“Good!” he agrees, though we both know this is a generous interpretation.
Ella tugs on my hand. “Dad, can we see the pretty tomb again?”
“Sure, sweetheart. Let’s go.”
We make our way to the centerpiece of the exhibition, which is a full-scale recreation of the burial chamber. The actual remains are protected and preserved, but we’ve created a detailed replica so people can understand how it looked when we first opened it. The two figures lying side by side, hands clasped between them even in death.
Even at four years old, Ella finds the whole thing romantic. “They loved each other very much,” Ella says seriously. She’s heard this story dozens of times, but it never gets old for her.
“They did.”
“Like you and Mama?”
“Yes. Like me and Mama.”
She considers this, then nods, satisfied with the answer.
Georgia appears beside us, Henry still on her hip. She leans against me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
“It’s perfect,” she murmurs. “Everything we worked for. Displayed with the respect it deserves.”
“You did this,” I tell her. “Your vision. Your expertise. I just wrote the checks.”
“You did more than that.” She looks up at me with a smile.
The museum director makes a speech. Then Georgia makes one that’s articulate and passionate, explaining the significance of the discovery without sensationalizing it. People listen, rapt. Cameras flash.
This is the recognition I wanted three years ago. The proof that the project was worthwhile. The validation I was desperate for.
And it’s wonderful, but now that I have it, I see it’s not what matters most. What matters is currently tugging on my pants and demanding juice. It’s the woman beside me, brilliant and beautiful and mine.
After the speeches, after the final photos, after the museum director has thanked us one more time, I find Georgia standing alone in front of the lovers’ tomb display.
“Georgia?”
She turns, smiling. “Just taking a moment. Saying goodbye.”
“We’ll be back. This is a permanent exhibit.”
“I know. But still. This chapter is closing.” She looks back at the display. “They would have approved, I think. Of how we honored them.”
“I’m sure they would.” I take her hand. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
“Calvin, it’s late. The kids are tired?—”
“Lois has them. Just for a few minutes. Please?”
Curious now, she follows me through the museum, out a side door, and into the courtyard. It’s early evening, the desert air cooling, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. Just like it was that first day we arrived, full of hope and possibility.
“What’s this about?” She asks with a big smile.
“Nearly three years ago, I came to this country looking for proof that my grandmother’s stories were real. Looking for validation. Looking for something to prove my father wrong.” I cup her face with one hand. “I found all that. But I also found something infinitely more valuable. I foundyou.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring I picked out weeks ago, knowing that tonight would be the right moment. Her eyes go wide.
“Georgia Halford, you’ve made me a better man. A better person. You’ve given me Ella and Henry and a life more beautiful than anything I could have imagined.” I drop to one knee. “Will you marry me?”
She’s crying, her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
