"Mark!" Luke waited a moment, called again, and frowned in annoyance when there was no response. What was keeping that boy? He strode into the little house but his son was not there and he went out to the porch. The barn door was open and he walked over to find Mark sitting on a bale of hay. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"
"I heard," said Mark forlornly. "I don't want to go."
Luke sat beside his son. "We talked about this. It's time to start celebrating Christmas again." The boy stared at the ground and his father went on. "Remember how we said there would be no more looking back when we got here?"
"I remember," said Mark softly. He looked up and met Luke's eyes and there were tears in his own. "It's just...well, it's not like you need me to chop down a tree."
"I'll always need you, son." The big man sighed and got up. "If you really don't want to go, you don't have to. Why don't you start on the popcorn? We're going to need lots of popcorn to string on the tree."
"All right." Mark stood up and walked with his father to the sledge. "What time do you think you'll be back?"
"I can't say. It takes time to find the right tree." Luke smiled. "I'll be home in time for supper." He hesitated as if he had something more he wanted to say, then snapped the reins and drove off.