42
Harrison
Many months later
“Are you ready?”Frankie asked, squeezing my shoulder. She straightened my tie in the mirror before resting her head on my shoulder.
I nodded, throat already too tight. How was I going to get through this speech? “I’m afraid I’ll start crying.”
She shrugged. “So cry. I haven’t stopped since everybody started arriving.”
I wiped a tear from her cheek.
Outside, in the yard, the crowd was massive. The entire backyard behind George’s house,ourhouse, was packed to the brim with friends and family, neighbors, Hollywood elite, and whoever else felt impacted by George. Hundreds of wet eyes looked up at me as I stepped up to the front, in front of a massive projector screen. A wave of unexpected nerves had me taking a large, shaking breath.
“I’m not really even sure how to start this,” I said, clearing my throat. Charlie stood behind Kate, hugging her. He gave me an encouraging nod. To their side, a tearful Emma held Wesley’s arm. He turned to kiss her forehead.
“It’s hard to convey the absolute change that one man brought the world. We are all here because of him. Not only the books he wrote but because he was a father to so many who needed him.” I glanced at Frankie at my side, Collette at her side, gripping her hand.
“I don’t think I could possibly say anything that represents all the lives George has touched.” My throat was too tight to continue. “So I’ll just let the videos do it for me. Over the last few years, in addition to writing and wrangling us, our lovely Francesca has managed to archive hundreds of hours of film and thousands of pages of work, all in a project of love for George. Tonight, on this screen and smaller screens throughout the yard, we will be sharing some of our favorite memories.”
The crowd clapped and exchanged sentimental smiles.
I gestured to the screen where George sat frozen, hands clasped, waiting to speak. He was in his late fifties, handsome, and it was the first video interview he gave about the creation of the show based on his books. We all thought it would be a great way to start the night celebrating the man.
I took a steadying breath again and spoke into the microphone.
“Happy birthday, George! Wherever you are,” I said.
The crowd roared a cheers before falling silent. Frankie gave my shoulder an encouraging squeeze.
Then, in the still silent yard, a booming voice.
“I’m right here, my boy!” The crowd parted to reveal George.
He sat at the center of the party on a massive throne custom-built just for tonight’s event. A shimmer of laughter went up around the party.
“Ah, right you are. Cheers! Happy birthday, then!” I held up my glass, and George did the same with his birthday chalice. “We have to guess your age to be somewhere between fifty and one hundred and ten since you refuse to tell anybody how old you are,” I shouted over the growing conversation.
“And I never will, you cheeky git!” he shouted back.
“All right then. Keep your secrets,” I said.
“Oh,Lord of the Rings,” Frankie said softly at my side. “Also a book first.”
“George probably went to school with ole Tolkien,” I teased.
My laughter was cut off by the crowd singing a rousing round of “for he’s a jolly good fellow.”
On the projection screen, the first video began to play. After George came the Intrepid Trio talking about how much they love him. First, as children, flushed cheeks on the first year on set, then cutting to us now. My throat was tight to watch twenty years pass in the blink of an eye. Charlie, Emma, and I found each other and held hands.
The videos played on as the party continued. Next to the many children who he and William helped raise, including Frankie and a healthier-looking Josephine. Collette waved at the video when it came on.
“I’ve digitized every piece of fan mail, also, Grandpop George,” Frankie explained later when he had a break from his adoring friends and family. “You can listen to them too. There were hundreds, probably thousands. All there. All to remind you any time you want to listen.”
“Mama!” Collette came running up and grabbed Frankie’s hand. “I saw you on the screen. It showed a picture of you as a teenager. You had black hair.” Collette looked shaken to her core.
“It was a passing phase we don’t need to talk about,” Frankie mumbled.
