He laughs. “I’ll give you a hint. Big bug eyes, four wings …”
“The dragonflies.” I place my hand over my chest, touched. “Oh, you guys. I’ve had so much fun finding them all week. Thank you so much. Really, that’s so sweet.” Tears begin to stream from my eyes. “They’re my favorite.”
Everyone laughs because of course they all know.
I wipe my eyes and open Jackson’s gift. “I don’t know if I can take much more.” I pause to rub my hand over my chest before ripping the last piece of paper off. “Oh.”
The tears come hard and fast. It’s a homemade frame, the kind kids make in school with tongue depressors. It’s covered in various sized colorful fingerprints. Rowan’s little print melts my heart. They’ve been made into tiny bugs, just like the ones on his old bug catcher.
I stare at the picture of my son and his family inside the frame. “I love it,” I tell him, standing up to hug him.
“Happy first Christmas, Mom,” he whispers in my ear.
Oh, Rachel. Look at our boy. He’s so sweet, and I know that’s thanks to you.
Raffe stands up and whistles. “Okay, none of you fuckers open your gifts until I tell you to.”
Everyone looks as confused as I do. “Are these bubbles?” Brody asks.
When Raffe gets to me, he doesn’t give me the same thing, and I have to say I’m a little disappointed.
Raffe blows on the little stick again, sending tiny bubbles floating above us as we lie in the grass.
“I love that you gave me bubbles for my birthday.” I smile up at the round rainbow swirls. “How can something so simple bring so much joy and beauty?”
He turns his head. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me? How do you do it?”
I laugh, my cheeks turning pink. “Are you saying I’m simple?”
“In the purest way,” he says, blowing bubbles in my face.
It makes me giggle. “Stop.” I try pushing him away.
He caps the bubbles. “Sorry about that. This isn’t your birthday gift.” He drops the bottle to the ground. “Impulse purchase,” he says, propping himself on an elbow beside me.“This is your real gift.” He opens his palm, and a chain dangles over my face.
I stare at the little silver spinning dragonfly at the end of it. “Raffe,” I whisper. “This is too much.”
He shows me the tiniest scratch on the back. “I got the old man at the jewelry store to lower the price,” he says proudly.
“It’s beautiful. They’re my favorite,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says. “Do you know why they have four wings?” he asks me.
“No.”
“It’s so they can carry angels on their backs.” He helps me to sit and then clasps the necklace around my neck. “You’re my angel,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, making me shiver.
Raffe hands me a small jewelry box. I look up at him confused, but when I open it, everything begins to make sense. He pulls me to my feet, taking the box from my shaking hands.
“Aspen still has the original,” he assures me. He spins me around to face the tree. He stands behind me and clasps the silver chain around my neck.
The lights blur on the tree as my fingers dance over the dragonfly resting just below my throat. I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling whole again.
His beard brushes against my ear. “You will always be my angel,” he whispers.
When my heart begins to beat again, I spin around, facing him.
He’s … oh my god! Is … is he proposing to me?
