The Tree Keeper's Promise Part 24

"Why is that?" Angela asked.

"I have an idea. How about you and Caroline move over to the farmhouse now? No reason to wait until the holiday."

"Where will you be?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'll stay in the cabin. I feel the same way you do about Caroline, about us. Cold as the cabin is, I'll stay there and keep my distance." He exuded self-control as he said it. A frustratingly attractive kind of self-control.

"When will Papa and Dorothy come back?"

"Not for several more weeks."

Angela knew from what Dorothy had told her that they might not even be back for Christmas.

"I'll think about it," Angela said, knowing Caroline would love it. But that was also the reason for her reservations. Whenever Papa and Dorothy returned, they'd need to move back out, and March was still three months away.

The path underfoot became harder, rockier. The ground had frozen rivulets in it. The trees-she looked at the lower branches and caught her breath. So many of them were damaged or gone.

"Mark, I hadn't realized."

"These two rows had it the worst," he said.

They approached Caroline standing by the next row of trees. It appeared her extra energy had subsided. This section of trees fared somewhat better than the other rows they pa.s.sed, but the trees still showed scars where the water had ripped through them.

"This is our tree. See the polka-dot ribbon?" She said it calmly, seeming a bit sad.

"Caroline, I'm so sorry," Angela said. So many of the branches were mangled and broken.

"It's all right. Lights and ornaments will help."

"Where is the other tree you chose?"

They looked for the sunflower. Caroline walked right to it. "This is the one for your house, Mark."

Angela could see right away this one had the most damage of the two. Its top branches looked wind-whipped. "Why don't we pick out another tree for the farmhouse? This one looks so battered. And we need one to look good for the customers." Angela looked to Mark for confirmation, only he was looking at Caroline, not at any of the trees.

"But this is the tree. This is the one. You still like it, right, Mark?" Caroline wiped at her eyes with the back of her mittened hand.

Mark motioned to Angela with his eyebrows before he spoke again. "If this tree is good enough for you, Caroline, it's good enough for the farm. And just fine with me."

"Can we put it up tonight?" she asked.

Though they hadn't planned to, Angela looked at Mark, who nodded. Neither of them was a match for Caroline's sadness.

"That's fine with me," Mark said to Caroline, then, more to Angela, he said, "I know we were going to cut your tree and get it over to your house today. I was going to come back for the farmhouse tree. But if you're okay with putting this one up tonight, I can bring your tree over in a day or two."

She knew he was asking about logistics and being considerate of what they had planned. And she knew that Caroline was only thinking of being able to make that poor little tree look beautiful, but she thought about Mark's earlier invitation of moving in and Caroline's love of the farm and the trees. What was she worried about?

"We may only need one tree after all this year." She said it to Mark, but Caroline quickly caught on to her meaning.

"Do you mean it? One tree for the farmhouse?" she asked.

"We'll stay there until Papa and Dorothy get back. Mark will be in the cabin. How does that sound?"

"Sounds awesome!" Caroline said.

"It's not too late if you want to pick out a better tree, one that wasn't hit as hard."

"Mom, it's like what you tell me to do at school. Choose my friends and then be a friend." She walked up closer to the tree and touched a bare spot on the trunk, then ran her hand along one of the branches. "I chose this tree, and now I want to be its friend."

For as cold as it had been as they'd trekked through the trees, the farmhouse was every bit as warm. Mark had started a fire, and they'd made hot chocolate, and when Angela told Mark they liked to listen to Christmas music as they decorated, he queued up a playlist in the studio. Though the dining room was between them and the dance floor, the sound carried and filled the house with a festive air. Just what they needed.

Angela and Caroline had gone home to pack and bring over enough clothes for a few weeks. Angela also grabbed her one box of tree decorations, thinking it was slightly ironic that she was bringing even that much to help decorate their tree. Surely between the inventory at the barn and what Dorothy had already set aside for the farm tree, there was more than could fit on what branches were left on this tree.

This felt like more than a decorating project. Mark and Angela were sharing this tree, creating a new family, creating a new tradition. So, yes, they needed her musical ornaments and Caroline's baby-picture ones.

Caroline had asked-no, begged-to bring the village houses. Though Angela wasn't sure how Mark would feel about their growing makeshift town of Bethlehem taking over a good portion of the living room, her daughter's pleading convinced her.

Angela settled into the sofa while Mark and Caroline worked around the tree. She handed out the ornaments and beads and the popcorn strings Dorothy had made. Mark kept up with Caroline's excitement over every piece and finding "just the right spot" on the tree.

As they finished, Mark centered the angel on top and then went and turned down the room lights. He disappeared into the studio, and soon a new track of "O Tannenbaum" began to play.

"If Papa were here, he'd sing this for us," Mark said when he returned.

"Mom, now that the tree is up, do you think we'll have a wedding before Christmas?" Caroline asked with wide eyes.

"Hold on a second. Papa and Dorothy are married, and Mark and I are engaged. I think that settles it."

"But Papa was talking about your wedding."

Angela asked Mark for a little help.

"Papa likes to have fun," Mark said. "This is the busiest month of the year here. How about we set up your village now?"

She agreed, and they each took pieces and began arranging them under the tree.

"Papa will be glad to see this," Mark said. "When he was boy, he was in charge of setting up the village every year. Donna would decorate our tree, but we haven't had anyone to do the village."

After the toy shop and church were positioned, as well as the ice cream parlor and blacksmith shop, Caroline put some of the white batting in place around her mirror. She had collected small pebbles-from where, Angela didn't know-and made a cobblestone road to the church.

"We're calling this Bethlehem, Mark," Caroline said. "Our very own."

"I've told her it didn't snow there," Angela said lightly.

Mark nodded. "I like it."

"What about our nativity?" Caroline asked. "Have you showed it to Mark? How about we put it in the village? That would help it."

Angela loved the idea. So what if the scale were off and if the houses were ceramic and the nativity was made of carved wood? All the better. But they were quickly running out of s.p.a.ce if they were going to keep it out of the way of customer foot traffic.

"What about the fireplace mantel? That might be safer."

"Not up there. Can I move the bakery and schoolhouse? Please, Mom?"

As Caroline asked, Mark lifted pieces out of the velvet lined box and handed them to her. She eagerly began telling Mark what Angela had told her about each piece. The very things that she learned last year-what Florinda had taught Angela.

"Have a pure heart like Mary," Caroline repeated. "And this lamb-Jesus knows all the names of his lambs and He finds the lost ones."

Okay, they weren't Florinda's exact words, but close.

"Do we have room for all of them?" Caroline asked.

"Of course. We'll make the room," Mark said. He handed her the Wise Men and the animals.

Mark's words triggered another memory of Florinda.

They were in Angela's childhood home, standing by the door as Florinda was leaving. Florinda scanned the house and asked Angela where she would put up the new nativity set she'd given her. Angela remembered looking around. Her mother's things filled the s.p.a.ce. Vases and statues and pictures. Crystal clocks and fancy dishes. Elegant pieces of art. "I don't know. I'll ask my mom," Angela had told her.

Florinda became quite serious. "You must make room, my Angela. Not only here"-she made a sweeping motion with her hand-"but here," then placed her hand over her heart. "This is how we show love, my little lamb, we make room here."

Angela focused on Caroline. She was setting up the last piece of their nativity under the freshly cut and decorated tree she'd chosen, the one she insisted they keep. Mark was sitting on the floor next to her, fine-tuning the arrangement.

We'll make room.

"Here, Mark." Caroline had taken a piece from the nativity. "You need something for the cabin. Take this lamb." With that, she gave him a quick hug and ran down the hall to bed. She and Angela would share the master bedroom until they could fix up the smaller room with a twin bed.

Mark and Angela lingered by the side door. He gently moved her dark curls over her shoulder and pulled her close for a hug. He kissed her cheek and said good night.

"That's it?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"I'm pretty sure she's still awake," Mark said. "She's probably peeking at us right now."

"No, I'm not," Caroline called from the room.

They both laughed. "How she can hear us, I'll never know," Angela said.

After Mark left, Angela cleaned up some of the packaging and boxes. It was just her and the tree and some music.

Sweet tones of "O Little Town of Bethlehem" drifted to where Angela sat by the fire, a clear view of the angel-topped tree and the very first "Shafer-Bethlehem" town below.

"How still we see thee lie."

The memorable words cheered her. As the third verse played, she listened more closely to words that were not as familiar to her.

How silently, how silently, The wondrous Gift is giv'n!

So G.o.d imparts to human hearts The blessings of His heaven.

No ear may hear His coming, But in this world of sin, Where meek souls will receive Him still, The dear Christ enters in.

Angela's heart swelled. Florinda's words "We make room here" returned, and then Mark's: "We'll make the room."

She had simply wanted to surprise her daughter with a new tradition for their family. Maybe she should have known Caroline would want an entire village. But she couldn't have known that a.s.sembling a hodgepodge of ceramic houses to recreate their own little Bethlehem would make room in her heart for belonging, room for love. And room for Mark.

Chapter 22.

Mark strolled to the cabin, moving the still night air around him and crunching the pine needles underfoot. He replayed saying good-bye to Angela and the cute look on her face after he kissed her cheek.

"That's it?" she'd asked. What he wouldn't give to hold her a little tighter, kiss her a little longer. March could not come soon enough.

He turned on the light in his bedroom and set the lamb Caroline had given him on the dresser. She had been so excited to give it to him. Excited to decorate and set up a village. It was a year ago that he'd met Angela and Caroline for the first time, and yet it felt like he'd known them much longer. It felt like they had been part of the farm forever and that they belonged together.

He picked up his guitar and sang as he played. Angela's song.

Maybe this can be her Christmas gift.

With customers at the farm and Papa in Oregon, Mark hadn't had much time to follow up with the Historical Society. When Mrs. Simmons called to tell him she had something for the farm, he didn't hesitate to go see her.

It was late afternoon when he returned to the farmhouse. Brett was helping customers, Angela was with Caroline in the farmhouse, and one of their seasonal employees was helping in Donna's barn. Mark immediately began moving things behind the cash register-a printer, a letter tray, a decorative basket with gold pinecones. Then he pounded a nail into the wall and called for Angela and Caroline to come see what he was doing.

"What's all this?" Angela asked.

"A little something for the farm."

He held up an oval, bronze plaque with the inscription "The Shafer Farm, 1881. This property has been placed on the National Register of Historic Places by the United States Department of the Interior."

"Congratulations! That's great news!" Angela said and gave him a hug.

Before Caroline could say anything, some customers came through the front door of the farmhouse.

They turned to greet them. Mark's jaw dropped. John Jackson stood there with his arm around ...

"Ashley?" Angela exclaimed. "How-why ... I mean, what are you doing here?"

"John and I had a late lunch." She glanced at him with a smirk. "We thought we'd come say hi. John says he's been trying to reach Mark."

"That's right. Wanted to check on the tree for the Auburn mall. Did that work out?"

Mark nodded and chose his words carefully. "We delivered a thirty-foot n.o.ble fir to them last week. They were very happy."

"Great. Glad to hear it."

Mark was actually about to thank John for the business, but John continued.