If Only Forever (The Inn at Sunset Harbor—Book 4)

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

Dory’s Christmas Tree Farm was a short drive away on the outskirts of Sunset Harbor. The family drove together in Daniel’s rusty red pickup truck. There were still patches of Thanksgiving Day’s snow on the banks, and as they drove past Emily touched the ring on her finger, remembering the snow that had fallen around her as Daniel proposed.

They pulled up into the makeshift parking lot and all hopped out of the truck. There were many families here; clearly everyone had the same idea. Parents milled around while their children ran excitedly about the place, threading through the lines of trees.

Instead of Dory, it was a young girl on the cusp of teenagehood who greeted them. She introduced herself as Grace, Dory’s daughter, and she had the same wispy blond hair as Chantelle. She was wearing a fanny pack stuffed with dollar bills and a paper pad to write receipts.

“These are the trees ready for harvest,” she said, smiling confidently, gesturing out to the field of pines. “They’ve all been growing for about seven to nine years.” She grinned down at Chantelle. “So they’re about your age, am I right?”

Chantelle nodded shyly.

“Once you find the tree you like,” Grace continued, “cut it down and take it to the loading area. My dad will ride you and the tree back in the wagon to the baler, wrap it all up, and then you can pay me. We also sell hot chocolate and toasted chestnuts if you want something to keep you warm while you walk.”

Emily bought them each a hot chocolate in a Styrofoam cup and a bag of chestnuts to share, and then they headed for the fields. Chantelle rushed ahead, more excited than Emily had ever seen her.

The smell of pine was powerful, awakening that Christmas feeling inside of Emily. She was excited by the prospect of her first Christmas with Daniel and Chantelle, with her family beside the hearth. It would be the first of many.

She and Daniel walked hand in hand, silently trailing behind Chantelle. Then Emily leaned into Daniel.

“How old do you think Grace is?” she asked.

“Eleven, twelve,” Daniel guessed. “Why?”

“No reason,” Emily replied. “She just reminds me of Chantelle. Made me think about what she’ll be like as she gets older.”

Up ahead, Chantelle ran along the paths between the trees, stopping to assess their height, the density of their branches, and the lushness of their color before moving on to the next one. Emily could easily imagine her as an older child, clipboard in hand, working her first job to earn pocket money.

But as she wondered about the future, Emily felt her mind being pulled back into the past. Chantelle, who reminded her so much of Charlotte, also reminded her of the loss of Charlotte, of the fact that her sister never got to grow up, that she never got to have a job during winter vacation. She had skipped through this very farm all those years ago, full of promise and potential, and then without warning her life had been snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Emily looked ahead at Chantelle, and as she did so, the child morphed into Charlotte. Then Emily felt herself shrinking, until she was inhabiting a child-sized body. Her hands were suddenly swaddled with mittens. Snow began falling around her, clinging to the branches of the pine trees. Emily reached out with her small, mittened hand and shook one of the branches. A snow cloud puffed into the air, and the fine white powder dispersed. Up ahead, Charlotte was laughing, carefree and happy, her warm breath coiling through the air. She was wearing mittens too, and her favorite bright red boots looked stark against the backdrop of white.

Emily watched Charlotte stop beneath the tallest tree in the whole farm and gaze up with wonderment.

“I want this one!” the little girl cried.

Emily rushed toward her, kicking up snow in her haste. When she reached Charlotte’s side, she too gazed up at the enormous tree. It was astounding, so tall she could hardly see the top.

The crunching of footsteps in the snow made Emily tear her gaze from the tree and turn to look over her shoulder. There, stomping through the snow in large strides, was her dad.

“You girls need to slow down,” he panted as he drew up beside them. “I almost lost you.”

“We found the tree!” Emily cried with excitement.

Charlotte joined in, jumping and pointing up.

“That’s a bit big,” Roy said.

He looked tired today. Depressed. There were dark circles beneath his eyes.

“It’s not too big,” Emily said. “The ceilings are very high.”

Charlotte, as always, followed her sister’s lead. “It’s not too big! Please can we get it, Daddy?”

Roy Mitchell rubbed a hand over his face with exasperation. “Don’t test my patience, Charlotte,” he snapped. “Choose something smaller.”

Emily saw Charlotte recoil. Neither of them liked to anger their father and neither could understand how they had. It seemed like the smallest of things annoyed him these days. He was always distracted by something or other, always looking over his shoulder at shadows only he could see.

But Emily’s main concern was Charlotte. Always Charlotte. The little girl looked like she was on the brink of tears. Emily slipped her mittened hand into hers.

“This way,” she cried brightly. “There are smaller trees over here!”

And just like that, Charlotte cheered up, comforted by her older sister. They ran off through the snow together, leaving their frowning, distracted father to chase after them.

Just then, Emily snapped back into the present day. The snow of the past was no longer falling on the present, the Christmas trees of decades earlier felled and replaced with these new, young trees. She was back to the here and now but it took her a moment to reorient herself with her surroundings, to see Chantelle standing before her rather than Charlotte.

During Emily’s blackout, they’d manage to walk deep into the depths of the field. Here, the trees were so tall they cast shadows over everything, blocking out daylight. Emily shuddered, feeling colder now that the winter sun was hidden.

Up ahead, Chantelle was gazing at the tallest tree on the whole farm. It was at least fifteen feet tall.

“This is the one!” she cried, grinning from ear to ear.

Emily smiled. She wasn’t going to be like her father, dashing a child’s spirits. If Chantelle wanted the tallest tree on the farm, she was going to get it.

She walked up beside her and craned her head to see the top of the tree. Just like when she was a child, the tree seemed majestic to her.

“That’s the one,” Emily agreed.

Chantelle clapped in delight. Daniel looked somewhat disapproving of the elaborate choice, Emily thought, but he didn’t challenge them. He leaned down and helped Chantelle make the first cut with the ax. Emily watched them, father and daughter smiling and laughing together, and felt warm joy spread through her.

Daniel passed the ax to Emily so she too could take a turn chopping, and then they went round in circles, taking it in turns, cooperating. When the tree fell they all cheered.

Grace’s dad arrived with the wagon.

“Wow, this is quite a whopper you’ve chosen,” he joked with Chantelle as she attempted to help lift the enormous tree into the wagon.

“It was the tallest one I could find!” Chantelle said, grinning.

The family climbed into the back of the wagon and snuggled up together. The wheels of the wagon turned and they began the slow journey back to the farm entrance.

“I lost you for a moment back there,” Daniel said to Emily as they rode. “You had another flashback?”

Emily nodded. The memory had left her shaken. Seeing Charlotte’s crestfallen expression, hearing the sharpness of her father’s tone. Even then he was a man with a lot on his mind. She wondered if it had been something to do with Antonia, the woman he’d been having an affair with, or their mother, who was back at home in New York, or something else altogether. Though Emily was convinced now that her father was still alive out there, Roy was as much a mystery to her as ever.

“I keep remembering more and more things about my dad,” Emily confessed. “Ever since I found those letters. I wish I knew what made him run away. I always thought that something sudden must have happened when I was a teenager, but I think he was troubled by something way before then. For as far back as my memories go, to be honest. Every time I flash back and see him I can see the trouble in his eyes.”

Daniel held her close. It felt good to be comforted by him, to be close again. He’d seemed so distant back at Joe’s Diner.

“Sorry if I was a bit quiet back there,” Daniel said, as if reading her mind. “The holidays bring back memories for me too.”

“They do?” Emily asked gently. “What kind of memories?”

It was so rare for Daniel to open up to her that she took every opportunity to encourage him.

“This might come as a bit of a surprise to you, but I’m actually Jewish,” Daniel said. “My dad wasn’t, though. He was Christian. We celebrated Christmas and Hanukkah while he was still at home, but when he left he took Christmas with him. Mom would only celebrate Hanukkah. Once me and my dad were back in touch, he would only celebrate Christmas at his house. It was odd. A pretty weird way of growing up, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“That sounds tough,” Emily soothed, trying to hide her surprise that Daniel was in fact Jewish. She wondered what else she didn’t know about him and was gripped with a sudden anguish over how they would raise the children, if there were to be any children. She would of course love to celebrate both but Daniel seemed to be holding traumatic memories about the holidays that might make it a little harder to approach.

They rode back to the entrance of the farm, where they paid the plucky and cheerful Grace while waiting for their tree to be put through the baling machine.

Emily was glad to be creating new, happy memories with her family. But at the back of her mind, she couldn’t stop wondering about her father, about what was going on with him, what secrets he’d been keeping. But most of all, she wondered where he was now and if there was any way she would ever be able to trace him.

*

Back in the B&B, Emily and Daniel maneuvered the tree into position in the foyer. There were a few guests relaxing in the living room and they came out to watch with excitement as the enormous tree was raised.

Emily recalled the heap of boxes containing her dad’s old ornaments stored in the attic and rushed off to fetch them. Then she and Chantelle sat together at the kitchen table, sorting through all the ornaments.

“This is so pretty,” Chantelle said, holding up a glass reindeer.

Emily smiled to herself at the sight of it, recalling how she and Charlotte had pooled together their pocket money to buy it, and how they had then saved up every year to buy more, adding to their collection until they had enough to represent each of one of Santa’s reindeers. Then Charlotte had marked each one so they’d be able to tell them apart.

Emily took the glass reindeer from Chantelle’s hands and checked its hoof. There was a little scratch mark that looked like it might have been a D for Donner, though it could just as easily have been a B for Blitzen. She smiled to herself.

“There’s a whole set in here,” Emily said, looking at the tangle of fairy lights. “Somewhere.”

They rummaged around until they’d found every single one of Santa’s reindeer, including Rudolph with his red nose painted on by Charlotte with nail polish. Emily felt a tug of emotion as she recalled that they’d never gotten around to buying the Santa and sleigh ornaments—the last on their list and the most expensive—because Charlotte had died before they’d saved up enough money.

“Look at this!” Chantelle cried, breaking into Emily’s thoughts by waving a grubby, felt polar bear in front of her face.

“Percy!” Emily cried, taking it from Chantelle’s hands. “Percy the polar bear!” She laughed to herself, delighted she could pluck such an obscure memory from her mind. She had lost so many of them, and yet she could retrieve them still. It gave her hope for unraveling the mysteries of her past.

She and Chantelle sorted through all the decorations, selecting all the ones they wanted to use and carefully putting away the others. By the time they were finished and ready to add them to the tree, it had grown dark outside.

Daniel lit a fire in the fireplace and its soft orange glow spilled out into the foyer as the family began decorating the tree. One by one, Chantelle carefully placed each of her selected decorations onto the tree, with the kind of precision and care Emily had grown to recognize in the child. It was like she was savoring every moment, carefully storing a new set of memories to replace the terrible ones from her younger years.

Finally it was time to put the angel on the top. Chantelle had spent a long time choosing which decoration would be given the prime position and had eventually chosen a fabric, hand-knitted angel over a robin, a star, and a fat, cuddly snowman.

“Are you ready?” Daniel asked Chantelle as he stood at the bottom of the stepladder. “I’m going to have to carry you up so you can reach the top.”

“I get to put the angel on the top?” Chantelle said, wide-eyed.

Emily laughed. “Of course! The youngest always gets to do it.”

She watched Chantelle clamber onto Daniel’s back, the angel clutched tightly in her hands so she wouldn’t drop it. Then slowly, one step at a time, Daniel carried her to the top. Together they stretched out and Chantelle popped the decoration onto the tall tip of the tree.

The second the angel sat atop the tree, Emily had a sudden flashback. It came on so quickly she began to breathe rapidly, panicked by the abrupt shift from her bright, warm inn to the colder, darker one of thirty years prior.

Emily was looking up at Charlotte as she placed the angel they’d spent all day making onto the tree. Her dad was holding Charlotte aloft, who at this point in time was a chubby toddler, and he wobbled slightly from the numerous sherries he’d drunk that day. Emily remembered a sudden, overwhelming emotion of fear. Fear that her tipsy father would drop Charlotte onto the hard hearth. Emily was five years old and it was the first time she’d really understood the concept of death.

Emily returned to the present day with a gasp to find her hand pressed against the wall as she steadied herself. She was hyperventilating and Daniel was there beside her, his hand on her back.

“Emily?” he asked with concern. “What happened? Another memory?”

She nodded, finding herself unable to speak. The memory had been so vivid and so terrifying, despite her knowledge that no harm had befallen Charlotte that winter evening. She cherished most of her recovered memories but that one had felt sinister, ominous, like a sign of the dark things to come.

Daniel continued rubbing Emily’s back as she made a concerted effort to slow her breathing back to normal. Chantelle looked up at her, worried, and it was the child’s face that finally brought Emily out of the grips of her memories.

“I’m sorry, it’s fine,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed to have worried everyone so much.

She looked up at the angel, at the sequined dress she wore. It had taken her and Charlotte hours to glue all those individual sequins onto the fabric. Now, with the ebbing firelight coming from the living room, they sparkled like rainbows. Emily thought it almost looked as though they were winking at her. Not for the first time, she felt Charlotte’s presence close by, communicating love, peace, and forgiveness. Emily tried to hold onto the feeling of her spirit, to take comfort from it.

“We should head off to the town square,” Emily said, finally. “We don’t want to miss the tree lighting.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked, looking concerned.

Emily smiled. “I am. I promise.”

But her assertions didn’t seem to wash with Daniel. She could feel him watching her out of the corner of his eye the whole time they were wrapping up in their warm clothes. But he didn’t question or challenge her further, and so the family got into the pickup truck and headed into town.