*
Tyler stayed awake long after his wife had gone to sleep. She was turned away from him in bed, her bare back lovely and smooth. He ran his finger down her spine and felt her shiver, goose bumps breaking out on her skin. He tucked the blankets around her, even as he kicked them off of himself.
Within the dynamics of their marriage, he knew he couldn’t be the one who fell down the rabbit hole. His job was to stand at the top of the rabbit hole in order to lure the rabbit out.
But, secretly, yes, he knew all about the tricks this house played on him. And he knew Claire could do magical things with food. And, if forced to admit it, he knew damn well that apple tree threw apples at him. But his job was to let Waverleys be Waverleys. Not be a Waverley himself.
There were times, though, when he needed to jump down the hole. Times like tonight.
He rolled out of bed and put on his clothes. He walked out of the bedroom, got distracted by the paintings in the hallway again, and spent some time rearranging them. Then he went downstairs, where he got distracted by the tremendous amount of bread in the kitchen. Real food in the house again. That made him smile. Claire wasn’t going to make candy anymore, for reasons he might never know. But it was remarkably clear that she was happier now that she’d made the decision. And that was all that mattered. Truthfully, it was going to be nice to leave the house not smelling like sugar and flowers anymore. The scent of his wife’s candy-making followed him to work and filled his office, where it attracted dozens of hummingbirds that tapped at his office window every day, trying to get in.
Tyler took a slice of the fig and pepper bread, then he went outside to the garden.
Experience had taught him that getting too close to the tree was not a good idea, even if it was dormant. He’d never trusted that thing. He opened the garden gate and stood at the threshold in the cold, eating the piece of bread, realizing he’d forgotten to put on shoes. He’d also forgotten to caulk around those vents in the attic, like Claire had asked him to do. He was about to turn to go back inside, when he remembered the reason he was out here in the first place.
“Listen, tree, you better bloom tonight,” he said to it. “They’ve had enough.”
*
Claire woke up on Halloween morning with a deep breath, as if floating out from under water. She didn’t remember what she’d been dreaming of, only that it was cold and sweet. The sun was just rising, and she knew, knew before she even looked outside, that the first frost of the season had finally arrived. She got out of bed, careful not to disturb Tyler, sleeping on his stomach and probably dreaming of warm things like embers and cocoa. She pulled on her nightgown, which had been on the floor, then put on her slippers. As she left, she grabbed Tyler’s blazer where it was hooked over the door.
She walked through the house, through the darkened kitchen, onto the back porch. Sure enough, icy stars were covering her van, and a fine layer of crystals made the bare honeysuckle vines covering the gate shimmer.
Her breath formed clouds in front of her as she hurried across the driveway to the garden gate. The neighborhood was quiet in that way only the cold could make it, as if freezing sounds before they hit the ground.
She fumbled for the key in the vines, her hands shaking. First frost was always exciting, but this year it meant even more, this season, this renewal. There was some small part of her that was almost afraid it wouldn’t happen this year, that there was no more magic, that it was never really hers to begin with.
She slowly opened the gate, holding her breath.
There, at the back of the lot, the tree was in full bloom. Tiny white flowers had burst onto its branches, turning it from bare to lush overnight. The tree was shaking as if in celebration, and white petals floated to the ground in waves, making a sound like pouring sand. Already, the garden was covered in white, like snow. Claire walked in, her palms up, and caught some petals in her hand. She walked all the way across the garden, up to the tree, petals now sticking in her hair.
“Welcome back,” she said.
“Mom?” she heard from the garden gate. Claire turned and saw her sleepy daughter had followed her. Mariah was standing at the gate in her nightgown, her hair a tangled mess of curls. She was Tyler made over.
Claire walked back to her and put an arm around her. She rubbed her shoulder to warm her.
“The tree finally bloomed,” Mariah said.
“It did. Just in time.”
Mariah smiled. “It’s beautiful.”
They watched the tree for a while, which it enjoyed. The blossoms began to accumulate on the ground. “I love you,” Claire said softly to Mariah, putting her lips to her daughter’s head and speaking into her hair, making her scalp warm. “You know that, don’t you? For all the wonderful things you are, for all the wonderful things you’re going to be.”
“I know,” Mariah said.
“Do you want to hang out with me in the kitchen today?” She now rested her cheek on her daughter’s head. “I know you don’t like cooking. But we could spend some time together.”
Mariah pulled back. “I don’t like cooking, but I love spending time with you! I just get in your way when you’re making candy.”
“Oh, baby. No, you don’t. I was in my own way. It had nothing to do with you. Come on,” Claire said, leading her out of the garden. “There’s a first frost party to prepare for! We have to call everyone, too.”
Tyler got up and started raking the footpaths in the garden, which had to be done every hour because the blossoms kept piling up. He would come in periodically for food and drink, blossoms covering his hair and jacket, and sometimes he’d have a small scratch on his face from when he’d gotten too close to the tree and it would reach out one of its limbs and hit him.
Bay showed up after Claire had called Sydney with a grocery list. Bay lugged in the bags and boxes of food and said her mom had dropped her off because she had a small errand to run, but that she’d be there soon to help out.
Buster arrived a short time later, looking groggy and confused.
“I never work on Saturdays. What is this?” he asked, looking around at all the food littering the countertops, where candy usually was. “Am I dreaming? I am, aren’t I? I’m dreaming.”
Claire had called him to help with the party preparations, but also because he deserved to know. “This is first frost,” Claire said. “I’m quitting the candy business and focusing on my catering again. I thought you should know.”
“It’s about damn time,” he said. “Who knew you could do all this?”
Claire smiled and looked around the kitchen. “My grandmother Mary.”