Author's note: This story is veeeeery AU. I've lowered the age gap between them to where Rick is only two years older than Kate, but otherwise, they're the same people- just navigating through life together as newlyweds, married the summer after Kate graduated from college.
In a one bedroom apartment on the humble side of town
There stands a little Christmas tree- looks a lot like Charlie Brown's
And underneath, there's one little gift for him, and one little gift for her
After six months on the new job, they're still barely getting by
So in the way of decorations, there's nothing there to catch your eye
But both of them would be the first to say,
"We're together; we're going to have the merriest Christmas anyway"
'Cause Christmas is all in the heart
-"Christmas Is All in the Heart" by Steven Curtis Chapman
It's their first Christmas together as a married couple, and they can't even afford to buy a tree.
It's disappointing, but they'd agreed that it was the best decision financially not to have one. Trying to make the best of it, Kate had even drawn a childlike picture of an evergreen on a loose sheet of paper and tacked it to the living room wall, declaring it to be their first tree.
But even though they can't have one in their apartment, there's nothing stopping them from simply admiring one. There's no harm in leading his wife through a Christmas tree lot this evening.
"Come on, Rick. Can't I have a small hint about where we're going?" Kate asks as they walk hand-in-hand down the sidewalk.
"Absolutely not. It's a surprise," he says with a grin, squeezing her hand.
A cold burst of wind rushes at them, and she shivers, raising her free hand to her face to protect her eyes from the arctic blast. It's only the first of December, but it's dreadfully cold, and their worn coats and thin gloves don't offer enough protection from the icy temperatures. They both could use a new coat, along with new gloves, warm socks without holes, and thick scarves. But they're paying tuition for the police academy for Kate, as well as starting to pay off her student loans from the pre-law degree she'd completed seven months ago. And they have to pay rent on their apartment on top of that, too.
It would be manageable if Rick had a full-time job, but he'd only taken on part-time work at a local bookstore to allow him ample time to write. They were hoping that he'd be a published author by now, but his manuscripts have been turned down by more publishers than he can count. He'll never admit it to Kate, but he is starting to lose hope of ever being a full-time author.
None of that matters now, though. It's his first Christmas with his wife, and he's determined to make it special for both of them, no matter how poor they may be.
He wraps his arm around Kate's shoulders, pulling her into his side. She's so tiny against him, and he can feel her shivering as they walk.
"Please tell me this is an indoor activity," she murmurs, her teeth chattering.
"Not quite," Rick answers, steering her down another street. He can just see the entrance to the tree lot, a few yards away on the right. steering her toward the entrance to the tree lot. "But we're almost there!"
He points to the large red banner hung over the entrance to the lot, and his wife pulls away from him and takes a step forward, her eyes widening as she takes in the large, roped-off area, filled with evergreens of all shapes and sizes. After a beat of silence, she turns back to face him, her mouth set in a grim line. "A Christmas tree farm? Rick, we can't…"
"I know," he interrupts. "But that doesn't mean we can't walk around and look."
She stares at him for just a moment before her eyes spark with glee, and she grins, grabbing his gloved hand. "Come on," she urges, tugging him forward. "Let's go exploring."
They wander through the lot for fifteen minutes, marveling at the tallest of the trees, laughing at the short, squatty ones, and breathing in the scent of the fresh pine. The smell brings back a flood of happy memories of Christmases past. As they walk, they discuss decorating possibilities for each tree, mentally clothing each one in a blanket of lights, with tinsel and ornaments of all colors adding a unique flair.
"I think we missed our calling," Rick laughs, watching his breath cloud as soon as it hits the air. "We should be professional Christmas tree decorators."
"I hear there's a huge market for that," Kate nods, as seriously as she can muster. "Let's start applying for… oh my Lord, that tree is pathetic."
She's looking off to their right, and he follows her gaze, finally spotting the tree she's staring at. Pathetic is certainly a good word for it. The tree can't be more than three feet tall, and it's tilting to the right, its uppermost branches curved to make it look more like a weeping willow than a sturdy pine. Half of its branches are bare, the others sparsely covered with needles in varying shades of green and brown.
"It certainly does have character," Rick says, nodding in approval. "I like it."
"Me, too," she decides, cocking her head to the side as she stares at the tree. "It's kind of cute."
"Let's see how much it is. Sir?" he calls, hurrying toward a nearby worker. "How much for the Charlie Brown tree over there?"
"Rick, we had an agreement. We can't…" Kate grumbles, chasing after him. But he ignores her, pointing out the tiny tree to the man whose red company vest is stretched tightly across his large belly.
"That one?" the man asks incredulously, furrowing his eyebrows and scratching at his chin. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely."
"Rick-"
"If you want it, you can have it," the man interrupts with a shrug. "No one else is going to want that one. Scrawny little thing, isn't it?"
Rick wants his wife to have happy memories of their first Christmas together; memories of the scent of fresh pine in their living room, decorating together. He wants so badly to be able to provide for her, but can't with his measly salary. And this tree, pathetic as it may be, is the perfect start to their perfect first Christmas together.
"So it's free?" Rick asks, his eyes alit.
"Yep. I'll even chop it down for you, if you want."
"That would be great," Rick nods, smiling.
The man turns around, mumbling under his breath and shaking his head in disbelief, and disappears between the trees.
The moment he's out of sight, Rick claps his hands together, bouncing on his toes in excitement. "Did you hear that, Kate?" he exclaims, turning toward her. "We have a tree!"
She rolls her eyes, but her lips are pursed together as she fights to keep the corners of her mouth from turning upward. The grin wins, though, and within seconds, she's beaming, laughing as he takes her hands in his. They jump up and down together, squealing in their excitement.
Rick and Kate Rodgers have their first tree.
An hour later, they arrive home, arms sore from carrying the tiny tree through the city. They lay it gingerly on its side on the wood floor in the living room, then collapse on the ground.
"Remind me why we thought it was a good idea to live on the fifth floor of a building without an elevator?" Kate asks, breathing heavily.
"Because the bonding time we shared carrying a Christmas tree up five flights of stairs was just too precious to pass up," he says with a grin.
Kate laughs as she pushes herself up and heads toward the small kitchen, a box of instant hot chocolate mix in her hand. They stopped by her parents' house on their way home to pick up a spare tree stand, and Johanna had insisted that they stay for a little while, sending them out the door twenty minutes later with the box of cocoa. Kate is too proud to ask her parents for financial help, but Jim and Johanna do whatever they can to take care of their daughter and her husband.
While Kate heats a pot of water for the cocoa on their rusty gas stove, Rick fetches the broom and sweeps the dust from the floor in the corner by the window. He thinks it's the perfect place for their tree, and as he carefully places the trunk of the evergreen into the stand, he knows he's made the right choice. The simple red curtains on their window contrast with the deep greens and browns of the tree's needles, and he can just see the nearby park out the window, the streetlights illuminating the branches of the bare oaks that line the park's perimeter.
The planks of the wooden floor creak, and he turns to find Kate walking toward him, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate her hands. She passes one to Rick, and they each take a sip, sighing in contentment as the liquid warms their throats. They generally turn the heater off during the day when no one is home, to save on their energy bill, and they've returned home to frigid temperatures for the past several weeks. The hot chocolate helps to cut the chill in the apartment today, and Rick can feel the warmth spreading through his chest.
"Tree looks good, babe," Kate says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead. Her lips are frosted with cocoa, and she laughs an apology as he scrunches his eyebrows in response, raising his free hand to wipe the wetness from his head. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, and they stand in silence for a moment, sipping their hot chocolate as they admire their little tree.
"You've got the ornaments?" he finally asks.
She hums in response, turning to lift a small cardboard box from the card table. Rick had brought it home from his mother's apartment three months ago, when they finally grew tired of eating their meals on the floor. She sets the box at the base of the tree and lifts the flaps, revealing an odd assortment of ornaments in all shapes and sizes. These are the ornaments that Rick and Kate took with them when they moved out of their parents' houses; the ornaments that they made or collected as children. It's through luck that they have a tree to put them on.
Kate begins to sort through the ornaments, shifting hers to the left and his to the right, and he lays a hand atop hers, stopping her.
"They're not just yours or mine anymore, Kate," he says. "They're ours."
She smiles, turning her hand underneath his until their palms meet. "Ours," she echoes, lacing her fingers with his. "I like that word."
"Me, too," he agrees, squeezing her hand gently.
They're silent for a moment, both feeling overwhelmed as they stare at the box of ornaments. Finally, Kate squeezes his hand in return.
"Let's do this," she says.
They decorate the tree together, exchanging stories about individual ornaments as they hang them. Rick hangs an ornament that Kate made in kindergarten- puzzle pieces painted dark green, glued together in the shape of a wreath- on one of the bare branches at the front of the tree. The clothespin reindeer with pipe cleaner antlers Rick made in fourth grade hangs on the side closest to the window. They quibble playfully about whose baseball ornament will make it onto the tree- the Mets ornament Kate's father gave her when she was twelve, or the Yankees ornament Rick's grandfather gave him when he was seven. They finally settle for hanging both from the uppermost branch of the tree in lieu of a star, allowing the baseball ornaments to frame their masterpiece.
Finally, the ornament box is empty, and they take a step back, admiring their work. They stare at it for a moment, tilting their heads to the side in tandem as they study their handiwork. After a moment, he turns to face her, and the moment their eyes meet, they burst into laughter.
"Ornaments didn't help one bit," Kate manages between giggles. "This tree is still pathetic."
Rick can't help but agree. By anyone else's standards, the tree isn't much to look at. They were hoping that the addition of ornaments would fill in the gaps created by the bare branches, but the ornaments have the opposite effect, only making the sparse branches of the tree even more obvious. They don't even have any lights on it. It's a three feet cacophonous mess, but he loves it.
"I agree. But you know what? It's perfect. These ornaments," he says, gesturing to the tree, "paint the stories of our individual lives, up until this point. And every year before this, they've gone on our parents' Christmas tree, or on our own individual tree. But now, they're part of a new story- our story."
Kate purses her lips together, a sly grin on her face. "That was cheesy," she says, looking up at him. "But you're right. It's… us. And it's perfect."
"I'm just so glad we are able to have a tree," he says, pressing his lips together. "I feel so guilty that I'm not able to provide for you more than I do, and…"
"Rick. Stop it," Kate interrupts, taking his hands in hers. "This Christmas would be perfect whether or not we had a tree- because we have each other. I don't need a tree and decorations to be happy. I just need you."
He smiles, giving his wife's hands a gentle squeeze. She's so patient and content, despite their monetary difficulties. "I love you, Mrs. Rodgers."
"I love you, Mr. Rodgers," she echoes.
She raises herself up on her tiptoes and leans forward, reaching for him without a word. Rick pulls her in, wrapping his arms around her, keeping her close as their breathing slows. His lips touch her forehead before seeking her mouth, and the moment his lips brush hers, she pulls back a hair.
"You know what we need?" she murmurs, looking up at him. "Our own ornament. For our first Christmas together."
He laughs, pulling away from her. "I agree."
Twenty minutes later, they hang their newest ornament on the tree. It's a spare bit of cardboard, cut into a crude circle the size of Rick's fist, the words "Our First Christmas, 2003" written in black Sharpie circling the perimeter of the front. In the center of the circle, Kate drew a tiny tree, her best rendition of the one sitting in their living room.
They sit on the floor a few feet away from the tree, and she cuddles into his side, resting her head on his shoulder, as they admire their handiwork once more. Their tree may be pitiful, but it's theirs.
Their first Christmas together is going to be wonderful.