Rose sat on an olive-green leather armchair near the living room window. She was watching big feathery snowflakes gleaming in the early morning light. A woolen brownish blanket was on her lap, keeping her warm. Winter in Wisconsin was freezing cold. A cold chill run down her spine, as she moved her steamy mug closer to her chest. The cottage was silent, only the fire was crackling softly. That ivy-covered cottage, in the middle of nowhere, was all they had managed to buy with the money earned from Jack's drawings, and from a few part time jobs that Rose had been lucky enough to get paid for. It was a tiny home, but big enough for them. Rose had always wanted to see the place where Jack was born, ever since he had told her snippets of a life so different from her own. The truth was, she had always desired that kind of existence for the both of them.
"Good morning, sweetheart"
Rose turned around, and was welcomed by Jack's affable smile. His hair was straggly from his deep slumber. Nothing could wake Jack up, once he was out for good. "Morning, sleepyhead" she greeted him back.
"There's still some tea in the kettle, if you like" she pointed to their small and cozy kitchen smiling back at him. Jack disappeared into his favorite room of their cottage. It was warm there, and he could still smell the turkey dumpling stew, that he and Rose had cooked for dinner the previous evening. He smirked to himself, this was the life of his dreams.
He reentered the homey living room, with a mug of its own. Rose was still by the window, engrossed in her thoughts.
He pulled a chair next to her, careful not to spook her.
"A penny for your thoughts" she looked at him, losing herself in the color of his eyes. "We need a Christmas tree, Jack" Rose interlocked her slim fingers with his. "We unquestionably need one. Why don't we go take one in the woods?"
"That will do!, we even have an axe!" Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Jack was taken by surprise, when with a quick move, she sat on his lap straddling him. Their eyes locked, Jack's strong hands held Rose in place by her hips.
"You are quite lucky Mr. Dawson, I'm very good at using axes" it came out as a whisper, near his ear. Jack caught her lips in his with a passionate open-mouthed kiss,"Good Mrs. Dawson, I'll need your help" he smiled against her cheek.
…
"It stopped snowing. Let's make the best of it Rose, come on". Both of them seemed somehow hesitant to leave the warmth provided by the fireplace. Jack was carrying the axe, and Rose was holding a few ropes to tie the tree with. The open fields around their cottage was covered in snow and dead silence. Even the squeaking sound of their boots seemed too loud. Jack led the way through the woods, trying his best at remembering that particular spot, where his father used to take him. Jack recalled how the pine trees seemed very tall and almost touching the sky. Or maybe it was just him, that as a little boy, saw the world bigger than it actually was.
Rose giggled, lost in her own thoughts, as she was stepping on Jack's big footsteps in the thick snow. She was hopping around like a little girl.
Jack noticed, and did his best to hold back a laughter, suddenly he took a few steps a little bit further apart.
Rose followed suit, losing her balance, she let out a surprised yell and fell.
He burst out laughing, gaining playfully sulky stare from Rose.
"I'm such a fool" she laughed shaking off same snow from her warm long skirt. Then playfully hit his arm. "Jack! You rascal, stop laughing".
"All right, all right" he rose his arms in surrender.
They walked a bit more, until they reached an area full of pines. "Here we are. You can pick, Rose", she observed the trees around her, some were very tall and slender, while others were short and plump. Before, back in Philadelphia, servants had the duty to decorate the DeWitt Bukater's mansion with a tall pristine pine. The tree always made its appearance on the 8th of December, without delay and much commotion.
Rose breathed in the chilly fresh air and looked around herself once more.
"That one Jack, it's perfect for our home" she finally caught sight of a slender, tall pine.
"Good choice, love" Jack started cutting down the selected tree. He hefted the axe into the trunk. He felt Rose's eyes on his back, almost begging to talk to her. "Do you wanna have a go?". Rose nodded happily and stepped forward. "I'd like that". She hit her target with all the force she could muster, then the pine landed at her feet with a thud. "Nice work, there, Paul Bunyan!"
Jack smiled, and clapped his glove hands, clearly proud of his girl.
"Who?" She asked amused.
"The giant lumberjack, he's some kind of folk hero. My dad used to tell that he lived here, in these woods. I guess he only wanted to keep me inside after dark".
Jack tied one of the thick ropes around the tree to drag it back to the cottage, while Rose volunteered to carry the axe.
…
The walk back home seemed longer, or maybe they were just slower, thanks to their gained weight. Neither of them spoke much, but their silence was pleasant. The sky was dazzling white, and the birds soaring in it looked like commas written on an empty sheet with black ink. The sun wasn't visible, but the wood was penetrated by a feeble butterscotch light.
"I'd like to dance" Rose was sure to have spoken to herself, but Jack sharply halted his march, causing her to collide against his muscular back. As soon as he felt her body on his, he turned around, standing now face to face with Rose. "Right now?" He asked with a fake look of annoyance.
He didn't leave her time to respond, instead he let go the pine he was carrying, and the next thing he was holding was Rose's hand.
"You've gone mad, Jack. Is this some kind of Irish dance?" She asked almost out of breath. He twirled her "I don't know for sure. I had this dance with a girl before. We were on a ship". She smiled but somehow the ardor of her laughter didn't reach her eyes. They stopped dancing altogether, catching their breath. "Here, I promised not to let you be cold again" Jack put his gloves on her icy hands, blowing his hot breath on them in the process."I'm fine, Jack". Just like that, snow started to fall down again, more incessant than in the morning. "You're right, I'm mad about you".
Author Notes:
Dear readers and fellow writers: Merry Christmas! If you don't celebrate it, I may wish a lovely and joyful day with the people you love :). THANK YOU so much for reading and reviewing. I read every single message from you! Get ready for some drama in 2022 ;)