Page 102 of Dear John

“Okay, hand me the one on the ground.”

I did as she asked, handing her one piece after another. It was a fairly simple setup, and when it was all together, it seemed rather idiotic that I hadn’t been able to figure that out on my own.

Standing, she smiled at the sad tree. “It’s a shame there’s no power. I bet it would be a beautiful tree all lit up.”

“Is it supposed to look so skimpy?”

“Well, you have to fan out the branches. It’s been all scrunched up. If we were at my house, I would spend probably an hour just on making this tree look perfect and full.”

“Then what would you do?” I asked, watching her as she stared at the tree with a smile on her face. It was like she could see it coming to life in front of her. I absently reached up and pressed against a growing ache in my chest.

“Well, you have to do the lights next. Some people just wind them around the tree like psychos. But I would feed them in and out of each branch, wrapping them around each one to give the illusion that they’re lit from the inside out.”

“And then?” I could stand here for hours and listen to her talk about decorating the Christmas tree. I’d never seen anyoneget so worked up over the proper way to put up a tree. I found it amusing and confounding at the same time.

“The garland goes next. Some people like tinsel. My grandma used to have us spread tinsel all over the tree, but it caused a horrible mess.”

“And what do you prefer?”

“Well, that depends on the theme of the year.”

“There’s a theme?”

“Of course,” she said, her eyes lighting up even in the darkness. “Some people like the classic gold garland with a colorful tree. I would go with color lights in that case. Then there’s the blue and white theme, which only has white lights and it looks best on a white tree.”

“Isn’t a white tree kind of…anti-Christmas?”

She gasped, turning a glare on me. “I won’t have you speak ill of the blue and white tree. It’s amazing and beautiful.”

I held up my hands to let her know I wouldn’t broach the subject again.

“But my personal favorite is the red and white tree. I’d like a big one—like nine feet tall. I’ve only ever had a six-foot tree.”

“Real or fake?”

“Sadly, I’ve only ever had fake trees. But I always thought it would be fun to go cut down my own tree. Shawn and I tried it once, but it was a disaster. And then he always told me he was too busy to do it. I think he really just didn’t want to fail at it again.”

“How do you fail at chopping down a tree?”

I caught the slight twitch of her lips as she turned to me. “He couldn’t chop it down with an axe.”

“When we get out of here, I’ll chop down a tree for you.”

“But then you have to help me decorate it.”

I scoffed at that. “Right, like I’d get between you and Riley.”

Her smile faded some as she turned back to the pallet. I watched as she started sorting through the things, how the smallest thing would earn a twitch of her lips or a bright smile. It made my chest ache to know that if no one found us, this would be the last time she ever put up a Christmas tree.

“Look at this!”

I walked over to her and looked at the picture she held in her hands. It was difficult to see everyone in the dim tea light, but it was clear they were all happy.

“This must have been about forty years ago,” she murmured. “Look at that hair!”

“Not the most stylish,” I said as I stepped away from the picture. The man in the photograph reminded me a little too much of someone I once knew. And I didn’t want to think about him, not now when?—

I tore off a piece of wood from the pallet and stalked to the other side of the container, slamming it against the door. Someone had to hear us. This would not be how it all ended.

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