Felix

Felix Nissen snapped his laptop closed and groaned with frustration, dragging his fingers through his tousled, auburn hair. He had just hit a flow on his project, and, of course, that was when his Internet connection had decided to sputter out. This was one of the many reasons why he hated coming home for Christmas. His mother didn't 'believe' in Wi-Fi, and so he was forced to rely on tethering to his phone to get any sort of connection to the outside world. And, unfortunately, out here on the family farm, reception was always spotty.

Being a freelance web developer may mean he could work wherever and whenever he pleased, but that was only as long as he had access to the Internet. Taking a deep breath, Felix rubbed his tired blue eyes and reminded himself that this small hiccup wasn't the end of the world. His contract to develop an online reservation system for a hotel was still well ahead of schedule. In fact, it was very nearly done. There were just a few last finishing touches to be completed, and then he could send along his latest changes. And his notoriously picky client was very happy with his work. One more round of feedback and he was pretty sure he could wrap up the whole project, just in time for Christmas.

Felix picked up his smartphone to see what the problem was. The spot at the end of the dining room table was usually the best place in the house for reception, and where he usually settled for the day, so it was strange that it had cut out. But of course, he saw his phone flashing an angry warning of NO SERVICE. He sighed and put his phone back down. Something must be affecting its signal. He had no idea what, so there was nothing he could do about it.

Well, Felix thought to himself, I needed a break anyway.

He pushed back from the table, the old wooden chair squealing across the hardwood floor, and headed for the kitchen. Maybe he'd make himself a coffee. It was a little late in the day for caffeine, but Felix drank so much of the stuff he was nearly immune to its effects. He could have a full cup at midnight and still sleep as soundly as a baby.

As he stepped into the kitchen, a frown spread across his face. While the bones of the place made for a well-kept farmhouse kitchen, original to the house—the very thing interior designers tried to emulate when they aimed for 'rustic'—it had been overwhelmed by its decor. Every surface and corner had been bedecked with something that glistened, glittered, or sparkled. Evergreen garlands, heavy with baubles, hung in scallops across the open wooden shelves; the contents of the lower cabinets were hidden by green plaid curtains, tied closed with red velvet ribbons; a thick wreath, pinned with what looked like real holly, hung in the window over the white apron-front sink; and a bright red kettle, shaped like a Santa-hat, sat atop the original wrought-iron wood stove.

Felix knew that kettle well. It was the same one that his mother brought out every Christmas since he was a kid. It was a little banged up—a dent here, a scratch there—but otherwise still in pretty good shape. He knew his mother would never give it up unless the entire bottom rusted and dropped out. It had been one of his father's early Christmas presents to her, many years back when they first married and it was precious to her.

His chest tightened at the thought of his dad. He tried to shrug it off as he reached for the kettle, but it stuck to him like his mother's secret-recipe holiday fudge. Being back home always brought back so many memories—a few pleasant, but more he wished would stay forgotten.

He gave the kettle a shake and found it still fairly full of water. He moved it to the burner. He had recently added wood to the fire so the stove would still be good and hot. Once the kettle was in place he he moved on, going through the kitchen and pulling out everything he needed to make a pot of coffee. He grabbed the tin of fresh grounds, the small French press his mom used when they only needed a few cups, and then reached for a mug...

He stopped his hand in mid-air. In addition to her other decorations, his mother had replaced all the mugs on the shelf with holiday-themed ones. Most of them were gaudy and over the top, plastered with figures of snowmen and elves. Some had curved candy canes for handles and others were painted with gaudy Christmas scenes. One was even shaped like a squat Christmas tree, its lid a removable point with a star. Felix rolled his eyes as he dug through them, looking for the least-offensive one. His mother had never been one to shy away from decorating for the season, but this year it was particularly bad.

"Aha!" he cheered. In the back, he found a safe, ordinary mug. Or so he thought. When he pulled the red cup out and examined it, he found it wasn't as ordinary as he thought. It had a scene of evergreen trees lined out in gold. Above it read:

NISSEN CHRISTMAS TREE FARM: Where Wishes Come True, since 1929.

Felix sighed. Of course, there was no escaping Christmas out here, on his family's Christmas tree farm. He accepted his defeat and put the offending red mug on the counter next to the French press. He really needed that coffee, and it was still a mug, so it would do for now.

If he was being honest, he couldn't wait for his mom to sell the farm. She didn't want to, of course, but it was time. Neither he nor his sister Astrid had any intention of moving back and taking it over. She always said they should keep it in the family, to keep the memory alive, but while she may have a lot of good memories here, but for him... Well, it was complicated. And even with all the complications aside, it was getting too dangerous for her to live all the way out here, all on her own.

But thinking of his mother...

Where is she? Felix wondered.

She had been gone for the day, travelling to a nearby city to meet with the realtor. There had been some interest in the farm, finally, and he was hoping for good news—maybe even a potential sale. But it had been a while since he'd heard from her. She had said she'd be back before dark, and she wasn't, though the sun was quickly disappearing from the sky.

The kettle let out its shrill whistle. He turned to fetch it from the stove when his eye caught on the scene beyond the big window that spanned the far wall. As his gaze traced the lines of evergreen trees that ran along their fields and settled on the horizon, Felix understood then why his connection had suddenly cut out and what might be keeping his mother.

One side of the sky was a glorious gold as the setting sun sank from view, lighting up the surrounding fields in shimmering oranges and reds. But on the other side was its perfect opposite: a wall of deep, ominous clouds, its creeping shadow cast low over everything. A winter storm was closing in—and it looked like it was going to be a bad one.

Watching the advancing clouds made Felix's throat tighten in worry. His mom was somewhere out there with that hot on her heels. He shuddered to think of her braving the storm on her own, with no one to help. He wished he could rush out and help her, but there was nothing he could do.

A situation like this was the precise reason he wanted his mom to sell the farm. She shouldn't have to be braving blizzards at her age! He hoped she'd decide to stay in the city and wait out the storm, then come back home tomorrow. That would be the smart thing to do. 

But as soon as he thought of it, he knew she wouldn't. His mother was a stubborn farmer's wife, hardy and ever sure of herself. No storm would scare her from doing what she thought needed to be done. If she thought she could beat the storm, she would try.

Felix swallowed hard. He hoped his mom would make it home safe and sound.

🎄

Would you want to take over the family farm?