The next morning, Marigold stood outside the door to the jewelry store with a basket in hand.
"I baked cookies last night, and Miss Finch said I should bring some to Mr. Best to thank him for his kindness." She held the basket out toward Best and smiled gently. "I only wish I had more to offer to show my gratitude to you, sir."
"Your gratitude is more than enough, Miss Sutton. But I am fond of cookies. Thank you." He snatched one from the basket and took a bite. "Delicious. Would you care for one, Mr. Wainwright?"
"Yes, please."
Marigold tilted the basket toward me, again looking at the floor shyly.
"Wonderful," I said after swallowing my first bite. "Thank you, Miss Sutton."
She nodded and then moved to put the basket in the stockroom. She reemerged a moment later without her coat and with her apron on, ready to go to work.
"I meant to commend you last night, Miss Sutton; the store looks much more festive with your redecorating efforts. Well done."
"My pleasure, sir." She looked about her small wrapping table in the corner of the shop, seeking the ribbon she'd requested the day before. She clapped her hands happily as she saw two spools each of red and green ribbon, satin, and velvet, both. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Best. Now I will be able to make beautiful Christmas packages for your customers."
"I will hold you to that," he said. "Perhaps we will be known for our pretty presents, and word will spread around town."
"One thing you can count on is word spreading in this town," Marigold mumbled, almost to herself.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Mr. Best asked, standing too far away to make it out.
I, on the other hand, heard her quite clearly.
"Nothing, sir. I am only anxious to get to work."
"As are we all." He looked at me. "Mr. Wainwright, please, open the door."
I looked out of the window first. "They're waiting for us."
"Then the day will go by quickly," Best replied. "The best sort of work day, if you ask me."
***
The day did go by quickly, once again. I counted down. I had so little time left. Christmas was the day after next. I had until New Year's Eve if the Aurelia Belle and the wormhole were running on time.
How was I ever going to say goodbye to this place...to Marigold?
I walked her home once again. Neither of us seemed to be in the mood to talk. I was preoccupied, contemplating the time I had left to revel in her light. Her silence, I could only attribute to the fact she must be missing her family.
We reached the porch. She took out the key Miss Finch had entrusted her with, and prepared to unlock the door, speaking at last, "Oh! I almost forgot. Miss Finch has agreed you and Mr. Best should come around for Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow night. Then she and I will be going to midnight church services...I don't suppose you'll be attending?"
"I don't think it would be wise," I answered slowly, imagining her family, the entire town in one place, and me showing up. Public enemy number one. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I mean, your family..."
"Father always makes sure they sit in the front row, arrive early and stay late," she answered. "Miss Finch and I will sneak in late, stay at the back, and leave just after prayers."
"What about Christmas Day?"
She sighed. "It's not going to feel like Christmas this year...not really."
"I wish there was something I could do."
"You've done enough."
The pained expression on my face seemed to take her by surprise. Coming from the twenty-first century, I took her words immediately as a shot, but I soon learned they were anything but.
"Oh, Mr. Wainwright, no, please don't trouble yourself. I didn't mean it that way at all." She looked at me now, straight in the eyes, for perhaps the first time. "Now the shock is wearing off, and I find I'm not begging on the corner for spare change or freezing to death in the gutter, where my father predicted I'd be, I am beginning to realize the world is opening up to me. A whole other life may be possible now, one I never dared dream of before, because I never imagined I'd have the will to defy my father. Now, with everything that's happened...now God or life or whomever it may be has intervened to remove me from that place, from my family..."
She leaned closer to me, and I could smell the faint floral fragrance of her hair. It made me dizzy, and I ached to touch her...to feel her touch me.
"Now I am beginning to see life for the first time, and I have you to thank."
I felt uneasy, uncertain I'd done her the favor she believed I had. Maybe this was the life she was meant to have after all. Maybe she was supposed to escape her father and live with old Miss Finch. I didn't know. I just knew my being here had already changed things for her, and I hoped to Hell it was for the better, long term.
It started snowing again, tumbling down in gusts from heavily clouded skies. She looked up. Flakes gathered on her lashes.
Suddenly she smiled at me and grabbed the sleeve of my coat. "Come on!"
"What? Wait, what?" I said, as she pulled me toward the front lawn. "Miss Sutton, what are you doing?"
"We're going to make snow angels," she said, looking left and right to be sure no one knew we were there. "At least, I am. Come on, Mr. Wainwright! Join me if you dare!"
She stood still, arms at her sides, and then fell back into the snow with a muted thud. She laughed—the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life—as she began to swish her arms at her sides up and down in the snow. She reached up and tugged at my coat. For an instant she forgot herself.
"Come on!" she called up to me, eyes sparkling as she opened her mouth and caught a few stray snowflakes on her tongue.
Oh. My. God, I thought, my mind traveling places it really shouldn't. God, how I want to kiss her.
"Okay, okay." I braced myself for the chill, and then fell back into the bank beside her.
I moved my arms up and down to make the requested shape in the snow. Marigold turned and smiled at me. She kept moving her arms up and down, mirroring mine, until the tips of our gloves touched, mid-motion. The world seemed to slow down, almost stop, for a moment. I wanted to stay here with her forever, to make her mine, to keep her safe.
I knew I'd be able to do none of those things, though. I couldn't offer her the future I desperately wished I could. With a start, I rose to my feet. Without a word, I offered her my hand. She accepted it and stood as well.
"What is it?" she asked, though I was certain she must have an idea.
"It's just...I'm...not going to be here much longer."
She looked away.
"I keep trying to forget," she whispered, her words nearly lost in a world silenced by the insulation of freshly fallen snow.
"That's why I can't...I can't...don't you understand?" I was close to breaking now, and my eyes searched hers to see if she did understand. To see if our time spent together, as busy as it had been, had affected her at all.
"I understand." She stared down into the snow, at our shapes in it, side by side, her voice quivering with emotion. "I...I shall be sorry to see you leave Wishing Cross. Ever so sorry."
Slowly, I removed one glove. I couldn't stop myself from touching her cheek, just lightly, with bare fingertips. Then I turned my hand over and caressed her face with it. She sighed softly, leaning closer, and then we both jumped as we saw a candle light in the window. Miss Finch knew we were there, and she was watching.
"I'm sorry, I have to go," Marigold blurted, then rushed off.
With my eyes clamped shut against her words, I heard the key in the lock, then the door shutting between us, just as the door between our worlds would separate us sooner than I wanted to imagine.