“I don’t feel like any of those houses wereit,” Mia says from the back seat. After touring the final house, we picked up Bree, who was doing some work at Coffee Cottage. She and Mia wanted to see whatever birthday present Theo has hiding at the A-frame.
Theo hums in agreement, turning the steering wheel to pull us into the driveway. “Me either.”
“It’s still helpful to see places you don’t like,” Bree says. “Then you get closer to figuring out what you do.”
The truck comes to a stop in front of the A-frame and Theo shuts it off. No one moves for a moment as his gaze travels over the cabin. Iwatch his eyes trace the peaked roof and porch, a muscle flickering in his jaw. “Yeah,” he murmurs, sounding almost in a daze. “I’m starting to figure it out.”
I follow his gaze and sweep my eyes over A-frame. The rain has stopped, but the skies are still a gloomy gray, painting the view in the same muted tones. But even though the world around it appears dull, the cabin seems to glow. A lamp got left on inside, and the golden light cascades over the front windows, making it seem soft and cozy—almost alive in there.
On the way inside, I cast a sad, quick glance at the empty flower beds around the porch. I’ve been weeding, giving the soil extra nutrients, and sending as many good vibes to those little tulips bulbs as I can—even whispering happy things to them on a regular basis—but they still haven’t broken through the ground, and on the tulip timeline, they’re behind. They might really be gone.
We take a brief intermission in the living room for Mia andBree to love excessively on Knocks before walking to the bedroom door. The sign that has been here all week greets me, but Theo pulls it down and tosses it aside.
“Ready?” he asks.
I whisper ayes, and he reaches past my hip to open the door and let it swing wide.
The sight before me makes my legs turn to jelly. Itilt back a bit to find Theo right behind me, and I lean against him at the threshold, absorbing as much as I can.
The atmosphere has completely changed. He has rearranged the room to build bookshelves along one wall—five long boards attached with brackets underneath. Gramps’s reading chair has been uncovered, and his favorite lamp is illuminating the dark green fabric.
Mia and Bree gasp behind me.
“Theo,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “It’s...”It’s everything.
The room calls to me in a visceral way, and I step inside. In the foggy back of my brain, I remember a few weeks ago when I couldn’t walk in here. When this room felt like a tomb. Cold and lonely.
Butnow. It’s brimming with possibilities. Even without the books, it feels warm. Welcoming. Homey.
Running my fingers along the wood, I walk the length of theroom, sensing everyone’s eyes on me.
“I can paint them if you want,” Theo offers, his voice soft. Iturn back to find him standing in the middle of the room, golden lamplight dancing across his features. His hands are shoved in his pockets. Shoulders by his ears. Dark gaze trained on me. Ashy smile hooking the corner of his mouth.
“No, they’re perfect,” I tell him. “The wood matches the A-frame.”
That lopsided smile widens as he leans on the edge of the table he has pushed against the wall. Beside him on the surface sit the six water-damaged books and the metal box of photos. “Thought you might want to organize the books yourself. I can carry boxes in for you.”
My heart leaps into my throat. Theo has built me this birthday gift in a house that isn’t mine, and I’m not sure how to reply.
“Come on,” Mia says, already carrying in a box. “It’ll take the four of us no time at all.”
Before I can reply, Bree is handing me a knife to cut through the tape. Idon’t think I’m emotionally prepared to see more of Gramps’s books, but there’s no time for my emotions to catch up as everyone heads to the living room to grab another box.
This is fine. Ican get Gramps’s books out and give them some fresh air. They deserve better than cramped cardboard boxes, and they’re probably safer on shelves anyway, given my house-flooding tendencies.
With my hands planted on the top of the nearest box, I draw in a deep breath. Nerves skitter under my skin, but I cut through the tape anyway and pull out the first book.
It’s a worn, hardback copy ofMy Side of the Mountainby Jean Craighead George. What a book to start with. Gramps read this to me countless times. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes as I open the front cover. Iglance around the room to make sure I’m alone, then pull the book to my nose, close my eyes, and inhale. It smells exactly the way I remember—exactly the scent I associate with Gramps—like old books that absorbed a little of his tea aroma over the years.
It hurtsdeepin my chest when that smell hits my lungs, like it’s digging right into the tender part of my heart. But I drag in another hit of it and my lips curve into a sad grin.
When I lower the book, Theo’s there, his gaze caressing my face. “You okay?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you for this,” I whisper. “All of it.”
His lips brush my temple in a soft kiss. “You’re welcome. Thought it might be time to get them out of boxes.”
My lungs constrict as I glide my hand over the title page, the old paper smooth under my fingers. “Other than the flood incident, I haven’t looked at these books since he died. Haven’t even read a paperback because...” I fade out, feeling my face pinch with grief.
