“Let’s have it anyway,” Annie said.
“Yeah, why not? Ice cream for dinner.”
We were quiet for a moment. I turned down the street to our favorite ice cream place and found a spot right in front.
Before we got out, Annie stopped me with a gentle tap on my arm. “Did Dad like ice cream?”
Her question took me aback. “You don’t remember?”
“Not about ice cream.”
“He liked it, yes. But his true passion was donuts. The man was crazy for them.”
Annie nodded, her gaze far away. “He used to get them on Sundays, right?”
“He did. When you were small. In the later years, he didn’t.”
“The disease took donuts from him. Which really sucks.”
“Yes, it does,” I said, because it was true.
She squeezed my hand. “Tonight, I want to try lavender honey ice cream. It’s the flavor of the month, and I’ve been wanting to try it but then I always end up getting cookies and cream. I don’t know why.”
“You’re afraid to make a mistake,” I said. “Choose the wrong flavor and there’s no going back. You’re stuck with it.”
She nodded, smiling. “But it’s just ice cream. Right?”
“That’s right. And if you don’t like it, I’ll trade you for my cookies and cream.”
“You’re the best.”
“You’re the best,” I said, grinning back at her.
“But I’m going to keep it, no matter what. Lavender honey ice cream is my decision, and I should have to live with it.”
“Here you are, all grown up,” I said.
“Taking big risks with ice cream.”
We laughed, then got out of the car and started toward the entrance.I have to do it, I thought.I have to go to the meeting tomorrow night.If Annie could walk into that room, so could I.
She placed her hand in mine, like she had when she was little, and that made me want to cry all over again. Not from grief. Not this time.
It was the idea of this profound, exquisite gift of love that moved me to tears. How imperfect we all were, yet capable of loving so deeply and with such grace and forgiveness that, even after the darkest of times, we could laugh and hold hands and eat ice cream on a summer evening.
8
DELPHINE
Icould have been to the church in five minutes. Instead I drove the long way, past the harbor, then looped back through the residential streets, then pulled into the church lot and sat there with the engine running. It was a beautiful warm evening, the sky still bright at six, gulls wheeling overhead.
“Okay, just do it,” I whispered to myself.
I turned off the engine, but didn’t move.
What was I so afraid of? That someone would see me? That I’d have to say his name out loud in a room full of strangers? That I’d cry? That the pain would be too much and I wouldn’t be able to handle it? The unknown? That was the scariest part.
But Annie had done it. So could I.
