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“You bet. But may I go first?”
Two miniature lines wrinkle her forehead, and one side of her lips pucker slightly, but she waves me on.
Good.
“What happened yesterday might have seemed sudden, even too hasty, but let me make a case for it not being like that at all. We’ve known each other for most of our lives. You’re brilliant, a hard worker, and no one has a purer heart than you. You’ve been with me over these past three years, and I’ve been with you. We’ve helped one another, supported one another, and somewhere along the way, grown new feelings for one another.”
I take her hand. “And there’s nothing whatsoever wrong with that.”
“But… there is,” she counters. “It’s as if we’re being unfaithful. Even if it’s just to her memory.”
“How?”
“Because she trusted us.”
“Yes. We haven’t broken any trust that I’m aware of.”
“And what would you call yesterday?” she hisses, and I simply grin.
“Fantastic.”
“Oh, please. Harrison,” she grumbles, and I’m struck with an idea.
“How about we ask her?”
Her mouth gapes open as she gawks at me. “What do you mean?”
“Come on.”
Coaxing her out of her seat, I lead her to the exit then down three blocks to the Oak Valley Community Cemetery. As soon as she comprehends our destination, she brings us to a halt.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. You’re worried about what she might think, so I can’t imagine any better solution than to ask her in person.”
“But… But I haven’t been here since the funeral.”
I offer her a sad grin.
“I have,” I sigh. Not to be morose but because I’ve never discussed this with anyone before. Not even Trina. “When things felt especially unbearable, I would come here and…” And fall apart. I don’t say that, however. She already knows how much of a mess I’ve been. “And visit. Sometimes I would simply sit by her grave and sometimes I would talk, but usually, after a while, I’d feel human enough again to push myself forward.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Trina says, and I get it.
“I found a lot of peace here. I know she’s not here, but I feel close to her here. Maybe you will, too. Let’s go see.”
Slowly, we make our way over to the part of the cemetery where my wife was laid to rest. I take a minute or two to clear a couple of leaves that have fallen from the white oak tree lumbering above us. It’s serene here. Comforting. Even though reading the engraved name of Jane Bethany Cisco Walcott used to feel like a kick in the gut, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. Not for a while now.
“Hey, Janie,” I greet my beloved by patting the cement marker. Janie was my preferred endearment for her, and always will be. “I know I haven’t been in a couple of weeks. I have some updates for you. And I brought you a present. Trina’s here.”
I gesture at Trina to give this a try, but I’ll understand if she doesn’t. If she can’t. We all mourn lost loved ones in our own individual manners.
“Uh, hi, I guess. I miss you.” Two enormous tears leak from Trina’s eyes and skid down her freckled cheeks, and she turns toward me. I expect her to reach for me or maybe ask for a tissue, but she does neither. “Harrison? Can I have a few minutes alone?”
“Of course.”
I get it. And this is important. So, I wander away.
Nine
