grandma had planted them out front next to the huge spider—now wearing a red and green paper chain Christmas scarf and a huge felt Santa hat.
“This is never coming down again, is it?” Viola asked as she stepped back to take in their planting job. The dahlias looked even more vibrant up against the house. The spider smiled down at her.
“Maybe eventually,” Grandma said. “If the neighbors complain.”
Viola held the note tightly in her hand, knowing she’d read it again and again. Viola, You bring beauty into my life.
The next day, the doorbell rang and Viola opened it to find a massive bouquet of corner store candy bars in a huge, square glass vase, surrounded by silver tissue paper. Another folded note was taped to the vase.
Viola, You bring new adventures into my life.
“Are you going to forgive him?” her grandma asked as she bit into a Snickers bar.
“I don’t know,” Viola said, but she felt herself softening. Every day, a new text or gift, every day a war within herself about how she didn’t want to get hurt again. How many times could she be stood up, forgotten, or left before she made sure it didn’t happen again?
“Well, if you do take him back, can you remind him that although you like this chocolate, I still prefer the expensive stuff?” Grandma said.
Viola laughed for the first time in over a week.
The next three days, the gifts were delivered in the late afternoon, right after Viola got home from work and were different than the other two had been. Chocolates and flowers were pretty standard apology presents.
But ornaments were definitely unique.
The first one was made of clay and intricately hand-painted. She turned it over in her palm, studying it, her heart pounding.
“That looks like a model of the art set you had when you were young,” Grandma said. “You were devastated when I accidentally sold it in the yard sale.”
She had been devastated. At the time, she swore she’d never forgive her grandma. But then Grandma had bought her a nice canvas and paint with some of the yard sale earnings, and Viola learned what it was like to paint with good quality materials.
You bring color into my life.
“Does he know about the art set?” Grandma asked, studying it before hanging it on the tree. “This is uncanny.”
She had told him about it, but had never imagined he’d remember.
The next day, it was a wooden turtle ornament, similar to what she’d seen when they were in Hawaii. She’d loved the turtles there, and after Liam had left, she’d gone alone to one of the black sand beaches filled with turtles. Had Callie told him?
You bring spontaneity into my life.
What did that mean? She itched to text him, to call him, to drive to his house and see him. But she held herself back still. Sure, gifts were nice, but could she really, truly trust him not to break her heart?
Yesterday, it had been a glass ornament of a cell phone that had been cracked it half. “It’s broken,” her grandma said. “What a shame.”
Viola searched through the box, but the other half of the cell phone wasn’t there. Instead she found his note and laughed when she read it. You bring perspective into my life.
“How long are you going to hold a grudge against this boy?” Grandma asked. Viola stared at the ornaments all together on their Christmas tree, creating a picture of someone who knew her and cared for her, who made mistakes, yes, but kept coming back anyway.
All night long, she tossed and turned in bed, unable to think of anything but Liam. The next day, she raced to the door every time the bell rang, disappointed when it wasn’t another gift from him.
Finally, she found herself at the television, watching Dane Lowbridge’s newest movie, trying to keep her mind off of gifts and texts and the extremely handsome and tempting man sending them.
“There’s another one,” her grandma announced, coming inside from a quick trip to the store. She set down her grocery bag on the table and handed Viola the gift, looking just as excited as a kid on Christmas morning to see what it was.
“Open it,” Grandma urged.
She opened the present and gasped when she saw an intricate, porcelain doll, very similar to the one in the window of the theater. She ached to go back and start working on those murals inside.
She slowly opened the note. You make me believe anything is possible.
Her eyes stung