The Wedding Tree by Robin Wells

here or running off on a fool’s errand.”
    Hope brought me a glass of water and set it down on a felt-backed silver coaster. A wave of nostalgia swept over me. How many times had I sat here with family? Too many to count. It had been my mother’s formal dining table—and my grandmother’s before that. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, dinner parties. My goodness. The table held a lot of memories.
    But then, so did the boxes and trunks from the attic. I pointed to a slender black trunk. “Let’s begin with that one.”
    Hope lifted it and set it on the table in front of me. She—or maybe it was Eddie; bless his heart, he was the tidiest man I’d ever known—had dusted it off, but it still smelled stale.
    Hope fiddled with the latch. “It’s locked.”
    â€œThe key is in the top drawer of the cupboard.”
    Hope located the big skeleton key and put it in my hand. Myfingers trembled as I fitted the key in the hole. It was funny—I felt like I was looking at my grandmother’s hands on the ends of my arms. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having these veiny, spotted hands with such big knuckles—just like I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing that old woman’s face staring back at me in the mirror. It’s not how I see myself at all, although Lord knows I should.
    I heard a little click, and felt the give on the lock. “I bought this trunk when I was in high school. Saved up all my money from babysitting and working at the drugstore and bought this my junior year. I had a yen to travel.” I’d collected photos of places I wanted to go—Paris, London, Rome, Athens. I hoarded travel magazines under my bed like men hid girlie mags. “Now, turn it up tall.”
    Hope picked up the trunk and set it down vertically, then undid the latch. Her eyes widened. “Oh wow! It’s like a little closet.”
    â€œYep.” On the left side was a clothes rod, with several hanging garments. The right side held four drawers.
    Hope ran her hand over it. “This is too cool! Did you take this lots of places?”
    I shook my head. “Only to New Orleans.”
    â€œBut you took all those photos of France and Greece and Egypt!”
    â€œOh, I traveled the world—but not until the kids were grown and Charlie had died. I never went further than Alabama until I was fifty-six. Then I made up for lost time.”
    The funny thing was, by then I’d realized that the big deals in life weren’t necessarily big at all. A newborn’s finger, a drop of dew on a blade of grass, an ant carrying a grain of sugar . . . enormously powerful wonders were all around, enough wonders to fill a lifetime, right in your own backyard, maybe under your very feet. It’s not where you are; it’s how you see it.
    â€œBy the time I started traveling, this trunk was obsolete. It was too large for air travel.”
    Hope ran her hand over it. “It’s in beautiful condition.”
    â€œUnlike the green dress in it. Take it out, would you, honey?” The silk rustled as Hope carefully lifted the padded hanger.Originally the dress had been pale jade, but age had yellowed it to a soft moss green. The fabric-covered belt was slightly stained where the buckle had rusted. “I fell in love in this dress.”
    â€œOh, I can see why.” Hope held it up against herself, then carefully placed it on the table. “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
    She was missing my meaning. I fingered the hem. “I don’t mean I fell in love
with
the dress, honey. I mean I was wearing this dress
when
I fell in love.”
    Hope’s eyebrows pulled together. “With Granddad? I thought you two were childhood sweethearts.”
    â€œOh, we knew each other all our lives. We lived just down the street, two houses away, and our parents were best friends. My mother and his mother were tight as