The Magic Maple

“That,” said Grace dusting herself off in the clock tower once again, “was picturesque tranquility.”

“Well said. Time check?”

Grace fumbled through her pockets, then pulled out her phone and gasped. “It’s 4 am!”

“What?!”

Grace shrugged. “I suppose time moves just as fast on Flutterbug Island as in the real world.” Their eyes fell on the last remaining door. “Ready for one more adventure?”

“With you? Always.” Bracing for anything, the couple held hands tightly as Grace turned the heavy knob. It opened lightly. Odd for such a heavy-looking door.

Then… quiet.

There was no rushing wind, no magnetic force pulling them violently. A space untouched by the world's clamor, an elegant whisper of nothingness. They stepped through the door hesitantly, hearing a crunch. The air was thick with the sweet scent of maple, and the landscape unfolded into a breathtaking garden of towering maple trees. The leaves seemed almost ethereal, with a soft glow emanating from them.

The trees were arranged in 12 rows forming a circle around the door. As far as Grace could see were maples of all kinds – Japanese, Sugar, Silver, Canadian, and many others she did not recognize.

They stepped further into the clearing, feeling refreshed with every breath. Jeremy glanced behind the door to quench his curiosity only to find that it was entirely free-standing, as though it had grown straight out of the earth.

“Crazy,” he said. “This tower never fails to surprise me.” Grace did not respond. Her eyes were glued to one of the trees ahead. “Grace? What is it?”

“There’s…” She struggled to find the words, knowing it wouldn’t make sense. “There’s inscriptions. On the leaves.”

“Maybe it’s a graveyard?”

“No, that doesn’t seem right.” Grace reached out and gently plucked a leaf from the tree. To her surprise, the moment her fingers touched the leaf, a warm glow enveloped it, spreading a tingling sensation through her palm and up her wrist. “These are our memories. Dates that hold pieces of our shared past." She held the leaf gently, tracing the inscription with her fingertip. "Each one is a chapter of our story, waiting to be revisited."

Jeremy's eyes widened as the realization settled in. "Our memories? Are you telling me we can relive these moments?"

Grace nodded, a mixture of excitement and wonder on her face. "It seems that way. We just need to... plant them, I think.”

Curiosity sparked, they placed the leaf into the rich, fertile soil around the base of the maple tree. Almost instantly, the air around them hummed with the energy of recollection. The memory unfolded before them, like an ethereal projection. They found themselves standing atop a high hill, overlooking a waterfall. It was a hot summer's day and the forest beneath them was thriving…

The air was thick, like it was overly packed with sweet, fresh aromas. The sound of water crashing hammered against the backdrop of chirping birds and passersby.

“It’s the first hike you took me on,” Jeremy murmured. “It was so freaking hot.”

As they meandered closer to the edge of the cliff, memories flooded back. Grace could almost taste the fresh spray of water flourishing out of the waterfall. The memory wasn't just a replay; it was a living experience, a chance to immerse themselves in the emotions of that moment.

Grace turned to Jeremy, her eyes filled with gratitude. "This is incredible, Jeremy. Our private time machine."

The scene dimmed and morphed into a moonlight night where they lay on the roof of their first home. It wasn’t until these moments were played in succession, that Grace realized how much they frequented high-up places. “For a couple who doesn’t like heights, we get our fair share of elevation.” She said. “It’s quieter here.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy grinned. “I prefer my drama at ground level.”

They looked on in silence as their silhouettes pointed skyward, mapping the constellations, and heard the hushed conversations that wove dreams of the future. Grace remembered how she felt that night; a sensation of possibility and new beginnings.

“We’ve been through so much, and we’re still standing,” she heard the younger Jeremy say.

"Every star holds a promise,” her younger self replied. “A whisper of our shared aspirations.”

“The possibilities are endless, Mrs. Harper.”

“Ew. No. Try again.”

Jeremy squinted his eyes, waving his hand as he spoke. “The cosmos doth await, milady!”

She laughed, resting her head in his lap. “We are our own architects." She breathed.

Adoration and pride welled up in Grace as the scene started to fade again. She caught a glimpse of the forest before a swirling of leaves blurred her vision. And then… quiet.

Grace found herself standing in the tranquil setting of Jeremy's childhood home, surrounded by the idyllic charm of suburbia. The moon bathed the neat houses in a soft glow, casting long shadows across the well-kept lawns. The air was filled with the familiar scent of blooming magnolias, a fragrance that must have woven its way into the fabric of Jeremy's memories.

As the scene unfolded, Grace observed the younger Jeremy playing in the yard, laughter echoing, as he climbed a magnificent magnolia tree, standing tall and proud. Under its branches, stood a once-sturdy treehouse, a testament to countless adventures and the camaraderie of youth.

Vivid flashbacks unfolded like a film reel. Friends gathered, siblings played, and the treehouse was a hub of childhood joy. The moonlight seemed to sparkle in the memories, capturing the essence of those carefree nights.

However, the atmosphere shifted as the scene transitioned to a stormy night. The wind howled through the magnolia's branches, and the once-sturdy treehouse creaked under the force of nature's fury. Grace felt a sense of tension in the air, a foreboding hint of the approaching storm.

With a sudden crash, the magnolia succumbed to the relentless forces of nature. The treehouse, a repository of precious memories, crumbled to the ground. The debris scattered, creating an image of loss against the backdrop of the stormy night.

Amidst the wreckage, Jeremy's younger self stared in disbelief at the fallen structure, and the scene froze in a poignant moment of realization. Grace could sense the emotional weight of the memory, and the poignant silence that followed spoke volumes.

"Why here?" Grace wondered aloud, her voice a mere whisper against the echo of the storm. The Magic Maple had brought them to a moment of vulnerability and loss. She turned to Jeremy, who stood silently beside her, his eyes reflecting the turmoil of emotions stirred by the memory.

As they navigated the fragments of the fallen treehouse, the moonlight casting long shadows, Jeremy began to share the story. His words mingled with the night breeze, unraveling the tale of a cherished childhood sanctuary and the storm that had changed everything.

"Jeremy, this is your childhood home, isn't it?" Grace asked, surveying the scene with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Why would the forest bring us here?"

Jeremy’s gaze was fixed on the remnants of the fallen treehouse. "This is where I grew up," he said slowly. "That magnolia and the treehouse—it was like my refuge."

Grace listened, the wind rustling through the leaves as if carrying the echoes of Jeremy's past.

"On this night," he continued, "the storm was relentless. I remember feeling a knot in my stomach as I heard the creaks and cracks, and then... the crash. The magnolia, the treehouse—gone."

"It must have been heartbreaking," she offered, her voice gentle.

Jeremy nodded, his eyes reflecting the moon's silvery glow. "It was. I spent so much of my childhood there. But it's not just about the treehouse. It's what came after."

He spoke of his later years of school. How the pain of seeing the remains of his cherished space mirrored the internal struggles he faced during those darker times. But, with a profound sincerity in his eyes, Jeremy revealed the turning point—the moment he met Grace.

"In the midst of the aftermath of leaving behind a house very dear to me," Jeremy confessed, "I found a home in you."

Grace felt a lump in her throat, realizing the depth of Jeremy's vulnerability. "You found a home in me?"

He turned to her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. I guess, despite the storms, I found a place where I could rebuild, and create new memories. With you, Grace."

The moonlight seemed to linger on their shared gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the resilience born from the storms of the past. Grace rested her hand on Jeremy's, wordlessly conveying solidarity. As they stood amidst the fragments of the fallen treehouse, this final door’s purpose became clearer—to serve as a portal to the pivotal moments of their past, empowering them to appreciate the depth of their connection, and find renewed purpose in moving forward together.

Grace came to a halt in front of the door that would lead them back to the estate. She could feel exhaustion taking hold while her mind was swimming with emotions. It was like steering a ship that, having run out of wind, steering a ship that, having exhausted its wind, now depended on lingering momentum to finish its final voyage.

Despite the fatigue, a spark of determination lit in her eyes. "Babe," she said, "I know how we’ll secure the bid."

Leaving the magic maples behind, they stepped back into the clock tower only to discover they were no longer alone. Standing on the other end of the room, in a neat vest and his ever-tangled garibaldi beard, was Dr. Bookman.