Take Care, Sara

slowly, “what you need to find is a way to not feel bad about living.” She stiffened and tried to pull away. Lincoln only tightened his hold on her. “ And I’m going to help you find it.”
    “Why?” she choked out.
    Lincoln sat up, taking her with him. He tipped her chin up so their gazes locked. “Because stupid people try to do things on their own and smart people realize no one can do anything on their own. And you’re smart.” He smiled and Sara swallowed. “Even when you don’t act like it. Let’s find our tree.”
    They spent close to an hour roaming the woods, searching for the perfect tree. Lincoln let her pick and Sara was drawn to the most straggly, uneven, imperfect tree. It was her. Surviving, but in no way striving. There was no better, more fitting tree.
    “You’re kidding.” He gave the tree a dubious look.
    Sara touched a bent limb. The tree was only as tall as she. “I’m not.”
    Lincoln watched her for a long, silent moment. He finally nodded. “Okay, Sara. I get it. We’ll have a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.”
    Her eyes burned at his easy acceptance of her wishes, no matter how strange he thought they might be. “Thank you.”
    He tied a red ribbon to the tree to mark it. “Don’t thank me yet. This tree is going to need some serious decorating to make it acceptable. You’re in charge of that. I’ll be back later to cut it. You’re shivering. Let’s go warm up.” Lincoln nudged her. “I’ll even make you hot chocolate with a peppermint candy cane.”
    Sara’s throat tightened. “Stop being so nice to me.”
    Lincoln began to walk, shaking his head as he went. “Stop being so hard on yourself.”
    She hurried to catch up, stumbling over a fallen tree limb. Lincoln turned, catching her before she fell. His brows furrowed as he stared down at her, searching her face. Her heartbeat picked up its pace and Sara pulled away, confused by her body’s reaction to Lincoln. She looked at her brown snow-covered boots, wanting to escape all the things she didn’t understand.
    “Sara.” He said it quietly, but there was so much emotion heard in the way he said it. Why did he do that? Say her name like it meant something, like it was a benediction or prayer?
    Sara could try to pretend it wasn’t there, and maybe for a while it would work, but eventually it would be inescapable, like life. Don’t think about it. You’re imagining things. Maybe Sara could use avoidance for a little while longer.Through the five years she’d known him, there had been instances where Sara had thought Lincoln had said something a certain way; looked at her a certain way, but she’d always brushed it aside, like she would now. A frown on her face, Sara met his eyes, willing him to keep his secrets.
    Lincoln hesitated, and then said, “You have a leaf in your hair.”
    He pulled it out from her tangled hair and showed her. Lincoln let it drop to the ground, Sara’s eyes going with it. It lay there, torn and wrinkled and dead. It looked so beaten, so sad. She blinked her wet eyes, thinking of her husband and thinking of her and wanting to not think at all.
    “I got a joke,” he announced, slinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her along with him as he herded them toward the house.
    Sara squinted her eyes against the glare of the sun as it flickered through the tree branches, periodically blinding her as it played peek-a-boo with the earth. “I’m sure it’s good.”
    “Are you saying my jokes usually aren’t?”
    “Of course not. I wouldn’t be that rude.”
    Lincoln snorted. “There’s a blond, a Russian, and an American talking. The Russian says, “We were the first to enter outer space.” The American comes back with, “Yeah, well, we were the first on the moon.” The blond says, “My friends and I are going to the sun.” Russian says, “You idiot. You’ll burn up halfway there.” Blond goes, “Duh. We’re going at night.””
    Sara giggled.
    “Good, right?”
    “I don’t know about that.”
    Lincoln’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “You know I’m outstandingly funny. It’s okay to admit it.”
    Sara smiled softly as the house came into view. The smile fell from her lips, the fleeting serenity she’d had with it. She ceased moving and Lincoln dropped his arm from her shoulders, stopping beside her.
    “It’s just a house, Sara.”
    Just a house filled with him in every way imaginable. That was all. What did Lincoln think and feel every