Trapped Under the Christmas Tree (Christmas Tree, PA Sweet Romcom #1)

Chapter 3

Jake

I’ve just about resorted to screaming. I don’t know if you have ever been trapped, but for me, I feel very claustrophobic, like a panic that eats at my chest because I can’t move, and I want to. I want to be able to just get up and walk away from this. Not that I wouldn’t help clean up the tree, because obviously I made this mess, and I will take responsibility for it, but I don’t want to be stuck under here.

Maybe there’s a small bit of me that doesn’t want to be stuck here by myself. I am an extrovert, I love people, and I don’t brag about this, but Christmas Tree has crowned me the town’s most eligible bachelor for the last three years running at the annual Christmas Tree Christmas festival and dance.

Not that I put a whole lot of stock in that. But I’m a popular guy around town and not used to being alone.

I take a deep breath. I am not going to freak out. Not only would that ruin my cool dude reputation, but it’s not the kind of person I want to be.

Still, I consider myself resourceful; I already told you my mom calls me stubborn and determined. But as hard as I wrack my brain, I haven’t been able to figure out how to get out from underneath this tree.

I am good and stuck. Not to mention, every time I move, pine needles jab into me somewhere. Douglas fir are known for having tightly packed branches, and their short needles seem to be everywhere.

I’m gritting my teeth, trying to figure out how I can leverage something underneath the tree to get it off my foot, when I hear a soft voice behind me.

“Excuse me?”

I’m kind of on my side, but I twist to look to see who’s talking to me. It’s a woman, I know that, and I’m guessing it’s one of the older ladies who live above the town square.

But I’m wrong. I twist, looking up, squinting as I try to make out the face of the person behind me. One of the Christmas stars that hang on the light poles around the town square has framed her head, and it’s not until she shifts a bit and blocks the glare that I’m able to see that it is Tessa Cannoy, the town librarian.

I haven’t talked to her much. She’s kind of the opposite of me, where she avoids crowds of people, and I thrive on them. I know her by face and name, since it is a small town, but I haven’t really talked to her, ever, that I can remember. She was a couple of grades younger than me in high school, and honestly, she’s just one of those people that are quiet and kind of content to sit in the corner.

Still, I can’t deny that I’m happy to see her.

“My rescuer has arrived,” I say, trying to sound gallant but thinking I probably sound ridiculous. Although, I’m one of those people that could probably pull it off, despite the fact that I’m flat out on the ground, a tree pinning me down.

I think her cheeks turn pink, and I figure that my charm is probably working, despite my awkward position.

Either that, or it’s cold out.

It’s definitely cold out.

“I’m not sure I can do anything,” she says, her brows drawn together and a worry line or two appearing between them as her gaze slips from me to the tree. She pulls a lip in between her teeth, chewing on it.

I should not be distracted by that considering my position, but somehow I am.

She moves without saying anything more, apparently so she can get a better look.

“The tree is lying over top of my one leg. I don’t think anything is broken, and it doesn’t hurt, but it’s weighing me down to the point where I can’t even slip my foot out.”

“If I unlace your boot, do you think you could pull your foot out of it?” she asks, and I appreciate the fact that she’s obviously thinking about things, but I’ve already considered that option.

“Even if we could reach my boot to untie it, which would be hard because it’s flush against the tree, I don’t think I can move my leg out from underneath it. It’s pressing down fairly hard.”

“I see,” she says, carefully stepping between the branches of the tree, examining it where it lies on my leg.

I appreciate the fact that she’s wearing boots too. We live in northern Pennsylvania, so we’re used to snow and ice and cold all winter long. I kinda think she might have flannel pajama pants on.

It’s only eight o’clock. Normal people aren’t in their jammies already, are they?

“I heard a big crash from my apartment, and I almost just shrugged and went to bed, but I thought I saw something moving. It’s a good thing you’re wearing that red plaid flannel.”

I wasn’t expecting her to strike up a conversation with me. And I guess I’m a little bit off my game, because normally I would be the one doing all the talking.

Nevertheless, I’m not usually at a loss for words. “You live in an apartment around here?”

I’m sure she hears the incredulity in my voice. I thought that only seniors and old people lived in town.

“Yeah. Right above the Christmas shop. Gigi is just across the hall from me,” she says, naming the owner of the Christmas shop.

Well, shows what I know.

“I can try calling, but I think we both know that there isn’t anyone who’s going to be coming anytime soon.”

She’s absolutely right. We’ve lived above I80 long enough to know that when there’s a pileup there, all of our town’s resources are directed that way, and rightfully so. A lot of times, it’s a mess to get things untangled.

“What if you just try lifting it up? Maybe you can get it up enough that I can slip my foot out.”