The Douglas Fir (2 page)

He frowned as I left him and strode after my brother in
to Noah’s small, bright yellow kitchen. “Come on, Scott. Let’s get home.”

Noah followed, and then hovered in the kitchen doorway. “You could stay for dinner if you wanted?”

Any other day I’d have leaped at the chance.

Scott looked at me, guilt still stained onto his skin. Looked like he needed the breather too
.

“Sorry, yeah. But I think we’ll call it quits for today.”

Chapter Three

I was going to
make up for leaving so rudely.

And
I’d make sure he got the best birthday gift ever.

Unfortunately, though, I still hadn’t any clue what—and
the big day was tomorrow.

“Maybe some wax
stickers for his surfboard or something?” Scott suggested as I waited with him for the bus that would take him back to Taupo.

“Nah, it has to be
 . . . something really different.”

Scott unzipped the top of his suitcase, and pulled out a packet of chewing gum. He stuffed a piece in his mouth, offering me one too
.

“No thanks.”

“It sounds like you . . .” My brother shrugged. “You’re into him, aren’t you?”

I stared down the road. “Your bus is late.”

“See, you can’t even look at me. You are. You
are
!”

I clipped him over the back of the head and then yanked him into a one-armed hug. “Do you think you can keep
quiet about this?”

He squirmed out of my grasp, grinning. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

“You rascal.”

“
Gremlin
, actually.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

He looked me square in the eye. “That lizard. Get me Dusky by the end of my next trip, or I’ll blab.”

“You little g
remlin!”

He laughed as the bus turned the corner and drew up to the stop. Other passengers started to line up, but Scott wasn’t in any rush. He gave me a quick hug. “When I was at his place,” he said
between loud chews, “I saw a photo album full of Christmas trees. He seemed into it. Why don’t you make him the best Christmas tree ever?”

“Because it’s his
birthday
.” I stood and took his suitcase to the bus conductor, who was stacking luggage into the side compartments of the bus. “And Christmas isn’t for another eleven months.”

Scott shrugged. “Well
, he’d be surprised, no?”

I shook my head, and sent my brother off into the bus with a light punch to his arm. “Stay out of trouble.”

He stepped onto the bus and snapped his fingers at me. “Get me that lizard.”

It dawned on me
as I drove back to Lyall Bay in my truck that Scott was right. Noah
would
be surprised.

I did a U-turn and rang Mr. Cole, a plan formulating in my mind.

Maybe, just maybe, I
could
give Noah his best Christmas tree yet.

* * *

I was rude to stare at Noah through his front window, but he didn’t know I was doing it. And as much as I tried to pry my eyes away from him, I couldn’t
stop
staring. Part of not moving was thanks to the prickling nerves in my gut as I clutched his birthday gift and tried to gather the courage to knock on his door and give it to him. But mostly, Noah just looked beautiful.

He was talking to someone on the phone, pacing the front room as he spoke
.

He
gestured into the air with his free hand in an ‘I have no idea’ way, and then shoved his hand into the pocket of his shorts. His dark T-shirt had ridden up on one side, showing a glimpse of his bright blue boxers and a sliver of skin.

What wouldn’t I give to be allowed to skim my fingers over that small space of skin? To come up to him, kiss him along the jaw and down the neck, even as he tried to finish his conversation? He’d be laughing
and shaking his head at me, but he’d also be pulling his T-shirt up a little higher so I could access more of him . . .

Tool stretched from a nap, trundled over the path, and dug his nose in my crotch. At the same moment, Noah glanced out the window and raised his head in “hello
,” then he disappeared and opened the front door.

I cooed to Tool as I moved to the patio with Noah’s gift. I hadn’t wrapped it
, save for a plastic stick-on bow that wasn’t very sticky and was probably only a minute or two from dropping off.

“Thanks for calling, sis. My friend’s just arrived—” I couldn’t hear what Noah’s sister was saying, but Noah laughed. “Yeah, I’ll continue to enjoy my birthday. Take care. Bye.”

He hung up, still smiling at the phone, and then looked up at me. “You’re the first one to arrive, but Dave is usually late,” he said, glancing to his gift in my hand and raising an excited brow. “That for me?”

“Nope, I just like carrying plants around.”

He stepped back and let me pass him into his place. “The barbecue will be out in the back yard,” he said. I nodded, leading the way.

Once we stepped out onto the small deck, I turned and faced him, my fingers clutching the ceramic pot a little too tightly
.

“It is for you,” I said, jerking the pot toward him. It didn’t have to travel far, because he was standing close. So close that
as the afternoon sun hit his back, I was in his shadow. “Happy birthday.”

He took the pot carefully and lifted it, inspecting the
Douglas Fir I’d bought him, and then through the bristly leaves, he looked over at me. “Did you buy me my very own Christmas tree, Jason Kress?” His lips twitched and there was that mesmerizing glint in his eyes again, the one that seemed to draw me closer. I leaned toward him until green fir leaves tickled my nose and brought me back to my senses.

“It’s not just any Christmas tree,” I said to him, glancing between Noah and the
Douglas Fir. “It’s magical.”

“A magical Christmas tree?” he repeated, as if he
weren’t quite sure what to make of that. “In that case . . . follow me.” He moved into his large back yard, past his surfboard shed and the washing line that swung around on its axis in the breeze, all the way to the far back dominated by long grass.

“So it’s magic
al, you say?”

Noah crouched and set the plant down. “Do I plant this and tomorrow morning find a giant tree that will take me to the land of giants?”

I chuckled, crouched next to Noah, and stared at the Douglas Fir. “It won’t happen quite like that,” I said, feeling the ground. It was nice and even, and the soil looked rich enough. I glanced behind us; I couldn’t see the back of the house from here. Perfect.

“This is your Christmas t
ree for 2013,” I said. “This very special tree will grow to the height of your surfboard by the time Santa starts making his rounds.”

He looked at me curiously. “I thought you said they took five to six years to mature? This looks barely thirty centimeters.”

“It’s twenty-five, and it usually takes six years to mature,” I said. “But this here is like no other.”

He raised a brow
, equally amused and curious.

“All you have to do is”—here my mind start
ed racing with the possibilities. I’d been debating this part all day, and now, I wasn’t sure whether I’d say it or not.

I held my breath.

And then I did. I said it—“All you have to do is tell the tree something true, and it will grow. Like reverse Pinocchio.”

Noah glanced at me. “Anything that’s true. Like, grass is green?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s more personal than that. You have to tell it something that you’re thinking or feeling that’s true. Like I could tell the tree that I’m really sorry for getting upset at Scott for telling you I couldn’t swim.” I kept my gaze on the tree, even as I felt him studying me. “And then, while you’re sleeping, the fir will grow.”

“So,” Noah said, his voice dropping to something just more than a whisper, “if I tell it that I really
want you to learn how to swim, then the tree will grow?”

I swallowed and met his gaze briefly before wiping my soil
ed hands on my cargo shorts. “Yeah, exactly.”

“
Does the tree make wishes come true too? I hope so.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

In a moment of silence, we both stared at the small tree as a warm breeze ruffled our hair and wormed under our shirts. Then Noah stood up at the sound of his doorbell ringing. “That’ll be Dave,” he said, a smile growing. “You’ll finally get to meet him.”

I nodded and said
, “Great,” but I wished we could have had a few more minutes alone. “I’m going to plant this here for you. I’ll have to head back to my truck for some bark, but then I’ll be right over.”

Chapter Four

Turned out I wasn’t a fan of
Dave.

He was ed
ucated, with a university degree; he had thick, sandy hair and come-hither hazel eyes to match. And I was pretty sure he was gay and had the hots for Noah.

Since he was the
‘close friend,’ Dave could throw an arm around Noah and elbow his side and tackle him to the ground for a ‘birthday hug.’

Close to the end of the evening, I was ready to charge over to the
Douglas Fir, as if it really could make wishes come true, and wish Dave to back off and fall out of love with his friend.

Because if it came out that Noah did swing our way, what chance did I stand against
computer-whiz Dave?

The worst thing about
Dave, though, was that he was just so damn nice.

“So do you do small gardening jobs as well as the large estates?” he asked me over a beer as we sat in a line at the edge of the deck, looking out into the darkened yard.
Dave sat in the middle, keeping me from feeling the warm tingles that usually came with sitting close to Noah.

Another reason not to like the guy.

“Yeah, we can do pretty much anything.”

“In that case, maybe I can hire you?”

I almost spat out my beer. Somehow, with a loud swallow that turned into a cough, I managed to keep the liquid down. No way could I take on a job working for computer-whiz Dave who was head over heels for the same man as me.

“My backyard is
in shambles at the moment. It needs clearing of weeds and a total redesign.” He glanced at Noah and then at Tool, who’d come to hang with us, and who was sitting, panting in front of me. “I’d like to have good space for pets to run around in, and a place for a really big dog kennel.”

Noah tipped back the rest of his beer. “You don’t even have a dog.”

It was so obvious to me what was going on, and it was painful to watch. I despised Dave for his feelings, for the threat he posed, and at the same time . . . at the same time, I got it.

“Well, maybe I might get one someday soon.”
Dave clapped his hand on Noah’s shoulder and turned to me. He had a sharp nose, and a smile that was just a bit too big for his face, but it suited him, dammit. “So what do you think? Can you fit me into your schedule?”

“I don’t know,” I hedged, thumb picking at the beer label on the bottle. “We’re really quite busy at the moment.”

“It doesn’t have to be immediately.” He shrugged and quirked his lips. It deepened the grooves etched at the side of his mouth. Grooves that spoke of daily charming and general schmoozing. How many of those smiles had been for Noah? “I can wait a few months.”

Well, what could I say to that? I could hardly say no. What type of bastard would I be if I did?

Noah leaned forward around Dave, half his face glowing with the orange of the back door light. “I’m sure you’d do a great job. Can I get you another beer?”

“I’m good,”
Dave said, grinding the bottom of his bottle on his knee, staining his light corduroys with condensation.

I drained the last mouthful
of mine and handed Noah the empty bottle. “Yeah, another thanks.” When he went inside the house, I started rubbing Tool’s ears so I had something to do and didn’t have to look at my competition. “I’m sure I can help you out with your yard,” I said to him grudgingly.

He pulled out his phone
with far too much enthusiasm. “That’s great. What’s your full name?”

“Jason Kress.”
My friends call me Jase.
Yeah, I was leaving that bit out.

That charm-filled smile was back again. “Number?”

I gave it to him, mumbling a little at the end, hoping maybe he’d fudge it up and therefore couldn’t contact me about the job. “So,” I said, glancing toward the back door. How long did it take to grab a beer? “How long have you known Noah?”

“A few years back
I hooked him up with some intermediate-school swimmers who wanted to learn to ride the waves, and we sort of hit it off. He taught me how to improve my surf skills.”

I didn’t even hear the back
door close, but suddenly there was Noah’s warmth beside me as he sat and passed me a fresh beer. “Dave said he thought he’d never learn to surf that well, that he just couldn’t do it, but with the right amount of practice and patience, he became a pro.”

Noah was looking at me as he said it, and I read the pleading behind it. If I just
opened myself up to be taught, maybe soon I could be a pro. His thigh touched mine ever-so-slightly as he leaned forward and rubbed Tool’s head. He received a wet dog-kiss, and I chuckled before taking a good pull of beer. I murmured, and said more to the bottle than to Noah. “I’m sure Dave had the best instructor.”

“I did,”
Dave said, waggling his brows over at Noah, and receiving a grin in return.

I held back a sigh, and excused myself to stretch my legs. I found myself heading towards the
Douglas Fir. I shook my head. “Winning Noah’s heart has just proven to be more complicated than I thought.”

And boy should that truth make the
fir grow.

* * *

The fir did grow.

I went home to bed after the beer ran out and Noah started yawning.
Technically, I went home once I saw the taillights of Dave’s BMW disappear around the corner of Apu Crescent.

Thank bloody God for that!

I refrained from pulling Noah closer as he hugged me goodbye, and gave him a tight smile and nod when he asked what I thought of Dave. Then I left, stumbling down his porch still high from his touch, and I didn’t return until the dead of night. Or very early morning, whatever four a.m. was.

I snuck down the side of his house, hefting a bucket and a duffel bag, while slipping Tool treats from my pocket to keep him from making a peep. We trekked all the way to the
fir in the back yard, where I laid down the bucket and bag, and gave Tool a quick rub on the top of his head. I crouched to his level and we both stared at the fir. Well,
I
stared, and Tool dribbled as he munched on another dog biscuit.

There was little light back here,
so I rummaged in my duffel bag for a torch. I set it to lantern form so it could rest against the ground. “Yep,” I whispered as I took out a spade, “I do feel a bit like a criminal.” I was mighty glad Noah had chosen a spot so far back in the yard.

Tool cocked his head and then lay down, panting as he watched me. It was like he was giving me the ‘okay
,’ like he knew the plan and decided he was all for it.

“You want something nice for him too, don’t ya?”

Tool stretched out his paw and touched my leg.

“Right, then let’s make this magic happen.”

I’d transplanted about a thousand trees before and it should have been quick work. Except this time, I fumbled with the spade as I dug out the fir and I flicked soil over myself on the first dig.

Shivery thrills ran through me every time I heard a noise and thought I would be found out.
That can’t happen.
I couldn’t leave behind a scrap of evidence that I, or anyone else, had been there.

That would destroy the magic. The magic that I hoped was the seedling to making Noah love me back.

I removed the small fir and replaced it with another exactly one centimeter taller and a touch bushier, keeping it in its plastic pot for easy removal. Tool shuffled closer to me as I worked and in the frosty morning, his warmth was welcome. “Looking good?”

He rested his head on my lap. I took it for a yes.

After pressing the soil in place over the pot and filling the hole, I gave the tree some water from the large bottle I’d filled. Then I spread fresh bark around the base.

The bark had been Mr. Cole’s wise suggestion when I’d told him my plan. This way, other than it helping the soil stay rich and acidic, it would disguise the freshly
-turned soil that would otherwise give me away in the blink of an eye.

I love the smell of fir leaves and bark, and I breathed it in deeply as I covered the roots of the tree I’d moved with
a wet dishtowel and popped the fir into the bucket. My breath left me in a sigh, and for a second the leaves rustled as if trying to say something to me.

For a second
, I really did believe it was magic.

Then I blinked and gathered my things. I double—triple—checked I’d left nothing behind, and then slunk out of his back yard the same way I’d come.