circus folk if I ever met one,” Arthur had laughed. “Through and through a performer.”
And Dawn remembered him and missed him every day of her life. Lots when she first got back to Nurserywood, and even more when she realized she was starting to grow up. More and more she missed him when she grew in size and then lots again when her body changed into a woman’s. And when she hooked up with Jeremy, and she’d missed Mr. Jay so much when she’d had her first baby, a boy she named “Jay.” And she’d missed him, really missed him like hope and dreams and life when the little fellow died of a lung infection his first winter. And she missed her old friend like warmth and fire as she knelt in the snow, or on the earth, staring sadly at her little baby’s grave.
But something in his memory kept her going, and kept her trying. He had a way of turning things upward, of calling attention to brighter days ahead. And so she missed him when her kids Eliza, Boone, Thorn and Jeannie were born. And missed him some every day as they grew and enjoyed success and weathered storms, and started having kids of their own. And now Dawn only missed Mr. Jay a little bit every day, but she missed him.
And she hoped that he was safe. Or that if something took him that it had happened quick and with little pain. And if that was the case, she hoped he was getting lots of rest in the world beyond. Because she hoped that’s what waited there for her.
But most of all, when she was up to watch the sunrise, or getting kids settled in as it set, she hoped he’d come back some day.
