Several weeks had gone by since the quiet dinner for four at the Manitow Inn. The weather forecast had been correct. Thompson received eighteen centimeters of snow the following afternoon. As the landscape began transitioning into winter, Manitow Farm shifted from a quiet farm nestled in the Boreal Forest to a place buzzing with traffic and activity. For the next month Erik would spend little time at his cabin other than the occasional trip to ensure it remained secure against the elements. From mid-November through the Winter Solstice, his life revolved around the farm─ his days beginning long before the first light of dawn and ending well past nightfall.

From mid-November onwards, a continuous flow of trucks entered the farm’s west entrance, exiting with loads of freshly harvested spruce and fir trees destined for Manitoba’s Christmas tree markets. There was a constant hum of chainsaws as the seasonal crew worked from dawn until dusk, harvesting trees. The scent of evergreens mingled with the frost, wrapping the farm in the fragrance of the season. As the days grew shorter and the nights stretched longer, the farm took on an ethereal glow.

Two years ago, Erik, Misha, and Sasha had installed a solar energy system to power the light, heat, and hot water to the farm’s barns as well as power the lights along the access roads. Before the solar-powered system, thousands of yards of Christmas lights, tangled cables, and noisy fuel-powered generators were the only way to keep the trails visible. The transition to solar energy changed everything—efficient LED lanterns now lined the pathways, powered by stored sunlight, casting a soft golden glow without polluting the darkness with artificial glare. Beyond the farm, above the dark forest the Aurora Borealis shimmered in undulating ribbons of green and violet, dancing across the heavens like spirits awaking from slumber.

When the farm opened to the public on November 20th, Manitow was a winter wonderland showcasing Manitoban culture. The once-quiet paths now bustled with families, bundled in thick layers, laughing as they trekked through the snow in search of the perfect tree. Closer to the Inn, guests gathered near the outdoor firepits to sip warm cider or wait for a tour of the farm by horse and wagon. The scent of Sky’s bannock and hearty Ukrainian soups drifted from the main lodge, welcoming guests who had come for more than just a tree—they had come for tradition. The Bed & Breakfast, fully booked with returning families, pulsed with the warmth of shared meals and familiar faces, while day visitors lingered into the evening for fireside storytelling. Near the farm’s main entrance, the Charpentier family’s winter market bustled with activity, offering handmade ornaments, Métis beadwork, local honey, and freshly woven evergreen wreaths.

Most mornings Erik was the first person to embrace the cold and the quiet stillness of the morning. In his youth his days began with his stick and skates in hand as he headed to a nearby hockey rink or ice pond. Now, his routine had shifted, but the discipline remained. These days he climbed into his truck and drove around the farm checking the lights─ prepared to plow the trails before the first guests arrived.

Between his morning and evening checks, Erik helped visitors select and transport their trees. Some came prepared, eager to wield saws and drag their chosen evergreens through the snow. Others arrived with the intent to cut their own tree but had neither experience in cutting down a tree nor a tolerance for the cold. They just needed to be directed to the selection of pre-cut trees. Though his world had once revolved around the adrenaline rush of cheering fans and competition, Erik had found a different kind of satisfaction in his new life.

Erik wasn’t the only one who loved the quiet and stillness of the hours before sunrise. Grace was often awake and could hear him as he walked down the stairs and headed out the door. Thanks to the coffee pot in her room Grace had fallen into a routine─starting her morning by curling up in a chair by the window, wrapped in a blanket, with her mug in hand, watching Erik walk from the house to the barn and climb into his truck. Even though her room was warm, when you sat near the window you could feel that the temperatures were in the single digits. Having grown up in New England, Grace was used to the cold, but she wasn’t used to it being this cold. She was amazed at how Erik braved the cold and looked so sexy in flannel this early in the morning.

When she wasn’t in her room writing, Grace spent the days capturing the beauty of the farm through her lens, photographing parents lifting children onto their shoulders to reach the highest branches, couples wrapped in scarves beneath the glow of lantern-lit trails, and Sky adjusting a guest’s mitten with the careful touch of a lifelong friend.  At other times, Grace joined Sky in the kitchen, learning traditional Cree cooking, trading recipes, and jotting notes in her journal.

The scent of pine and woodsmoke clung to the air, mingling with the crisp sharpness of the season. Sky Charpentier Rudenko thrived in the swirl of preparations, laughter, and storytelling. She greeted guests by name, remembering the stories they had shared in seasons past, her warmth making every visitor feel like family. The lodge kitchen was her domain, a haven of warmth where bannock browned in cast-iron pans and stews simmered slowly,

As dusk settled, the farm transformed into something magical. Strings of warm white lights adorned the trees closest to the inn, their branches dusted with fresh snow and shimmering like something out of a holiday dream. Guests gathered around crackling firepits, wrapped in blankets, the scent of cedar smoke curling into the night as Sky’s voice carried through the freezing air. Her storytelling sessions had become one of the most cherished traditions at Manitow Farm, and as she wove tales of the land—of trees that whispered secrets and northern lights that carried the spirits of ancestors.

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December 19th – Two Nights Before the Winter Solstice

The enclosed back porch at Manitow Inn was a private retreat, a quiet sanctuary where the family could unwind after long days and escape the bustle of guests. It was designed to bring the outdoors in, with a glass roof and walls that provided an unobstructed view of the snow-covered forest. The dark metal frame added a modern contrast to the warmth of the cedar and pine beams, while the wooden flooring beneath their feet carried the scent of aged timber, rich and earthy. A plush sectional sofa was arranged near the window, oversized cushions inviting relaxation.

Sky and Stepan had warmly invited Grace to use it whenever she pleased, a gesture that made her feel like she was truly becoming part of their family. Over the past week, she had begun slipping down to the porch in the late hours, drawn by the stillness of the night and the breathtaking expanse of stars overhead. Wrapped in a blanket with a warm drink in hand, she found solace in the quiet beauty of the Manitoba sky, letting it settle something deep within her. The floor-to-ceiling glass panels blurred the line between inside and out, revealing a breathtaking winter night sky—a vast canvas of silver stars scattered across an inky black expanse. A lantern cast a golden glow, soft and warm, the only other illumination coming from the moonlight spilling across the wooden floors.

Manitow Farm was preparing for the largest celebration of the season— the Winter Solstice, a night filled with storytelling, a massive bonfire, traditional foods, and music. Sky had been planning for weeks, ensuring that everything would be perfect. Her niece, Ahyoka, was arriving tomorrow night, bringing her vibrant energy back to the farm. And Grace’s brother, Gregory, will be arriving on the 21st. Soon, the Inn would be full, the house bursting with voices and laughter, warmth against the deep cold of the Manitoba winter. But tonight, Erik wanted to spend time alone with Grace.

Grace was standing near the window wearing green fleece sweatsuit and wrapped in a blanket, her hands cradling a cup of herbal tea. Erik stood in the doorway admiring the way the sweatsuit flowed over her curves, a contrast to the way she always seemed to conceal herself in oversized sweaters. Every inch of her was breathtaking, from the way the fabric stretched over her hips to the delicate way her fingers curled around the mug in her hands.

Grace hadn’t heard Erik enter or his bare feet moving silently across the room. She was lost in thought as she gazed at the stars. However, when she suddenly caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window, she turned quickly, nearly spilling her tea.

For a few minutes, her body tensed, her breath catching in her throat.

Erik noticed immediately.

The sudden wide-eyed look, the stiffness in her shoulders—it was familiar in a way he wished it weren’t. He recognized that kind of fear and it stirred something primal in him, something that made him want to hold her and assure her that whatever ghosts lingered in her mind were long gone.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his voice gentle, but firm enough to pull her back to the present. Grace exhaled slowly, realizing it was Erik—just Erik. She felt safe with Erik.

Now that she felt calm, she took in sight of him, fresh from a shower, dressed in a soft gray sweatsuit that clung to his broad chest and draped across his flexor muscles. He smelled incredible—a faint trace of cedar and something distinctly, unmistakably him.

Erik watched as she relaxed, the tension in her body fading.

He moved closer, grabbing a thick plaid throw from the back of the couch and draping it over her shoulders, his fingers briefly grazing her arm.

“I hope that I didn’t disturb you,” Erik said. “You mind was a million miles away.”
“No… no, I was just looking at the stars,” Grace replied softly, her voice filled with awe. “You don’t see them like this in the city.”

They sat together on the sofa; their bodies close but not yet tangled. The silence between them was natural, easy.

“So how was your day?” Grace asked.

Erik leaned back, stretching his legs in front of him, and smirked. “So, there was this guy who decided to show off in front of his girlfriend by trying to cut down his own Christmas tree.”

Grace turned to him, intrigued. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“Oh, it was,” Erik chuckled. “This guy—brand-new boots, perfectly clean jacket, looking like he just stepped out of a holiday catalog—grabs the saw and goes for it. But right away, I can tell he has no clue what he’s doing.”

Grace covered her mouth with her hand, already smiling. “Poor guy.”

“Yeah,” Erik smirked. “And I could see it in his face—he knew it too. But there was no way he was going to back down with his girlfriend watching.”

Grace laughed. “So, what did you do? Let him embarrass himself?”

Erik shook his head. “Nah. I’ve seen it too many times—guys getting competitive around me because of the whole athlete thing. Some just can’t help themselves when they’re around a guy my size, and I wasn’t about to make it worse for him.”

Grace arched a brow. “So, what did you do?”

“I acted like there was something wrong with the saw,” Erik grinned. “Told him it needed sharpening, made a show of testing the blade, then handed him a fresh one. By the time he switched, I gave the tree a few quick cuts myself and made it seem like the new saw was doing all the work.”

Grace burst out laughing. “You saved his pride!”

Erik chuckled. “Yeah, well. His girlfriend was already cold and miserable, and I wasn’t about to make the situation worse. He walked out of there thinking he took down that tree like a pro, and she was happy, so that’s all that mattered.”

Grace allowed herself to appreciate Erik for a moment─the fluidity of his relaxed frame, his bare feet, his long legs stretched out onto the ottoman. Grace caught herself and reminded herself not to stare but she noticed everything about him.

She loved the warmth and profound respect in his voice when he spoke about his family, and the way he interacted with Sky and Stepan with a quiet loyalty that spoke volumes.

He could be playful. She had seen him laughing with the children who came to visit the farm, never making them feel like a nuisance, but joining in their fun with effortless ease.

And his voice. God, the timbre of his voice─a warm tenor that was soothing in a way that made her insides melt. And he was kind. Not just kind to people he knew but kind to strangers.

Now she understood what Sky meant when she said that women were allows falling for him. She was falling for him too. For the first time, she allowed herself to believe that he was not only attracted to her but might want to have a committed relationship.

Oh my God! She thought to herself. She was falling for him.

She had resisted it, convinced herself that he was only being kind, that men like him didn’t see women like her in that way. But tonight, sitting here beside him, wrapped in the warmth of his presence, she knew.

He saw her.

And he wanted her. Neither of them noticed when they drifted into sleep, Grace curled into his chest, Erik’s arm wrapped around her protectively.

As Erik’s body finally gave in to exhaustion, his last thoughts focused on Grace.

She was unlike anyone he had ever met. Quiet and reserved, but never cold. Intelligent but never condescending. Definitely adventurous and independent. It’s still hard to imagine that anyone would leave a city like Boston to spend a year in Thompson, Manitoba. He came here because of his grandfather but Grace just heard the place, researched it, and came.
When she listened, she really listened—not just nodding along but absorbing every word like it mattered. And with her, it did.

Being with Grace felt… easy. Real.

She made him feel like every thing he said was worth hearing, like his thoughts weren’t just background noise but something of value. She was sharp without trying to prove it, funny in a way that snuck up on you, and strong in a way that made him respect her even more.

But what got him most?

Her laugh.

It was rich, full, like something she had kept locked away too long before finally letting it spill free. He loved that sound. And he wanted to be the one to pull it from her again and again.

And tonight? Tonight, he had to fight every single instinct not to tease her when he caught her little tell.

Oh, he saw it.

The way her eyes dipped just slightly behind her glasses, the way her lips curved—just the faintest smile.

It was her giveaway. Her poker tell.

She thought she was being subtle, but to him, it was as clear as fresh tracks in the snow.

He had felt her eyes on him—lingering a little too long on his legs, scanning him in that slow, thoughtful way. And when she realized what she was doing, when their gazes met and the moment crackled between them like a struck match, he knew. They were thinking the same thing.

He had wanted to call her out on it, just to see her reaction, just to watch that blush creep up her neck. But no—that would be too easy. Instead, he’d keep that little secret to himself. For now.

But next time?

Oh, he’d be paying very close attention.

Because Grace didn’t just see the version of him that the world had decided to label. Not the washed-up hockey player, not the guy who got lucky with an inheritance.

She saw him.

The man who had struggled, lost, rebuilt. The man who had been angry and broken and still finding his way.

With her, he didn’t have to impress. He didn’t have to explain.

She just understood.

And that? That was rare.

That was something he didn’t want to lose.

And if—when—he got the chance?

He was going to make sure Grace knew exactly what it felt like to be wanted. To be cherished. To be satisfied in ways she had never experienced before.

And he was definitely going to enjoy every second of it.

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 At some point during the night, Sky had slipped onto the porch, turned up the portable heater and covered them with an extra blanket, a knowing smile tugging at her lips before she disappeared into the night.

And outside, under the vast Manitoba sky, the northern lights appeared, as if they, too, were watching and approved.

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