Cecilia sniffs and her eyes cloud. I’d give anything to spare her from this torment. Yet I’m helpless to do more than kiss her hand and remain at her side.
“I don’t know what to do about that,” she admits.
Matthias’s tone becomes more gentle. “I was thinking we could cremate him. Then maybe scatter the ashes in the Pacific. He did love the California beaches. I’ll take care of it.”
Finally, she nods. “That sounds nice.”
Matthias is suddenly antsy to leave. Now that he has a plan, he wants to get back to Laramie where Gabriel’s body is being held and make the cremation arrangements.
He and Cecilia exchange a cautious hug and he whispers something in her ear before extending a hand to me for the most awkward handshake ever invented.
“Next time,” I say, “let’s not repeat this farce. The handshake will be understood.”
With a snort that’s close enough to laughter, he hustles out of here. I watch him leave through the front door and return to the study to find Cecilia staring at my mother’s painting. Oddly, a small black remote is lying on the throw rug where Cecilia’s cat was sitting. I recognize it as the device that controls a hidden screen in the corner. Its only use was for my father to brood over old videos of my mother when he was alone. The panel is open now, the screen visible but dark. Bending down, I swiftly swipe the remote off the floor and shove it into a back pocket before joining my wife.
“Can that tear be fixed?” She points to a tiny rip in the canvas.
“I’m sure it can.” I stand behind her and place my hands on her shoulders. She leans back and allows me to cage her in my arms. The weight pressing on my chest dissolves when I’m close to her. “What did your brother say to you as he was leaving?”
“He said you’re not as much of an asshole as he thought.”
“I’ll take the endorsement. Maybe I ought to slap it on a t-shirt.”
She giggles but then cuts off abruptly. “I shouldn’t be laughing.”
“Mel likes to say that laughter is good medicine.” I lower my head and press my lips to my wife’s hair. “Can I tell you something?”
She turns around and her sweet eyes are full of questions. “I’m your wife, Julian. You can tell me anything.”
I run the back of my hand over the soft skin of her cheek. “I was so fucking arrogant. I wish I’d told you to forget about deals and arrangements the day you arrived. Instead, I should have asked you for a date. If only I’d been honest enough to win your heart first rather than scheming to win your hand. It should have been just you and me from the start. And then forever.”
She takes a shaky breath. “You have my heart. It was yours before I even meant to give it away.”
“And you have mine.” I swallow and send up a fervent plea to find the right words. “Please forgive me, Cecilia. I didn’t do right by you in the beginning and I haven’t been here for you the way I should have been. But if you give me another chance to be the husband you deserve, I swear I’ll get it right this time.”
This appeal doesn’t feel adequate enough so I drop to my knees. My arms circle her waist and I lay my head on her pregnant belly.
“You are my wife. You are always my first thought in the morning and my last one before I close my eyes. You inhabit my dreams. You win the starring role in every one of my hopes and I can’t get by without you. I love you, Cecilia. I should have said that much sooner. It’s been true all along.”
She runs her fingers through my hair. Our sons move inside her belly.
“I love you too, Julian,” she whispers and her voice catches on her tears.
I had the wrong idea about tears. They aren’t useless. They have the power to soothe, to cure. At least, this is how mine feel as they course down my cheeks when I stand to kiss my wife.
Getting to my feet must have jostled the remote in my pocket. Cecilia and I are still locked together in a passionate kiss when my mother’s happy voice joins the moment.
“Now where’s my gorgeous prince?” she says from a lost era. “I demand a dance.”
“I’m right here,” replies my father. “I’ll never be far from you, angel. You know that.”
“Promise?”
I’ve watched this scene from their wedding countless times. I know every frame the way most people could recite their favorite movie. Seconds later, when the music starts, I’m ready to sway back and forth with my bride, just as we did on our wedding day, and just like my parents did long before us.
Cecilia breathes out a happy sigh and lets her cheek rest on my chest while my arms surround her. As I stroke her hair and feel my heartbeat quicken, my parents share the moment in the background.
I’ve always been mistaken about something important. From an early age I observed my father’s agony and arrived at the unshakable conclusion that I never wanted to be in his shoes.
