Page 86 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
Feeling like a lucky motherfucker, I point up, showing her the mistletoe.
“Oh,” she says right before another smile tilts her lips up.
I take that as a go-ahead, and I bring my mouth back down to hers, letting myself relish in her lips again.
Fuck, they’re so goddamn soft. So tentative. So fucking perfect that if I wasn’t afraid that I’d push her too far, I’d spend hours under every goddamn sprig of mistletoe in this town, making out with her, exploring her mouth, and only letting up for air.
But because this is all new, I pull away quickly, reluctantly. This isn’t about me. This is about her, giving her a taste, showing her the kind of man I am.
When her eyes slowly open—again—her gaze finds mine, and she slowly tastes her lips. “That was... unexpected.”
I smile down at her. “Just giving you the experience.”
Hand in hand and telling myself not to take her mouth again even though I want so much more, I guide her toward the large town tree, which is propped up and decorated in the middle of Ornament Park. Colored lights glitter up and down the branches with an oversize, glittery star on the very top that shines from alldirections. And then scattered throughout are ornaments from all over.
“It’s such a beautiful tree.”
“It’s from the farm,” I say proudly. “There’s a section in the back that customers are not allowed to pick from. We reserve it for the town. Bob Krampus will come out with his wife, Sylvia, and BKJ, and they will handpick the tree together. It’s been their family tradition ever since BKJ was a little guy, so my dad has told me.”
“That’s . . . that’s really sweet.”
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite traditions we have on the farm because there is fanfare behind it. People from the town will watch the tree get chopped down, and then it’s a tradition, watching it get raised up in Ornament Park.”
“That’s really sweet. Who hangs the ornaments?” she asks, walking up to the tree. “I’m surprised they don’t have a fence around it.”
“People from all over town hang the ornaments, from all over Colorado. Tradition says you come here, make a wish in front of the tree, and then hang an ornament that is meaningful to you. Then, if the ornament is still there the next morning, your wish will come true.”
“Is that really the case?” she asks. “What if the wish doesn’t come true and the ornament is still there?”
I move in right behind her and lean down to her ear, letting my hand rest on her hip. “Well, from what I’ve been told, Bob Krampus has been known to say that sometimes it takes many years of hanging the ornament on the tree for those wishes to come true. So every year, the tree committee will gently pack up the ornaments that were not collected, and when the next year comes and we do a new tree lighting, they hang all the wishes back up on the tree for the people who are still lookingfor their wish to come true or who are still looking to enjoy that Christmas magic.”
She presses her hand to her heart. “That’s... that’s really sweet. Have you ever hung an ornament on the tree?”
“First time,” I say.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously,” I say. “I’ve never thought of something that was important enough to wish for. But this year, I have something.” I can see the wheels turning in her head, figuring out what exactly I’m not saying. Without saying much, I’m saying a whole lot.
I take out our ornaments and gently hand her the one she picked out. I fold the bag, stuff it in my pocket, and then move in behind her.
“From what I’ve been told, you’re supposed to hold the ornament in your right hand, look up at the wishing star on the top of the tree, and then make your wish. When you’re done, hang the ornament, and then walk away. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” she says softly.
“Then go for it.”
I look up at the tree, hold the ornament in my right hand, and then in my head, I wish for Evergreen Farm to be safe for many years to come.
Then I hang my ornament on a branch just as Betty does the same.
For a moment, I soak in the feeling of putting my very first ornament on the tree, the meaning behind it, and the impact it will hopefully make on my life.
Together with our wishes now held in the universe, we walk away, and I lead her to the kiosks in Ornament Park. There is one where you can rent blankets, so we head in that direction, and I lay down my credit card as a deposit, grab two extra-large ones, and loop them over my arm.
“This way,” I say, nodding toward a less crowded space in the park.
We head off to the right so we’re closer to where the river is trickling over the almost iced-over rocks, and I lay out the blanket. She takes my hand right before I help her down.
