the platform was silent. He's gone - maybe forever.
Then she heard a voice from the far end of the station.
"Were you looking for me?"
She gasped. Was it real?
Paul stood at the opposite end of the platform, crutches under each arm and a suitcase by his side. "I decided I couldn't leave without talking to you."
Erin flew toward him, and he opened his arms. She cried his name and reached out. She had to tell him - he was the one for her.
"Ashby lied to you," she said. "I sent him packing. I never loved him." Then she slammed into Paul, nearly knocking him over.
Erin pressed her lips to his and kissed him repeatedly, tilting her head from side to side for each new embrace - both now gasping for breath. Between hugs and kisses, "I'm not going back to Atlanta. My future's here with my family - and maybe with you."
Paul grinned, and his eyes filled. "Are you kidding about maybe? 'Course it's with me." He hugged her tighter. "It ripped a gash in my heart when I heard what that guy had to say. But it didn't feel right - had to see you one more time."
She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue Paul handed her. "Excellent decision. You're the one for me, and I promise to leave my hatchet in the toolshed." They both laughed.
Tillman was waiting inside the station. He beamed at the sight of them. "I'm so happy that I'm taking two of you back to the lodge for Christmas tomorrow morning."
The happy couple walked arm in arm and said, "So are we."
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The attendant's voice broke through her thoughts. "Louden's Crossing! All out!"
The door clattered open, and a rush of frigid December air swept inside. Erin stepped down onto the steel stairs, blinking at the sight beyond - holiday lights twinkling in a dozen colors, oversized candy canes flanking the station doors, and the sweet, resinous scent of freshly cut pines. Charming, yes. But where were her parents?
Her suitcase wobbled in her grasp as she descended the last step. A slick patch of ice caught her heel, pitching her forward. "Oh - !"
A pair of strong hands clamped around her waist, halting her fall. She looked up into the face of a man built like the side of a barn - broad-shouldered, plaid shirt under a weathered fiberfill coat, gloved hands steady on her. His smile flashed white against a neatly trimmed beard.
"Gotta watch that last step," he said easily, setting her suitcase on the platform as if it weighed nothing.
Still catching her breath, Erin noticed his eyes flick to her high heels. He gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. "Vermont in late December... and those? Not exactly snow-country shoes."
The sting in his tone lit a spark in her. She squared her shoulders. "I don't need fashion advice from a lumberjack." She yanked her suitcase upright. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have people to meet."
His brows lifted, his grin widening. "Didn't know you were so sensitive."
"You don't know anything about me," she shot back. "Thanks for the rescue, but I've got somewhere to be." Her gaze swept the platform for any sign of her parents - nothing.
Then his smile faltered, surprise creeping in. "Wait a second... surely you're not the Johnsons' little girl?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Why? What's it to you? And don't call me Shirley."
His laugh rumbled deep, eyes glinting with recognition. "Airplane. I like that. Sharp wit." He crossed his arms, studying her like he was deciding whether to hand over a winning poker hand. "I'm debating whether to tell you this..."
She folded her arms. "Spit it out."
"You must be Erin. Your folks asked me to pick you up. I was headed into town to deliver Christmas trees anyway - they're swamped at the lodge."
Her suitcase handle dug into her palm. "And you are...?"
"Paul Shackleford," he said, with a faint bow of his head. "Neighbor. Big-S Christmas Tree Farm is mine now. Haven't seen you in years - boarding schools, college, life. But here we are."
Erin took a second look at the tall, lean, handsome man. "I'm sorry - didn't mean to be short with you. It's been a long trip. I thought the train would be an enjoyable diversion from..." she looked away and sighed. "But it wasn't."
"Whatever. C'mon, let's get you up to the lodge. My pickup's over there." He pointed to a rusty old beat-up truck.
"So, I'm riding in... that thing?"
"Yep. I'll toss your bag in the back."
Paul told Erin about his business during the thirty-minute ride.
Erin told him about her job in Atlanta as an editor for a medium-size publishing company.
As Paul drove, Erin noticed the firm jawline and beaming smile while he spoke with the excitement of a kid about the Christmas season. His glow wrapped her in warm comfort. No man ever made her feel quite like this, not even Ashby.
They arrived at the lodge, and Dan and Besse Johnson thanked Paul. As Erin reached for the handle of her smaller bag in the truck, Paul's hand was there first, and her palm touched his. A tingling shiver ran up her arm.
"I got it," he said with a warm smile.
Their eyes held for more than a moment, and she noticed the twinkle.
Later, Erin settled in one of her parent's apartment rooms in the rear of the sprawling complex, perched on the snow-covered mountain. Memories of her childhood there flooded back.
The next morning was the twenty-second of December. The weekend guests almost filled the lodge to capacity. It was a Christmas tradition for many. They returned to enjoy the holiday parties, food, music, outdoor entertainment, and ice-skating.
Erin and her mother talked over a rear table in the crowded breakfast room.
"So you've known this Paul, the tree farmer, and his parents for a long time?" Erin asked.
"That's right, sweetie, he was off at college when you were in high school, then you were in college and moved to Atlanta after that, and I don't guess you remember him. After college, he worked for the forest service out of Burlington, then returned to help run and later take over the tree farm."
Erin sipped on her coffee. "Was he ever married, or does he have a steady girl?"
"You must be interested to ask those questions."
"No, nothing like that - just curious. I mean, he is good-looking and all..." She smiled and glanced upward.
"I understand, dear, he is, and the answer is no to your questions, as far as I know." Besse looked at her plate. Then she glanced up, half-hidden under her eyelids. "And what about, you know, Atlanta? Where's -"
Erin interrupted. "I don't want to talk about that right now, Mom."
The phone rang on Paul's table in his den. "Hello?" He tucked the handset of the old phone between his shoulder and his ear, and the long-coiled stretch cord allowed him to return to the countertop separating the kitchen from the den. He sat and continued to eat his omelet.
"You okay, Son?"
"Yeah, Mother. Everything's fine up here. I picked up the Johnson's daughter at the train station yesterday. She's grown up into quite an attractive woman. I barely remember her as a kid."
"Oh, that's nice. So, she's home for the holidays?"
"I guess."
"I worry about you sometimes - all alone there - and no companionship since that disaster with the girl in Burlington. Of course, it wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't left you for your old roommate. But -"
"Mother!" Paul interrupted. "That's two years past - forgotten."
"I'd like to believe that. If so, I -"
"Enough. I'll meet someone someday." Don't dare mention Erin. "Right now, I've got my hands full with the farm at Christmas and something I enjoy doing."
"Please reconsider a visit to Florida - where it's warm for Christmas? Your father and I would love to have you."
"Tempting, but probably not. At least not for another few weeks."
"Then you'll consider it?"
"Sure. Listen, I gotta run. Thanks for the call - glad you caught me before I left."
"I wish you had a cell."
"They barely work at the lodge, no service out here, so this is the only way. But I check the machine for messages often." Paul shoved his empty plate across the counter. "Merry Christmas. Talk to you soon."
"I love you, Son."
Paul smiled and shook his head. His mother always tried to encourage his love life.
He headed outside to feed his ten chickens. They provided all the eggs he could eat, and he traded the excess at the lodge for supplies from their massive kitchen.
The following day, just two before Christmas, Erin wore heavy clothes, a black overcoat, and matching snow boots. She headed out the main door with an empty canvas sack and a hatchet covered with a leather sheath. She walked a trampled snow path around the east wing of the lodge and headed to the pine woods in the distance, but paused when she heard a familiar voice.
"Hey, where ya goin' with that hatchet on this nippy morning, pretty lady?" Paul jogged toward her.
"Oh, hi," she said. Her frosty breath almost obscured her smile. "Am I dressed okay today?"
He cleared his throat. "Perfect. I'm sorry about that first comment yesterday. Where you heading?"
"Going to cut some pine boughs for fragrance in the main living room." She pulled the collar closer to her face. He has a wonderful smile.
"You know how to use that hatchet?"
"Sure. My dad keeps it sharp, but I honed it on a leather strap until I could drag a single hair across it and slice it in half."
"Whew," Paul said with a whistle. "I'm impressed. How about I help you haul them back if you promise not to use it on me?"
She chuckled. "Sure."
Paul wrapped his free arm around Erin and gave her a slight tug - they started for the woods. "Just a little body warmth till we heat up from walking," he said.
Erin looked at his face as he blew another breath of fog into the air. I feel a lot warmer with just that squeeze. "Great."
By the time Erin found branches full enough to cut, they were deep in the pine forest. The skies darkened. They'd walked for about fifteen minutes. True to her word, Erin made quick work of the pine branches except for a large one at the bottom that didn't want to cut. She rubbed her free gloved hand on her coat because of the sticky pine sap. Then raised her right arm for the last swing.
Paul stepped forward to grab the end so she could make a clean cut. She put all her strength into severing the branch. The hatchet cut through with ease and continued to move, narrowly missing her leg, but dug into Paul's left calf through his heavy jeans.
"Owww, holy hell." He grabbed his leg - blood already flowing.
Erin dropped the hatchet in horror, shrieked unintelligible words, and gasped. "We gotta do something. I'm so sorry - oh, all that blood."
Paul gritted his teeth and shook his head, and the tendons in his neck stood out. "Here, take this scarf outta my jacket and help me tie it tight around my leg."
Erin did as he asked, wrapped several turns, and tied it tight around his bloody pant leg.
"Now, let me limp to my house and hold on to your shoulder. It's a lot closer than the lodge, and I got plenty of stuff to take care of it 'til I can get some stitches later."
She didn't argue. With his arm on her shoulder, they moved to the trail, then on to his house. The snow had changed from light and fluffy to thick and wet as they made their way to his cottage.
"Wow, the snow's gotten heavy," Paul said.
It surprised Erin when she entered his front door. His place was neat, organized and had a fully decorated balsam fir tree that blazed with colored lights, some blinking on and off. So different from the zero decorations of the man she'd broken up with in Atlanta.
"Your place is wonderful," she said, looking around. "But let's get you seated."
"Over there." Paul pointed to a wooden armchair with a straight back near the archway to the kitchen. "It's close to water, towels, and my first aid kit."
Paul removed the scarf carefully. He looked at the side of his calf and breathed a sigh. Soon Erin gathered warm water, cloths, peroxide, tape, bandages, and had cut away his pant leg with scissors and a hunting knife.
"The bleeding's stopped. Pressure worked. And look." He pointed around the half-moon shape on the bloody skin. "That razor-sharp blade of the hatchet only sliced a layer of skin. Not deep and may heal back on its own. Let's clean, bandage, and tape it. I can get someone at the Medi-Quick in town to check it later for possible stitches, but looks good - ouch!" He stiffened and gritted his teeth as he cleaned the area with gauze and peroxide.
Erin breathed a sigh, glad that Paul had taken charge. "I'm so sorry." She looked outside. "Oh, I better call the lodge and tell them where I am and what's happened." Howling wind gusts rattled the windows.
Paul pointed to the table. "Use my landline phone over there. No cell service here."
Erin went to the phone and lifted the receiver to her ear. "It's dead. No dial tone or anything."
"Crap," he said, taping the gauze bandage. "Snow's brought down the lines again." He looked out the window at the heavier snowfall. "Coming down hard. Better get back to the lodge while you can."
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine."
"On no, you won't. You walk on that leg, and it'll open up bleeding. I'm not leaving you here, and you sure can't limp far in this weather. First, I'll fix some coffee or hot chocolate, if you have any, and then..."
Before she could continue, the lights went out.
"Dammit," Paul said. "I was afraid power'd be next. Snow's really heavy. I've got matches in the kitchen drawer for my kerosene lanterns. The stove's propane from the tank, and I have a couple of gas wall heaters. Gonna be a three-dog night, but we'll be okay."
"I'm impressed, Mr. Woodsman. You're prepared for anything - anything but me slicing your leg." Erin retrieved the lanterns, and after Paul showed her how to light one, she ignited two others, and warm orange light filled the darkening room.
"Next, there's paper and kindling for the fireplace, for more warmth and light. Extra logs in the rack. We'll be toasty - long as the roof don't cave in."
She froze, lit match in hand. "What?"
He chuckled. "Just joking. Look at the timber beams overhead. They're forever. Sure appreciate you staying to help me. Your dad's bound to come in a snowcat tomorrow looking for you. They gotta be worried since they don't know you left with me."
Later, after dinner, they sat together on the sofa, the fire casting a warm, flickering glow that painted their faces in gold and shadow.
"Great food," Paul said, his voice low and a little rough, the kind of tone a man gets when he's been deeply satisfied. "No one's cooked for me here in... I can't even remember. And without electricity, no less. You've got more talents than I expected."
He brushed his fingers, warm and deliberate, over the bandage on his leg. "And you, Erin Johnson... you're a dangerous woman."
She caught the meaning in his eyes. "You should see me when I'm mad."
They both laughed, but the sound was softer now, more private.
His gaze drifted to her hands, lingering as she unconsciously rubbed her thumb beneath her ring finger.
"I can't help noticing," he murmured, "you touch your hand like a ring used to be there."
"Oh... just a habit." Her voice cooled slightly. "Dead history. Forgotten." She clipped the last word, tilting her chin toward another subject.
But Paul reached for the candy dish beside him, plucking two small candy canes. "Here," he said, offering one, "a Christmas treat - for the chef's reward."
Erin leaned toward him, her shoulder brushing his, and placed the cane between her lips. Slowly, deliberately, she drew it into her mouth, her gaze locked on his. She tilted her head just so, and after a moment, slid the striped candy back out between her lips with a faint glisten of moisture.
Paul swallowed, his lips parting just slightly before he moistened them. His arm slipped naturally around her shoulders, drawing her in, and she let herself sink against him. His warmth wrapped around her, and his scent - clean and masculine, edged with woodsmoke and a faint trace of cologne - made her dizzy with her imagined thoughts.
She had only met him yesterday. And yet, here she was, her pulse drumming in her ears as if she had known him far longer. How could strangers become this close, this quickly?
Paul's arm tightened, his hand settling firm and reassuring at her shoulder. His eyes caught hers, holding them, as though words would only ruin what was happening between them. "I haven't had a woman this close in a long time," he said softly. "The farm keeps me - too busy - but now... now I realize how much I've been missing. And you, Erin... you feel especially right."
His hand gave the smallest squeeze.
They were close enough that his breath touched her skin. Her chest rose, her senses drinking in the heat of him, the faint rasp of his voice. In the quiet - just the gentle crackle of the fire - a current passed between them, unseen but undeniable. She felt herself leaning toward him before she'd even decided to move.
Paul tilted his head. She closed her eyes, and their lips met in the barest, testing touch. It was the kind of kiss that could have ended in restraint - but she wouldn't let it.
She slid her arm around his neck, drawing him into a deeper, more urgent kiss.
His arms encircled her; his hands edged slowly over her back, kneading, caressing, the pressure making her shiver. She let out a quiet sound - half sigh, half moan - and pulled back just long enough to draw breath before their mouths found each other again.
Her skin felt fevered. The taste of him, the strength in his embrace, erased every other thought.
They kissed until the air between them felt thick with heat.
"Being close to you like this..." His voice was husky now, almost a whisper. "I don't want it to end."
The words made her chest tighten, her body answering before her mind could.
A fire was raging through her - not the gentle warmth of the hearth, but something fierce and consuming. The world beyond this moment seemed to dissolve into darkness, leaving only the glow of the flames and the man holding her as though she were something precious he'd nearly lost.
And she wasn't thinking about the past anymore. She was only thinking about him.
The next morning, Christmas Eve, Erin awoke to the sound of heavy machinery in the distance. She snapped awake under the blanket beside Paul and remembered she was wearing exactly nothing. She scampered out from under the sofa covers, grabbed her clothes from the chair and floor, dressed hurriedly, and ran to the front window just as a snowcat with the Snowhill Lodge logo on the side pulled to a stop in the bright sun.
"It's Dad," she yelled to Paul.
"Just so you know," he said, "last night was wonderful." He reached for a pair of loose-fitting khaki pants she'd located the night before and pulled them on.
"Yeah - about that, I may have been caught up in the moment... because recently... well..." She let her voice trail off and saw the enthusiasm drain from his face.
Erin opened the door with snow over two feet high piled up against it as her father stepped out of the passenger side and onto the flexible track of the vehicle, then jumped to the ground and tromped over in the deep snow. "Sweetie, we've found you. I'm so glad you're safe."
"Yes, Daddy, I'm fine. I accidentally cut Paul's leg with my hatchet, and we limped over here. Then, the snow got worse. I couldn't leave him."
Once inside, he closed the door, and they hugged like bear and cub. "I sure hoped you were here. Unfortunately, the phone lines are down."
"I know. We couldn't call for help or tell you, but Paul..."
As Erin glanced over, Paul buttoned his pants. He looked so handsome with his muscled bare chest. Her father lowered his eyebrows at the sight.
Heat rose in her cheeks, and she blurted out, "Oh, I slept in his bedroom while he took the couch. Poor thing. I sliced his calf, trying to cut a pine limb."
Paul took one limping step toward them. "Hello, Dan. I don't know what I'd have done without her helping me after the accident."
"Take it easy, Paul. You can tell me all the details later. Put on some warm clothes, and let's get the two of you back to Snowhill and proper care."
Dan looked at his daughter, then at the bare-chested man.
She saw his raised eyebrow, but waved dismissively.
Guests skated on the ice rink inside the lodge's U-shaped front driveway. Erin smiled, remembering her first boyfriend skating with her and holding her sweating hand.
The three entered the front door. The lodge was still running on generator power, but the guests were loud and merry inside as Christmas music played and scented bayberry candles filled the air. Erin's mother, Linda, ran up to her.
"He found you, and you're alright," she gushed and hugged her daughter.
"I'm fine, but I'm afraid Paul's not." She pointed to Paul with his arm around Dan.
"I'm really okay - just don't want to open up the skin and start bleeding again. My leg's pretty sore."
"I have some adjustable crutches in the back," Linda said. "Dan, sit him down, and I'll be right back." Linda stopped, eyed Erin, and touched her temple. "Oh, I almost forgot during the excitement. Mr. 'you know who' got here a while ago. His taxi followed the snowplow. He said he'd come all the way from Atlanta to see you. I guess he couldn't call your phone."
Linda pointed to a chair by the front desk. The man stood. He wore a blue suit, black leather shoes, and a colorful Christmas tie.
Erin gasped. Her legs weakened under her. "Oh, my God. Ashby."
He hurried toward Erin with outstretched arms and a wide grin. She gawked at him with her mouth open, eyes wide in astonishment. Really?
"I came here to apologize for my behavior at the company party two weeks ago with the ring and everything. We still have something good, my love."
This is terrible. What'll Paul think? Erin stiffened.
Ashby wrapped his arms around her, planted a kiss on her lips, then squeezed her tighter. He glanced up for a moment. "Hello, Mr. Johnson. Nice to see you again." He paid little attention to Paul, other than an eye glance, as if he was invisible.
Before Dan could reply, Ashby put an arm around Erin. "I got news." He moved her toward an overstuffed love seat in the next room. "So much to tell you," he said.
"But... but..." Erin glanced over her shoulder at Paul as Ashby steered her into the larger room. Paul was silent. His arms slack by his side, lips tight, and brows together.
Once seated in the next room, Ashby gushed his news to Erin. "They've promoted me to Vice President of the entire publishing company. Now I can buy us that two-story townhouse in Atlanta we talked about."
Erin pulled back. "That you talked about. It's always what you want. We broke up, remember? It would never work out."
"Oh, I just had too much to drink at the party." Ashby reached for Erin's hand. "We've been together too long to let something like that minor disagreement come between us."
She withdrew her hand and crossed her arms. "Not listening to me, as usual. That argument was just the icing on the cake. We were only a convenient couple. There wasn't anything truly romantic between us."
"Sure there is. I love you. You're beautiful."
Erin gritted her teeth. "I was an adornment for you in public and at fancy dinners. You always talked about yourself and your plans, never what I wanted."
"I thought it was what we both wanted." He reached to stroke her shoulder, and she pulled away.
"Yeah, that's been the entire problem. You never asked what I wanted or cared much about me. That incident at the party was just time to call it quits. It's over, Ashby. And if you want to fire me, Mr. Vice President, you can, but our personal relationship is over. Fini."
"Surely not. I came all this way up here to apologize and take you back with me. I have the ring... and..." He reached into his coat pocket.
"Stop. Forget it. I'm staying over Christmas. I've moved on. Besides, there's someone..."
"You mean that limping lumberjack you arrived with a while ago?"
"Yes."
As the talk continued, Erin became restless, thinking about Paul.
"I can stay over Christmas if that was what it'd take," Ashby pleaded.
"No, you can't. I'm remaining here to help my parents with the lodge. I'll find another publisher if I can't work remote like I did a few years ago."
Ashby's smile disappeared. "You're making it tough for me."
Erin stood. "Your choice about my work. I have other things to attend to, and you need to leave." Erin put her hands on her hips.
He rose to his feet. Anger reddened his face. "I gotta cool off." He stormed out of the lodge.
Erin found her mother. "Where's Paul?"
"Sweetie, he just left with one of the staff in a four-wheel-drive heading into town to have his leg examined. He'll be back soon."
She was glad to hear that and understood the driver would return Paul after treatment in a couple of hours.
She refused to talk to Ashby when he came back inside. Later, she was relieved when he left in an Uber with his suitcase. At least that chapter was over.
It had been almost three hours when the driver returned to the lodge. Erin ran outside, but only the driver got out of the SUV.
"Tillman, where's Paul?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold.
"I'm sorry, Miss Johnson, but I left him at the train station with his suitcase. He said after treatment, he was leaving for Burlington. He didn't say why, but he didn't seem pleased about it."
"Wait a minute. He was going straight to the Medi-Quick and back. What happened?"
"Mr. Paul was about to get in my car, and another guy in a suit stormed out the front door and paced around like he was mad about something. They talked. In a couple minutes, Mr. Paul got in my car and said to drive him by his house first, to get his suitcase, then into town. Later, I waited at the clinic and then drove him to the train station."
"Did he say anything during your trip or at the clinic?"
"He was mostly silent. But he did say the other man said you'd taken his engagement ring back and that everything would be 'peachy' back in Georgia. I remember that term he used."
Erin's face grew red as she gritted her teeth. "This can't be happening." She clenched her fist, but lowered her tone. "That lying SOB!" she hissed.
Puzzle clarified, but Paul was leaving town, and she didn't know where. I've got to catch him.
"Tillman, please drive me to the train station as fast as you can. I've got some important things to explain."
"Certainly, Miss. Don't you want a coat? You're shaking like my old washing machine in spin-dry."
Erin agreed, rushed inside the door, grabbed her dad's overcoat, and returned to the open car door that Tillman held for her. "Thanks, please hurry."
Erin sat in the front seat with her hands on her knees. Both heels pumped up and down. Maybe it would make the car go faster.
It only took twenty minutes. Seemed like an hour.
Once in front of the quaint little station where she'd arrived two days ago, she hurried inside and ran to the counter. "What time does the train to Burlington leave?"
The old white-haired clerk looked up. "I'm sorry, it's pulling out right now. You've just missed it."
Erin moaned, and tears built in her eyes. The passenger cars gathered speed, and she sprinted out to the platform. Waving her hands, she screamed at the faces she saw in the windows.
"Paul... wait... don't go... Paul...." She ran alongside, trying to get the attention of anyone who might hear. She searched the puzzled faces of men and women, looking for that special one - the man who made her heart sing - who believed the lie and thought she didn't care. He had to know the truth.
"Paul... Paul... where are you? Paul." She watched the last car pull out of the station. She looked across the tracks, hoping to see if he heard her and was on the other side. He wasn't.
Tears filled her eyes, and she put her hands to her mouth and face. She bent over, hands over face, continued to sob, still mumbling his name.
With the train gone, the platform was silent. He's gone - maybe forever.
Then she heard a voice from the far end of the station.
"Were you looking for me?"
She gasped. Was it real?
Paul stood at the opposite end of the platform, crutches under each arm and a suitcase by his side. "I decided I couldn't leave without talking to you."
Erin flew toward him, and he opened his arms. She cried his name and reached out. She had to tell him - he was the one for her.
"Ashby lied to you," she said. "I sent him packing. I never loved him." Then she slammed into Paul, nearly knocking him over.
Erin pressed her lips to his and kissed him repeatedly, tilting her head from side to side for each new embrace - both now gasping for breath. Between hugs and kisses, "I'm not going back to Atlanta. My future's here with my family - and maybe with you."
Paul grinned, and his eyes filled. "Are you kidding about maybe? 'Course it's with me." He hugged her tighter. "It ripped a gash in my heart when I heard what that guy had to say. But it didn't feel right - had to see you one more time."
She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue Paul handed her. "Excellent decision. You're the one for me, and I promise to leave my hatchet in the toolshed." They both laughed.
Tillman was waiting inside the station. He beamed at the sight of them. "I'm so happy that I'm taking two of you back to the lodge for Christmas tomorrow morning."
The happy couple walked arm in arm and said, "So are we."
from FICTION on the WEB short stories https://ift.tt/52CqOYy
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