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Felicity nodded, handing him the box. He carried it toward the truck while she lingered, and when he turned back, he found her beneath the crabapple in the corner of the yard. Its branches were heavy with blossoms, the petals glowing in the afternoon sun.
He understood.
She was saying goodbye.
Galina’s little house had taught her that healing didn’t have to be a solitary journey.
Now it would do the same for someone else.
It was part of the network.
A safe house.
A place where women — and men — and their children could catch their breath and start believing that healing was possible.
When she’d finally told him what she intended to do with the money they’d dug up, he’d backed her without hesitation. Every cent of it had gone into the coffers of a nationwide network operating quietly beyond official channels, helping people disappear from the lives that had nearly destroyed them.
Ronan stepped beneath the tree and drew her against him. “She’d be so proud of you.”
“You think?” Her voice was thick with emotion.
“Without a doubt.”
“You hardly knew her.”
“I knew enough.” He smiled. “She saw you, Felicity Graham. Right to the very heart of you. That tells me everything I need to know.”
She reached up and brushed her fingers over a blossom-laden branch. A handful of petals broke free, dancing on the breeze before settling gently to the ground.
Then she met his gaze. “Let’s go home.”
*
Felicity pulled into the lot, second-guessing her decision. She sat for a long moment, staring through the windshield at rows upon rows of evergreen trees.
Christmas trees, to be exact.
She’d woken that morning with the quiet certainty that it was time.
Time to stop treating Christmas as something to endure … or escape.
Their first year together, she’d volunteered to work the holiday shift, leaving Ronan to attend dinner at Bella and Nate’s without her. He hadn’t complained. Not once. But she’d known he’d missed having her beside him.
The following year, they’d climbed into the van — yes, they still had it, and yes, it was still the same hideous shade of green — loaded the pugs, and disappeared into the Colorado mountains for a few days of respite.
It had seemed like a perfectly reasonable tradition to start.
But this year…
His parents were driving up from Texas. Her cousin Andrei was coming from the East Coast. And somehow — through what she could only assume was temporary insanity — she’d suggested they host Christmas dinner.
Which meant she was buying a tree.
She let out a long breath.
There was no hiding from Christmas anymore.
*
