“I’m pretty sure that was the last one she gave me,” Mauve said.
“A compass. Appropriate to give to an almost adult.”
There was one ornament left at the very bottom, wrapped in a scrap of cloth rather than tissue paper. She unwrapped it slowly. Inside was a small silver locket ornament, hinged, hanging from a ribbon. She opened it to find a photo of herself at maybe five or six, sitting in her grandmother’s lap on a porch swing, both of them squinting into the sun.
“This was her porch,” Mauve said. “She lived a few hours from us, but we visited often. Usually just my mom, sister, and me. My mother was devastated when Nana died. They’d been close. More so than I ever was with my mom. But she’d fought three bouts of cancer. It finally got her.”
“Why weren’t you close with your mom?” Jason asked.
“Probably because I moved away and kind of never looked back. I haven’t been home since before my divorce.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know. I guess it kind of depresses me to go there. My dad’s difficult. When I was in high school, we fought a lot. After I left for college, I rarely went home. The household always felt on edge, like we were on the verge of a huge fight. My mother would get so tense when we were all together. PTSD from my teenage years maybe? But, I don’t know, it just felt easier for all of us if I stayed away. But I miss my mom. And my grandmother, for thatmatter. I’ve kept busy enough, though, that I don’t think about them much.”
“I understand what you mean. After I lost my mom, I went out west and rarely came home much after that. It was hard to see my Uncle Walter and his boys, all close and happy when my mom was gone. Plus, I had Roan. Wherever he is feels like home.”
“And now?”
“After last Christmas, I started thinking maybe there was more here for me than I thought. Aunt Grace and Uncle Walter were so welcoming, even though I’ve been terrible at staying in touch.” He hesitated for a second before taking the compass and placing it on the tree where it dangled in space instead of showing anyone the way home. “And I miss my brother. It’s been an adjustment living out there without him.”
“I’m glad you’ll get some time with him,” Mauve said.
“It’s going too fast already.” He sat next to her on the floor. “Could you ever see yourself living anywhere else but Sugarville Grove?”
“When I moved here, it felt like I’d finally found my place. My best friend’s here. I have work I love. My little house.” But no Jason. The thought of the empty days of January made her more morose than it should. He was only a fling. A blip in her life. The sooner she accepted that, the better.
“You’re sad again,” Jason said. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t want you to leave. Like ever.”
His eyes darkened. “I have to.”
“I know. I know that. But it’s impossible for me not to wish our lives were more compatible.”
“Yeah, me too.” He kissed her lightly. “There are planes, you know.”
“I want to build a life with someone. Here in Sugarville Grove. The more planes I hop to find you, the less chance I’ll have to …”
“To what?”
“To have a family. A baby.”
He nodded, his mouth curling into a grimace. “And your clock’s ticking.”
“Right.”
“I wish I was the guy who could give you all of that, but I’m not. It’s not just my work. I’m not cut out for a conventional life. And you deserve someone who wants the same things as you.”
Mauve nodded, fighting tears. “I know you’re right, but I’ve missed you since our magical week in California. And now you’ll leave at the end of our thirty days and I’ll be here alone, taking down this tree, packing up the ornaments that you helped me hang.”
“I wish things were different.”
“So do I.”
They sat in silence for a moment, Jason staring up at the ceiling, a muscle in his jaw working overtime.
“Do you want a cookie?” Mauve asked in a small voice, still fighting tears. .
