Page 15

Chapter

Fourteen

NO CHRISTMAS SPIRIT? NO PROBLEM

Willow

“The one I’ve been missing.” — W

I breathe in the comforting scent of damp earth and the sweet tang of orchids as I navigate the dense Amazonian foliage. My boots sink slightly into the rich, dark soil with every step I take deeper into the forest. I push aside a curtain of long green leaves. “This is what life is all about…” I whisper so only I can hear. The forest feels alive, almost breathing, like a living entity that pulses with its own rhythm. Each footfall seems to echo with the whispers of ancient trees and the distant murmur of unseen creatures.

Excitement bubbles inside me as I take everything around me. God, got beautiful. I wish more people would look at nature with the same eyes I do. Maybe that way we could out look after together and prevent it’s ruined but humans are so thoughtless and at times so selfish. We take from her what we want but almost never give back as good as we take.

Something lands on my nose making me stop. Looking down I spot a cute little ladybug crawling on my nose tip. I laugh as I reach up and slowly help her onto my finger. “Hi, cutie.” I whisper and watch her little self-move up my index finger. “Oh, no worries. I won’t keep you. I’ll set you free.” I bend down and wait for her to climb off my finger down to a leaf. “Off you, go. Love bug.”

I take out my phone from my pocket and take a photo of the lady bug before pocketing the phone once again. Rising to my full height, I move around taking in the scene before me. Warm sunlight filters through the trees above, scattering in a kaleidoscope of gold and green. I’ve always been most comfortable surrounded by green. And this place feels as if I'm walking through a fairy land or a dreamscape. Another realm where reality has faded and magic weaves through the air and the leaves.

The forest looks like a painting of vivid colors— blues and yellows of exotic flowers, the bright orange of a distant bird flying between the branches, and the ever-present green of the towering trees. This forest is home for so many wonderful creatures. I find myself constantly stopping to take the breathtaking beauty around me.

I wonder what my parents would think if they were here experiencing this magical place with me. Mom would feel the same way I do as if this forest was home away from home and dad well… he would put on a smile for us but deep down he would rather be anywhere because he’s not a nature kind of guy but he loves his girls and so he tries.

With a full heart, I keep on walking until my heart quickens with excitement as I spot a cluster of unusual mushrooms growing at the base of an old tree. On closer inspection, I notice their caps shimmer with an iridescent glow, hinting at the rarity of their existence. The delicate, almost translucent edges of their gills make me catch my breath. My loving mushroom heart beats wildly with every step I take towards them. Once I’m close enough, I crouch down, careful not to step on any and feel the softness of the moss under my knees, and pull out my camera and notepad to document this find.

Found you…

Lingzhi mushrooms.

“Hello friends,” I whisper softly to the unusual and cute mushrooms. Here, when it’s just me and these creatures I use my voice without fear of being ridiculed or attacked. “I’m here to help. Promise.” With practiced care, I take samples and notes, my hands steady despite the thrill that surges through me. Each second I spend in this magical forest feels precious, a fleeting encounter with a world on the brink of disappearing. When I’m done with the samples, I rise and keep searching for more rare mushrooms.

I pass flowers that I know their names by heart because I grew up caring for them in my mother’s gardens and greenhouse. While I love fungi, my mother has a special love in her heart for every plant in existence, even the ones most people disregard because they’re not as pretty as other blooms… cactuses.

Lost in my head, I stumble upon something that makes my heart leap with joy: a perfect circle of amanita mushrooms. My favorite. I take in their brilliant red caps dotted with white specks that sets them apart from the rest. The sight is so enchanting that it feels like I've discovered a hidden treasure. My breath catches in my throat, and a wide, involuntary smile spreads across my face.

“I was hoping to find you guys too!” The mushrooms form an almost otherworldly ring, their vibrant colors standing out starkly against the dark, rich earth. I kneel beside them, my fingers gently brushing the soft moss that surrounds their base. Each mushroom seems to pulse with its own inner light. I take a few photos of them and then write my findings.

While I finish dotting down my notes, I sense a shift in the atmosphere, something that wasn’t there before. I look up from the mushrooms, and there he is—Madden, standing a few feet away, his face set in a grim expression. Thud. Thud. Thud. My foolish heart starts to beat rapidly as if the man before me could hear it.

Don’t be silly, heart… he’s not for you. He never was.

His black eyes are fixed on me while he hovers like a dark shadow. I freeze, my hand hovering over my notebook.

After a long moment of silence, he finally speaks. “What is it about those damn things that make you so happy?” His voice is low and rough, as if he's speaking to himself rather than me.

Use your voice, Willow. I can hear you just fine . The words had hurt especially with the look on his face when he said it. He looked bored as if he was annoyed by me.

It took me back to the times I was made to feel ashamed because of my disability but then I remember how Madden has never been unkind to me. Never once. Even when life had been so cruel to him.

Feeling a bit nervous, I look away from his intimidating eyes, and glance back at the mushrooms, their bright red caps still glowing softly against the dark soil, and then back at Madden. His black brows are pulled low and his expression is hard to read. As always…

I draw a steadying breath before I do what he asked before. I use my voice. “M-mushrooms are rare,” I whisper while signing the words. “These ones are almost extinct. So, I smile and I’m happy because finding these babies feels like holding a treasure that’s slowly disappearing from the world.”

Madden’s empty gaze flickers between me and the mushrooms, his frown deepening. “Yeah…” he signs at the same time he whispers. “What else?” He surprises me by kneeling next to me on the moist ground ruining his very expensive gym clothes. It seems almost comical such a large man dripping in expensive all black sports attire dirtying himself and asking questions about mushrooms. It’s odd. The man with me now doesn’t seem like the playboy millionaire driver that the media paints him as but the curious and jaded boy who used to sneak into my mother’s greenhouse at night.

The boy with the sad, angry eyes but the gentlest touch was always unpredictable— nothing like anyone I’d ever met. That was who Madden Hunt has always been to me. Hot and cold and the most interesting creature I’ve ever encountered.

He raises an eyebrow, looking at me expectantly.

Feeling a bit confused. I glance down at the mushrooms. “This is an amanita mushroom , specifically Amanita muscaria .” His blank stare urges me to explain further. “It’s also called the fly agaric.”

“Huh…”

“Huh?”

“Keep talking…”

My frown deepens, no more confused than before but still I give in and share more about my favorite mushroom. I think for a second about a fact that might interest him and when I do, I blurt it out. “Did you know this type of mushroom and shamanic rituals have been linked for centuries?” As soon as the fact leaves my mouth, I wish I never said anything. Why would he know that?

Madden raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “Shamanic rituals?”

“Y-yeah…”

“They use these mushrooms? For what?”

I can’t help but smile at his curiosity. In this moment I’m taken back to the times he used to sit next to me asking questions about things he had zero knowledge on.

“As an ancient hallucinogen,” I take a deep breath before continuing. I shared this rare fact with Mom and Dad the first time I spotted an Amanita in our garden. “Shamans in Siberia and Northern Europe consumed them to induce altered states for spiritual and healing practices.”

“So, they used the mushroom to get stoned?”

I snort, causing his frown to deepen. Oh, great. Has my laugh offended him? If he didn’t think you were a huge dork before, Willow… he definitely knows now.

Taking another deep breath, I whisper softly. “Eh, not exactly no.”

“Carry on…” he whispers looking at me with eyes that feel like he is staring right through my soul.

“W-what?”

“I want to know more.”

“You do?” I ask incredulously.

Why does he want to know more? He looks anything but interested so why is he asking for more? Then the image of my large and tattooed father sitting with my fairy-like Mom asking her questions about plans that he really has zero interest in and the bright smile on her face when he does.

I asked my dad once if he loved plants as much as he loved Mom, and he replied, “Fuck no.” Curious, I asked why he was so interested in them. He looked at me, love shining in his eyes, and said, “It's not about the plants, Willow. It’s about your mom. The sound of her voice calms the dark shit in my head, and the look on her face while she talks about things she loves makes me fall even more in love with her. I’d ask her about shit in a can and listen to her for hours if only it makes her smile.”

But Madden isn’t my father… or maybe he’s… could it be? No… don’t be naive, Willow. He’s just being polite.

Looking down at the red and white mushroom again, a curious and fun fact pops up. One my cousin Azariel shared with me one Christmas Eve. “These cute little mushrooms have been linked to the origins of Christmas and Santa Claus? Did you know that?” I ask and look up at Madden’s face to find him looking at me instead of the mushrooms. He’s looking at me as if I’m more interesting than the fungi. Huh…

Madden shakes his head no and says nothing.

Trying not to lose my nerve, I continue. “The red and white colors of Santa’s suit are thought to be inspired by the amanita’s appearance, and reindeer were believed to eat them, which might explain why people used to believe reindeer could fly.”

Madden’s frown deepens, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “I thought the smelly fuckers are children.”

My mouth falls and he smiles and that’s when everything around us fades into nothing as I look at his perfect white teeth and brilliant smile. He smiled…

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I used to believe that nothing was as beautiful as Madden’s eyes but I was wrong.

His smile is the most beautiful part about him.

The snapping of fingers brings me back.

“Willow?” My eyes focus and I’m able to see him clearer.

“Ummm… y-yeah?” Clearing my throat.

I wait for him to say something but he doesn’t. Instead, he huffs but at least he looks slightly less grumpy than before.

The beautiful forest that surrounds us seems to hold its breath as the silence stretches between us, punctuated only by the distant calls of wildlife. The more the silence goes I suddenly feel self-conscious, my excitement deflating into awkwardness. I twist a curl of hair around my finger, a nervous habit I’m not even aware of.

Madden’s eyes narrow slightly, and I can’t tell if he’s bored or simply lost in thought. Most likely he’s just bored.

“I, um, I’m sorry if I bored you,” I push through the awkwardness and whisper while still signing. “Sometimes I get carried away. I know most people tend to find it uninteresting and it might be boring for them.”

I must be seeing things because I swear I see his stern expression soften. But I’m not crazy because there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—tenderness? Regret? But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, leaving his face as unreadable as ever.

More silence but then he stops my heart in my chest the moment he says, “I’m not most people, Wild One,” he says, his voice steady, “Tell me more about the mushrooms.”

Tell me more…

Wild One…

My breath gets stuck in my throat when I realize that he just called me the nickname he gave me when we were younger. Wild One.

I didn’t understand at first why he called me that, especially since most nicknames I had from people that weren’t my family weren’t nice ones.

But everything Madden did back then made my tummy flip and my heart race.

Butterflies fly erratically in my stomach as his gaze holds me hostage.

Once I regain my composure, I find my voice and do as he says. I share all my knowledge of mushrooms with him. “Well, there are thousands of mushroom species here in the Amazon, many of which are still undiscovered. You’re here so you might discover one!” I beam proudly and his mouth twitches for a brief second before he gets a hold of it. But he was too late. I saw it! I saw his smile and now I can’t wait for the moment I get to see it again. “Really cool ones too. Because some mushrooms here are bioluminescent. They glow in the dark, which helps them attract insects for spore dispersal. I’m telling you. These babies are awesome.” I smile down at the mushrooms and then look back up at Madden only to find him raising an eyebrow, clearly intrigued despite his usual grinch demeanor. “Bioluminescent, huh? That sounds… interesting.”

Even though I know he doesn’t mean it, I still nod. “Very! They’re also very productive. They play a crucial role in the ecosystem even though most people believe they’re only meant for eating or smoking. That could be further for the truth.” I frown. “Some form symbiotic relationships with trees, helping them absorb nutrients from the soil. It’s a delicate balance, and mushrooms are a big part of it.”

“So, they aren’t useless after all…”

I gasp, offended on the mushrooms' behalf. On a mission now to prove to him just how useful they are I blab until I run out of saliva.

When I think he’s done with me, he proved me wrong by leaning closer and listening more attentively. The grumpy facade fades as he absorbs the information I’m sharing. When I feel like I'm definitely boring him out of his mind I stop but he raises his head and knocks the breath out of my lungs and makes my heart do a thousand flips. Again.

“Keep talking, Willow,” his voice sounds raspy. “Your voice drowns out all the shit inside my head, I like it.”

Shit inside his head?

What does he mean?

I stare at him dumbfounded and when I think vulnerability flickers in his eyes, I make myself a promise.

I promise to help him drown out all the ugly that hurts him and so I do.

I talk until we lose track of time and night falls.