“It’s been a long year,” Kevin said. He squeezed her hand, breathing in the mixed scents of melting snow, sticky fir, and burning peat, overlaid by his wife’s citrus soap. “Are you ready?”
Mari let out a prosaic sigh. “Oh, how stereotypical.” She gave him a wry smile, as much as her face allowed these days. “Hard to help it, after all these months.”
“Hey,” he began, and stopped. Twining his fingers with hers, he spun her into his arms and held his wife as tightly as her fragile body would allow.
“Soon,” came her voice, muffled by his suspiciously damp shirt. “Soon.”
“Two more months of treatment,” he vowed. “And then the hunt’s back on full-time.”
A sniffle. “It’s silly, isn’t it?” Fragile fingers rose, clutching a crushed yellow ribbon.
“No, love.” Kevin pulled back and looked into her brimming eyes. “The ribbon’s a symbol. Just like our wedding rings. Things have meaning when you give them meaning.”
“Hope,” Mari said hollowly. Then repeated it, softly, but with more conviction. “Hope. I know the police have given up finding her alive, but the twin bond has never served me wrong. I still think we’ll find her alive.”
“Then we tie the yellow ribbon round the Christmas tree,” he said firmly. “For Hope, because we have hope.”
***
This week’s prompt was from nother Mike: Tie a yellow ribbon round the Christmas tree, it’s been one long year…
Mine went to TA Leederman: The wreath survived, if blacked by fire.
