Phoenix Feather (22 page)

Aidan spotted a large sculpture in the corner that stood taller than her, and felt a thrill of excitement. “Trent?” she called. He came in from unpacking stuff in the kitchen. “Did your grandfather make this?”

“Yep,” Trent said, a trace of admiration in his voice.

Aidan reached out to brush her fingers over the smooth wood. The details were almost too real. The man had taken what must have begun as a huge log and carved it into a tree with tangled branches and sparse leaves. The most dazzling part though, was all the birds he had carved into it. Small birds perched idle, larger birds extended wings ready to take flight, birds huddled in nests, and birds sat on the ground—was that a peacock?

“Why didn’t he paint it?” Aidan asked, breathless.

“I don’t know.” Trent cocked his head as he looked at it. “I think he just preferred the wood’s natural shade.”

“This is incredible.” She tried to take note of every minute detail, fascinated by the time and effort the man must have put into it. “How long did it take?”

“Three years, I think. Keep in mind he did have other projects. He was working to make money at the time, and this was a personal mission of his; he’d never sell it.”

Aidan was reluctant to pull her eyes away. There was so much to see, to search out, every intentional groove, every mark on a feather to speak of what bird he had chosen to immortalize. She took a step back with effort and let out the breath she felt like she had been holding. “Still need help in the kitchen?”

Trent, too, looked as though it was difficult to pull away. For him, the sculpture held an additional trove of treasured memories. “Sure.”

Not much later, Phoebe and Chris came trampling down in their snow boots, gloves, and beanies.

“I am the standing champion,” Phoebe said.

“We haven’t had a fight since we were in seventh grade,” Chris replied. “And this is new turf, so the champion title is up for grabs.” He turned to Aidan and Trent. “Individual or teams?”

Trent laughed. “You take this seriously, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Phoebe said.

“You should see them at paintball,” Aidan muttered.

“Oh, we should have thought to bring some of those,” Phoebe said. “They’d probably work just as well with snowballs.”

Aidan and Trent went to grab their boots and gloves and met Phoebe and Chris outside. They laid down a set of rules, which included exactly one minute to set up a starting location, and began the hunt. As she flitted between trees and ducked behind mounds of snow, Aidan had flashbacks from 1555 and the start of the Russo-Swedish War. Her footfalls fell silently across the snow-laden landscape as she stalked the invading Russians, picking them off in the graying shadows of a desolate land. The Finnish were the wronged party then, Aidan felt. As she was in that region, it was either fight or be swept up in the wave of violence to come. She hadn’t fought in a war for a long time. Victory in battle was a rare pleasure, and even if it was something as trivial as a snowball fight, she still remembered and enjoyed the sensation.

However, because it was a game and not a serious life and death fight, the rules were soon forgotten, and everyone engaged in a free-for-all that ended with all four of them on the ground laughing hysterically.

Aidan lay in the snow, leaning on one elbow and looking at Trent lying next to her. He’d lost his hat sometime in the fight, and now his light hair was powdered with white flakes. He was smiling at her, his cheeks a bright red flush in the cold. She could hear Phoebe squealing at something Chris was doing, but she tuned them out.

“I think, perhaps, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she said. Trent couldn’t know she meant that in the context of the entire world’s history.

“Better than chocolate?”

She grinned. “Much.”

“I like it when you do that.”

“What?”

He slipped his hand out of his glove and brushed her cheek. His fingers felt warm against the chill that had already kissed her. “Smile.”

She blushed, and knew that it showed more prominently in this weather than it would have had they been sitting inside next to a fire. “It’s too bad I’m getting wet. Otherwise this spot is kind of nice.”

Trent chuckled and pushed himself off the ground. He grabbed both her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Hey!” he shouted to Chris and Phoebe. “You guys icicles yet?”

The four of them retreated to the house, shed their outer clothing, and grabbed heavy blankets off the sofas while Trent set about starting a fire.

“I think I saw some hot chocolate mixes in the cupboard,” Aidan said. She went into the kitchen and found four mugs, which she filled with water and put in the microwave two at a time. Trent came in and pulled a jar of peppermint sticks from the cabinet.

“The secret ingredient.” He dropped a chunk in each of the mugs. He stirred each of them and helped Aidan carry them back into the great room.

“I didn’t think to bring Christmas decorations,” Phoebe said.

“There are boxes in the attic,” Trent said. “I’ll get them down later. We can go look for a tree tomorrow morning.”

Aidan sat on the couch next to Trent and stared at the fire in the hearth. It crackled and spit in its youth, a fretful creature caged in a simple brick hole, like their own personal zoo animal. She vaguely overheard the others talking about all they could do up here: watch movies, decorate, bake cookies—Trent said he would go into town Tuesday to buy stuff for Christmas Eve dinner—build a snowman, play board games. She felt Trent’s arm fall around her shoulders and she snuggled closer to him. Would they come here for more Christmases?

And then that ever-hanging shadow whispered its dark bodings: could it ever be as wonderful as it was now without Chris? She couldn’t even imagine Christmas, being here, without him—it hurt her to breathe. Trent squeezed gently, and she looked up to see him studying her face. Maybe he guessed what she was thinking. Maybe he was thinking it too. He kissed the top of her head and she smiled.

“Do you think Bryan will really make it up here?” she asked.

The corner of Trent’s mouth curved upward. “He’d better.”

“I’m hungry,” Phoebe said, and stood up. “Nope, stay there,” she said when Trent made to move also. “You always cook for us, and while I adore your cooking, it’s my turn.” She smirked. “Besides, I think I can handle sandwiches.”

Trent grinned. “Did Aidan tell you she committed you to helping me cook Christmas dinner?”

Aidan shrugged at Phoebe’s questioning look. “I’m stuck making dessert.”

Phoebe turned to Chris with hands on her hips. “Have they worked out where you’re helping as well?”

Chris stretched his arms above his head. “I’m the taste tester.”

Aidan laughed and threw a pillow at him. “A concise way of saying you’ll be picking helpings off all the plates
before
they’re served.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it.”

Phoebe grabbed his outstretched arm and pulled him forward. “
You
I don’t mind making help me with the sandwiches.”

Chris pretended to begrudgingly follow Phoebe into the kitchen, and Aidan could hear plates clattering on the counters and the squeak of old drawers opening and closing, but even though the great room and the kitchen were technically all one grand space, the large fireplace in the center cut off line of sight at that particular angle.

Aidan took the opportunity to turn her body into Trent’s and press her lips against his. He was warm and made her lips sizzle. Acutely aware that they could be walked in on at any moment, Aidan only let the kiss continue for another minute, letting him briefly explore a little further than past kisses. She pulled back and sighed in contentment.

“I’m really glad you thought of this.”

“At the risk of losing such gratitude...” He leaned down to steal another brief brush of passion. “It wasn’t my idea. It was Bryan’s.”

“Well, that was really nice of him.” Aidan watched the faint lines of color sweeping across his face, and took private pleasure knowing she was responsible for them. “And you still have my gratitude.”
And much more
, she wanted to add. She was amazed at the range of conflicting emotions she could bear at one time. She was deeply in love with this man, and wanted to spend the rest of her life wrapped in his arms like this. She felt as though she could fly on such swelling joy inside her. In that same instant though, she could feel as if she was falling through an abyss as a hole slowly carved itself out of her heart where Chris belonged. A weighted darkness pulled her down—at the same time she wanted to fly! How was this possible? It confused her and wearied her as she didn’t know what she should be feeling, or which one should have more priority, or if she was being selfish. Never before had she been so confounded by the ways of mortals. She could remember times in her past where this breakthrough into experiencing human emotion would have infuriated her, or delighted her. Now she didn’t know how she felt about it. All she knew was that she had never felt more grief than she did now, nor more incomprehensible joy.

***

Trent rose early the next morning, his internal clock automatically set as though it were a workday and he had to be at the station at 7AM. He didn’t mind though. He enjoyed the peace and quiet of the forest in the morning, when the sun tinted the clouds and snow a white gold and the birds were active in the air and on the ground. He restocked the woodpile and set aside the axe and ropes they’d need to cut down a tree later. Then he settled on the back porch with a cup of coffee, admiring the view. He remembered when he was younger how his grandfather was always the one up early and sitting out here in the cold. Trent missed them. They’d be coming home in a couple months, and Trent wanted to introduce them to Aidan. Ideally, he would like his whole family to meet her before he went out to buy a ring. It was just proper that way.

He heard the glass door slide open behind him and Aidan stepped onto the porch. She wore black sweats and a gray sweatshirt—drab colors, but the radiance of her hair made up for it.

“Good morning,” he said.

She shivered, but smiled. “Yes it is.”

“Want breakfast? I was waiting for someone to get up first.”

“I’ll help. What were you thinking?”

“French toast?”

Aidan let out a dreamy sigh. “You’re too good.”

They went into the kitchen and she passed him the ingredients while he mixed them and cooked the toast over the stove. They sat down to eat the first round since Chris and Phoebe weren’t up yet.

“I can’t believe your grandparents don’t spend most of the year up here,” Aidan said. “I bet it’s just as beautiful in the summer.”

“I would have thought you wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of seeing the world either,” Trent replied. He watched her mouth curve up at one corner.

“You’re right,” she said a moment later.

“Where would you go first?” he asked, prepared to make mental notes for future reference.

“Hmm,” she mumbled while she chewed. “That’s a tough one.” She stabbed at her breakfast with a fork. “Where would you go?”

“Somewhere in Europe, I think,” he said, hoping to inspire her to say something more specific. “There is a lot to choose from.”

Aidan nodded and washed down her bite with coffee. “Ireland, then.”

Trent tried to tone down the size of his smile. “Good choice.”

“Well, we’re both Irish, in some way or another. It seems like a good place to start.”

It was a great place to start. Trent felt a stir of excitement just thinking about traveling around the world with her, sharing new experiences. Maybe this was why his grandparents were gone all the time. If so, he could hardly blame them for their absences; rather, he was beginning to envy them.

Wood creaked and Aidan glanced at the ceiling. “I think they’re finally stirring.”

Trent grinned and stood up. “You check on them and I’ll make the next batch.”

Soon the kitchen was full of chatter and laughter as Phoebe and Chris joined them for breakfast. Trent served them and helped himself to a second round. He jumped up again when he saw Aidan turn the sink faucet on and start gathering the pans, but she put both her hands gently on his chest and pushed him back toward the table.

“I’ll do this,” she said with a sweet, yet final tone.

Chris and Phoebe chatted in excitement about getting a tree. This Christmas was very important to them. They finished eating and Trent helped dry the dishes while Chris and Phoebe got dressed for the excursion.

Thirty minutes later they were all outfitted and ready to go. Trent grabbed the axe and rope and led them off into the woods. He could tell this was going to be treated like a well-thought out procedure. The first two trees were too small, the next too big. Though it would have fit in the great room, the four of them alone wouldn’t be able to get it there. Another looked too scraggly; another already had a hive of tenants.

“This one is well-rounded,” Aidan said.

Phoebe tilted her head and sucked on the inside of her cheek as she appraised it. “It’s not very tall.”

Trent walked up to it. It stood only a few inches taller than him. The branches looked well-proportioned, full and bright green.