Джей Эшер: What Light

“It’s a tradition,” he says, but he does drop a peppermint stick into his hot chocolate.

“Have you jumped on the trampoline today?” I ask.

“Abby and I had a backflip contest first thing.” He holds his stomach. “Which wasn’t the smartest thing to do after breakfast, but it was fun.”

Heather and Devon sit back in their chairs, watching us talk. It could be one of our last conversations and they seem in no rush to interrupt.

“Did you tell your mom you’d already found it?” I ask.

He sips his hot chocolate and smiles. “She threatened to give me all gift cards next year.”

“Well, she found the perfect gift this year,” I say. I lean over and give him a kiss.

“And on that note,” Heather says, “it’s time for our gifts.”

I almost can’t watch as Devon begins unwrapping his floppy-looking present. He draws out the uneven and still-too-short red-and-green scarf. He tips his head, turning it over and over. Then he smiles, possibly the biggest, most genuine smile I’ve seen on his lips. “Baby, you made this?”

Heather smiles back and shrugs.

“I love it!” He drapes the scarf around his neck and it barely hangs past his collarbone. “No one’s ever knit me a scarf before. I can’t believe how much time you must’ve spent on this.”

Heather is beaming and looks my way. I give her a nod and she scoots herself into Devon’s lap, hugging him. “I have been such a bad girlfriend,” she says. “I’m sorry. I promise to be better.”

Devon pulls back, confused. He touches the scarf. “I said I liked it.”

Heather moves back to her seat and then gives him an envelope with the comedy show tickets inside. He seems pleased by that, too, but not as much as by the scarf he continues to wear proudly.

Heather hands an envelope across the table to me. “It’s not for right now,” she says, “but I hope you’ll look forward to it.”

I open a printout that has been folded into thirds. It takes me a few seconds to decipher that it’s a receipt for a train ticket from here to Oregon. Over spring break! “You’re coming up to see me?”

Heather does a little shimmy dance in her seat.

I walk around to Heather and hug her so tight. I want to see Caleb’s reaction to her coming up to see me but I know I would overanalyze any look on his face. So I give Heather a kiss on the cheek and hug her again.

Devon places a small cylindrical gift in front of Caleb and then one in front of Heather. “I know we already had our perfect day, but I got the same thing for you and Caleb.”

Caleb weighs it in his hand.

Devon looks at me. “It actually has to do with you, Sierra.”

Caleb and Heather unwrap their gifts at the same time: A Very Special Christmas scented candles.

Caleb inhales deeply and then looks at me. “Yep. This’ll drive me crazy.”

I grab a candy cane, put it in my cup, and stir. I feel so overwhelmed at this moment. The morning is moving too fast, but it’s my turn to give presents now. I push one of the small wrapped boxes across the table to Heather.

“Good things come in small packages,” she says. She rips into the wrapping paper and then opens a hinged black velvet box. She holds up a silver bracelet that I bought downtown, where I also had it engraved with latitude and longitude: 45.5 ° N, 123.1 ° W .

“Those are the coordinates to our farm,” I say. “Now you can always find your way to me.”

She looks at me and whispers, “Always.”

I hand Caleb his gift. He’s meticulous about removing the wrapping, taking off one piece of tape at a time. Heather’s shoe touches mine beneath the table, but I can’t stop watching Caleb.

“Before you look inside,” I tell him, “don’t expect it to have cost anything.”

He dimple-smiles and takes out the glittery red box.

“But it took a lot of care,” I say, “and a lot of tears, and a lot of memories that I will never let go of.”

He looks down at the box, with the top still on. When his dimple fades, I think he knows what’s inside. If he does, he knows how much it means that I’m giving it to him. He carefully lifts off the top. The painted-on Christmas tree is faceup.

I look over at Heather. Her hands are clasped and pressed against her lips.

Devon looks at me. “I don’t get it.”

Heather hits him on the shoulder. “Later.”

Caleb looks stunned, his eyes staying on the gift. “I thought this was in Oregon.”

“It was,” I say. “But it needs to be here.” The gift that arrived with it, tickets to a dance that I don’t know if I’ll attend, is still in the trailer hidden behind our picture with Santa.

He lifts the tree cutting from the box, his fingertips holding the bark ring. “This is irreplaceable,” he says.

“It is,” I say, “and it’s yours.”

He hands me an unwrapped sparkly green box held together with red ribbon. I slide off the ribbon and then pull off the top. Resting on a thin layer of cotton is another tree cutting, from a tree about the same size as the one I gave him. There’s a Christmas tree painted in the middle with an angel perched on top. I look at him, confused.

“I went back to your tree on Cardinals Peak,” he says. “The one that was cut. Part of it needs to return home with you.”

Now Heather and I both put a hand over our mouths. Devon drums his fingers on the table.

“A few weeks ago, I bought you something else,” Caleb says. He pulls out a nearly see-through gold cloth bag. “Note, this bag is diaphanous.”

I laugh. “It is very diaphanous,” I say. Through the delicate fabric I can see a golden necklace. I loosen the drawstrings that hold the bag shut and shake out a necklace with a small pendant of a duck in flight.

His voice is soft. “Something else we wait on to come south every winter.”

I meet his stare, and it feels like Heather and Devon aren’t even in the room with us.

Heather takes the cue. “Babe, come help me find some Christmas music.”

Without breaking eye contact, I slip into Caleb’s arms and kiss him. Then I bring my head to his shoulder, wishing I never had to leave this spot.

“Thank you for the present,” he says.

“Thank you for mine.”

A slow Christmas instrumental begins in the next room. Caleb and I don’t move until after the third song begins.

“Can I drive you back?” he asks.

I sit up and pull my hair away from my neck. “Will you put the necklace on me first?”

Caleb hangs the pendant below my collarbone and then secures the clasp behind my neck. I try to memorize every brush of his fingertips against my skin. We grab our coats and then say goodbye to Heather and Devon, who lean against each other on the couch.

The short drive back feels lonely even though Caleb is right beside me. It feels like we’re in the process of returning to our own worlds. I touch my necklace several times and see him glance at me each time I do it.

I step out of the truck. When my feet touch the dirt I feel glued to the earth. “I don’t want this to be it,” I say.

“Does it have to be?” he asks.

“You’ve got dinner with your mom and Abby, and we’ll be working all night to take this place down,” I say. “Mom and I leave in the morning.”

“Do me a favor,” he says.

I wait.

“Believe in us.”

I nod and bite my lip. I step back and close my door, offering a small wave. He drives away and I say a prayer.

Please. Don’t let this be the last time I see Caleb.

Several of the ballplayers, plus Luis and Jeremiah, work on lowering the Bigtop. Others take down the snowflake lights and wrap up the cords. I help people who come to take our remaining trees. For a few dollars each, they can let them dry out for bonfires. Employees from City Parks bring their trucks and we load them up with trees to submerge in nearby lakes as reefs.