Once the trees were paid for and loaded up, and they’d spent about an hour looking through the shops and sipping hot chocolate—which wasn’t nearly as good as Delaney’s—Reid opened the passenger side door for Melody, and she climbed into the cab of his truck, thankful for the running board.
He closed the door and went around to make sure Michael was buckled in. While she hated using her credit card, she’d had no choice since she hadn’t planned on purchasing a tree that day, and she was thankful she’d slipped it into her back pocket, along with her ID before she left home, just in case of an emergency.
Reid shut Michael’s door and checked the trees one more time before he slipped in beside her. The truck was already running, and she could feel some life coming back into her toes and fingers as he put on his seatbelt and asked if they were ready to go. Melody nodded and glanced over at Delaney’s old truck, hoping her friend was having a good time and that she’d be safe driving back to Charles Town by herself, especially since the snow was starting to pick up now.
“That was so much fun!” Michael exclaimed. Melody turned her head to look at him and couldn’t help but smile. He had a hint of a cocoa mustache, and he’d just pulled his hat off so his hair was standing on end, full of static. “Thanks for coming with us, Miss Melody. You’re good at picking out trees.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” she replied. “It was a lot of fun.” Realizing the truck had warmed up pretty quickly, she took her own hat off, but was careful to smooth her hair down as she did so, hopeful not to get the same mad scientist effect Michael was now sporting. She shoved her hat and her gloves into her coat pocket.
“Warm? Too warm?” Reid asked, glancing at her as he made his way down the narrow dirt road.
“Just fine, thanks” Melody assured him. She wondered if she’d ever return to Taylor Tree Farm, and if so, under what circumstances. Would it be with Michael and Reid? With Delaney? With her own family someday, with a husband she had yet to meet and kids she hadn’t even begun to dream of? Her mind was still pondering the possibilities when she realized Reid was talking to her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did you ask me something?”
“I asked if you thought you’d need help getting the tree set up once we get it back to your house,” he said with a smile.
“Oh, well, I thought my mom and I could handle it just fine, but she said to ask you if you wouldn’t mind helping,” she replied, honestly. “My mother is usually more of a damsel in distress than I am.”
“What’s a damsel?” Michael asked.
“It’s like a princess who needs a knight or a prince to rescue her,” Reid explained.
“Your mom is not more of a princess than you, Miss Melody. You’re a princess, and she’s more like a ….”
“Michael?” his father warned.
“A queen,” Michael said emphatically. “I was just gonna say queen.”
Melody laughed. “What did you think he was going to say?”
“You never know,” Reid replied, shaking his head. “Queen is fine.”
“I’m a princess, huh?” Melody asked, turning to face the little boy. “And does that make you my prince?”
“Nope,” Michael replied, smiling at her sheepishly. “My dad.”
Melody felt herself blushing and promptly turned around. She had inadvertently set him up for that one—but she had no idea what to say.
Reid was laughing, and glancing back at his son through the rearview mirror, he shook his head again and muttered, “More like the court jester.”
“What?” Melody asked, swatting him playfully in the arm. She didn’t say more, not willing to divulge that she’d already imagined what it would be like to be a princess, trapped in the highest tower of a castle in a far away land, Reid swooping in at the last second to save her from the evil king. Then, to Michael, she said, “You have a vivid imagination, my little friend. I was just saying my mom likes it when gentlemen volunteer to help her with things around the house, and I usually try to do it myself.”
“Like the door knob?” Michael asked.
“Exactly,” she nodded.
“My dad helped you with that, too,” he reminded her, and Melody heard Reid stifle a chuckle next to her.
“That’s because your dad is very helpful and considerate,” Melody replied.
“And charming,” Reid added, “like a prince.”
Michael burst into a fit of giggles, and Melody couldn’t help but smile at Reid, who momentarily pulled his eyes away from the road to catch hers. She had no idea if he was beginning to feel the same way about her as she was about him, but moments like this gave her hope. For better or for worse.
The rest of the ride was fairly quiet. Michael was tired; she could tell by his yawning and the fact that he wasn’t asking lots of questions. The snow continued to fall, and Melody was content to stare out the window at the unspoiled winter landscape. Fields covered in fresh snowflakes, hills capped in white, and trees collecting blankets of ivory on their branches. The radio was off, and even though she could still hear the song as the snow tapped and tinkled against the truck, she was thankful not to be bombarded with holiday music.
Her hand rested next to her on the seat, and while the cab was spacious, she imagined what it might be like if Reid were to reach over and take her hand in his. Of course, she doubted that would happen at all, and particularly not with Michael in the truck. But what would it feel like to sit here, staring out the window, watching the snowfall, holding his hand? Surely the weight of the world would melt away, and she could breathe without the restraint of her grief pressing against her heart.