Page 126 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked Macy for the third time, watching her help Zoe with a puzzle at the kitchen table. It had been six weeks since Jessica's funeral. She’d been doing great. The most resilient kid I’ve ever heard of, yet the thought of leaving her felt like abandoning a bird with a broken wing.
“Felicity, I’m fine,” Macy said, not looking up from the puzzle piece she was examining. “Aunt Maliyah is here. Dr. Chen says you guys need time together and—well I need time away from you guys!” At that, she looked up at me, eyes wide—making a point. Okay, got it. We are smothering you.
“Point taken.” I smirked and sighed at the same time. Brad was firmly locked away, no chance of that changing in this lifetime given all that had happened.
Maliyah appeared in the doorway, coffee mug in hand. “We’re going to have the best time. Movie marathons, pancake dinners, maybe even some late-night ice cream if certain people finish their homework.”
Lucas looked up hopefully. “Even me?”
“Especially you, buddy.” Maliyah smiled at her son. It was so good to have her home. I can’t wait to see what the future will bring for her.
Caden wheeled our suitcases to the door, and I noticed how amazing this felt. Doing life together, not watching him rush off to a business trip, and neither of us running for our lives!
“Two weeks,” I said, still hardly believing it. Walking up to my husband, I said, “We’re really doing this.”
“Fourteen days,” he corrected with a small smile. “Two days for every year we’ve been married. I figured we had some catching up to do.” He leaned forward, placing his forehead on mine, and smiled.
His words and the gesture hit me square in the chest. This wasn’t just a vacation—it was a promise. A commitment to making up for lost time, one day at a time.
Then we heard Macy’s voice call out, “If you’re going to make out, could you do it on the other side of the door? Gross.”
Day Two — Vermont (Caden)
The inn near Stowe was everything I’d hoped for—rustic but elegant, there was a stunning fireplace that didn’t just look nice, but it actually worked. Our room had a view of mountains painted in shades of October garnet, coffee, and gold. Felicity had spent the morning on the small balcony with her coffee, just watching the leaves dance on the wind, drifting down, as they fell from their branches a little at a time.
I’d been carrying the sweater in my bag since we left Boston, wrapped in tissue paper like it was something precious instead of the slightly lopsided disaster it actually was. I’d started it soon after Jessica had passed, teaching myself from YouTube videos during lunch breaks—and truth be told during conference calls that droned on. The first attempt looked like it belonged on a scarecrow. The second wasn’t much better.
“I have something for you,” I said, pulling the package from my bag.
She looked surprised. “Already? We just got here."
“It’s not... it’s not what you’d expect.” I handed her the tissue-wrapped bundle, suddenly nervous—my hands sweating. “I made it myself.”
She unwrapped it carefully, and I watched her face as she held up the navy-blue sweater. It was wool, as tradition called for on our seventh anniversary. It was clearly handmade by someone who was horribly unfamiliar with how to hold knitting needles.
“Caden,” she said softly, running her fingers over the uneven stitches—one of her fingers catching in a loop. My God, what was I thinking—it was awful. “You made this?” She asked.
“I know it’s terrible. I spent weeks on it at work—Nathan kept finding me in my office with yarn everywhere. But I wanted to give you something I’d actually put time into. Real time.”
She slipped it on over her shirt. It was slightly too big in the shoulders and a little short in the arms—one arm seemed shorter than the other. Damn it. But she didn’t seem to care and instead wore it like it was cashmere.
“It’s perfect,” she said, and I could hear she meant it. “You’re right when you said it was something I wouldn’t expect. It’s much better than I would expect. This shows your heart and tells me where you invested your time.”
“There’s something else,” I said after clearing my throat. “But that’s for a different day.”
“I don’t need anything else. I love this.” She looked down at my handiwork, running her hands along the stitching, smiling thewhole time. My heart couldn’t even fathom this woman and the love it felt for her.
Day Five — New Hampshire (Felicity)
The Kancamagus Highway was everything the travel guides promised—a tunnel of red and gold stretching through the White Mountains. We’d stopped at every scenic overlook we could, taking pictures of every kind—silly, fun, serious, scenic. You name it, our phones captured it.
We breathed in the crisp October air every chance we could. October weather in New England isn’t the most predictable, but the sunny days were worth a hundred of the gray ones, and we had so many sunny ones that it was like a down payment on the winter to come.
Caden had been different on this trip. Not just attentive, but wholly and completely present. No phone calls with work. No distracted conversations. When I spoke, he listened like my words were the most important thing in his universe.
We were walking along a trail near the Swift River when he stopped suddenly.
“This feels right,” he said, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.
