The Birthday List(104)

Not wasting time by parking in the garage, I left my truck in the driveway and hustled across the snow-covered yard, taking the porch steps two at a time. But the moment my foot landed at the top, I froze.

Leaned against the front door were two books. One I’d never seen before. One I had. It was Jamie Maysen’s journal for his birthday list. And on top of both books was a letter with my name curled in Poppy’s fancy handwriting.

I picked up both books and the letter, not bothering to go inside and get out of the cold, then sat in one of the rocking chairs and started with the letter.



Cole,



Exactly one year ago, I decided to finish Jamie’s birthday list. I was standing in the kitchen at my house and taking a selfie. That’s how this all started. One selfie of me crying in front of a chocolate birthday cake.



I wish I could go back to that day, not to erase this last year, but to tell myself to hold on. To tell myself to keep breathing, because pretty soon, someone special would come into my life and make it easier. I’d tell myself not to cry, because he’d be there to help me finish the birthday list. He’d hold my hand when I needed to borrow some strength. He’d let me cry into his shirt when I couldn’t hold back the tears. He’d make it easy to fall in love again.



Because I do. I love you, Cole. I can prove it too. Do me a favor. Put this letter down and look at the big book. And don’t just flip through it. Really stop and look.



I set down the letter and opened the large book. Except it wasn’t a book—it was a photo album. Poppy had printed out all of her daily pictures and made me this book.

My heart twisted as I stared at the first page. Seeing her first picture hurt. Just as she’d described in the letter, there was Poppy—beautiful, but miserable—standing next to a cake filled with burning candles.

The pages that followed weren’t a lot better. Her blue eyes were dull and her smiles were forced. She looked like a ghost of my Poppy.

I kept flipping, hating every one of these pictures, until I got about halfway through the book and the pain in my chest started to ease. The halfway point was when the photos started to include the restaurant. Poppy’s smiles actually reached her eyes, and a handful of pages later, I found the photo I’d taken of her the day we’d walked in the park. The day she’d joked about having a big nose.

From there, the photos were all ones I recognized, since I’d taken most of them. I thumbed through the rest of the book quickly, wanting to get back to Poppy’s letter, but I stopped on the last page.

Unlike the middle of the book, this page wasn’t a collage, but just one photo. It was a simple picture, entirely of Poppy’s face. Her eyes were bright, like they were whenever I made her laugh. Her smile was wide, like it was whenever I told her that I loved her.

Her happiness radiated off the page, and I soaked it up for a few moments before going back to the letter.



Did you see it?



I nodded.



You did that, Cole. You. You and all of these crazy coincidences that brought us together. Now do one more thing for me. Flip through Jamie’s birthday list.



I set down the letter again and opened the leather journal. I went through it quickly since not much had changed from the first time Poppy had shown me this list. The only difference was that she’d added marks to the items she’d completed.

All of them were marked, except one.

50th Birthday: Change someone’s life

Why hadn’t she marked that one done? She’d changed many lives. Tuesday Hastings’s. Jimmy’s. Randall’s. Molly’s. Finn’s.

Mine.

So why would she leave that box empty?

Confused, I went back to the letter.



I’m not checking the last box, because I don’t have to. Jamie finished that one himself. He changed my life. And he changed yours. His birthday list changed us both. I started his list, hoping I’d find closure. Hoping I’d be able to let go of the past and start to live for the future. But I was wrong. Finishing the list didn’t give me a future.



You did.



Read these words until you believe them. Nothing you did caused Jamie’s death. Nothing you did could have prevented it. I know it to the very bottom of my soul. Just like I know now that I’m not to blame either. And just like I know that life is too short to waste.



Love,

Poppy



The minute I read the last line, a car door slammed shut, bringing me back to reality. Poppy’s car was parked on the street and she was opening up the trunk.

The dull throb in my head vanished and the ache in my chest disappeared with just one look at her beautiful face. If I was her future, then she was mine.

She ducked into the trunk, lifted out a box, then shoved the trunk closed with her elbow before coming up the sidewalk. Her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold and her breath trailed behind her in tiny, white clouds as she stepped up to the porch.

I set aside the letter and the books, then stood from the rocking chair to take the box from her hands, putting them down by my feet. “Hi.”

“Hi. Did you get my letter? I probably should have left it inside, but you weren’t here and I thought you’d see it with the chairs.”