JESSICA BERKELEY.
By the time the heavier work is done, the mood shifts. Someone brings out a wooden ladder. Another drags a box of decorations from the side of the church, brushing off snow like it’s something routine.
Within minutes, work turns into something else entirely—voices louder, laughter slipping in, people moving with less urgency and more purpose.
“Don’t just stand there,” Margaret calls, already handing me a bundle of pine garlands. “If you’re well enough to walk, you’re well enough to help.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” I mutter, taking them anyway.
The scent of pine hits immediately.. fresh, sharp, familiar. It pulls something warm out of me before I can stop it.
I move toward the railing, starting to wrap the garland around the wooden posts, careful with my f
