“I can’t promise you a fairy tale,” Jude said. “I’m not going to try to fix your life. It doesn’t need fixing.” He looked at her. “I just want to walk beside you. Not in front and never deciding for you.”
Hadley didn’t answer right away. Through the glass door, May was pressing her nose to the window, pointing at the lights outside, desperate to come out. Hadley picked up the small pink coat from the porch chair and held it out to him. “She wants to see the lights,” she said. “Can you get her into this?”
Jude looked at the coat for a second. He understood exactly what she was handing him. He took it. May fought one sleeve the whole way, the way she always did. He got her zipped. She ran straight to Hadley, then straight back to him.
Later, the music box sat on the floor beneath Glenda’s tree. The hinge was whole. The walnut shone. May crouched in front of it and grabbed the little key. She twisted with all her strength. It barely moved. Jude knelt beside her. He reached out, then stopped and looked up at Hadley. Hadley nodded. He folded his hand around May’s tiny one. Together, they turned the key. The lid lifted. Silent night filled the room. Glenda put her hand over her heart. Somebody in the kitchen stopped rinsing dishes. And the little song played on through every line all the way to the end with a room full of people listening.
May swayed back and forth in her blinking sneakers, humming nothing in particular. Jude sat on the floor and watched her. Then he looked up at Hadley the way he had looked at her once through a dark pane of glass. This time she knew he was watching. She let him.
