Her words are almost too much to bear. “What do you want from me, Madison? You want my flower fields? The farmhouse? My entire life here in Heartsboro?”
She comes toward me, her eyes never leaving mine. A cool breeze wafts through her hair, sending an errant piece across her mouth. She tucks it over her ear. She looks so good it hurts.
“I want true love,” she says.
I’m not sure how to reply. “Is that all?”
“No.”
She’s standing right before me, her cheeks dotted with a pinkish hue. Her gardenia scent lifts and skates under my nose. A reminder from my Grandma Rosie:
Don’t forget to say your I love yous.
“I want to live with you on this farm, George. I want to learn how to garden. I want to love on Earl, Frankie, and all the chickens…”
I stifle a snicker, my eyes pinging with tears.
“I want to learn how to fish in this pond.” She points to the water behind me. “And I want to learn about the stars and memorize every single flower name in the fields. I want to get to know your friends and live happily ever after.That’sall I want.”
She’s cracked the iron shield surrounding my heart, the bright glimmer of hope igniting my senses. Once again, she’s calmed me in a way no one else has been able to do, except for my grandparents.
“You once told me that being different doesn’t mean you’re broken. And you’re right. You’re not broken, George. You’re the other half of me. When you put us together, we’re complete. We’re whole.”
She cautiously lifts my hand to her mouth and gently kisses my bruised knuckles. Every inch of my skin ignites with heat as I watch her. I realize Kip has played me for a fool for the last time because the jokes are on him now.
Madison loves me. She really loves me.
“You forgot about the sandwiches and coming up with new ice cream flavors,” I say.
Her cheeks explode with a broad smile, her dimple on full display. “If you want, we can make a list.”
I nod, and we both laugh. There is no hiding my happy.
When you realize your whole world is standing right there in front of you, it’s the kind of thing that makes you believein miracles. Madison is my miracle. She’s all of my prayers personified. Her magic, grace, peace, and comfort all rolled up into one gorgeous package.
She appeared out of nowhere on a hot summer day, looking like a mirage on Paradise Road. And even then, I knew she was special.
And now, she looks like forever to me.
Chapter Thirty-One
Madison
I read a saying on social media about how important it is to show recognition to those you love while they’re still alive. To give people their flowers in person while you still can.
As I look around the crowded bedroom of familiar faces, I’m overcome with emotion as, one by one, each guest expresses their feelings about how much Ralph Jamison means to them. Through a kind word, a smile, or a warm grasp of his hand, I watch every person willingly give Ralph their “flowers.”
Nurse Gale kept Ralph comfortable all afternoon, although the sweet man did nod off several times because of the pain medication. But when he was awake, something about his joy and tired smile evoked a sincere gladness as each friend expressed how he touched them. The room was a literal garden of sorts, with people and daylilies everywhere, the conversations blooming in the spirit of love.
George sat next to his grandfather, his wide eyes and broad grin after each story reminding me that we had done the right thing by postponing our wedding. It wasn’t the ideal time. We had a lot to discuss and plan before we took our vows.
Today wasn’t about us. Today was all about Ralph.
Earlier, when we returned to the main house after our reunion by the pond, we quietly told Jenny, Janie, Betty Lou, and Nurse Gale our change of plans. There were no questions. No judgment or worry. They quickly got to work and turned the afternoon into a beautiful celebration of life party for Ralph.
“Would you like a piece of cake?” I ask George.
He looks up at me with his cerulean eyes and nods. “Bring one for Pop, too, for when he wakes up.” Even though Ralph hasn’t eaten in several days, George seems hopeful and eager.
