Page 3 of The Bear's Christmas Wish
“All I feel is the cold on my nose,” James said, and the others laughed.
“Come on, this’ll soon warm you up,” Michael said as he uncoiled the rope he’d been carrying over his shoulder.
They secured ropes around the trunk and began the work of hauling the tree back down the slope, their combined strength making the task easier. Steam rose from their bodies as they worked, their conversation dwindling to occasional grunts and directions.
Back at the cutting yard, they worked efficiently to prepare the tree for transport, Michael operating the netting machine that would bind the branches for protection. Soon, he’d deliver it to the town square, where the Bear Creek holiday committee, along with a bunch of volunteers, would decorate it ready for the lighting ceremony.
“That should do it,” Daniel said, securing the last of the netting. He glanced at his watch. “I should head back. Promised the kids we’d make hot chocolate and start our holiday movie marathon.”
“Give them my love,” Michael said, embracing his friend.
James and Christopher exchanged looks. “We should get going, too,” Christopher said. “Early shift tomorrow.”
After final handshakes and back-slaps, Daniel climbed into his truck, the headlights briefly illuminating the yard before he turned toward town. James and Christopher moved toward the tree line, already shimmering with the magic of their shift. Within moments, two bears stood where men had been, their dark shapes soon disappearing into the forest.
Michael stood alone in the sudden quiet, breathing deeply of the winter night. The first delicate snowflakes began to fall, catching in his dark hair and melting against his warm skin. He tilted his face upward, letting them land on his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips.
Something smells different,his bear suddenly rumbled, alert and interested in a way Michael hadn’t felt in years.
Michael inhaled again, searching for whatever had caught his bear’s attention. There was the familiar scent of pine, the crisp snow, the lingering notes of Daniel’s spiced cookies, but nothing unusual.
But his bear would not let it go.There is something…stirring. Perhaps our mate is no longer stuck in a traffic jam.
Now that’s wishful thinking,Michael said, shaking his head with a rueful smile.The shooting star has you imagining things.
But his bear remained restless as Michael secured the yard then got in his truck and drove over to the small cabin, which he called home, on the other side of the tree farm.Something’s coming,he insisted.Something important.
Michael paused at his doorway, taking one last look at the star-filled sky, now veiled by gently falling snow. For just a moment, he allowed himself to hope that perhaps this Christmas might be different after all.
Chapter Two – Sarah
Sarah stared out of the window at the distant mountains, their snow-capped peaks still shrouded in mist even as the sun rose higher. There was something magical about the view from her mom’s kitchen window, much like the town itself when she’d arrived just before midnight, tires crunching over salted streets as fresh snow fell. The porch lights and shop windows haloing the empty town square had made it look like a snow globe with the flakes still settling.
Somewhere, a single wind chime had rung as softly as a sleigh bell. Or maybe it had been Santa doing a test run on his sleigh. Sarah smothered a smile; she’d been spending too much alone time with her daughter, and her imagination was running wild.
But this morning the snow had cleared, and the sky was clear over the mountains that had stood here for millennia and would still be here long after she was gone. They gave such a sense of permanence.
Unlike her marriage. Unlike so many things she’d thought were permanent.
Sarah sipped her coffee, letting the warmth seep into her hands. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread. Her mother’s way of making the world seem right, even when it wasn’t. Pat had always been like that, creating order from chaos with flour-dusted hands and a sympathetic smile. A tea towel hung on the oven read BE MERRY in slightly crooked embroidery; it shouldn’t have helped, but it did.
The sound of muffled footsteps made her turn. Pat entered the kitchen, already dressed in a cozy Christmas sweater and jeans, fluffy reindeer slippers scuffing the tiles.
“How are you feeling this morning, sweetheart?” Pat asked, moving to the kettle. “I thought you would still be in bed after your long drive yesterday.”
Sarah gave a half-smile; she’d slept well until she woke at the first light of dawn. Then the usual worries began to fall, soft and relentless as snow—one thought, then another—until she felt smothered by them. “It feels like I’ve gone backward and forward in time all at once. My old bedroom feels both exactly the same and completely different.”
“That’s because you’re not the same girl who left,” Pat said, measuring loose tea into a strainer. “You’ve lived a whole life since then.”
A life that had just imploded. Sarah swallowed hard. “Thanks for taking us in, Mom. I know it wasn’t part of your retirement plan to have your daughter and granddaughter crash-land back in Bear Creek.”
“Nonsense.” Pat waved away her concern. “This house has always been too big for just me. And Bear Creek is a good place to...regroup.”
The carefully chosen word made Sarah’s throat tighten.Regroup. Not recover. Not hide. Just gather herself before the next step.
Whatever that might be. Sarah had not gotten that far.
“I’m just worried about finding enough work,” Sarah admitted. “Freelance graphic design is steady in the city, but out here...” She trailed off, staring into her coffee. “What if I can’t make enough to support Emmy properly?”
