But I shake my head, looking into his eyes. “No, Filson. Home is where the beard is.”
Filson
As much as I want to stay the night with Maple wrapped against me, I know Sammy needs me at home. So, after a long, lingering kiss at her front door, I say good-bye, determined to accelerate the relationship now that I know we’re on such solid ground.
“I’ll come by after your shift tomorrow night,” I promise her.
“Can’t wait. And bring Sammy, that way you don’t have to leave so soon.”
When I wake the next morning, I have an idea in mind of how I can let Maple know I'm all in, that I want this relationship to go somewhere good. I grab my axe and whistle for Sammy to follow.
I begin traipsing through the woods looking for a perfectly sized evergreen. I want to give Maple the Christmas tree she deserves, and maybe tonight when she gets off her shift at the kitchen, we can decorate it together. There's no more work to do with the house, but I'm sure I could pull out the boxes of decorations and spruce up the house a bit before she gets home.
I smile when I find the perfect tree and Sammy knows it too. She starts barking up a storm the moment she sees it, and startled crows fly away as I chuckle.
“I think you're right, old girl. This is the one.” With my axe in hand, I begin to chop the tree down. My muscles flex as I cut deeply into the trunk. It doesn’t take long until the beauty says timber.
I drag it through the woods, the soft layer of snow helping to ensure that none of the branches break. When I get back to the cabin, I gently place it in the truck bed. Then I put the axe away.
“Ready to go on a drive?” I ask Sammy as she jumps into the cab with me. Maybe after I get the tree set up, I can find her a bone. The girl deserves it. I've been away a lot more in the last few weeks than I have been in the last few years. When I'd worked construction, I'd be gone for part of the day, but I'd always come home for lunch. I needed to get away from the loud crowd at the construction site and always preferred a bit of solitude to get through my shift.
Sammy got used to it and I know she needs a little bit of extra affection. She's happy to be sitting next to me, her tongue out as we drive down the mountain. I turn up the heater and she snuggles up beside me. I even turn on the goddamn radio, letting Christmas music blast through the speakers, jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock, my thumbs tap the steering wheel as I drive with a smile on my face.
God, it's crazy how a person’s entire perspective can change when you are with the one person you're supposed to be with. Maple is that for me. And I hope to hell I'm that for her.
When I get to town, I take a right onto Jingle Bell Lane, pulling up to her house a little after noon, surprised to see another car in the driveway. I drag the tree out of the bed of the truck and place it against the porch.
Then I climb the steps with Sammy at my side as I knock on the door. A startled Maple answers it.
“Oh, Filson,” she says. “I didn't think you were coming today until later.”
“I thought I'd surprise you,” I tell her as I lean in for a kiss. She gives it to me, but it's quick and cold. I frown, wondering who might be here. For a moment my mind goes to Asher Martin, but that thought is quickly erased when I remember Maple only has eyes for me.
However, there is someone in this house with her and when a woman rounds the corner, I tense up. I know who she is. She sold my father’s house years ago.
“Hello, I’m Shirley Matters,” she says introducing herself. “I’m the real estate agent helping Maple out of her pickle.”
My brow furrows. “What are you talking about?” Then turning to Maple, I ask, “Why do you need an agent?” I’m hoping for clarification, but her face is bright red and she's shaking her head as if telling Shirley not to say anymore.
Shirley seems to pick up the cue. “You know what? I’m just going into the kitchen to take a few more photographs. Okay?” She walks away, her heels clicking against the wooden floor that I polished myself.
“Maple, what is she talking about? Why is she taking pictures of your kitchen?”
“It's not a good time.” She presses her fingertips to her forehead, and I hate that she won’t meet my eyes.
“What do you mean, it's not a good time? You told me you were working at the kitchen today and here you are with a real estate agent. What's this about?”
“I’m selling the house, Filson.” She drops her hands, deflated. “I didn't want to tell you this way.”
“What do you mean, you don't want to tell me this way? You're not telling me. I just walked in and found out for myself.”
“It wasn't supposed to be like that. I wanted to tell you but…” Her words fall flat. She can't even finish the sentence.
“You wanted to what? Catch me totally off guard?”
“No, I wanted to pretend it wasn't happening.”
“Pretend that selling your granny's house wasn't happening? How could you do this?”
“We don't always get to do what we want, Filson. Sometimes choices are forced upon us.”
I don't know what to say to her. “Look, I had a shit-ton of trauma in my childhood. You know that better than most people. So, I can deal with disappointment. What I don't understand is why you thought that lying to me — keeping secrets from me — was going to help us. I thought what we had was special.”
“It is special,” she says, insisting on it, but I can hardly focus. I certainly can't hear her. Sammy's barking, angry that we’re arguing, and I don’t blame her. I feel like howling myself.
“Just not special enough to be honest with me.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
I feel beat up — there is a reason I stick to the wood; why I’m a self-declared Grinch — because I can’t get hurt when I’m alone.
“I brought you a Christmas tree, it’s outside. So, Merry Christmas, Maple.”
“Just like that?” she asks, her voice cracking. “You're not even going to stay here and hear me out?”
“What do you have to say?” I ask her. “You asked me to come fix up your house so you could get it ready to sell. You could have told me that any time over the last three weeks. I was doing this for you, not to add market value to your granny’s property.”
With that, I call for Sammy and head to my truck. I’ve been lied to enough in my life — I won’t stand here and let Maple break my heart. Truth is, she’s already broken it.
Maple
The moment Filson drives away, I know I've made a huge mistake. The mistake I’ve been headed towards for the last three weeks. I groan as I watch him leave, his cute dog, Sammy, looking out through the back window of the cab.
If I have any hope of a future with this man, he needs to know everything. The whole story start to finish, and my embarrassment shouldn't keep me from telling him the truth. But somehow it was easier to tell Jody and Isaiah, even Shirley Matters, the reality of the situation. Somehow explaining the situation to Filson — the person whose respect I most desire— was too hard. And now I am left with nothing but regret.