Redemption (Sempre 2)

She started to grow frustrated when he jerked the wheel to the left, nearly skidding off the narrow road. Her seatbelt locked in place, tightly confining her in the seat, as she inhaled sharply. Before she could let out the scream that bubbled up in her chest, Carmine pulled beside a fence along the road and cut the engine, turning to her with a satisfied smile. “See, not lost.”

Haven shook her head and surveyed the area. At first it appeared to be nothing unusual, a small gap in the trees with a cabin set a few yards away, until she spotted the faded white sign in the distance. LANDELL CHRISTMAS TREE FARM, it said in green hand-painted letters. Excitement stirred inside of her, but it was quickly crushed when she read on: OPEN NOVEMBER 22 TO DECEMBER 22.

Although it felt as if time had stopped for the two of them, the calendar told a different story. It was December 23 already, a month since they had returned to the small North Carolina town of Durante in an attempt to get back to their lives . . . in an attempt to regain a bit of normalcy and piece together their relationship. Dealing with the fallout of her kidnapping had been a struggle, but they took it day by day . . . minute by minute . . . second by second.

“They’re closed, Carmine,” she said, frowning as they got out of the car. She shivered and wrapped her coat tighter around her to ward off the cold. “Yesterday was the last day.”

Carmine opened the trunk and pulled out an ax, slinging it over his shoulder. “I know.”

She watched, mouth agape, as he climbed the wooden rail fence surrounding the property and leaped to the other side. “Isn’t that breaking and entering?”

He held his free hand out to help her over. “More like trespassing.”

“What’s the difference?”

“One’s a misdemeanor,” he said. “The other’s a felony.”

Haven sighed and started to respond, but his look pleaded with her not to argue. Hesitantly, she conceded and took his hand. Carmine helped her across the fence, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s Christmas, and this is what Christmas is all about.”

“Trespassing?”

“No, picking out trees and decorating them with colored balls and other frilly shit. It’s about mistletoe and presents and lights and stars and family and eggnog. A lot of fucking eggnog, but without the egg and the nog and the other shit they put in with the alcohol. It’s disgusting.”

“So the meaning of Christmas is . . . rum?”

He laughed. “Sure.”

“And here I thought it had something to do with religion.”

Carmine slid his eyes to her. “Technicalities, tesoro. Just technicalities.”

Together, they walked through the tree farm. Haven would occasionally stop and point one out, but each time Carmine seemed to find some fault with it. Too short or too tall, too thick or too thin, too many branches or not enough needles. He disregarded them because of their color, refused trees because of their shape, and simply scoffed when she suggested they look at the pile of leftover precut evergreens.

“How about this one?” she asked after a while, stopping in front of a tree a few inches taller than her. “Do you like it?”

Carmine hardly even looked. “It’s too bare.”

Haven’s brow furrowed, unsure as to what he was talking about. The branches appeared full to her. “So finicky.”

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Do you see any others?”

“Uh . . .” She glanced around, randomly motioning toward another tree a few feet away. “What about that one?”

Carmine scanned it. She awaited his complaint, sure he would find a flaw in it, but he smirked instead. “Perfect.”

She was surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, why? Don’t you like it?”

Haven shrugged. Every single one of them looked the same to her—just like the hundreds of others they had passed along the road on the way. “It’s fine with me.”

Letting go of her hand, Carmine studied the tree, deciding how to go about taking it down. Haven watched him for a moment, the scene surreal, and burst into laughter when he took his first swing. It barely even sliced the thick bark.

Carmine’s groaned. “What’s so funny?”