“How did he know?”
“I mentioned it to him in one of our classes. He was like that. Could remember small details about people. It always amazed me. He’d asked why I was always painting flowers and gardens. I told him that someday I would have one of my own, with flowers everywhere, spilling over one another. And that the crown beauties would be peonies.”
“Wow.” Annie’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“One date. That’s all it took. He ordered spaghetti and meatballs, joking that it was too messy for a first date, which made me laugh. I had angel hair pasta with capers. I still remember how good it was. After that, we were pretty much together every day until …” I didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t need to.
Annie picked up the second photograph—Jon holding her as a newborn, his enormous hands cradling her like she might break as he gazed down at her, his expression one of pure love.
“Dad used to tell me about how you met. He made it sound like a movie.” She turned the photograph over in her hands. “He always said you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he knew from the first day of school that he was going to marry you.”
I laughed softly. “That sounds like him.”
“Was that true or just a story?” Annie asked.
“It was true. He decided it was me he wanted. And he never gave up.” I looked at the rings still nestled in the box on her lap. “Your father loved very completely. That was his gift.” I reached over and touched the thin gold band lightly with one finger. “To be loved by him was so intoxicating, so pure. I never doubted he thought I was a wonderful person. Special. That’s why it was so …” I stopped again. “Your dad was a beautiful person. Kind, sensitive. So good. Like you are. Whatever else, he was all those things.”
Annie leaned her head against my shoulder. We sat like that for a moment, the box between us, the two photographs side by side on the bedspread.
“He never told me about the seeds,” Annie said.
“He wouldn’t. He never told stories that made him look like a hero, even though, to me, he was. God, I loved that man.”
“I loved him too. But the memories are starting to fade. I hate it,” Annie said, just above a whisper.
“I’m sorry.”
She lifted her head and looked at me with those eyes that seemed much too old in her young face. “He would want you to be happy, you know. He’d be so mad if he knew you’d closed everything off.”
“I know. He truly thought I’d be better off without him. If only he’d understood what it cost me when we lost him.” I swallowed, holding my breath, trying not to cry. “How utterly heartbroken I was.”
“Mom, I know he wouldn’t have hurt you on purpose. He just couldn’t see a way out.”
“I know that too.”
“It helps me to talk about him,” Annie said.
“I’ll try to do better.”
“You’re doing great, Mom.” She turned to look at me, tears in her eyes. “Thank you for sharing all that with me.”
I pulled her close, kissing the top of her sweet head. “I’m a work in progress, but I’m trying.”
The doorbell rang downstairs.
“Oh no, that’s him, and I’m not ready,” I said.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go down and tell him you’ll be ready in a minute.” She gave me another hug. “Have fun tonight. Let Dorian make you laugh, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“And try not to be scary,” Annie said.
“I’m not scary.”
“Mom. You know you’re scary.”
“Fine. Go answer the door.”
