Page 26 of Never Too Late

“Then what’re you doing?” he asked his girl, his eyes were still glued to my mouth. I had a sudden urge to take his head in my hands, pull his face to mine so I could kiss him.

It was so strong, I could feel my smile dripping away. I closed my eyes, gulped and looked back down to Zara. A new smile, a fake one in place.

“I was telling her she should come with us so you can cut the tree for her. The bestest one,” she exclaimed.

“That’s...”

“Sounds good,” Dylan said over me. I whipped my head back to look if somebody else was standing in his place since I was positive he would never utter those words. But nope, he was still there, extending his hand to his daughter, he carried on like nothing was weird in his statement. “We’re going in two days. I’ll come and get you in the morning. Now, baby girl, we have to go to the well so you can put up your drawing.”

“See you in two days, doctor lady,” Zara shrieked over her shoulder, her father tugging her gently to get a move on.

“Sophie, honey,” I yelled.

“What?” She stopped and tilted her head.

“My name’s Sophie. You can call me that.” And with one last broad smile that warmed my entire existence, she nodded and ran to her dad.

Dylan didn’t look back at me.

“It’s time, Sophie,” Mrs. McConnell said, thrusting the Christmas flower or Christmas star in my hands. She looked up to the cloudless dark sky and muttered bizarrely. “It’s the right moon. And it’s your time. Do what you need to do.”

I had no idea what she was on about with the moon. But I looked to the well and could see that she was right. It was time.

The decorations were all set. There were white Christmas lights going up from the first stone on the ground, all around and up the wooden posts, then up again right along the edges of two slates that formed a little roof. There were also a bunch of them falling out of the steel bucket, giving the illusion of water flowing down and into the well’s darkness. And all along those lights, little ornaments were hung. Each and every citizen of Hopeful came to and hung the ornament of their choosing.

Each and every one, except me.

I didn’t feel like I had a right to do it. I didn’t live in Hopeful for seventeen years. So I stayed behind with tourists and watched as they decorated it.

And now was the time to put the flower in the bucket.

“Are you sure?” I asked for probably the thousandth time since they told me the decision. Usually the town council chose who would put the flower into the bucket. Somehow that single thing became the most important of all, and to give it meant you had the respect of the whole town.

For the last twenty-five years that someone was my grandmother.

But she wasn’t here with us anymore.

“Yes.” Mrs. McConnell pushed me gently to go and do what I was told.

I wasn’t far from the well. I remembered how she did it. She was always proud to walk to the well and put the simple plant in a bucket. And she always wore the most glorious smile in the world. It was as if all her pain faded away for the five minutes that it took to do it. As I walked to it, I missed her more and more. And with each step a new tear formed in my eyes and with each new one it fell down my face.

I came to it and had to step on to the wooden step that was brought out every year so it would be easier to get to the bucket. There were someone’s hands on my waist, but I could barely feel them. As I came close to it, the warmth spread through me, a sense of lightness swallowed my body. And what seemed to be impossible happened.

I heard my grandmother whisper in my ear.

It’s time, my Sophie. Do it. Speak from your heart.

I had no idea what she meant. But as I put the pot in the nest of lights, I raised my head and my eyes landed on Dylan.

The soft Christmas music that played, faded into the night. All the smiling faces disappeared. I could only see him as he stood, his legs spread a little, his arms crossed on his chest over his vest, his eyes gentle. And he was watching me right back.

Say it, Sophie.

My grandmother’s voice urged in my mind.

A movement caught my eyes and I looked from Dylan’s eyes to his legs.

And there she was.