Ryah isn’t saying
anything, so I talk, instead. “I just saw them and thought of you.”
Such lies. I visited six jewelry stores looking for exactly the right necklace. She left everything behind when she joined the circus, and I wanted her to have something special. I hope that she’ll feel like she’s got something worth holding onto.
I had hoped that, anyway, but Ryah looks like she’s about to cry.
“Ryah?” I say uncertainly.
Ryah thrusts the box back into my hands and runs. She heads for the back door, bursts through it, and keeps going across the yard. I swear under my breath and follow her.
I catch up with her under the bare oak tree by the stables. We’re hidden from view of the house by the low branches. Her shoulders are shaking like she’s sobbing, but she’s tamped her emotions down so tightly that she’s not making any noise.
I reach out and touch her arm light. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. Or want it. I won’t be mad.”
Ryah mops at her face and doesn’t turn around. In a painfully tight and choked voice, she says, “It’s not that. But I…”
I wait, giving her the time she needs to get her breath back.
“I don’t deserve it.”
I put both my hands on her shoulders and turn her toward me. “How can you say that? You’ve worked so hard these past six months and I want you to have it.”
The tip of her nose is pink from cold and her blue eyes are swimming with tears. “But why?”
I chuck her gently under the chin. “Because I’m you’re partner. And partners look out for each other.”
Despite her tears, she looks up at me. “I love hearing you say that.”
I love saying it. My partner. I pass the velvet box back to her, and she hugs it in her hands.
“I think when something nice happens, something bad must be just around the corner. That’s always how it used to be.” She thinks for a moment longer. “I worry all the time that you’re going to freak out and cancel our act. You’re not going to do that, are you?”
Part of me still gets scared, but we’ve come too far together and achieved so much that it would make me both a bastard and an idiot if I pulled out now. I don’t want to be another person in her life who disappoints her.
“No. I’m not going to do that.”
She smiles at me tentatively. “Then that’s just as beautiful as this necklace. Thank you, Cale. I love it.”
I wonder if she’s going to put it on, but she just wipes her tears and heads for the stables, holding tightly to the box. I watch her go, knowing without a doubt that she’s gone to show Dandelion.
It’s probably the best Christmas I’ve had in years, and the best New Year’s as well. I don’t know why. Things just feel happier and more exciting than usual. More snow falls, and we all muck about in it, having snowball fights and building snowmen. The evenings are filled with laughter as we’re huddled around the fire. Ryah’s always smiling, and I can’t help but smile too when I see how content she is.
Two days before we’re due to get back on the road, I’m helping Mum in the kitchen. She’s insisted on sending us off with loads of baked goods, and I’m wrapping batches of oatmeal cookies and peanut brittle in waxed paper.
Ryah comes in with a basket of chard she’s gathered from the greenhouse. She’s wearing a sweater, but I can see the glint of silver chain around her neck and it makes me smile to myself. She’s wearing the necklace.
Mum sends her on her way with a couple of cookies, and I’m still looking at Ryah as she heads out of the room. Mum catches the direction of my gaze, and I quickly look down at the baking trays.
Real smooth, Cale. Way to show your too-shrewd mother that something’s up.
We go about our work in silence, and I begin to hope I got away with it. Then Mum says in a fond voice, “Ryah’s such a lovely girl.”
“Is she?” I say vaguely. I concentrate on folding the paper around the cookies just so.
Mum is rubbing butter into flour with the tips of her fingers, making yet another batch. “Oh, yes. Such a fresh, wholesome air about her. You can’t help but like her or notice that she’s pretty. But that’s not what you think of her, of course.”
My shoulders relax. We’re out of the danger zone. “No.”