Page 198 of Playing By Ear

Of the morning when

I took my first steps

Perry suppressed a smile at the memory of talking Jamie out of rhyming held me close with made me toast.

The final verse and chorus turned the tables.

As I held you close

And tucked you in

I sang a song

Of the evening when

You took your last steps

The final chord faded, and the congregation released a collective breath. Here and there, soft weeping turned to sobs. As Jamie’s footsteps descended the carpeted stairs, a wave of applause burst forth, then faded just as quickly, as though everyone had momentarily forgotten where they were.

Jamie sat beside Perry and took his hand. Perry wrapped his other hand around it, sealing him into their fingers’ embrace.

On Jamie’s other side, Belinda sniffled hard, muffling her voice with a handkerchief or tissue. “Did you ever play that for Dad?” she asked Jamie.

“Of course,” he said. “We finished it together.”

“How’s Layla settling in at yours?” Jamie asked Belinda as they left Rita’s Sweeties late Friday morning.

“All right.” Belinda held the door for a wee wifey wearing an unnecessary raincoat. “She follows Lucy everywhere, sleeps beside her bed all night.”

“Does Layla seem like she’s waiting for Dad?”

“No, I think being there when he passed made her understand he’s never coming back.”

“He said that was one reason he wanted to do hospice at home,” Jamie said as they set out strolling beside the calm blue loch. “So Layla wouldn’t be left wondering.”

“They were—” Belinda pressed her hand under her nose as though repressing a sneeze. “They were such great friends,” she managed to choke out.

“Aye, they were.”

Under the watchful but deferentially distant eye of Belinda’s bodyguard, Rory, the two of them walked in silence until they veered onto the grass toward “their” bench. A squirrel leapt out of their path and vaulted up the closest tree, where it chattered its impotent irritation.

Jamie and Belinda took a moment to admire the new addition on the wooden seat back:

THE BAD NEWS BENCH -

IN MEMORY OF MARTIN AND MICHAEL MACKRAY

“It’s perfect.” Belinda offered a toast to Jamie with her latte.

He tapped his paper cup against hers. “I was shocked how little paperwork was involved.”

“I’m shocked you asked permission. Not very MacKray of you.” She took a seat with satisfied emphasis. “I love that Mum’s name will grace an entire community hall, while Dad gets a bench.”

“Half a bench.” Jamie sat beside her. “Uncle Mickey’s got the other half.”

“Nice they’re sharing something besides a gloomy mausoleum.”

“Christ, I thought I was gonnae boil in my suit sitting next to that thing yesterday. Felt like the black marble took every sunbeam and blasted it out a hundred times stronger.”