Valley So Low by Patrice Wayne

pork.  He came into the room, hair still sleep-tousled but dressed.
    “Good mornin’” she said. “Looks like it’ll be a good day to get the tree.  Is George up yet?”
    “Nope,” Harry answered as he leaned down to kiss her. “He’s still sound asleep.  Did you bring in the milk?”
    Maude shook her head. “Just the eggs,” she said. “I made up a picnic basket for when we go.  Weather’s pretty but a bit cool.”
    “Just right for bringing home the Christmas tree,” Harry said as he helped himself to coffee. “I’ll do the chores and fetch the milk.  After breakfast we can bundle the little man up good and head out.”
    They did just that, the three of them, Harry armed with a good hand saw, Maude with a basket over one arm.  George held their hands and dangled between them, sometimes lifting up his feet so he could swing in the air between them.  “Where is this tree you’ve got spotted?” Maude asked as they headed up hill to the side of the house.  The narrow path wasn’t wide enough to go with three abreast so Harry took the lead.  “It’s up at the top on the flattest part of the ridge,” he said. “I know it’s a rough climb, Maudie, but it’s a beauty, prettiest cedar you ever saw and just right for Christmas.”
    She nodded.  The rocky trail ascended up the almost sheer hillside, and footing wasn’t easy. Maude minded each step and watched for George, sandwiched between her and Harry, but the little boy advanced, nimble as a goat.  Most of the time she kept close to home, going no farther than the dooryard, so being out in the wider world delighted Maude.  Although she didn’t fall behind, she stopped to gawk at the wonder of the woods more than once.  The higher they climbed, the more spectacular the panorama spread out below.  By the time they gained the top of the incline, Maude could see the farm below.  It reminded her of a toy farm set she’d seen once in a Sears and Roebuck catalog.  Their rambling house, the huge old barn, and other buildings seemed small from this perspective. 
    Shoal Creek curved between the hills and fields, the waters sparkling with reflected sunshine.  The vista included the railroad tracks as they inched forward from the east and made their way toward town.  To Maude’s delight, a train came into view and the high, thin sound of the whistle echoed through the hills.  George clapped his hands and pointed.  “Train!” he cried and did his best to mimic the whoo-whoo sounds of the steam whistle.  Harry chuckled and they stood still to watch until it passed around the bend, the engine puffing white smoke through the funnel into the sky. 
    A wild gaiety seized Maude and she giggled.  The outing into the forest, the season, and the love she carried for her companions brought happiness.  She wanted to run through the trees the way she had as a young girl, when she first moved from town and knew Harry.  The years since had brought maturity and she’d settled into young adulthood, then marriage, then being a widow.  Despite the troubles and losses along the way, most of them recent, she’d found in Harry a companion and the love of her heart.  Standing high on the Ozark ridge and gazing out across the wide valley far beyond Shoal Creek, Maude knew she’d never love anyone else the way she did Harry or find the deep, close relationship they shared.  We’re made for each other in every way.  The notion increased her joy and she smiled at Harry.  His eyes lit as if he caught her thoughts and knew them.
    Harry grinned and before Maude knew what he was about, he’d managed to put George between them.  He lifted the boy up until the kid threw one arm about her neck, the other around Harry’s.  Her son’s face burned brighter than the sun with pleasure as he laughed, caught between them.  Harry leaned over George to kiss her, a swift peck, and the boy giggled harder.
    “Come on,” Harry said, shifting George until the boy rode