CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Have you recovered from our Thanksgiving adventures?”
“I feel as if I should be askingyouthat,” Jasper says. “I’m used to the Perry chaos.”
I laugh. ‘The Perry chaos’ pretty much sums it up. The rest of Thanksgiving was just as loud and hectic as the beginning was. That didn’t stop the pang of sadness when Gwen and Evan said it was time to leave, though. Despite knowing they wanted—andneeded—a proper day off to themselves, I couldn’t help wishing we were spending one more night in Toronto. Even if it meant having to sleep on Jasper’s couch.
Now it’s Wednesday, and Jasper and I are heading for our mystery destination. Gwen and Evan are doing some last-minute wedding prep stuff and will be joining us later this afternoon for Jasper’s surprise.
“I thoroughly enjoyed myself,” I tell Jasper. “Although Ididsleep in until almost noon on Monday, which is pretty much unheard of for me.”
“I slept in too,” Jasper says. “Hadley startled me awake checking to see if I was still alive.” Lips twitching, his eyes leave the road for a second to look at me when I let out a snort of laughter. “I expected everyone to leave after the three of you set out for Bellevue. Malcolm and Sherée were in no hurry, though, and even Lina was quite content to stay. It was wonderful having them there. Having themwantto be there.”
My heart swells at the hint of wonder in his voice. Casually hanging out with his siblings must have been a dream come true for him. “That’s great, Jasper.”
He smiles, keeping his eyes on the road now. “I actually wanted to thank you.”
“Me?What for?”
“Well, for so many of our conversations these last few weeks, but especially the one we had Saturday night. Sharing my worries about things changing and my family distancing themselves lessened the fear. And it better prepared me for a conversation my siblings and I had on Sunday night…”
He trails off and I give him a minute. By now, I know he occasionally needs time to collect his thoughts and figure out the best way to say something.
“Somehow the topic of Christmas came up,” he says. “I think I must have tensed up because Malcolm and Sherée shared a look with each other, then with my sisters.” He takes a deep breath and gives his head a little shake. “I’ll give you the short version: Malcolm said that while they still want us to spend Christmas together as a family, they don’t think it’ll be feasible to go away this year with Elizabeth being so young and them wanting to stick to a routine. They’d also like to start some new traditions of their own, while staying true to the overall Perry traditions. He also pointed out Gwen and Evan will be newlyweds and might want some time on their own over the holidays. He suggested we do all the things we’ve always done, but spread them out over the month of December. He was inspired by Evan and Gwen’s pre-wedding plans: smaller, more flexible events rather than one big affair.”
“That sounds fun.” I say it cautiously because his tone and expression have remained neutral, not giving away how he feels about this development.
“It does.” He turns to me briefly, giving me a glimpse of the bright smile overtaking his face. “It really does. Spreading it out means getting to see more of my siblings, and that’s something I’ve always longed for.”
“I’m so happy for you, Jasper.” I want so badly to reach out and touch him. To lay my hand on his shoulder or thigh, give a gentle, affectionate squeeze. I clasp my hands in my lap to keep them to myself.
“I’m happy too,” he says. “I’ve been so rigid in wanting things to be a certain way. Despite all the changes with my siblings in the last year, I feared the growing closeness was fleeting, especially as most of them move into new phases of their lives. But change is a part of life, as you said. It’s necessary for growth; I see that now. You’d think I’d have learned that lesson before the age of forty, yet here we are.” He laughs softly, shaking his head.
My left hand develops a mind of its own, breaking free from where it’s clasped in my lap, and settling on Jasper’s forearm. At first, his only reaction is a barely-there twitch of his lips. Then his left hand releases the steering wheel and moves to cover mine. He squeezes my fingers, meeting my eyes for a second before returning his attention to the road and his hand to the steering wheel.
About an hour and a half into our trip, we stop at a Tim Hortons for a bathroom and coffee break. We’ve been heading steadily north and, since I’ve never ventured in this direction, I have no idea where we are. The drive has been beautiful so far: endless stretches of fields and farmland mixed with quaint villages, all of which boast a plethora of trees donning their autumn best. I’ve had to stop myself at least a dozen times from begging Jasper to pull over so I could take pictures. I do snap a few shots of the nearby forest before we hop back in the car and get moving again, though.
“Do I get any hints yet about where we’re going?” I ask as we return to the highway. This isn’t the first time I’ve posed the question, although Jasper has remained tight-lipped every time.
“Nope. But I can tell you we’re a little over halfway there.”
“And you won’t even give me a hint about what we’re doing? Shouldn’t I be prepared if I’m going to help you?”
“Nice try, Ms. Stewart. We’ll have plenty of time to set up before my brother and Gwen arrive. In fact—” His words cut off abruptly and his arm flies out across my chest as he slows the car. I brace myself for impact, my gaze flying from him to the road. But there’s nothing in the road. Not a car in sight.
“What just happened?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“My apologies,” he says, slowing the car more and pulling onto the gravel shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you. There was…” He peers into the rearview mirror and then jerks around to look out the back window. Movement catches my eye in the side mirror and I turn to see a short-legged, floppy-eared dog loping toward the car.
“Is that a basset hound?” I ask.
“I believe so,” Jasper says. “It was running in the middle of the road.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. The dog has reached the car by the time Jasper gets around to the back. “Hello there,” I hear him say through the open door. “It’s poor form to go running down the middle of the highway, you know.”
Stifling a laugh, I get out of the car and join man and dog. The dog—who appears quite elderly and is so fat his stomach almost brushes the ground—gives a deep ‘woof’ as Jasper bends to pet him. When he spots me, he abandons Jasper and comes over, plopping down on my booted feet.
“Your new friend there doesn’t have any tags,” Jasper says.
“He’s too well-fed to be a stray, wouldn’t you say?” I ask, stooping to run my hands over the dog’s long, silky ears.
