“Star. Tree. Snowmen.Riveting.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, you wanted me to share. I could just read you the phonebook.”
“You don’t own a phone book. Get back to the star. Whathappened?”
“First, you need to know Ihatedthatstory.”
“This is supposed to be a happy memory,Delaney.”
“Shut up. I’m getting there. I hated the story because it always made mesad.”
He grunted. “Why?”
“Dad asked me that one night when he found me staring at the Christmas tree and crying. I tried to lie. I was never very good at lying tohim.”
“No,” he agreed, “youweren’t.”
I liked that Ryder knew that about me. That he had been there in my life, known me thatlong.
“I told him the story made me sad. I was sorry for the star because when it fell, it had to leave behind all its family and friends. Even though it got to shine bright as a Christmas star for a few days, after that it would be all alone, stuck down on earth and looking up at the friends and the place it would never be a part ofagain.
“Still with me,Ryder?”
“I’m here. Little lonely star far away from home and friends. You know, you could have come up with a less depressing story to take my mind off mysituation.”
“There’s more to it. Dad told me distance couldn’t keep us from the ones we love. He said we are all made of stardust, all a part of each other. Even though the little star was stuck here on earth, it carried its friends and family in its heart because it held the memory of the things they had shared, the laughter, the sorrow, the joy. He said we can’t lose those we love, because the sky, the earth, and everything between—including us—is part of the same thing:love.”
A pause tickedby.
“I miss him,” Ryder said. Still a little slurred, still a little slow. “Yourdad.”
“I do too. But when he told me that, it didn’t make me feel better. I was still sad for the littlestar.”
“Such a softy. How did you end up acop?”
I laughed. “A lot of hard work. Dad knew I was still sad. I could never hide that from him, either. So you know whathappened?”
“Mmmm?”
“I woke up on Christmas morning and the living room was filled with stars. Paper stars hung from the ceiling, from the windows, from the branches of the Christmas tree.” I swallowed a smileremembering.
“He’d cut a hundred paper stars out of gold, silver, white, and blue. Must have taken him hours to hang them all. Written on every single one of them was one word:love.”
I was quiet while I tried to corral the emotions that came along with the memory. I hadn’t thought about that Christmas morning inyears.
“He told me the stars had come down from the heavens to visit the Christmas tree star so it wouldn’t be lonely. He told me it was a Christmas wish cometrue.”
“Delaney,” he said, as if just talking was taking every ounce of energy he had. Or maybe the story had touched him, a little bit of my remembered joy and sorrow nowhis.
“I need to say something. I should have said it a long time ago. Thought I’d have time. Thought we’d havetime…”
“Don’t,” I interrupted, afraid that if he said something, if he said he loved me, he’d really be saying good-bye.
“Just save whatever you have to say for when you come home. Because you promised you’d come home,Ryder.”
“Laney…I’msorry.”
