A Thousand Letters(46)

I picked up the tree top and stated it simply, since pretense escaped me. "I'm sorry. About yesterday." My voice was low, earnest.

She looked up at me, her bottomless eyes full of things I couldn't read.

I broke the connection when I placed the top of the tree in, pretending the scratchy plastic branches in my hand were difficult and fascinating to assemble. "It's been hard to know the right way to handle things, even small things, even things that have nothing to do with me. Especially when I'm caught off guard."

Her face was turned up to mine, but I kept my eyes on my hands, moving the branches around with no purpose. But when I finally got the courage to look at her, she'd turned her attention back to the tree.

"It's all right. I understand."

Do you? I thought to myself, wishing I could say it out loud.

Did she know I was sorry? Not just for yesterday, but for all the days before? Did she know I loved her still? I didn't know if I was prepared for the answer. I didn't know if I was ready to deal with the consequences of knowing.

"So, is Jack your …" The word boyfriend lodged itself in my throat.

"Friend," she finished for me.

Relief washed over me, but it was heavy with caution. I'd seen the way he looked at her, and it wasn't like that of one friend to another. Did she know he had a thing for her? Did she have feelings for him? Too many questions, and I couldn't ask a single one. It wasn't my place.

I cleared my throat, still working on the branches, and she stood and moved next to me.

"Here, let me show you how to do it so the tree looks more full." She demonstrated while I watched her, my eyes on the line of her small nose, the swell of her bottom lip, the curve of her chin.

I wanted her still, that fact was suddenly unbearable, now unburdened by the prospect of another man.

The only way I could have her was to beg for her forgiveness, apologize for pushing her, for leaving, for disappearing. But could we build on top of the wreckage of our past, or would it all fall apart, unstable and broken?

There was only one way to know — I had to try.

"Like this, see?" she said, her head tilted as she arranged the foliage, and I smiled at her, though she didn't know.

"Yes, I see."



* * *



The sunlight had shifted to hues of orange and red as we crept around the library, the air filled with classical music as Dad slept. The black sheets were nearly all hung around the room, and the furniture had been moved out and the trees moved in. The tent was in the other room, already assembled and waiting to be brought through the double doors when he woke.

Sophie and Sadie had brought in a tray of supplies for s'mores and hot dogs, downloaded a looping track of forest sounds to play, and Elliot brought wood for the fireplace and candles that smelled like pine, sleeping bags, and the planetarium. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, we were all set.

Elliot and I moved around each other silently, sharing moments: her hand brushing against mine, her lips blessing me with the smile I'd wished so much to see, and my heart squeezed and tightened and ached. Something had changed — Was it me? Was it her? — and I felt caught up in her at the prospect of forgiveness. I knew everything that stood between us, and yet it felt inconsequential, simple, a crack rather than a chasm.

I found myself watching her from a few feet away as she stretched onto her tiptoes on the ladder to reach the top shelf, sheet between her fingers. She wobbled, nearly losing her balance — I was at her side, hands circling her waist to steady her. The curve was slight, and my hands rested in it as if they belonged there, the feeling of her against my palms and fingers sending heat through my chest. Another smile, the kind she'd always saved only for me, and as I looked up at her, I imagined her touching my face, kissing me sweetly, telling me—

I let her go and stepped back, not trusting myself.

Dad stirred, and I moved to his side with Elliot by mine. He glanced around, confused. "What's all this?"

"We have a surprise. Hang on."

I grabbed everyone, and within a few minutes, we'd brought everything in, the trees, the tent, all while he watched us with tears in his eyes, lips parted as he took it all in.

I held out my hands in display, our joy so bright, so strong, it filled the room. "You can't get to the Adirondacks, so we brought them to you."

"A camp-in?" he said with a laugh.

I nodded. "Complete with a campfire and stars. The works."

He reached for my hand with glistening eyes. "I'm so fortunate to have you."

I squeezed his fingers and said softly. "No, Dad. We're the lucky ones."

Elliot made quick work of lighting the fire as I sat with him, and Sophie lit the candles, placing them all around the room as Sadie turned on the track of rustling trees and crickets.

Dad looked around in wonder. "Smells like pine and smoke."

"But here's the best part." I killed the lights and clicked on the projector, throwing stars all around the room.

He sighed and laid his head back, eyes tracking the ceiling in wonder.

Elliot was at my elbow, watching him with the same awe I felt, but I found myself watching her. She struck me in that moment, a quiet moment, a moment of reverence.

She was all I'd ever wanted, and she was here, right here. All I had to do was reach out and touch her. All I had to do was ask.