“The only way I can,” she replied, ever so reasonably. “On my car.”
The thought of eight feet of freshly cut conifer atop twelve feet of rounded, lime-green Bug drew his quick frown.
“Have you ever driven with a tree strapped to your roof?”
“Not exactly. No,” she finally admitted, leaving him to assume that her husband had been behind the wheel. He also figured that the guy had transported prior trees on something considerably larger than what she drove now. Or they’d had it delivered, given what she’d said about the sort of family she’d just shed.
“Then you need to know that the weight affects the way a car handles. Especially if it’s windy, and we have a wind advisory for the weekend. Make sure they net it for you. It’ll be easier to manage that way. And take a blanket to protect your roof. Have someone help you secure it, too. You want it tied tight so it doesn’t slip.”
She hadn’t thought about the weather. Rain at least part of the day was a given. It was the Northwest. She didn’t like wind, though. It made inclement weather that much more miserable.
“Did you promise Tyler you’d have it up tomorrow?”
“It was the only thing I could think of to take his mind off having to change schools.”
“Did it work?”
Her little boy hadn’t budged from the window. He hadn’t even taken off his jacket.
“Not as well as your lights did.”
The admission would have made him smile, had he not just caught the hint of defeat in her voice. Or maybe what he heard was simply fatigue.
“Tell you what.” Totally sabotaging his plan to stay away, he did a quick reschedule. “I’ll only be a half an hour away from you tomorrow. What time will you be at the lot?”
“About the same time you said you have to be in Tacoma.”
“I’m just picking up parts from a machinist. I’ll leave earlier and be at the lot about twelve-thirty.” It would take an hour to pick up the tree, an hour plus to get back. That left him plenty of time to drop off the parts at the boatworks, get home, shower, change and get to yet another client’s holiday party. At least this time he didn’t have to pick up a date. He didn’t have one.
“You don’t have to do that, Erik. You’ve done enough,” she insisted, obviously referring to the lights. “We’ll manage.”
“We? You mean you and Tyler?”
“We’re the only we here.”
“Look.” He was really getting tired of the I-don’t-want-to-be-obligated-to-you tone that had slipped into her voice, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to argue with her. “You’ve said you want this Christmas to be good for your son. I assume that means you don’t want him to have memories of his mom having a meltdown because his tree fell off the car and the car behind her hit it and turned it into kindling. Or because the thing weighs a ton and she can’t get it into the house. Or into the tree stand, for that matter. You have a tree stand, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. And I don’t have meltdowns,” she replied. “Especially in front of my son.”
“No. You probably don’t,” he conceded, not at all sure whom he was annoyed with. Her. Or himself. “You just suck it up and try to deal with everything on your own. It’s fine if you want to be independent, Rory. I’m sure you have your reasons for being that way. But this isn’t about creating an obligation, or you owing me if I help you. It’s about Tyler. All I want to do is help with the tree. For him. Okay?”
Silence.
About the time he thought she might simply hang up, she said, “Okay. For Tyler.”
“Good. I’ll be at the lot tomorrow with my truck.” With a glance at his watch, he winced. “Right now I’ve got to get to this payroll. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”
He should probably apologize.
The thought crossed Erik’s mind every time he noticed the wary way Rory watched him the next afternoon. He just wasn’t sure exactly what he should apologize for. He hadn’t said a word to her that wasn’t absolutely true. And she’d definitely needed the help.
The rain came in fits and starts. The weather was cold, the temperature dropping, the wind blowing, and the tree Tyler had selected after carefully checking out the small forest under the huge canvas tent was not only the eight-foot maximum she’d given him, but rather wide. Even tied up to make it more manageable and tarped to keep it dry, with the heavy wind gusts, getting it to her place on the rounded roof of her car would have presented a definite challenge. So would the task of her and Tyler unloading the thing and carrying it into the store to get it into its heavy iron stand, a task that involved sawing off a couple of lower limbs and trimming the thick trunk to make it fit before tightening the screws into place.
Mother and son wrestling it into the house on their own would have presented its own set of frustrations. Especially since carrying it into the house through the store—which had been easier than putting it in the stand in the garage and carrying it through the mudroom—involved hoisting the stand end of the eighty-plus pounds of bushy branches, trunk and iron to his shoulder while she brought up the rear with the top end and Tyler ran ahead of them to open the door.
He said nothing about any of that, though. It wasn’t necessary. The process proceeded far easier with his truck and his help, and that was all he’d wanted: to make something a little easier for her and her son—and to offset his guilt over having pushed her about the store to the point where she’d given up sleep.
“Where do you want it?” he asked.
“In the corner by the fireplace. On the towel so the stand doesn’t stain the carpet.”
“Can I help?” called Tyler.
“Just stay back for a minute, sport. I’ve got it.” He told Rory, “You can let go.”
Behind him, Rory stepped back as the weight lifted from her shoulder. With a quiet whoosh of branches and the thud of heavy metal on towel-covered broadloom, the stand hit the floor and the tree popped upright.
The whole room suddenly smelled like a pine forest.
Beside her, her little boy grinned. “It’s really big, huh?”
Not just big. For the space, it was huge, definitely larger than what they would have wound up with had Erik not been with them. Fuller, anyway.
She’d realized within minutes of arriving at the tree lot that what she’d promised her son would have been a nightmare to manage on her own. On their own, they also would have wound up with something more in the five-foot range.
“Thank you,” she said to Erik’s back.
He turned, pushing his windblown hair back from his forehead.
“No problem. This is the fourth tree I’ve hauled this month.” He wanted her to know that what he’d done wasn’t a big deal. Not to him, anyway. Certainly nothing she needed to feel obligated to him for. “The one at work, a neighbor’s and one of Pax’s cousins’.”
“Do you have a tree?” Tyler wanted to know.
“I don’t usually put one up.”
“How come?”
“Because I’m not home in the evenings much this time of year and I go to my folks’ for Christmas.”
Her little boy’s brow pinched. Before he could voice whatever had him looking so concerned, Erik motioned to the single green bin sitting near the fireplace.