“
Okay?
”
“
I spent Christmas Eve with your family. I
’
m spending New Year
’
s Eve with your family. Can I have you all to myself on Valentine
’
s Day?
”
My heart skips a beat.
“
What did you have in mind?
”
“
Lots,
”
he answers.
“
I want the whole day.
”
“
Is it on a weekend?
”
I ask him.
“
No. Tuesday.
”
“
Well, I have school,
”
I whisper in the phone, taking the call to a more private place in the house: the laundry room, the only room not currently swarming with my family.
“
I know. So do I. I was just thinking that maybe I
’
d gorge on too much chocolate the night before or something.
”
“
You want me to fake an illness?
”
“
You
’
ve got a month and a half to figure out your story. Just think about it. I just think it would be fun to have a completely
‘
found
’
day.
”
“
Do you do this often?
”
“
What do you think?
”
he asks.
“
Yes?
”
“
Never in my life, Liv. It
’
s one day. It
’
s one day that I
’
d really like to spend with you–and only you. Give me something to look forward to?
”
“
They
’
ll ground me and kill you.
”
“
They won
’
t find out.
”
“
I don
’
t know...
”
“
Alright, Liv. I just thought I
’
d ask. It
’
s no big deal–
”
“
Yes, I
’
ll do it,
”
I interrupt.
“
But this better be worth it.
”
“
I
’
ll take that challenge. I won
’
t let you down.
”
Later that night, I get an email from Jon. Attached is a video I can tell was recorded with his computer. His youngest brother was thanking me for the cookie I
’
d made especially for him. Will walked past in the background, taking a deliberate bite of the cookie and waving to the camera.
“
Max?
”
Jon had said, off-camera.
“
What are you going to do with those two?
”
Max picked up the Santa Claus and reindeer cookies that Jon and I had meticulously decorated early in the day, before icing the cookies became mundane. They were incredibly detailed and looked perfect together.
Like
Jon and me
.
“
These are for Santa and Rudolph,
”
Max said.
“
He
’
s coming tonight!
”
he squeals eagerly.
“
Yeah, he is, so that means we need to get to bed, right? Tell Liv good night.
”
“
Good night, Livvy!
”
“
And...
”
Jon prompted him.
“
And Merry Christmas!
”
Jon appeared on camera briefly and smiled.
“
Merry Christmas, Olivia. I hope Santa
’
s good to you this year. And please, tell your parents thank you once more for this.
”
He pointed to the camera of the computer.
“
It
’
s incredible. I love you.
”
CHAPTER 1
2
“
What are you looking at?
”
Mom asks me on the afternoon of New Year
’
s Eve, startling me from the doorway of my room. I hadn
’
t realized they were home from the cemetery already. In my surprise, I don
’
t have time to hide the
sketchbook
, and I can tell it looks familiar to my mother.
Even though Granna had asked me to keep it between us, I had always intended to share it with Mom sooner or later. I had just planned on it being later. After all, I hadn
’
t finished making my way through the book yet. There was so much to see, so much insight into the mind of this man. I yearned to know more, much more.
“
Ummm,
”
I start, closing the book and sitting up on the bed. She comes closer and takes a seat near my feet when I make room for her.
“
It was Nate
’
s. I got it for my birthday–
”
“
From Donna?
”
“
Yeah.
”
Mom sighs, staring at the worn leather binding. I don
’
t offer it to her, but she eventually runs her fingers along the spine of it.
“
May I?
”
“
Of course,
”
I tell her. She takes the book from me slowly, cautiously, settling it in her lap and flipping through the pages haphazardly.
“
Oh,
”
she whispers, putting her hand on top of the cover. There
’
s no way she could have made out any sketches or words in the cursory glance she gave it.
“
I
’
m not sure I can look at that,
”
she says with a smile on her face, but tears forming in her eyes.
“
What page were you looking at?
”
She hands the book back to me, and I find the sketch I
’
d been studying. The loose paper had been positioned in the notebook as if it was an afterthought, like it came from another place. There were a few other pages like this.
I take the thick, white paper and hand it to her.
“
He designed my bedroom,
”
I say softly.
“
When I was little.
”
“
Wow,
”
my mom says as she outlines the large bear in green corduroy that had been painted on the wall.
“
It seemed prophetic, at the time. When he found out we were expecting, he had done this sketch, and another for a boy
’
s room. I found them, months later–months after he had passed away.
“
When your dad and I were getting ready to finalize your adoption, we tried to think of things we knew you loved to come up with a good theme for your new bedroom. You loved nothing more than your teddy,
”
she says with a laugh.
“
That was your Christmas wish. To make your teddy bear better. I remembered Nate
’
s sketch, and suggested it to Jacks. He didn
’
t know where the idea came from. He still doesn
’
t know,
”
she adds with a shrug.
“
I don
’
t think he
’
d care. The room was perfect for you. It was, like, somehow, Nate knew you
’
d come along.
”
“
Do you think he did?
”
I ask.
“
No,
”
she says as she hands the page back to me. I tuck it back between other inked pages.
“
He knew what I liked. That was my favorite book as a child. He
’
d known that from the many times I
’
d read Clara that book when she was little.
”
I know I must look disappointed. I am.
I
believe he knew, and I don
’
t have to believe what she does. I don
’
t have to voice it, either, so I
’
m careful not to say anything that may seem hurtful to her today. She
’
s always the most fragile on New Year
’
s Eve. We let her be, and Dad takes good care of her. He offers her space when she wants it, listens when she asks, and holds her every chance he gets. He gives her the time to grieve about Nate today, because he knows that New Year
’
s Day is the day she will celebrate him, and their life together. Tomorrow
’
s my parents
’
thirteenth anniversary.
“
Anything else in there?
”
she asks.
“
Yeah. Lots,
”
I tell her as I pull the book into my chest.
“
Anything good?
”
“
Everything. I don
’
t know how anyone could love another person more, Mom. He was absolutely crazy about you.
”
She nods and tries to smile.
“
Poems?
”
she asks.
“
Yeah. And songs, I think. And sometimes, it reads like a diary. There was this one entry,
”
I start, looking through the pages for the one that made me cry as I recognized the emotions he
’
d felt, the love he
’
d expressed, the longing he wrote so beautifully about. I
’
d never been denied the one I loved. I tried to put myself in his shoes, to pretend that I lived a life where Jon simply couldn
’
t be mine. I could easily emote, my imagination always one that could carry me into other times, places, characters and worlds. I knew that Nate probably had the same ability. I finally find the pages of scribbled affirmations, apparently written after a fight with her.
“
This–
”
“
No,
”
Mom says, pushing the book away.
“
Someday,
”
she says.
“
But I can
’
t today.
”
“
Of course,
”
I whisper.
“
Mom, anytime you want to look at it, I keep it in my nightstand.
”
“
I don
’
t think I could do it alone,
”
she explains.
“
But maybe we could look at some together sometime. Maybe I can breathe some life into his sketches or words.
”
“
He does a masterful job on his own, Mom.
”
“
I know,
”
she says.
“
He was so talented that way. Your recent paintings, Livvy. You
’
re really developing into a
storyteller
yourself. So much like
his
paintings.
”
“
Thank you.
”
It
’
s the best compliment anyone could give me.
“
Finn and Camille are going to come by later,
”
she tells me. I look at her curiously, wondering why she knows my friend
’
s plans. I hadn
’
t invited them.
“
Jacks said Steven mentioned it.
”
“
Is Steven coming, too?
”
“
No, they
’
re watching all the boys. They already picked up Eli and your brother.
”
“
I
’
m sure he loves that. At least he doesn
’
t have to go dancing this year,
”
I laugh, knowing how much my uncle detests that particular activity. He
’
d do anything for his wife, though.
“
Lexi said she and Kyle might come by, though, too.
”