Ethan smiled at the memory. “Yep. It wasn’t so bad.”
“I was the same as a kid. Mom always had a fit when I came home covered in sap and leaves.”
Ethan grinned at the image of a young, feisty Ginger shimmying up the pine trees.
Ginger sighed. “It’s so quiet and peaceful out here. You’re so lucky to have this. I’d much rather be out here than in the city crowded with people.”
“I totally agree.” Ethan’s heart swelled at the connection. He much preferred the woods with its trees, birds, and animals to people.
When they reached the edge of the grove, Ginger peered out from her nest of blankets and pointed to a towering balsam fir. “There. That’s the first one I need to see up close.”
Ethan pulled the sled right up to its sweeping branches. Ginger tugged off her mitten and reached out to gently turn the needles and inspect the bark, brow furrowed in concern. Ethan kept a steadying hand on her back, struck by her tenderness in handling the branches.
“This little guy took a hard hit,” Ginger said, “but I think we caught it just in time. See, here’s where the fungus started spreading, but it hasn’t penetrated too deep yet.” Her eyes shone with purpose. “With the right treatment, we’ll have this one good as new in no time.”
Ginger instructed him to move to the next gate, and he pulled her over, stopping so she could diagnose the damage. “This one is not bad either.”
As they continued on, Ginger pointed out trees she wanted to inspect. Ethan pulled her over, supported her when she tried to stand in the snow, and handed her clippers when she wanted to cut off a branch. Their teamwork felt natural.
“This fungus is sneaky,” Ginger said, peering at an afflicted balsam. “But it hasn’t taken hold yet. And not every tree is affected. If the solution you applied yesterday does its job, you’ll be able to cut some trees for the tree lot on Thursday, and that tall one over there will be ready for the mayor to inspect.”
As they headed back, Ginger gazed up through the branches, eyes lighting up. “Look, a perfect opening to see the stars! Can we pause for a bit?”
Ethan gladly pulled the sled into a clearing. Did Ginger love stargazing too? It was one of his favorite things. She slid over and motioned for him to sit next to her.
They tilted their heads back, taking in the blanket of inky sky stretched above.
“Look! There’s the Big Dipper!” Ginger pointed.
“And Cassiopeia to the west,” Ethan added.
“I didn’t realize you were a stargazer,” Ginger said.
“Oh sure, living out here in the country. But you’re from the city. Can’t be too many opportunities to look at stars with all those city lights.”
“That’s for sure. I actually miss being able to do that. The city isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Ginger sounded regretful, and Ethan looked at her. With her eyes tipped up to the sky and the look of joy on her face, he realized how beautiful she was. “You mean you don’t want to live there anymore?” Why did that thought make him feel so hopeful?
Ginger turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and he felt a sizzle of connection.
She looked back up at the sky. “Maybe not. I grew up in the country. We had a big field in the backyard, perfect for stargazing. Sometimes I think it would be nice to go back to my roots. My dad taught me the constellations.”
“Mine too,” Ethan said, returning his gaze to the constellations. Memories of sitting out here with his father bubbled up.
Ethan nodded, the weight of her question hanging in the cool air between them. “Yes. That’s why everything feels so overwhelming now. With the trees, the farm… It’s all resting on my shoulders.” His voice wavered slightly, a testament to his inner turmoil.
Ginger reached over, slipping her hand into his. The warmth of her touch seeped into his cold fingers, her grip firm and comforting. “Don’t worry, Ethan,” she said with conviction. “We’re going to revive the trees. Everything will work out. I know it will.”
For some reason, Ethan found himself believing in her words. Her confidence ignited a glimmer of hope within him. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he felt a sense of peace coursing through him. With a start, he realized he’d totally forgotten to act grumpy.
As he looked at Ginger, her face illuminated by the starlight, he realized he didn’t want to hide behind that gruff façade anymore. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to let someone in. He had used his grinch exterior as a shield, pushing people away, but now it seemed less necessary. Maybe it was time for a change.
Ginger’s mindswirled with possibilities as she breathed in the night air. Out here, embraced by open spaces, unmarred by traffic, she felt a renewed connection to nature. The sweet, crisp scent of pine hung in the air, stirring a deep fondness for rural life within her. She wondered, could this tranquil town of Pinecone Falls have a place for someone like her?
She snuck a glance at Ethan. She was mesmerized by the way the moonlight illuminated his features. The hard lines around his eyes seemed to fade away as he spoke, revealing a glimpse of the carefree young man he must have been.
She’d noticed that he’d lost his gruff demeanor. She had suspected he had a softer side, and she was right. But she could tell he’d been hurt. She’d seen the look in his eye when they were putting up the tree and heard it in his voice when he’d talked about his father.
