Page 13 of Until the Last Leaf Falls

“Why not sooner?”

“Because knowledge is not an easy gift, and you seemed unduly burdened already.”

Niles scoffed at that. “‘Unduly burdened’? How do you figure that? I have a roof over my head and food on the table. I have projects that keep my mind sharp and the means to build a library nobody visits.”

Orren’s smile wasn’t joyful then. “You have all this, yes. And yet, you seemed like a solitary tree to me, without companionship or even a shared history. You reached out over and over, but none of your efforts connected.” Tears glistened in Orren’s eyes when he met Niles’s gaze. “You’re clever, curious, considerate, and kind—and all these attributes set you apart. They created your fortune, but they left you lonely and disconnected. And I didn’t want to heap a secret on your head that widened that gap.”

“That’s…” Niles couldn’t even imagine code to describe what he felt, and words eluded him entirely. “That’s a lopsided way of looking at things,” he managed after a time. “Kindness is supposed to bring us closer together, not keep us apart.”

“In your world, it makes people uncomfortable. Offer something for free, and everyone looks at you askance and suspects you of ulterior motives. Am I not correct?”

“You’re saying building the library achieved the opposite of what I wanted? I’d hoped to meet people, become part of a community, and instead I… isolated myself?”

“Community is a two-way street,” Orren pointed out. “Which is why your trees are ecstatic you can now hear them. And I’m glad I plucked up the courage to make myself known to you.”

Niles wanted to laugh, and cry, and rage, but settled for making more coffee instead. The mundane actions soothed him more than a tantrum ever would. He was lousy at understanding people and their motivations, never mind he excelled at creating apps that gave them exactly what they wanted.

The conundrum made his head hurt.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “I’ll treasure these weeks and our conversations.” Niles gulped coffee, but then voiced the rest of his words. “Even if you’re going to leave me lonelier than before when you go.”

He was so spun into his thoughts, he barely noticed Orren taking the coffee cup from his hand. Then Orren wrapped his arms around him and held him, and the mix of strength and gentleness brought tears to Niles’s eyes. He hid his face against Orren’s shoulder, just as Orren had done in the glade, and cried out a heartache he’d never acknowledged before.

“Loneliness is not an ending. It’s just the precursor for a different kind of growth.” Orren’s fingers carded through Niles’s hair, the steady rhythm soothing. “Empty branches are a promise.”

Necessary Endings

Yielding to the wind’s admonition and power, the leaves in the glade fell faster. Niles gathered them up, as if keeping them out of sight meant the leaf-shed hadn’t happened. He didn’t want to return to his quiet, lonely existence, where his only human conversation consisted of ‘good morning’, ‘thank you’, and ‘have a lovely day’. Not after the contentment and simple happiness of the last few weeks, after having had the chance to discuss books, art, history, and the needs of trees with Orren. Not when his curiosity was far from sated, and he still had hundreds of questions.

“Don’t grieve for what hasn’t happened yet,” Orren admonished him one morning, when his morose mood must have made it onto his face. “You’re missing what’s good and beautiful right now.”

Niles stared at slick cobbles and misty drizzle, the nearly bare, drooping branches of his trees, then turned his head and took in Orren in deep green jeans and a jumper of muted orange. His russet curls tumbled this way and that and his dark eyes brimmed with warmth. “The only thing good and beautiful right now is you,” he muttered, and refused to feel embarrassed.

“Then look at me. What has changed in the world that none of you live in the present? You’re all so busy searching for the next exciting thing, you miss the breathtaking beauty that’s right in front of you.”

“We don’t miss it,” Niles disagreed with a lopsided smile. “We capture it in photos and post them online.”

“Dull ghosts, as dimensionless as pressed flowers. All your life is happening in these small, overlooked moments. You should cherish them, not ignore them.”

Sound advice from a man who could spend an hour contemplating the way sunlight moved across a maple leaf. Niles didn’t know why he argued, unless it was for the pleasure of hearing Orren’s voice.

He’d wondered, in the past, if sailors or polar explorers who had survived on rations for months at a time remembered their first decent meal and whether they’d take the time to savour it. Because Orren’s arrival had made him feel like those sailors, starved for comfort, and he had cherished every conversation.

And moping while he still had time to ask more questions was idiotic. Orren was right about that.

“Tell me, then,” he said. “Is there anything you miss from your human life?”

“Cats,” Orren replied without a moment’s hesitation. “For most of my adult life I had four, and when they weren’t following me around as if they’d missed their calling as guard dogs, they took over every padded surface in my study while I worked.” His smile had misty edges. “Though my valet complained endlessly about the cat hair on my coats and breeches.”

“You had a valet?” Niles couldn’t imagine employing a PA. The very idea of letting a stranger near his underwear… And why was it that every time Orren answered one of his questions, it sparked a dozen more?

“Gentlemen usually did.” Orren shrugged. “I watched the world change, Niles. I know it’s different now. But my memories are what they are.”

“And so they should be. I just… find it fascinating how well you fit into the modern world. As if it’s the most natural thing.”

“I watched the world change,” Orren repeated. “Nothing I encounter is unexpected. Though I wish I could try more of your food.”

“That can be arranged,” Niles said, unsure where the sudden boldness was coming from, but forging ahead anyway. “Would you like to stay and share dinner with me?”