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And every year they guilt me saying, “This could be our last Christmas, you know. We could die.” They are cunning ladies with tricks up their sleeves and will probably outlive me.
“Hey, Chris. How are you?” I tuck the photo in my jacket pocket.
His breaths are frozen as he walks over to me, his boots crunching against the snow accumulating on the ground.
It’s my favorite part about Christmas. I love the snow. It’s beautiful as it falls, serene, and brings peace. It’s also quiet, but if you listen closely enough, you can hear the soft static of it falling to the ground.
“Ready to get this tree up. I swear, it gets bigger every year.”
I look at the long trailer he is pulling, my eyes roaming the giant evergreen. The branches are hugged tight by rope, but I can tell they are full and will spread out beautifully.
“I think you might be right.”
“Are you sticking around like everyone else to see us put it up?”
I roll my eyes and smile. “I do every year, Chris.”
“I wasn’t sure. I know the Pride Sanctuary takes a lot of your time.”
My smile falters, reality crashing down on my shoulders along with the familiar anger and hatred I have felt towards Simon for years.
“The lions are in good hands. They will be fine without me.” The sanctuary is the only safe haven for lions in Tennessee, but I’m not sure how much longer we can stay open if Simon doesn’t return.
Pride Sanctuary was opened by Simon’s dad. He had the biggest love for large cats and wanted a safe place for all the abused lions from zoos or circuses. We also have a rehabilitation and breeding program to increase the numbers of not only lions but tigers too.
The St. Claire family is one of the wealthiest families in Tennessee. The old kind of money that goes back generations. Simon’s dad, Donner, never acted better than anyone, regardless of his status. He treated everyone the same and gave everyone kindness but loved animals way more than people.
I can relate to that.
When he built the sanctuary, he kept in mind how cold it would get, and made temperature-regulated buildings for the cats. Keeping the safe haven open is expensive though. Electricity for those buildings is not cheap. Food for the animals isn’t cheap and we don’t get donations like we should. We used to keep the sanctuary running with St. Claire’s money, but with the wealth frozen in the bank due to Donner’s death, we are barely keeping afloat.
And Simon left right after the funeral. He said nothing to no one. He was just gone the next day. I expected a note to explain leaving me, us, and the sanctuary behind, but I never got one.
No one in this town received any kind of explanation.
Then, I told myself he’d call, he’d write, he’d do something. He wouldn’t just forget about me, yet he did.
Ten years later, the only thing I have from Simon is a broken heart and unanswered questions.
With Simon gone, money low, and his Uncle Dash banging on our door to buy the property, I’m starting to think I don’t have another choice but to let Dash have it.
No one in town knows about the issues with the sanctuary. Me and the few other workers have decided to keep it between us. So far, the plan has worked, but it’s only a matter of time before Dash runs his mouth. He’s a grimy man who stops at nothing to get what he wants.
“Everything okay?” Chris asks, slipping on his gloves to begin unloading the tree.
I blink a few times to bring myself back to reality, tucking my hands in my jacket pockets only to feel the edge of the picture. “I’m fine. Sorry.” I shake my head, smiling. “Gosh, it’s getting cold.” I change the subject. The last thing I want to do is be honest. “Look, seems everyone else is coming too.”
“Well, this starts the season. Am I right?” He grins, flashing an award-winning smile that would have any girl falling at his feet.
And yet, the only man I can ever think about is Simon.
I’m pathetic.
“Definitely. Be careful. Don’t get… splinters,” I say lamely, wishing I could slink away to the nearest corner.
He tosses his head back and laughs, the frozen air leaving his mouth in white clouds. “I won’t. Thank you for the worry.”
I give a small smile just as he unties the rope binding the tree. I tilt my head back, rocking on my feet. The snow falls, placing cold kisses on my cheeks. Taking a deep breath, I try to relax, to let go of the past, but as the edge of the photo rubs against my thumb, I’m reminded that I can’t.
