Last of the Summer Wine: Home Comfort

83,275 words, 269 pages (print edition)
From a flashback in Chapter 5:
A strange feeling took hold as I watched the landscape before me. Part of me wanted to run through the snow, leaving my tracks in the world of unmarred beauty. Another part of me didn't dare make tracks in the perfection only God could create.
“Not yet," came a voice that made me jump a good foot although the voice was familiar. “Don't go down there yet."
“Where are you?" I asked as I looked around. I hadn't seen any tracks other than mine.
“Over here, under the pine tree."
Five feet from me stood a towering pine tree with its branches weighted down with snow. Someone was beneath the branches that hung to the ground, but I didn't see any tracks.
“If you walk around back of the tree, the branches aren't as thick and you can come inside."
I made my way around the tree. He was right, that side of the tree was shaded by other trees and the branches hadn't grown as vigorously. I saw his tracks in the snow leading up the mountain to where he had also stood to view the beauty.
“Come on in, you'll be amazed."
I stepped into his footprints and eased my way between branches, while trying not to dislodge the snow by keeping my head lowered. Underneath the shelter of the large pine was a thick carpet of brown needles. Adam was sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the trunk of the tree. The drooping branches made a kind of sheltered cave that was extremely cozy.
“Come here," he said as he patted the needles beside him indicating for me to sit down. “If you sit right here, you can see the beauty through the branches. It's . . . amazing."
I moved to the tree trunk and sat down. He was right. The branches I was looking through formed a frame for the beauty, making it even more enchanting.
“Oh, my," I whispered.
He smiled. “Incredible, isn't it."
“Incredible," I repeated. “I don't think I can cut one of those trees," I told him as I looked at the perfection before me.
“Me either," he said as he nodded his head toward his own handsaw.
I found it confusing that he had come to cut a Christmas tree. It seemed out of character for Adam Burns – the boy who I didn't think had a soft spot for anything, unless it was for his mother.
I turned my face from the view to look him in the face, surprised to find his face was only inches from mine. I hadn't realized I was sitting that close to him. I could even detect the clean smell of the soap he had recently washed and shaved with, along with that tangy fern smell. Strange, what I was thinking at that moment.
I was thinking Adam Burns was actually a good-looking man, a man, not an awkward, gangly boy. When had he turned into a man? Why hadn't I noticed sooner? He must have been as shocked by my appearance as I was by his because he was staring at me just as hard as I was staring at him.
I don't know what happened. I don't know if he moved or I moved, or we both moved together but the inches that separated our faces no longer existed. Our lips were together and the cold of my face was suddenly surging with heat. I found myself clinging to Adam as I felt something inside that I had never felt before when I had experimented with a few stolen kisses from the boys at school.
I could best describe it as a need, or a hunger, for more than I was receiving. Trouble was I didn't know what I hungered for, so I held onto him tighter and pressed my mouth harder against his. Suddenly, his kissing changed from the gentle feel of his lips on mine to the urgent pressure of a powerful need. His mouth opened slightly and his tongue probed between my lips sending fire through my body.
I gave as good as I got, there in our bed of needles beneath the pine tree. When we finally pulled apart, I was breathing hard and wanting to go back for more of his kisses.