He nods. He always looks like he’s trying to conjure up imagery when I tell him about my dreams, like he wants to share every detail with me.
I muster up courage from deep within. “I think it’s time.”
He brushes a few stray hairs behind my ear. “Time for what?”
“I think it’s time to spread their ashes,” I say, my voice wavering.
He stokes my hair. “Where?”
“Well, after my grandma died, they told me when they passed away they wanted their ashes spread somewhere the family would enjoy visiting them. So, I was thinking about their favorite places and mine. I think they would really like it in Glacier National Park. We drove through the park on vacation when I was nine or ten, and I remember thinking it was the prettiest place I’d ever seen. We all loved it.” I sit up and look into his eyes. “What do you think?”
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” His eyes are penetrating and he’s analyzing everything my words and face are and aren’t telling him.
“I think I need to do it. To get some closure. In the dream, it was scary at first to visit them, especially with their names glaring out and memorialized in stone, but it was also kind of comforting to have somewhere to go to honor them. I think I need that, and I think they deserve that. They should be honored somewhere beautiful, someplace they loved.”
“Let’s do it. When do we leave?”
He’s always so eager and quick to please me. I think he’d do anything for me. I truly don’t deserve him. I’m thankful that I didn’t just tell him I’d like to rob a bank. “Maybe in a couple of weeks?” I say. “I really need to get back to work before your mom fires me. By the way, do I work today? I don’t even know what day it is.”
He winks. “It’s Sunday. You’re safe.”
Getting back to some semblance of normalcy during the following two weeks is strange. I don’t even know what normal looks like anymore. But I’m willing to try to create it anyway. My heart is still heavy and the pain continues, though there are moments when peace visits me. It comes at unexpected times: when I’m reading a book Sunny gave me (I haven’t read in months), when I’m riding the bus to work (I don’t have Jezebel anymore, remember?), or when I’m washing the dishes with Dimitri after dinner (our new plates have cherry blossoms on them; Dimitri picked them out). Peace is an unbelievably satisfying companion. I haven’t mastered the art of cultivating it yet, but I’ve learned to nurture it when it makes a serendipitous appearance. It helps to balance out the moments of despair. But those moments are diminishing, and come only at night after Dimitri’s fallen asleep and the house is so, so quiet. Quiet enough to think … and remember … and grieve.
At the office, Bob welcomes me back with warm smiles. Eventually, I start participating in his lunch conversation again. He’s been kindly talking to me for the past several months, but I’ve been horribly remiss on my end. Bob has invited me to volunteer at a local homeless shelter this month. Bob goes once a month and though he didn’t say so, I know he thinks it would be good for me. And I think that maybe I need to trust Bob and accept whatever help he wants to offer. The thing with Bob is that he has this unquestionable humility and kindness about him. Helping people is not only what he does; it’s who he is. With a lot of people there’s an ulterior motive, there’s something in it for them. Not with Bob. I think he helps because that’s what he thinks he should do and it makes his heart feel good. He’s completely selfless. I haven’t met many people like him. He’s precious. And I’ve finally noticed.
It’s Friday, the day before Dimitri and I leave on our trip to Montana. It’s sunny, hot, and dry—a perfect June day in Colorado. I’m sitting with Bob at the table in the back room of Sunny’s studio and we’re eating lunch—a peanut butter and butter sandwich on white bread and an apple sliced in quarters for Bob (as always), and a leftover stuffed bell pepper for me. But today, Bob seems quiet and deep in thought.
“Bob, is everything okay?”
He looks up from his piece of apple. “I’m sorry, Miss Veronica. I’m not much in the way of company today, am I? I’ve just been thinking about your trip this weekend.”
I’m startled at his mention of the weekend. I haven’t told Bob about my trip. The topic of my parents and his late wife has always been off limits—a mutually, unspoken rule. I suspect he’s been talking to Sunny or Dimitri.
He acknowledges my discomfort with his usual gentleness and pats my arm. “Miss Veronica, if I asked you to go somewhere with me after work today, would you? It will only take a half hour, I promise.” His wrinkly skin creases around his eyes as he smiles and I can’t say no.
“Sure, where are we going?” I ask curiously.
“I have someone I want you to meet.”
After work we lock up and I join him at the bus stop.
I don’t ask questions when we board the bus that takes Bob home every evening.
I don’t ask questions when we stop at a small floral shop and he buys a single white rose.
I don’t ask questions when we board yet another bus and ride ten blocks before hopping off.
I don’t ask questions when we walk three blocks to the edge of the cemetery.
And I don’t ask questions when we stop in front of a simple headstone engraved with the name Alice Marie Carruthers.
Bob kneels down and lovingly places the rose atop a pile of assorted colored roses, some freshly wilted and others dried completely. He turns to me after gently stroking his shaky fingers across her name. “Alice, this is my very good friend, Miss Veronica. Miss Veronica, this is my Alice.”
I smile through the pooling tears in my eyes. “I’m very pleased to meet you Alice.”
He smiles approvingly and removes a handkerchief from his back pocket and blots his watery eyes. He returns his loving gaze to her name and strokes it again. “I brought you a white rose today. They looked magnificent, for first time all week.” He looks back at me and whispers, “White is Alice’s favorite.” He returns his gaze to the stone. “Alice, Miss Veronica is a wonderful young lady. She’s dating Dimitri, Miss Sunny’s oldest boy. I brought her here today to meet you because she has a difficult weekend ahead of her. I thought she might gain some strength by making your acquaintance.” At this, he turns to me. “My Alice is proof that although death may have taken her from me physically, it did not take her spirit. Or mine. The love I feel for her will forever fill my heart. And I have a feeling the same is true for you, Miss Veronica.” He turns back to the grave. “I feel your love around me, my sweet Alice, like a soft, warm, comforting breeze that smells of roses.” He kisses his fingertips and places them on her name. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams. I love you, darling.”
He extends his hand to me and I take it. His hand is cool to the touch despite the warm temperature. It’s veined and liver spotted, and his skin feels almost waxy. But his touch brings me peace, and I smile. Peace, like the book, or the bus, or the dishes … peace, like a white rose on a grave. We walk hand in hand to the bus stop. Bob doesn’t speak, he just gazes upward toward the sun through squinted eyes, and he smiles too. We arrive at the bus stop and before he boards his bus, I kiss him on the cheek. His smile widens and he tips his hat, and then he disappears.
I didn’t thank him. I probably should have said it, but I think he knew.
He always knows.
I think about Bob and Alice on the bus ride home. He doesn’t grieve her death; he celebrates her … every day. Love can endure all things, I think.
Even death.
Life is sometimes … enduring.
Chapter 22
Shedding fear, fault, and failure
Because love’s a lighter load to bear
The plane ride is relatively short, but stands in sharp contrast to those I took to Vegas and back only a few weeks ago. This time we aren’t racing to save my life; we’re taking steps to heal my spirit—a very distinct difference.
The park is only a few hours drive from the airport. Dimit
ri, as always, is my strength. He’s calm and stable, though a few layers below the surface I can see nervous energy buzzing. He’s so even-tempered that after spending the past few weeks almost nonstop with him, I’m able to detect the smallest shifts in his demeanor. He’s more controlled than anyone I’ve ever been around. He rarely worries. I think it’s because he doesn’t have time for it. It’s not that he doesn’t care—he cares with every inch of his being. He just doesn’t let worry consume him the way I do. He deals with it, whatever it is. He’s an amazing human being, so centered and mature. A role model, really.
My thoughts are interrupted when I look up and see it—the perfect place. “That’s the spot,” I say, pointing to a waterfall in the near distance. It looks like a painting.
Dimitri smiles at my decision. “The spot indeed.”
Even though it appears to be a stone’s throw away, it takes twenty minutes to reach it. Dimitri parks our rental car on the shoulder of the road and I grab my jacket, my bag, and the urn from the back seat and we set off down the footpath. Though most of our drive was made under cloud cover, they’re beginning to recede. By the time we reach the base of the falls, the sun is shining brightly overhead and I’ve shed my jacket. We’ve gained some elevation during our walk, and when I look back toward the valley I see that it is covered with purple and white wildflowers, thousands and thousands of them. The setting is perfect. It’s time.
I ask Dimitri to hold the urn while I reach into my bag to pull out a resealable plastic bag. I crouch down and empty its contents, rocks, on the ground. My hands are trembling, but I manage some quick rearranging. Dimitri rubs my back as I stand and brush off my hands. Small rocks spell out the word LOVE at my feet.
I shrug. “No flowers.”
He smiles that knowing smile. “I think it’s brilliant. They would love it. No pun intended.”
My eyebrows crinkle together and I smile curiously. “That’s what you said in my dream … and I don’t remember telling you that part.”
He winks. “You didn’t,” he says, and kisses me on top of my head.
I’ve accepted that weird things just happen with Dimitri. He always seems to know more than he should. That’s just the way it is, so I don’t really question it anymore.
“Can I have the urn?”
“Of course,” he says, handing it to me. “I’ll see you again my friends,” he says, lifting it to his lips and kissing it softly before handing it to me.
His gesture brings a lump to my throat. I swallow hard. With shaking hands, I hug the urn against my chest. I kiss my fingertips and rub the container tenderly. “I miss you both, every day. And I love you both, every day.” I smile through silent tears. “And I’m going to be okay.” I sniffle, unscrew and remove the lid, and walk to the water’s edge. The breeze picks up just as I tip the urn. I watch their ashes catch on the wind, disappearing into the air and water. “I really hope you like it here,” I whisper.
I blow a kiss and turn to see Dimitri standing a few yards behind me with arms wide open. I walk slowly to him. He draws me up inside his arms, and I’m enveloped in his warmth and his love. I stand for a long time letting it seep in through every pore. And when I feel it in every cell of my body, I step back and look into his gorgeous gray eyes and I thank him and I tell him I love him. And we walk back to the car in silence.
And we drive back to the airport in silence.
And we wait for the next flight to Denver in silence.
And we board the plane in silence.
And it’s okay.
I’m sitting in the window seat looking at the scenery far below, thinking about everything that’s happened with my parents, not just today, and not just this past year, but a lifetime. And that’s when I feel it. There’s a quantifiable shift. The pain, dull but ever-present, is love, a love that’s heavy but real. A love that feels almost one sided, but that’s enough. It fills me up. Love.
My lips lift into a smile just as the tears begin to fall. Dimitri puts his arm around me and holds me tightly as I cry, my head resting on his shoulder. The tears force their way out and with them, I say goodbye to the sadness, the anger, the grief, the guilt, and the fear … but not to the love. I keep the love for myself.
Dimitri digs a tissue out of his pocket and hands it to me. (He’s in the habit of carrying tissues with him at all times these days.) I blot my eyes and cheeks, and blow my nose.
Dimitri gazes at me with a face so serene I would swear he’s forgotten that we’re sitting on a very crowded plane. He’s looking at me like we’re the only two people in the world, completely oblivious to the crying infant in front of us or the snoring man behind us. It’s just us. He brushes his fingertips from my temple to my jawline, across my lips and down my throat, his eyes studying me as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of my face. I’d forgotten how amazing his touch feels. It must show, because he smiles slightly and it lights up his eyes.
We stare into each other’s eyes for a long time until all at once he leans forward almost urgently, like he can’t hold back, and whispers in my ear, “Will you marry me?” He kisses me softly just below my ear before he pulls back to look into my eyes again. His eyes are bright and sincere.
The words don’t register at first. It’s as if he’s just said something in a foreign language I don’t speak well and I have to translate the question word by word into English.
Will.
You.
Marry.
My heart skips a beat—
Me?
I’ve just been proposed to. I can hardly believe it.
Dimitri’s expression is expectant, and I realize he’s waiting for an answer or at the very least, an acknowledgement. And I’m sitting here with my mouth gaping open, looking at him like an uncomprehending fool. Say something, I tell myself. But I can’t. Dimitri Glenn wants to marry me. After everything that’s happened today, it’s all I can do to nod. Yes.
Relief washes over him. He leans forward to kiss me, gently at first, but then takes my face in his hands and his kiss becomes euphoric and frenzied. When he stops and pulls away, his lips are full, dark pink, and smiling.
“I promise to love you every day … every yesterday, every today, and every tomorrow … forever.” He kisses me again.
I’m dizzy when I finally come up for air. I’m not a veteran air traveler, but I’m fairly certain this is not proper airplane etiquette.
The flight attendant announces we’ll be arriving in Denver shortly and instructs us to fasten our seat belts. Dimitri sits back against his seat and holds my hand. His smile cracks me up. He looks like he’s hiding the world’s greatest secret behind it, like it’s just on the verge of bursting out.
What’s even funnier is that I know I’m wearing the exact same smile.
The setting sun outside the terminal looks different—brighter and glowing. The walk to Dimitri’s car feels different—lighter and floating. And Dimitri is different. He’s more. He’s mine. He’s holding my hand, swinging it back and forth between us, and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
I wait until the drive home to start asking questions. When the first one slips out, I feel silly for bringing it up so soon. We’ve only been engaged for 30 minutes, after all. I’m not one of those girls who’s always dreamed of having a huge wedding. They’re ridiculous if you ask me. You’re just as married if you spend $100,000 on a day-long production or if you drop $50 on a courthouse appointment. But, I am a planner at heart. I can’t help it. His eager answers let me know it’s okay, so I proceed.
By the time we get home and Dimitri parks the Porsche in the garage (because I’ve decided it’s okay to start using it again), the most important decisions have been made. Though Dimitri enthusiastically suggested we go to Vegas next weekend, I exercised my right to veto that idea. After that, the brainstorming began. We agreed on August 25th (the two-year anniversary of our very first date) at the Glenn house. (The location is still a point of contention. He votes for out
doors, and I really want the ceremony held in the gallery, even though he thinks that is too pretentious. Keeping his talent under wraps is of paramount importance to him. But I’ll have Sunny on my side, so I know I’ll win.)
It’s getting late so we decide to wait until tomorrow after Sunny gets home from church to tell her the good news. After I put a load of laundry in the washer, I find Dimitri stretched out on the sofa with his laptop in his lap, listening to music. His stereo is so nice it’s unbelievable. It sounds like the band is playing in our living room.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” I ask as I plop down next to him.
“Well, it seems I’m faced with an insurmountable challenge.” He’s glued to the screen.
“Tell me about it. Maybe I can help. I have a lot of expertise in the challenge department.”
He’s still looking at the screen though the corner of his mouth hints at a grin. “So, there’s this girl,” he begins. “It always starts with a girl, doesn’t it?”
I nod as seriously as I can manage. “It always starts with a girl.”
“Here, here …” he concurs. “Well, there’s this girl, and she’s not just any girl … she’s the most amazing, fantastic, phenomenal girl I’ve ever met—”
“Phenomenal?” I interrupt. “Wow, this sounds serious.”
He nods. He’s playing along, but his eyes are still on the laptop screen. “That’s just it. It is serious.” At this his mouth twitches closer to a grin. “This phenomenal girl just agreed to marry me and I don’t even have a proper engagement ring to secure her hand. I’m the consummate prognosticator, but alas the timing, though perfect, was spontaneous, and has left me looking like some kind of inept romantic fool.”
This makes me smile and I can’t hide it. “Quite a conundrum.”
He looks up now and grins. “Quite.” He turns the laptop around and he’s on the Tiffany & Co. website. The screen is filled with sparkling diamond engagement rings.