Chapter 44
Forty-Four
The willow tree is still by the creek. Its long branches trail across the grass like the train of a wedding gown. You slip under the shield of its leaves and press your palms to its bark.
“Thank you,” you say. A knot of emotion swells up in your throat and you can’t speak the rest. Luckily, with Mothering Trees, you don’t have to speak.
Somehow, they always know. The tears choose this moment to spill, rolling down your cheeks and caught by the snarl of your beard.
It wasn’t just Cyrus who answered your wish.
Gertrude was the answer, too, and Red and Granny.
And the Mothering Tree. Granting wishes to parentless children is what they do, but even so, you felt cared for by her then.
All those years, a wish you made and didn’t know had been answered was the thing that kept you going and set you free.
“Thank you,” you say again. The rest is too big.
The gingerbread house, if it still stands, isn’t far from here.
But no.
No, you can’t face that today.
So you return to the horses.