His joviality broke the tension, and the table erupted in laughter. Ethan couldn’t help but join in, grateful for the levity.
Their laughter subsided, and Brad, the quiet and thoughtful one, chimed in. “It’s good to have you back, Ethan. We’ve missed you.” His words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made Ethan’s chest tighten.
They’d missed him. Despite his self-imposed exile, his friends had missed him. Ethan’s eyes misted over slightly, and he nodded, struggling to voice his gratitude. His friends, these three men he’d known for years, hadn’t just written him off. They hadn’t pressured him, hadn’t forced him to move on before he was ready. Instead, they had quietly supported him from the sidelines.
He took a deep breath and managed a sincere “Thanks, guys.”
Mike, ever the instigator, leaned back in his chair, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Does this change of mood have anything to do with that cute redhead I’ve been seeing at your place?” he asked, nudging Ethan playfully with his elbow.
The table fell into a knowing silence, three pairs of eyes all focused on Ethan.
Ethan choked on his beer, coughing a bit, before he managed to regain his composure. “She’s helping with the farm, not living with me. I moved into the farmhouse with Mom and Kristen,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up. But the insinuation had already been made, and he saw his friends exchanging amused glances.
Ethan couldn’t help the sudden rush of warmth he felt at Mike’s comment. It wasn’t unwelcome, just unexpected.
A flash of memory washed over him—Ginger wrapped up in a blanket by the fireplace, the kittens curled up in her lap, and the glow from the Christmas tree lights reflecting in her eyes. It was an image of domesticity that felt too comforting, too inviting.
Ethan realized with a jolt that he hadn’t thought about Sarah for a few days. For once, he wasn’t overwhelmed with guilt. Instead, he was filled with a warm sense of acceptance. Things were changing, he was changing, and for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace with it.
Ethan emerged from the pub,a buoyancy to his step that hadn’t been there before. A newfound lightness filled him, as if a weight had been lifted. The pub’s door swung closed behind him, leaving him with the hum of midday traffic and the crisp winter air.
His old truck rumbled to life, and he found himself steering it, almost instinctively, toward the iron-gated cemetery.
As he cruised along the path leading toward Sarah’s grave, the tall pine tree standing guard nearby became visible. The tree, stark against the snow-covered cemetery, always seemed to hold a gentle reverence for the stone it sheltered. He pulled his truck over, the gravel crunching under the tires, and stepped out.
Usually, he felt filled with sorrow and guilt when he came here. But today, it was different. The cloak of sadness that usually draped over him seemed to have been shed. His guilt was strangely silent.
With a respectful nod to the carved stone, he stepped forward and ran his fingers over the cold granite. Its icy touch was no longer a grim reminder, but a solid testament to a love that once was.
Then something unusual happened. The cardinal, a vibrant spot of red against the winter white, usually a silent observer from the pine tree, fluttered down and perched on the top of the gravestone.
He watched it in surprise. “What’s this now?”
It looked at him, chirped a melodious note that sounded remarkably like approval, and then took off into the blue. As it disappeared into the distance, Ethan felt an unexplained lightness fill his heart. It was as if the cardinal had carried away the last remnants of his guilt, giving him silent permission to move forward. It was an almost absurd thought, but he couldn’t help but think it was Sarah, sending him a message. A message that reassured him, in the oddest way, that everything was going to be okay.
As he stepped back into his truck, hope welled up inside him. His heart felt lighter, his mind clearer. The image of Ginger, her fiery hair dancing in the night breeze as they’d talked beneath the star-kissed sky, began to bloom in his mind.
Before, guilt had kept his budding feelings for Ginger firmly in check. It felt too disloyal to Sarah to even think about another relationship. But now, it felt like the wall had lowered. But he had bigger problems. Making sure the trees were healthy was his first priority. His personal life would have to wait.
His tires crunched on the frozen ground as he arrived at the tree farm. The winter air carried the rustic scent of the woodland to his nose. He drove with a mission, making a beeline toward the balsams. If there was any progress with them, it would be an emblem of hope, not just for the farm, but for him personally.
Leaving his truck behind, he trudged through the snow. The cold seeping through his boots failed to dampen his optimism. The trees around him stood in regimented lines. A flock of birds took flight, their wings cutting through the silent air.
But as he reached the balsams, his heart clenched. His hand reached out, fingers running over the browning needles that fell off at his touch. He looked closer to see fresh green needles sprouting. That was a good sign, but the bark still bore the mottled signs of the fungus. It seemed like it wasn’t as bad as before, though. Or was that just his imagination? He moved from tree to tree, each one mirroring the disappointment of the last.
A sigh escaped his lips, melting into the winter air. His heart, which had been on the rise, sank like a stone. The remedy hadn’t fully worked.
Chapter26
Ginger stood at the cabin window, clutching the smallest kitten, which she’d named Geraldine, against her chest. She’d already thought up names for all three and was probably getting too attached. It wasn’t just the kittens she was getting too attached to. It was this cabin, the town, and the Woodwards, especially Ethan.
Her gaze swept across the snowy landscape to where Ethan was emerging from the tree farm. His broad shoulders were slumped, his stride less energetic than when he’d left. She could sense the disappointment rolling off him even from this distance.
As Ginger watched him, she realized how entwined her life had become with this place—Pinecone Falls, the Woodward family, this cozy cabin—and especially Ethan. It had only been a short time, but what happened with the trees mattered to her.
With a sigh, she redirected her attention to the ball of fluff in her hands. It wasn’t just the kittens she was falling for. She was falling for Ethan and everything that came with him. Her mind began weaving dreams of a new life here, working from home in this quaint town.
Maybe moving to Pinecone Falls was just the change she needed. She already worked from home quite a bit, and even though she couldn’t just drive into the office at a moment’s notice, she was sure her boss wouldn’t mind.
