Page 111 of Keepsake
“I can’t wait!” May said.
“Me neither.
33
Dear Zach
Dear Zach,
I’d liketo visit you and May right after Christmas. But I wanted to make sure it was okay with you. Being with me this fall couldn’t have been easy, so I just wanted to check that you’re ready to see me. If you’d rather I reschedule for another time, just let May know, and I promise I’ll understand.
Love,
Lark
34
Lark
Zach wasn’tthe only one who had trouble with his Christmas shopping.
Now that I’d made a plan to visit the Shipleys, I hit the stores, looking for gifts. I got May some of our favorite overpriced lip glosses from a crowded shop on Newbury Street.
It was another sign I was feeling better—my zeal to shop outweighed my new dislike of crowds.
Choosing a gift for Zach should have been easy, since he didn’t own much. But I struggled anyway, not wanting to choose something so personal that it seemed laden with expectation.
I eventually made my choices, then went home to wrap gifts. It was the evening of the twenty-third. There were still three days until I’d visit Vermont, but I was in a holiday mood, damn it. If I’d learned nothing else this year, it was that levity was fragile and should be enjoyed.
On the radio I found a Christmassy a cappella concert. I spread out my wrapping paper and purchases on the dining table, since my parents were headed out to a party for the evening.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” my mother asked, hovering.
“I’m sure! This is fun.” I didn’t feel like making small talk with their friends from the law school.
“What will you eat?” she worried.
“I’ll order something from the ramen place.”
My mother—God bless her—brought me the menu and the phone. So I ordered while she waited, just to make her happy. Finally, they left.
I’d bought two things for Zach. One was a real gift, and one was…a gesture of sorts. Only Zach’s main present would be wrapped.
He’d told me that he hadn’t had Christmas as a child, and so I put a lot of effort into making the package beautiful. The gift went into a green box with red tissue. I wrapped it in candy-cane paper and tied a white bow around it.
The doorbell rang just as I wrote his name on a sparkly gift tag in the shape of a polar bear. Take that, Martha Stewart.
Humming along with the radio, I went to the door to retrieve my food order. When the delivery man handed over the bag, I tipped him fifty percent, because this was the holidays. He thanked me with a nice smile, which I easily returned.Look at me getting into the holiday spirit. Go me!
As I stepped back to close the door, my gaze snagged on a tall figure pacing slowly down the street, a scrap of paper in hand, studying the house numbers. The streetlights glinted off the most golden strands of his hair and illuminated a familiar set of broad shoulders swinging as he walked.
Still, I didn’t trust my eyes until he was only one house away. Even then, it felt premature to call out his name. I must be mistaken. “Zach?”
He stopped, his chin lifting quickly in my direction. Then he smiled.
We just stared at each other, until I finally snapped out of it. “Omigod!” I squealed. Even though I wasn’t wearing shoes, I set my dinner down in the open doorway and ran down the four steps, onto the short brick walkway that connected our row house with the sidewalk.
He opened his arms just before impact. I launched myself onto him, grabbing him into a tight hug. Then I found myself leaving the ground. “You have bare feet,” he laughed into my hair. “Come on.” He carried me toward the house and up the stairs. Over his shoulder I saw a passerby giving me a frown. Just jealous, probably.
