Page 2 of The Bear's Christmas Wish
They fell into a comfortable silence as they crested the hill. The higher elevation revealed a breathtaking view of Bear Creek below, its lights twinkling like fallen stars against the dark valley. The air here was sharper, colder, filled with the pure scent of pine and winter.
The path narrowed as they climbed higher, the snow deeper here where the wind had sculpted it into gentle drifts between the trees.
“This is the section I’ve been saving,” Michael said, gesturing to a stand of magnificent trees, their branches dusted with frost that sparkled in the moonlight. “Any of these would make the town proud.”
“And you,” Christopher said, tilting his cap as he looked up at the tips of the pines. “You should be proud of what you do here.”
“I don’t know how much credit I can take,” Michael said. “These were planted by my father.”
“And he passed that legacy on to you,” James insisted.
Michael chuckled. “Well, most of the time. He’s still planning to help out again this season. When it comes to helping people find the right tree, he’s never going to retire.”
The men spread out, circling the candidates with practiced eyes. Christopher knocked snow from one trunk, measuring its girth with his arms. James stood back, assessing height and symmetry. Daniel ran his fingers along the needles, testing their suppleness.
“This one,” Michael finally said, stopping before a majestic blue spruce. “Strong central leader, full all the way around, and the perfect height for the square.”
His friends gathered around, nodding in agreement.
“She’s a beauty,” Christopher said appreciatively.
“A proper tree for Bear Creek,” James added.
“Okay, let’s get to it.” Michael went first, then the friends took turns with the axe, each man striking in rhythm, their breaths forming clouds in the cold air. Between swings, they traded stories of Christmases past and gentle barbs about each other’s technique.
“Put your back into it, James,” Daniel teased. “You swing like you’re afraid of hurting it.”
“I’m being precise,” James countered. “Unlike some people who think brute force solves everything.”
“Hey, my method works,” Daniel laughed, taking his turn.
Christopher leaned toward Michael. “What do you want to bet Daniel makes the final cut?”
“No bet,” Michael replied with a wave of his hand. “He always does.”
True to prediction, it was Daniel’s powerful swing that sent the spruce tilting with a soft creak, snow drifting from the crown like shaken glitter. “Timber,” he called unnecessarily as the tree began its graceful descent.
They stepped back as it fell with a satisfying whoosh, landing with a muffled thud in the deep snow. The scent of fresh sap filled the air, sharp and sweet against the frosty night.
As they stood admiring their work, a streak of light blazed across the star-filled sky—a shooting star, brilliant against the darkness.
“Quick,” Daniel said, pointing upward. “Make a wish.”
The others followed suit, a moment of silence falling over the snowy clearing. Michael felt his bear stir with yearning as he wished for the same thing he did every year…someone to share his life with, his heart, his home, his legacy.
His bear chuckled.You know, we’re probably all wishing for the same thing.
For a mate,Michael said.
Obviously,his bear replied.
When Michael opened his eyes, his friends were all standing with the same wistful expression on their faces. If only wishes did come true.
“Did everyone get their Christmas wish in?” Christopher asked.
James snorted. “For all the good it’ll do. I’ve been wishing on stars for longer than I can remember, but they never come true.”
“This time it’ll work,” Daniel insisted, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder. “I can feel it.”
