How (Not) to Fall in Love(96)

We park and Toby half falls, half climbs into the front seat, eager to get out of the car. Lucas removes his sunglasses, watching me with his usual sexy smirk.

“Give it up,” he says as I try to rein in my dog. “He’s a spaz.”

I open the door and Toby leaps out, making a beeline for the forest.

“You ready, Shaker Girl?”

“As much as I can be.”

We hike down the trail. Purple crocuses peek out of patches of spring snow that still linger in the shade. Lucas takes my hand, his grip warm and firm. I remember the first time he almost held my hand, when we’d walked Toby together and he’d told me how his dad had checked out, just like my mom.

Stonehenge is still in shambles from when I destroyed it.

“Show me what to do,” Lucas says, squeezing my hand. So I do, and together we rebuild it, using the old photo on my phone as our guide.

When we’re finished with the stones, I ask him to dig a small hole in the center of the circle. He does, but I realize we’re missing something. Frantically I search for the heart stone, dropping to my knees to dig in the dirt.

“What is it?” Lucas asks.

Toby rushes into the circle, screeching to a stop next to me. I’m about to scold him, when I see the corner of the stone sticking out from under his paw. He’s unearthed it for me. I reach out to smooch his head. He slurps my cheek, and then bounds out of the circle, managing to do so without knocking down any stones.

“This.” I hand it to Lucas. He takes it, then reaches for me with his other hand and pulls me to my feet.

“Cool.”

“My dad and I found it a long time ago. We made wishes on it every time we came up here.”

Lucas presses the stone into my hand, his grip warm and reassuring.

“Make your wish,” he says.

“Not yet.” I hand the stone back to him. I retrieve my messenger bag from outside of the circle, and remove a Ziploc bag that holds all of Dad’s postcards. A deep sigh shudders through me. Lucas’s arm wraps around my shoulders. My eyes lift to his. Even though I know how much he loves me, sometimes it still takes my breath away when I see it in his face.

I drop to my knees and place the postcards in the hole. Lucas shovels dirt, burying the images forever.

“Now,” I say, palm uplifted. He hands me the heart stone.

I place the heart stone on the mound of dirt and close my eyes. A million wishes flood my mind. How can I make just one?

Who says I need to?

So I wish, and wish, and wish.

After a bit, Lucas asks softly, “Are you ready?”

I sink back on my heels and look around at our stones. The Sullivans promised they’d leave it like this as long as they owned the cabin. On the hills surrounding us, many of the old pines are brown from beetle kill, but there’s new life, too. Young green flashes of it catch my eye everywhere I look.

I pick up the heart stone and put it in my pocket. I stand, brushing dirt off my pants. I squint into the sun as I smile up at Lucas.

“You’re not leaving the heart stone here?” Lucas asks.

I shake my head. “I’m bringing it to my dad.”

He smiles down at me, then drapes his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close as we walk together.

“Let me drive your car?” I ask. “I feel like going fast.” He grins and tosses me his keys.

Mom texts me as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I send back.

“I visited Dad before work,” she texts. “He sends his love.”

Mom is the director of Sprites, a daycare center less than a mile from our new home. She got a small business loan to open the center. She tried every bank in town, refusing to take no for an answer. Eventually she got a yes.

The truth about Dad and Harvest is out there now, on the web, in the papers, on the business news channels. So is the truth about J.J. Like Dad always said, no matter how deeply a seed is planted, it always finds the light of day. Eventually.

Over the past few months, I’ve forgiven J.J. because I know he couldn’t imagine a different life than the one Harvest provided for him and his family. I know he was terrified Harvest wouldn’t survive if Dad told the truth. I also found an old show of Dad’s on YouTube, where he talked about forgiveness, and how it opens you up to possibilities you can’t even imagine.

And in the end, J.J.’s still the guy who gave me the pink Barbie bike and taught me how to ride without training wheels. That’s the guy I want to remember.

“Illness isn’t failure,” Mom said at the press conference she’d called after she’d returned from Wyoming and gotten Dad settled in a local facility. She’d been so brave facing those TV cameras and clamoring reporters. I’d been so proud of her as I’d stood next to her. When it was my turn to talk I’d taken my inspiration from her, and from Dad, speaking directly to the cameras, my voice clear and strong. “My dad made mistakes,” I said. “And he regrets them. But he never meant to hurt anyone. All he ever wanted was to inspire people to do more than they thought they could. To become who they were meant to be.”

I’ll visit Dad later today and give him the heart stone. We’ll sit outside on a bench in the bright Colorado sun. He’ll listen while I tell him funny stories from my time at Liz’s, about the movies Lucas and I’ve seen, and the crazy costumes Sal wore in the Woodbridge spring play. I’ll tell him I’ve decided to turn down the scholarship opportunity that Woodbridge offered me. I’m going to do my senior year at Sky Ridge instead. I’ll drag Lucas to one last school dance, only I won’t puke in his car like the goddess. Since Mark is graduating this year, my only friend left at WA is Sal, and we’ll always see each other, no matter what. Friends for life.