Paul chuckled. “You can tell my boy takes a lot of science classes. He’s a critical thinker.”
“Well, for Hershel and Beatrice, their love was true but still wasn’t enough. Their families wouldn’t accept it and tore them apart. That’s why the mistletoe began growing there when they were reunited after she died. Because even after his life ended and they were forced apart, their love remained. The mistletoe is a reminder that, when love is true, no amount of toxicity can ever really taint it.”
His words struck a chord in me. A chord I thought had long since been out of tune, a chord I didn’t want to even acknowledge.
Discomfort had me shifting on the bench seat, thumb tapping the steering wheel. “Mistletoe is a parasite.”
Toby hummed. “Yes, and legend says people believed their love was a parasite, but I don’t see it that way.”
“How do you see it, then?” Brett asked.
Frankly, I wished he’d stop encouraging him.
Toby turned to glance out the window, his breath creating a cloud of steam on the glass when he softly spoke. “That Hershel and Beatrice are the tree, and the real parasite was the people who tore them apart. That’s why the tree never dies despite the mistletoe growing. People can be torn apart, but even with distance, real love remains.”
The words left a stillness inside the enclosed cab that felt warm from too many bodies squished so close. It was no secret I hated this legend, everything it represented, and the hold it had over this town.
But damn, if I didn’t hang on every word he’d just whispered like the story was brand new and I was a believer. Like Isuddenly understood why this entire town was obsessed with the story.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a man of philosophy instead of science,” Paul mused, breaking the bubble I’d been floating in. “That was as romantic as it comes.”
He grunted, weight jerking into me, and I looked down just as Brett was pulling his elbow from the man’s side as he gave him a pointed look.
“Well, that’s not a bad thing.” Paul amended. “Nothing wrong with being a romantic. I’m sure the ladies love it.”
There was a very pregnant pause, and the muscle in my jaw twitched from how rigid the muscle in my neck turned.
“What?” Paul said, picking up on the heavy undertones. “Did I say something wrong?”
Honestly, I’d like to know how he became the mayor. Shouldn’t someone in public office have better people skills?Read the room, Paul.
Toby cleared his throat, and I cut the wheel, the old oak coming into view.
“We’re here,” I said, cutting off any more conversation.
There was no designated parking out in here in the field, so I simply hit the brakes. The action ended up being more aggressive than necessary, causing everyone to jerk forward with the force.
Without thinking, my arm shot out, clotheslining the two men beside me. The barrier not quite long enough, I shifted my weight, pushing Paul into his son as I leaned farther and spread my fingers wide, using them like a net against Toby’s chest. The second his body hit my palm, I pushed back, preventing him from flying into the dash.
He dropped back against the seat, the air whooshing out of him in a single punch of breath. Surprised, he turned to stare at me, then glanced down at my hand that still covered his chest.
I drew back as if I’d been burned, the flame so hot I felt it against the back of my neck. “Ah, sorry about that. Everyone okay?” I asked.
“We’re all fine,” Paul replied.
Saying nothing, Toby shoved open the door, the old hinges creaking loudly. Cold wind blew into the warm cab to sting my cheeks.
“Snow’s coming,” Paul declared. “You can smell it in the air.”
The sun was nearly kissing the horizon, and despite how gray the day was, the sky was awash with vibrant shades of orange and pink. It was another indication of snow. The colder the air, the clearer the skies would be, which allowed for more visibility of color.
Most people hated how early the day grew dark in winter. Here in Vermont, it could be as early as four in the afternoon. But it was something I loved. How some days were laden with endless washes of gray, creating a beautiful backdrop for the deep green of pine. The blustery, almost moody atmosphere would bite you with its temperature and then apologize for about an hour by painting the sky with brilliant hues that—to me—rivaled a summer sky. When the apology faded, it would leave behind a velvet onyx sky filled with thousands of stars that shimmered with the brilliance of diamonds.
I could never leave this place. Hodge Farm might be the only place I’d ever known, but it was home, and I belonged here.
“You gonna be able to see to shoot it down?” Mayor Schroder called from the other side of the truck’s hood.
I glanced up but forgot to reply as my attention snagged on Toby approaching the tree. The closer he got, the tighter my chest felt as his slow, almost measured footsteps carried him closer. As if he were giving the tree the respect it deserved.
