Lucia clutched her vintage plaid-print Thermos. She wanted desperately to take a swig of the peppermint-schnapps-laced hot chocolate within it to fortify herself against the cold outside the truck, but instead she watched the scenery pass by the window as her fiancé, Dean, drove down the rural highway.
Hell, she needed to fortify herself against the guy sitting in the driver's seat next to her. Our first Christmas together, she thought. Our first Christmas tree. She hoped she'd gotten the directions to the Christmas tree farm right. Neither she nor Dean had ever come out here, and she'd hate getting lost to ruin their day. To either side of the road, farms and pastureland stretched out, a few inches of snow painting the scenery into a portrait suitable for the front of a Christmas card. Lucia couldn't believe it had actually snowed the night before their big adventure. It made the entire day seem too perfect. "Perfect" really was the word of the day. Everything seemed just that.
"Look," Lucia said as she pointed to a hand-painted sign on the right side of the road. "That must be it."
Dean turned the truck off the highway and onto a gravel drive. Lucia stared out the window. Spreading out beyond a white wood fence, row after row of perfectly symmetrical Christmas trees grew, dusted in snow. As they drove, Lucia could see flashes of bright color where children darted through the trees, probably playing tag or hide and seek as their parents debated whether to pick a spruce or a pine. She could hear their laughter even over the heater vents.
She rolled down the window, letting the brisk air wash over her face. She smiled and took a deep breath. The ice on the ground around them made the air taste crisp and clean, and she welcomed the burn as it entered her lungs. Lucia thought back to her childhood in San Diego. She couldn't remember it ever snowing, and though some of her classmates' parents took them to the mountains to ski, they'd never invited her, and her mother had no money to take her. She'd never seen snow until she'd moved here for college.
"Come on, baby," Dean said. "You're letting the hot air out."
They both wore layers of clothes, and the heater ran at its highest setting. Lucia welcomed the cold, but she rolled up the old truck's window for Dean.
She looked over at him, and suddenly her nerves attacked in full force. Her contentment from only a moment before receded. She'd never had a perfect Christmas growing up, and this trip could mark the beginning of her first real holiday season. She didn't feel sure that she even knew how to have a perfect holiday. Her mother had always tried, but a wilted tree bought from the drugstore the night before Christmas, decorated with paper ornaments, didn't seem like a real Christmas to Lucia. She didn't want to ruin this year for Dean.
Dean parked the truck in front of a big red barn. Around them, families tied trees to the tops of sedans or forced them into the backs of SUVs. A church group sang carols, and inside the barn, people bought pies, fresh pine wreaths, and decorations. Santa milled about, passing out candy canes and ruffling little kids' hair. Lucia couldn't believe how absolutely perfect it all seemed. I have to stop thinking "perfect," she thought.
She opened the door of the Dodge and climbed out. She took the Thermos too then shut the door. Her rough wool kilt scratched her bare legs as she moved around to the front of the truck. Wellies and wool socks kept her legs warm to the knees, and a down vest over an Irish wool sweater kept the rest of her warm. Even her clothes made her feel festive; she'd found all of them at a local thrift store and assembled this outfit for this specific outing. Red and green plaid, green boots...
Dean wrapped his right arm around her and squeezed. He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek, and Lucia relished the quickly disappearing flash of warmth there.
In his left hand, he carried the bow saw they would use to cut down their tree. Lucia took a deep breath, and the smells of evergreen, peppermint, and damp earth filler her nose. Her exhale came out with a cloud of white.
"This is going to be fun, huh?" Dean asked. He started humming along to the carolers' version of "Winter Wonderland." He dropped his arm and shoved his empty hand into the pocket of his coat. "I haven't cut my own tree since I was a kid."
Lucia sighed. She'd never cut her own tree. Dean, as far as she knew, had had picture-perfect Christmases every year of his life, even if more recent ones hadn't include cutting down his on tree. His mother had shown Lucia photo albums full of holiday pictures when they'd visited from Thanksgiving just last week. One of the reasons she wanted to hang on to him was because she hoped he'd bring that happy childhood into their future with them, hoping to balance out her bad if they ever had kids of their own.
Don't get ahead of yourself, Lucia reminded herself. That would probably come years down the road, if ever. Right now, this is just about us. Part of wanting him, and making sure she kept him, was giving him what he wanted, and she knew one thing he wanted this Christmas.
Her.
"Come on," she said. "Let's find our tree."
They headed off into the orchard, traveling farther and farther away from the barn, into the rows of trees. The laughter of the kids and the songs of the carolers faded into the distance until only the crunch of their footsteps on the frosted grass and the occasional call of a bird remained.
This deep in the orchard, the trees had reached heights most ceilings couldn't accommodate. Lucia figured most families probably didn't bother to come out this far. She hoped she was right. She didn't want to get caught doing what she was about to do.
They walked through the trees, commenting on shape and the feel of the needles. Dean seemed to grow suspicious. "None of these will fit in our house," he said.
"I know, but I have a feeling the perfect tree's out here somewhere."
And she was looking for a perfect tree, only not for the house. She wanted something big, with wide branches, close to the ground, like...
That one.
Lucia smiled. The tree stood at the end of a row, tall, almost as big as a forest pine rather than a farm-raised one. Its long, sweeping branches hung heavy with the previous night's snow, and the boughs brushed the ground, creating a tent of green. A mocking bird, seeming to ignore the cold, sang from a branch near the top.
Perfect. There it is again. The tree grew far enough away that people probably wouldn't hear. Its branches offered the perfect shelter. Lucia turned to Dean. "Follow me," she told him.
