Sam had told her he'd do it, but he'd been stalling. The treehouse was part of his youth, and it didn't belong to only him. He'd built it with Tessa, for Tessa. She'd called it her mansion in the sky, the place where she could go and dream of all the cities she'd visit, all the things she'd do. Tessa had said it was easier to dream when you were closer to the stars.
He shook his head at the foolishness of it all. Dreams were for kids. So were treehouses. And tomorrow he'd take the damn thing down. Just as soon as he got Tommy out of it.
"If you're not coming down, I'm coming up," he warned, but still he hesitated. He hadn't been up inside the treehouse since he'd married Alli, and for a brief moment he wasn't sure he should go now. But he heard another creak and knew that he couldn't leave without rousting the little trespasser.
"Mrs. MacGuire told you this place was off-limits," he said as he climbed up the rungs, praying they'd take the weight of a full-grown man. He put his head through the opening. "You have no right to be here. You—" He stopped abruptly as he took in the tousled blond hair, the blue, blue eyes, the trembling lips, the perfect oval angel face.
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He stared at her in disbelief, then swung himself up into the treehouse, feeling the boards creak with the combination of their weight.
Tessa wasn't supposed to arrive for hours, and she definitely wasn't supposed to be here in the treehouse. He shook his head and blinked, wondering if he'd somehow conjured her up.
"I probably shouldn't have climbed up," she said warily. "But when I saw it was still here, I couldn't resist."
"I thought you were one of the local kids. Why didn't you say something?" He heard the words come out of his mouth and was relieved that they seemed to make sense when his mind was in total chaos.
She was more beautiful than he remembered, a woman now, he realized, taking in the slender curves accentuated by her designer jeans and short clinging sweater. Her face was thinner than he remembered, her eyes a bit more tired, her expression world-weary.
"I hoped you might go away. I wasn't planning on seeing anyone yet." She put a hand to her hair. "I must look awful. I can't remember when I slept more than a few minutes in a row."
"No, you don't. Look awful," he added, unable to stop looking at her.
Almost a decade had passed between them, a friendship gone, a love affair severed, a relationship destroyed forever. Yet here she was—in the one place he'd never expected to see her again and looking as beautiful, as desirable, as vulnerable as he'd ever seen her.
"Have you seen Grams?" Tessa asked. "How is she?"
"Last night," he said. "They don't know the extent of the damage yet, if there is any. They're hopeful that it will be minimal."
Tessa's eyes filled with fear. Her expression reminded him of Alli, of the way she'd looked at her grandmother, silently praying for a miracle.
Alli! She'd hate that Tessa was here. Hate it even more that they were together.
"Will Grams be all right?" Tessa asked.
Ten years ago he would have lied. It would have been expected. Tessa hated bad news, and he'd always tried to protect her. But now…
"I don't know," was all he could say.
"That's not the right answer."
"We're not kids anymore." He sounded like a gruff old man, but he had to put some barrier between them. "I can't make this go away like a bad dream."
She stared at him uncertainly. "That's too bad, because I'd really like to wake up and not find myself here." She let out a sigh. "I'm surprised Grams didn't take this down years ago. There was no reason to keep it." Her words sounded offhand, as if she didn't care, but her eyes seemed to say something else.
"You loved this treehouse once." He felt sure she wanted him to remind her of that, although he couldn't have said why.
"A long time ago," she replied.
A silence fell between them. The treehouse swayed gently in the breeze, leaves drifting past the open windows like the cascade of memories that fluttered in his mind. He could see Tessa eating peanut butter on celery sticks, writing plays they would later act out, lying on her back staring through a square hole in the roof at the stars that peeked through, weaving stories and dreams that would take on a life of their own.
"The treehouse used to be bigger, didn't it?" Tessa asked.
"We used to be smaller."
She sent him a bittersweet smile. "Right. Well, we should go. I need to pull myself together, then get to the hospital." She paused, sending him a curious look. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"I was getting the newspaper, and I thought I heard someone in the yard."#p#分页标题#e#