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But I said nothing so as not to diminish the moment.
The words I’d written for her came easily to hand as I strummed the opening chords. I’d toyed with the song here and there, but it was still very much a work in progress. Still, new lyrics came to me, aided by the soft flutter of the breeze through her hair and the gentle, insistent press of her leg to mine.
A steady reminder.
Light in her eyes, not meant to go out
Broken by me, never
Not a doubt
But places inside me
She has laid claim
To go on with her
Or without her
I’ll never be the same
I stopped, my fingers falling still. And chanced a look at her in the fading light.
Her eyes were damp with tears.
“That’s…” Her throat moved. “You really wrote that for me?”
“Do you think there could be another ginger fairy?” Ever?
I didn’t say the last part aloud, but it echoed through my head.
Her lips curved. “Just as there could be no other Lucky Charms.”
“Not true. I ate some just last week.”
On purpose. To remind myself of her.
As if I ever forgot.
“You ate yourself?”
“This conversation is veering dangerously close to perversion. Alas, I’m not that flexible.”
Her smile grew and the constriction in my throat lessened.
“I wrote that for you weeks ago. I’d tried a few times and nothing came out right.” Idly, I strummed the strings. “Today the last verse just seemed to flow. It needs more work of course, but—”
“It’s perfect. No one’s ever written anything for me.” She dashed at the tears dripping off her chin, laughing self-consciously. “Well, an old high school boyfriend did. But no one who—”
She broke off and stared at me. I stared right back.
I needed to know what she’d meant to say. But I didn’t have the stones to ask.
Rather than completing her thought, she leaned forward and took the guitar out of my hands. She traced the sunburst pattern on one of my most treasured instruments, her touch reverent. Carefully, she set it in its case and turned to me.
I cleared my throat. “Easy enough to string some words together.”
Anything to fill the silence.
