“Merry Christmas Eve!” Danielle beams at me. “How is your mom doing? Has she been released from the hospital yet?”
“Not yet, but the doctor is hopeful she'll be home by New Year's Eve. He wants to run a few more tests to make sure there's nothing more serious going on.”
“I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, my mom thinks everything is going to be okay, so I'm trying to focus on that. She said she feels better than she has in months. But,” I say, slowly. “There is something else I need your help with.”
Danielle sits up straighter, putting her game face on. “What's up?”
“I'm trying to figure . . . Ian . . . out.”
“What did he do this time?”
I inhale deeply and then launch into storytelling mode. This time I don't hold anything back; I tell Danielle about all the good moments that have happened between Ian and me since we met. My cheeks blush and my heart races madly as I tell her about Thanksgiving break and my magical night with Ian. The way he kissed me . . . . how we danced . . . our unintentional sleepover.
“Holy Hannah,” Danielle says when I finish filling her in, a goofy grin on her face. Her whole face is lit up with excitement. “I knew it! He's in love with you!”
“Don't be ridiculous, Danielle.” I duck my head, letting my hair fall over my face. “We're in high school . . . we're too young to know what love is—”
She gives me a pointed look.
“Are you serious?” She lets out an exasperated groan. “Emily, why are you so afraid to live your life? You have this gorgeous English God standing in front of you—who's clearly been into you since day one—and you're not even going to try?”
“I'm not afraid to live my life,” I say. This whole conversation is ridiculous—Ian's always been straightforward with me . . . if he liked me he would say something, right?
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Then, why don’t you tell him you like him?”
I exhale loudly.
“We've been over this . . . Ian and I . . .” I groan, frustrated. “Life only gives you so many opportunities and, well, we've missed every single one. I think it's time I accept that maybe I'm not destined to be like Cinderella and find a handsome prince and my happy ending, too. Maybe all I get is one magical, perfect fairy-tale night and that's supposed to be enough.”
“I refuse to accept that,” Danielle says, shaking her head, furiously. “When did you become such a cynic? You only run out of chances if you decide to stop looking for them. If you two would stop being so stubborn for two-seconds you'd be able to see what everyone else can see—”
“And, what's that Danielle? If Ian likes me, wouldn't he just say it?”
She throws her hands up in the air and then storms out of view of the camera. I hear a few thuds as things fall to the floor, a crinkling of a bag and I'm worried I've offended her, but then she reappears, holding a plastic bag in her hands.
“Did you even look at the book he got you?”
“No,” I admit sheepishly. “I meant to grab it, but things were so rushed and I left it in my dorm room. But what does The Norton Anthology have to do with Ian liking me?”
“Don’t be mad, okay?” She says holding her hands up in surrender. “Before we said goodbye for the break when we were watching Grey's reruns in your room, you went to the bathroom . . . and I might have ruffled through your things to find the book because I knew Ian wouldn't just give you a book . . .”
“You went through my stuff?”
“I did it in the name of love, and it turns out I was right.”
She thrusts the book up to the camera for me to see. One of the poems listed in the table of contents is highlighted with an orange marker. My eyes scan the title “A Red, Red Rose” by Robert Burns.
I quickly type “A Red, Red Rose” into the webpage on my browser and click on the first link. Warmth radiates through my body, and as I read the poem my heart swells in my chest.
O my Luve is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody,
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
When I finish the poem, I can't breathe. I feel like I'm trapped in one of those perfect, overly-cliched cinematic moments like when Belle finally realizes her love for Prince Adam or when Ariel sees Prince Eric for the first time—but this isn't make-believe . . . this is real.
I pinch my arm, just to make sure.
My heart soars. Ian wanted me to read that . . . he likes me.
“I'm sorry I went through your stuff . . .” Danielle says, looking at me. “I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't live with myself if you two finished off the school year and went your separate ways without giving each other a chance. If you're waiting for the perfect moment, you're going to be waiting all your life . . . life isn't perfect, Emily; it's messy and hard, but with the right people it is worth it.”
She smiles, and I wonder if Cooper is on her mind. “Don't miss out on being with Ian because you're too afraid to take a leap of faith.”
Chapter Forty-One
To: Ian Roberts
From: Emily Stone
Subject: Re: Truth # 1 . . .
Yes, I like someone. Do you?
His reply comes instantly. My heart speeds up and I take a deep gulp of air. What if he says no? What if Danielle is wrong and the gift from our exchange is nothing more than a book? Granted, a book full of poetry, but it's also a book that's required by the whole AP English senior class to read.
I shake my head. Why am I freaking out?
I don't even know what his reply says . . . for all I know he could be saying that he still likes me . . . I know he did once, but things got all muddled up and confusing and I think we only have so many chances to fall in love before The Fates give up and we come to our senses and realize it just wasn't meant to be.
I take a deep breath and then open his email.
To: Emily Stone
From: Ian Roberts
Subject: Re: Re: Truth # 1 . . .
I do. And, that definitely counts as your turn. How is your mom doing? Have you been back to the hospital to see her?
To: Ian Roberts
From: Emily Stone
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Truth #1 . . .
I'm at the hospital with her right now. :) She says hi! We're planning on coming up again tomorrow to celebrate Christmas with her. It won't be anything spectacular, but that's okay. I'm just so happy she's doing better. Thank you for asking!
Sammy and I went with Jack (he owns the best diner in the world!) and his nephew, Finn, to pick out a miniature Christmas tree for my mom's hospital room last night. We couldn't get a real tree though. Sammy insisted we get this creepy snowman tree (see attached picture). It terrifies me, but my mom adores it. She started crying when we brought it in.
Her doctor said her health is steadily improving and he's hopeful she will be home for New Year's Eve. That would be the greatest start to a new year!
How has your break been?
To: Emily Stone
From: Ian Roberts
Subject: It’s the most wonderful time of the year . . .
For truth or dare! What are you choosing? ;]
That's amazing! I hope your mom is able to come home soon. I know how much you miss her. Will you tell me more about her? What is she like? I bet she is sweet and funny like you. I'd love to meet her and Sammy one day!
Sorry . . . I think I'm with the little man; that snowman tree is kind of cute. =]
Last night, I went with the fam to London to see the Christmas lights (a tradition since I was a lad). Sophie came with us too; she looks so much better and she sounds better too. She said she wants to come home permanently.
I love walking down Oxford Street staring up at the giant orbs floating in the sky, that look like falling snow. The Carnaby Christmas lights are breathtaking as well. The colors are always vibrant and memorizing. Enjoy!
To: Ian Roberts
From: Emily Stone
Subject: Re: It’s the most wonderful time of the year . . .
And, I'm feeling daring! =)
London looks AMAZING! I love all the different lights. Yay! I am so happy Sophie was able to go out with your family. I can't wait to visit this summer! =D I'll have to have a girls day out with Sophie, so she can show me all your embarrassing baby pictures.
When I come out this summer, will you watch a musical with me? Pretty, pretty please? The Lion King will be in London this summer and I need to see it! <3
My mom is the most amazing person I know. She's selfless, caring and full of compassion. She has so much going on in her life right now, and she's still trying to make the world a better place for everyone else. The past couple of days we've been putting together little gift baskets with Christmas cards for the patients in the cancer unit. She's always thinking of others and I love that about her.
Sammy started running through the house screaming Merry Christmas at the top of his lungs, like three hours ago. It was kind of cute, but I wish I could have slept until at least 8. Since mom isn’t home, we went to Jack’s Diner and he made us a special Christmas breakfast (waffles and eggs and bacon and sausage links). Then he drove us to the hospital to spend time with my mom.
The house felt empty this morning without her here though. I even miss my dad a little and I'm not sure what that means. How can I miss someone who treated my family so badly? He was horrible to us . . . but my heart still aches in his absence. Sammy doesn't seem phased that neither one of our parents is here. All he cared about was opening his new gifts . . . I wish I could have it easy like him and not have a care in the world.
Thank you for helping me pick out Sammy's gift! He absolutely adores his new Batman and won't put it down . . . he kept trying to take it with him to the bathroom until I told him that was gross.
To: Emily Stone
From: Ian Roberts
Subject: A real English Christmas Dinner
What embarrassing baby pictures? I'd never!
You’d absolutely love London. I bet you’d enjoy all of England, really. The history is rich and deep, the architecture is beautiful, castles scatter countrysides; I bet you’d feel like you’re walking through a Disney movie.
I can see you all bundled up with your Minnie Mouse ear muffs walking down Oxford Street with me to see the lights. We'd stop and get hot cocoa and then go back to my house after and watch whatever Disney movie you wanted as we warmed by the fire.
When is The Lion King in London? That's my favorite Disney movie. I'd love to see it with you. Soph would be so jealous!
Your mom sounds amazing! You're a lot more like her than you realize. I think you're full of compassion and understanding. You want to make everyone happy around you—not in a way like you're seeking their approval, but you want them to be happy because you know there's so much to life and you want everyone to have that realization, too.
Sorry, you’ll be spending Christmas in the hospital. I’m mentally sending you a plate from my house. My mum has made roasted potatoes, honey-glazed ham, and Yorkshire pudding. Don’t worry I’ll spare you the brussel sprouts—Mum prepares them every year to everyone’s dismay. And, then for dessert, we have Mum’s famous Sticky Toffee Pudding, which is the King of all desserts. It’s a moist cake, smothered in caramel sauce and cream. It is absolutely delicious.
I think you'd get along great with my mum. I can picture you two gossiping in the kitchen together as you bake Sticky Toffee Pudding. My mum isn't into Disney much, but she loves to read! I bet you would talk about books non-stop and Sophie would adore you so much for your knowledge and love of all things Disney. You don't have to learn how to make brussel sprouts though. ;)
I dare you to go out in the hallway, near the nurse's station and start dancing like there's no tomorrow. You have to attach a video.
To: Ian Roberts
From: Emily Stone
Subject: What will your poison be: truth or dare?
That sounds wonderful! I would love to make Sticky Toffee Pudding and I think Sophie and I would get along great! What does your mom like to read? :)
The hospital actually isn’t too bad, if you ignore the fact that death is lurking around every corner and the SMELL! My goodness, could hospitals smell any worse?
Mom is doing really well today. She’s happy and chipper and looks like a completely new person. It’s hard to believe she ever had cancer in the first place.
Sammy was getting restless having to be so still in mom’s room, he started running around and nearly tripped over my mom’s oxygen and IV cords and one of the nurses yelled at him. It freaked him out and he ran out of the room crying, which made my mom start to cry. Sammy was hiding behind a couch in the waiting room and I had to bribe him with a Coca-Cola and snacks from the vending machines to get him to calm down. He’s watching the Looney Tunes, contently on the floor now though.
Ha ha ha. You call that a dare!? Easy Peasy! Here's your video.
To: Emily Stone
From: Ian Roberts
Subject: Truth, please :)
Dad and Mum are sitting in the living room reading (she likes reading lots of historical books) and I’ve just been lying on my bed flipping through my new Batman graphic novel, waiting to hear from you. I’m so sorry Emily. I wish I could pick you up and bring you here, we could bring Sammy too.
We could go to London and take a long walk as we gaze at the Christmas lights. Like Thanksgiving, remember? And, then we could stop by Harrod’s and Hawkin’s Bazaar and get Sammy lots of silly little toys. And, we could stay like that and just forget about everyone else and just be together. Please tell me what I can do.
To: Ian Roberts
From: Emily Stone
Subject: Truth: who do you like?
Mom is sleeping now. I just texted Jack and he's headed to pick us up and we’re going back to our house to open our Christmas Stockings and see what Santa has left us (Sammy was reading over my shoulder, didn’t want to give anything away!)
I don't know if I would have made it through today without you, thank you! Oh my gosh, I didn't even ask how your Christmas was! I'm sorry I'm such a crappy friend. :(
To: Emily Stone
From: Ian Roberts
Subject: I think you already know the answer to that.
Who do you like?
You are not a crappy friend! You were worried about your mum, don’t apologise for that.
My Christmas was good! Sophie came home for the day and we hung out and played top trumps and then watched the Queen's Christmas speech. Dad, Mum, and Sophie are in bed now.
You sound better, but I still wish I was there—we could watch a Disney movie and I'd hold you until you fall asleep.
Are you sure you're okay?
To: Ian Roberts
From: Emily Stone
Subject:
Re: Are you home yet?
I'm okay. We just got home. Let me get Sammy in bed and then I'll call you.
My heart flutters in my chest, as Ian's face fills the screen. His hair is sticking up in all different directions and he’s wearing his famous lopsided grin. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Ian says, pulling himself into a sitting position and adjusting his laptop. His eyebrows are scrunched up in worry, but his face relaxes when he sees me smiling back at him. “How are you?”
I raise my hand to my face and cover a yawn. “Tired. It’s been a long day.”
“I know it was rough. Do you want me to read to you?”
“I would love that.” I snuggle into my blanket, pulling it tightly around my body.
Ian pulls a thick book off his bedside table and then flips through the pages until he finds the place he’s marked. The spine of the book reads The Complete Works of John Keats, in a tight, gold script.
He starts reading. “Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—not in lone splendour hung aloft the night. And watching, with eternal lids apart, like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,”
“The moving waters at their priestlike task of pure ablution round earth's human shores, or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask. Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—no—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,” Ian pauses and then glances at me.
My heart pounds in my chest. He is reading me love poetry. Does Ian love me? Why else would he be reading me love poetry? He has to be telling me he loves me, right?
He's been so sweet and thoughtful, not only today but ever since I told him about my mom's cancer. And, maybe Danielle is right—maybe he gave me the book of poetry to show me how he feels and it's pure coincidence that the book is needed for AP English, too. I think of all the emails we've exchanged and the plans we've made for my trip to London, how he promised to see The Lion King with me and how he already has places he wants to show me.
I feel my heart fluttering again in my chest. He wants me to be a part of his life.
The page crinkles under his fingers as he turns it. “Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, to feel for ever its soft fall and swell, awake for ever in a sweet unrest, still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, and so live ever—or else swoon to death.”
The Missing Piece Page 29