“Wait wait wait, I can’t just take you into town without your Dad’s permission, Ava.” Not to mention, she didn’t even have a car.
Ava paused just long enough to frown. “Okay…but what if he says it’s ok? Can I come with you?”
“Of course.” Her mind was racing. Wasn’t there some new service that dropped off a car rental?
“You know, maybe he should come along too, and bring his truck,” Ava’s mind was also clearly going a million miles an hour. “Would that be ok?”
Adrienne’s eyes widened at the idea of wedging into the front seat of a truck with this sweet girl’s attractive father. “Ava, I’m sure he has other things to do besides take someone to the tree farm.”
“I don’t think so. There’s only one other couple here today and they don’t come out much ‘cause it’s their Honeymoon.” Avacocked her head. “Are you worried because you have a husband or boyfriend or something?”
Adrienne choked. “No! I don’t…I’m not…No. It’s not that. I just thought that surely he’s busy…” At the look on Ava’s face, she gave up on her train of thought. “Look, if he’s willing to go, or let me take you, then I’m ok with that.”
“Ok I’ll go ask him!!!”
Which is how, five hours later, she and Ava were standing back and regarding her brand new decorated Christmas tree. She’d survived the trip in the truck to find the ‘perfect tree’ (Ava’s words, not hers, although she had to admit the girl had taste in trees). Thankfully, the girl had sat between them in the truck and Adrienne appreciated having the man to haul the tree into the truck and up to her cabin. And it wasn’t just because she hadn’t had to do it herself, but because it was one of those memory-making sights she would have in her mind forever. She may have had no intention of trying to date a widower father that lived in a different state, but that didn’t mean she was above ogling the way his arms flexed under his plaid flannel shirt as he hefted the tree.
And, she had to admit, it had been extremely fun. She’d brought out her little bluetooth speaker and played Christmas music for the ambience of decorating. She and Ava had traded back and forth numerous stories about how they’d decorated trees in the past and it had been utterly cathartic. In perusing the decorations, they’d even found some Santa hats and Ava had plopped one on her head, both of them dissolving into giggles.
“This is a masterpiece.” Ava proclaimed, as she reached forward and adjusted a light. “It’s just perfect.”
“It is one mighty fine tree,” Adrienne agreed.
Something caught the corner of her eye and she realized Ethan was walking by outside her cabin a split second before Ava hollered, “Dad!!! Come see Ms. Croft’s tree!!!!”
She wasn’t sure who’d jumped more, her or Ethan, but he’d recovered quickly and entered her cabin. “Oh wow…that can’t possibly be the same tree, can it?”
Adrienne had to smile at the tone in his voice. Trying to be playful with his daughter, but there was something else in there too, and it became more apparent the way he focused on the tree.
“Of course it’s the same tree, Dad! Don’t be silly!” Ava giggled. “I’m starved.”
“Yeah it’s almost dinner time,” Ethan said distractedly.
“I’ll go get ready for dinner. I gotta go pee first though. Thanks for letting me help you today!” Ava trotted off, leaving the two of them awkwardly standing in Adrienne’s cabin.
“Well…thank you for this. I’m sure you had other things to do today, and other ways to use your Christmas decorations.” Adrienne slid the Santa hat off her head and tried to fluff her hair back up. There was nothing to be done about it though, and she quickly gave up.
“Not really.” Ethan reached forward and gently touched an ornament. “It was nice seeing Ava get excited. And these really don’t belong in a box. I’ve been feeling guilty about it. For as much as…” he took a deep breath, “Lani, my wife, loved Christmas, I haven’t been able to bring myself to honor her legacy.” He frowned. “That sounds terrible. I don’t mean it like I’m intentionally trying not to. I just mean…it’s hard.” He gently touched another ornament. “But you don’t want to hear me talk about all of this. You want to enjoy your lovely tree.”
Adrienne reached forward to touch his arm. “Please. Tell me.”
Ethan was quiet for so long, she thought he was just going to walk out, but instead he slowly moved his gaze from her hand to point to an ornament. Adrienne removed her hand from his arm, face burning. “She bought these after Christmas when everything was on clearance. She came back with Ava wedgedinto the backseat with all these boxes, both of them looking sheepish. Those two were peas in a pod with Christmas. You could have enough ornaments for 5 trees and the next year, they’d fall in love with more and then we’d have to get a 6th tree just to use the new decorations.” He swallowed hard. “This is the first time these have ever been on a tree.”
Adrienne drew in a shaky breath, looking at the ornaments with a fresh view. She’d wondered why Ava had been so adamant they used these ornaments in particular, out of the storage room full of options. Before she could think of how to reply, he continued.
“It’s been two years now, and I would have thought it would have been easier. You know, they said the first year would be the worst, since it was the first without her. And it was, but I think I tried so hard to make it special for Ava, that it almost carried me through. But this year, I don’t have the drive like that first year and yet I still feel empty and hollow inside. It feels like the whole world is being carried on my shoulders, there’s all the pressure and I wasn’t built for that before all of this, you know? My wife was always the one who could make everyone feel comfy and cozy during this season. I was just the guy making the normal stuff work in the background. Now I have to do it all and, well, as you can see, I’m failing miserably.”
“I don’t know about failing miserably. Struggling yes. But aren’t we all?” Adrienne took a deep breath, deciding how much to let him know. Her grief didn’t measure up to his. Losing a spouse was surely more horrific than losing one's parents. But it wasn’t like they were playing grief wars - in a sense, it was all similar, right? She sighed. “This is the hard part of grief, you know? I can’t just say ‘I know how you feel’ because I don’t. I only know howIfeel, and then I think, maybe if I explain how I feel then you can go ‘yeah, that’s similar to how I feel - you get it!’ And then yet sometimes the other person goes ‘oh, sonow you’re making this all about you instead?’ It’s such a rough topic, impossible to sufficiently empathize because somehow no matter what, it seems like it won’t be right and in the end it will truly never be enough.” She paused and gently patted the hand that had taken an ornament off the tree. “So that was my long way of saying ‘I don’t get it, but I do get some things, I feel for you and just let me know if there’s something I can do.’”
He blinked at her, then slowly cracked a smile. “I can see now why you’re a writer.”
Adrienne laughed. “Why, because without an editor, I ramble on uncomprehendingly and never shut up?”
His head bowed a bit but the small smile stayed there. “No. It’s because you cansee. Some day you’ll work it out to be just the right thing, just the right way to say it. But you know how to get what you feel across. Regardless of the rambling.”
Adrienne flushed. “Well…thank you?”
He nodded. “And…I’m sorry for whatever you’re going through too. You let me know if I can helpyousomehow.”
