Текст книги "After Forever Ends "

Автор книги: Melodie Ramone

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 33 (всего у книги 39 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

We got the greatest gift that next winter when everyone made it home for Christmas. Carolena had just arrived with Adam, when the snow began to gather on the ground.

“Mummy!” She hugged me tight, “We’re in for a white Christmas!”

That was an understatement when we woke up the next morning to two feet of snow.

“No one’s going anywhere for a while! More snow is coming! This is the best Christmas gift ever!” Ana came bounding down the steps clapping her hands, “Hooray! All of us together under one roof! Eddie,” She snapped her fingers at her husband, “Light a fire! We’ll pop some corn!” She turned to Oliver and Alexander, who were sitting on either side of draughts, “Ollie and Xan, you can finish your game later! Put on your Wellies and walk down to the grocer for me! I need more potatoes, more sausages and more sugar!” She spoke to her sons as if they were teens still under her command. “Come on now! Hurry up!”

They looked at each other and grinned.

“Yes, Mum,” Alexander stood and kissed her cheek.

“Straight away, Mum,” Oliver kissed her on the other side.

“Would you shovel the garden path?” She asked.

“Absolutely not!” Oliver told her seriously.

Her mouth fell open and she clamped it shut promptly giving him a stern look.

“That’s why we have sons!” Alexander finished for him, “Lads, get your boots on! Shovel the way for your grandmother!”

“An’ what’ll the girls do?” Gryffin pretended to complain. He picked up a Wellie, realised it was not his and handed it to Warren.

“We’ll sit here all warm and look pretty while you work,” Carolena smiled. She was plaiting Natalie’s long hair, “Like girls are supposed to!”

“Oh, aye!” Nigel laughed, “Well, bake something at least then!”

Bess chucked a hair pin at him. “Shut up!”

“Come on then, Adam,” Oliver wasn’t about to let Caro’s man off the hook, “Come with Alex and me. You can carry the potatoes.”

“All right,” He agreed with a good natured grin.

“I like him,” Lucy told Caro after the men had left the house, “He‘s one to hang on to.”.

“He’s very handsome,” Bess added. “He has lovely eyes.”

“I like the way he smiles,” Nattie handed Caro a hair pin, “He’s got the best smile.”

“He has a nice arse, too” Annie said.

“Annie!” Caro giggled.

“It’s true! I just want to grab it and bite it!”

“Aye, me, too!” Ana nodded as she poked at the fire.

Caro’s face was as red as her hair, but she laughed with the rest of us. “Grandmum! I can’t believe you said that!”

“What? I’m a woman! I have eyes! I still have warm blood in my veins!” She looked from me to Lucy and the three of us exchanged knowing giggles. “You don’t forget to notice a handsome man with a fine body with your first grey hair, Girls!”

“Auntie Sil, why isn’t Lakshmi here?” Natalie was trying to keep her head still while Caro pulled her hair to finish the plait.

“She’s spending the holiday with her grandparents,” Lakshmi was Gryffin’s girlfriend. He’d met her in Edinburgh and before I knew it they’d moved in together. I hadn’t had the chance to meet her yet, which bothered me a bit, but she was lovely on the phone and Gryffin adored her, “They don’t know she and Gryff live together because they wouldn’t approve, so they wouldn’t like him coming there for anything overnight. They’re very religious, I’m told.”I peeked out the window to see all of the men chasing each other through street, lobbing snowballs in all directions. Even Edmond was in on it. I watched him slip and fall in the road. He waited a second for Nigel to come close and see if he was all right, then popped up and beamed him straight in the chest. At the same moment Gryffin and Warren assaulted Nigel from two other sides and he caught it in the back of the head and the shoulder respectively. I watched him chase after Warren, but Alexander caught him and wrestled him to the ground. He was busy shoving snow down the neck of his son’s coat when Oliver knocked him over and everyone piled on top. There they were in a heap in the middle of the street, all the Dickinson men and Adam Maldovan, stuffing snow down each other’s collars. “Girls! Quick! You have to see this!”

Everyone hurried to a window facing the street and we all stood laughing at the boys.

“Have I forgotten at all to tell any of you how very much I love you?” I asked.

“No,” They replied more or less together followed by a chorus of we-love-you-too.

We made such a masterpiece in the kitchen that holiday. It was wonderful, as Ana had said, having everyone under one roof again. No one fought, no one got angry, no one complained or took anything personally. We just sat snowed in at Grandmum and Granddad’s house and enjoyed the company of the people we loved the most. We were there for three days and two nights. What an absolute blessing that was.

Oliver and I slept in his old bedroom in his old bed. It was really too small for two people, but it didn’t matter. I liked having to be too close to him. He lay there on the second night awake and much too quiet. I waited for him to tell me what he was thinking, but after an hour or so when he didn’t I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Ollie, what’s up?” I rolled over and put my hand on his chest, “Talk to me.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

He drew a breath, hesitated, and then spoke, “Did you notice Adam pull me aside after we had supper?”

“No. Was I in the kitchen?”

“I think so.” He answered quietly, and then said, “He wants to marry our daughter.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes,” I couldn’t see him in the dark, but I could tell he was staring at the ceiling, “He loves her. I could see it in his eyes. It was in his voice. He asked me for my blessing. Can you believe that?”

“Wow. Old fashioned of him.” I said. Ollie nodded. He said nothing. I moved closer and laid my head on his shoulder, “She loves him, too. She has for a long, long time. He’s good to her. Do you see the way they look at each other?”

“She looks at him the way you look at me,” He answered.

“I know. It’s a dead giveaway, isn’t it? I’ve always tried to pretend that I’m not mad about you.”

“Yes, me, too. Wouldn’t want anyone to know, yeah?” He pulled me close, “God, I’m glad I’m married to you.”

“Me, too, Sweetie. Me, too.”

It was a week later when Carolena called and told us on speakerphone that she was getting married. Oliver stood with an odd grin on his face and listened to her tell the story of how Adam had proposed to her spontaneously in the middle of Trafalgar Square. “We were just walking through and suddenly he stopped and dropped to his knees. You know how nasty Trafalgar Square is with all the birds. I honestly thought he’d fallen down or something, but what had happened was he’d been fingering the ring and he’d dropped it! So he was on his hands and knees crawling around and I was standing in front of him asking him if he was all right and he looked up suddenly and said, ’Carolena Mariana Dickinson, I love you! Will you be my wife?’ He was holding out the ring! I was a bit surprised, but I said yes, of course! And the moment I did a group of tourists came the square from the other side and they sent the pigeons into flight! They came right at us and we had to run!” She giggled, “It was so unromantic! It was terrible! One of them shit right on my coat!”

“Well,” Oliver consoled, “You won’t ever forget it, will you?”

“No, I won’t! You know, I’ve thought about it and I don’t want a big wedding. Adam doesn’t have a large family and most of our friends are just casual. It seems like a lot of work and a lot of money for one day having a big fancy do. We can keep it small and simple, I reckon, if we keep our wits about us.”

“You can,” I told her, “Lucy’s wedding was beautiful and it was just a couple of people.”

“I remember bits of it,” She was quiet for a second, “I was wondering…well, I was thinking…do you think it would be all right if Adam and I were married in the wood?”

“Really?” Oliver’s eyes widened. “You’d want to do that?”

“Well, yes. I think it would be pretty right by the lake, yeah? At sunset maybe. You know, right when the sun goes down and the lake is so still the water looks like a mirror reflecting the trees?”

I smiled and took Oliver’s hand, “Yes, it’s beautiful then.”

“I’m thinking, if it’s all right, too, that I’d like to have a dinner in the garden afterward, lit by candlelight. It makes only eighteen people, including all of us Dickinson’s and Adam’s family and the few friends we’d invite.”

“That would be lovely, Carolena. That would make your father and I both so happy.”

“It would,” Her father agreed. He rubbed the back of my hand gently with his thumb, “That would be very special, Muffin.”

Later that evening I caught Oliver standing in the nursery staring at the mural of the children and the lambs. I came beside him and rested my cheek against the flat of his arm.

“Alexander and I painted all of this for her,” The look in his eyes was far away, “It was one of my inspired moments. I called him up and told him what we were going to do and he was over in a flash. I was so excited about her, Love. A baby. A wee little chocolate dipped cherry muffin. You knew I was wound up about becoming a dad, but the truth is I dreamed about her long before she was born. I did it with all the children.” He paused, “I knew she was a girl. I wanted her so badly. I made so many plans and so many promises to her and she wasn’t even out of you belly. We waited a long time to meet her. And then there she was, Little Carolena Mariana, my only daughter. You were both so beautiful the day she was born.”

“Are you crying?”

“So what if I am?” He put his chin on the top of my head, “When I put her in here the first night, it was in this crib right here.” He put his hand on the side, “I carried her in one arm. She was so tiny and warm all wrapped up in that fuzzy little pink blanket Mum gave her.” He was quiet for a very long time. “She grew so fast. She was only ours for a little while, yeah?”

“She’s still ours.”

“She’s still ours, sort of. She’s grown into a woman, she has. She’s an excellent and lovely woman like her mum. She’s got the Cotton brains and the Dickinson nerve. I know she’s all right. I know she can handle herself, mind, but my heart still worries for her. In my heart, she’s still that little muffin wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket and I’m just her dad hoping and praying she’s OK. I guess it never ends, does it?”

“No, loving them or wanting to protect them never ends.”

“I know Adam will take care of her.”

“He will.” I agreed, “She couldn’t have found a better man to spend her life with.”

“They all grew so quickly.” He sighed.

“In a breath.”

“Sometimes I miss them being small. I miss all the noise and the chaos and the garden being littered with toys. I miss how we used to all get together on Sundays,” He paused, “I don’t know if I ever really thanked you.”

“For what?”

“For my children. For being my wife. For putting up with me all these years. It was because of you that we were the family we became. You know that? You were really the glue that held it all together.”

“Oh, I think you had something to do with it. Lucy and Alexander, too. We raised all the children together. It was a community effort.”

He was quiet again for a moment before he said, “Let’s have another baby, Sil!” For just a split second I actually thought he was serious. I jerked my head back and stared up into his face “We could!” He insisted, “We’re only fifty or something!”

I could feel my mouth hanging open. He immediately threw his arms around me and burst out laughing. I joined him.

The wedding came on a gorgeous day in late June. Lucy, Adam’s mother, Milla, and sister, Jayne, who was Carolena’s best friend since uni, Natalie, the twins and I got Caro dressed in the nursery. How odd, yet fitting, it seemed to prepare her for her marriage in the same room she had slept in the first night we brought her home. The walls were still painted as they had been for babies, but there stood Carolena, as her dad had said, grown into a woman. Her veil was draped over the crib.

She was absolutely stunning in my mother’s wedding dress. Where Lucy had worn it once and looked like an angel, my daughter brought out majesty in the gown. Bess took Caro’s thick red curls and turned them into gorgeous plaits that she wove through a studded headband with such skill I’d have thought she’d done it a hundred times. When she was through, our Carolena looked like a princess.

When Oliver came in to tell her that the sun was beginning to set, he stopped in the doorway without a word and stared.

“Daddy?”

“You look so…” He blinked a few times, “Stunning, Caro. You look absolutely stunning.”

Alexander stumbled in behind him. He stopped dead in his step and stared as well.

“Uncle Alex?”

“I…I’m sorry,” Alex smiled, “You just look…just like your Mum did about thirty years ago. It’s like a step back in time. It took me by surprise. You look unbelievable, Muffin. Absolutely exquisite.”

“Thank you!” She ran to him like she used to as a little girl and flung herself into his arms and then turned to her daddy and flung herself into his, “I’m so happy, Daddy!”

“Stay happy, Muffin,” He held her tight and kissed her hair, “Always stay just as happy as you are right now, right this minute. Promise me?”

“I’ll try.”

“They’ll be hard times. I promise. But I promise as well that if you remember the thing that made you love him in the first place and you keep finding it again and again there won’t be a thing you can’t make it through together.”

“I’ll remember.”

“I know you will. I know.” Oliver held her tight and closed his eyes, “Don’t ever forget to laugh, even when things are a mess. It’s the secret of it all. After today, there is no one else but you and him. Just you and him and that’s all that matters. Remember that, too.”

“I will, Daddy.”

“Now, come on. Let’s get you down the aisle,” Oliver held her at arm’s length and grinned, “You’re going to have so much fun!”

Alex moved to the side to allow them to pass.

Our little girl was married as she wished beside that little pond that she and Oliver insisted was a lake. It was an elegant, simple ceremony that ended just as darkness swept across the wood. Warren, Gryffin and Nigel lit the candles and the wood was illuminated in a soft glow that made Carolena look even more beautiful than she had during the day.

After the wedding was through and the dinner was finished and everyone had left us for their homes and honeymoon, my husband and I curled up on the lawn under that old woollen blanket. We sat close and we watched the sky and we said nothing at all.

A year and a half later Carolena missed her cousin Nigel’s wedding because she’d had her first baby, a daughter she named Ekaterina Sophia, after both the baby’s grandmother’s middle names. Kitty, they called her, and she was as lovely as her mum. Caro and Adam would come and visit more often once Kitty was born. She’d send her for a few weeks in the summer and my deep seeded need to be surrounded by children was once again satisfied. Having never had a grandmother myself, I tried to be everything to Kitty that I would have wanted if I’d had one. Kitty, Oliver and I had loads of fun.

Two years after that, still in competition with Nigel, who had just had a son he called Matthew, she gave birth to a son of her own, whom she called Oliver. And then, three years later, she outdid her cousin once more. Nigel had just had another son he called James. Three days later Carolena had twin boys called Nicolas and Alexander.

Nigel had her beat on one thing, however. He and his first wife, Laura, divorced shortly after Matthew turned two. A year later, he married his girlfriend, Mary, whom was the mother of his youngest son, James. They divorced three years after James was born. Nigel stayed single for twenty years, dating here and there, until he met Carla, a cheeky, heavy set girl who was nineteen years younger than him and the daughter of none other than Nigel’s old rugby mate, the mega-fuck brain, Connor Stewart. Carla never wanted to get legally married, nor did she want children of her own, so Nigel bought her an old cottage in Kerry Village and the two lived happily ever after, more or less, “in sin and mortal peril”, as Oliver put it.

Ana Kaye McNeil Dickinson, Oliver and Alexander’s mother, crossed the veil the April after Nic and Alex were born. She’d developed a cough, which she ignored until she was sure she had pneumonia. Thinking she’d go to the doctor and get a shot of antibiotics, she went for a visit and was told after a battery of tests that what she had was cardiac obstructive pulmonary disease. She had a surgery to unclog an artery, but a few months later she suffered a heart attack and six after that, at the age of seventy-eight, she passed away peacefully in Edmond’s presence at hospital in Welshpool.

Oliver and Alexander didn’t take the time immediately to deal with their own feelings over her death. They were too busy looking after their father, whose heart was completely shattered over the loss. He’d been with Ana since they were twenty years old. Much like Oliver and I, she was what his life had revolved around. Being retired, he was at a loss as to what to do with himself in her absence.

“I was holding her in my arms,” He told me as we sat in his front room after her memorial service, “I used to tease her about greasing up her face. I told her she looked like a glazed ham. She‘d say to me, ‘Well, at least I‘ll always be beautiful‘. You know, she didn‘t have a single wrinkle on her face,” He sighed. “She really was always beautiful.”

“She was,” I agreed. I meant it, too. Ana never let herself go for even a day.

“You’re never ready,” Edmond told me, “I don’t think it matters how old you get. You’re just never prepared to be the one left alone.”

I took his hand and said nothing. There simply was nothing to say. I was there. It was the best I could do.

Oliver held himself together until she was buried. Eddie told us he was tired after the service and he asked to be dropped off at his house. Alex asked if he wanted company, but he shook his head. “I’m tired, Son. I need to go home and be alone.”

We hugged and kissed him and respected his wishes. Oliver and I left him off. As we were walking down the garden path to the car, my husband asked me if I would mind driving. “Not at all, Sweetie,” I replied and took the keys from him. I had only made it around the corner before he put his hands over his face and allowed himself to begin to mourn his mother. I took him home and I let him cry without even trying to stop him. Eventually, he fell asleep.

The night of her funeral there was a dreadful rain. It came down in all directions, filled the dips in the road, and made travel on the muddy paths to the cabin nearly impossible. Still, at about ten thirty that night someone was pounding on our door.

Oliver woke up and rolled out of bed and on to his feet. “What the hell? “ He rubbed his head, “Is somebody here?“ The pounding came again. Both of us hurried to the door to find his brother and Lucy huddled together under an umbrella to protect them from the storm. “Are you mad?” Oliver demanded, hurrying them into the house, “Get in here!”

“The door was locked!” Alexander shook his head as if to free an ear of water

“Really?” Ollie was surprised. We never locked our door.

They peeled off their dripping coats. They were both still in their pyjamas “Silvia!” Lucy hugged me, “Alexander had a dream!”

“What?” Oliver took a bag from Alex and set it on the floor.

She and Alex looked at each other. “OK, OK, let me explain,” Alex was grinning excitedly, “You know how you and I were so upset that we didn’t get to say good bye properly to Mum, Ollie?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’ve been having this feeling that she’s around, yeah? Ever since she died, really, and I’ve been chatting with her. I told her that if there’s anything she wants us to do she should let us know.”

“So tonight he went to bed early because he was so damned sad,” Lucy interrupted She put her hand lovingly against his cheek, “And he woke up about an hour later and he tells me, ‘It’s in the cupboard behind the bloody cache pot!’ I had no idea what he was talking about, but he said it again, ‘It’s behind the bloody cache pot!’ and he jumped up and ran out of the house!”

“What are you talking about?” I couldn’t help but laugh at them. They seemed so excited and were making no sense at all.

“I went over to Dad’s in my bloomin’ flannels and tore into his pantry. He didn‘t wake up, thank God, because he would have thought I was mental! I pulled out that old cache pot mum had in there and behind it was Grandmum’s recipe book!”

“The one Mummy has been looking for since Grandmum died?” I asked.

“The very one!” Alexander literally jumped in place, “See, in my dream I was sitting here on the sofa-like,” He motioned to the front room, “And you,” He was looking at his brother, “And Silvia were in the kitchen. I could hear you talking. Well, through the front door comes Mum…and I mean, through the front door, she floated right through it. And she’s all smiling and looking really young and pretty and she says, ‘Xander, I found the book! It’s behind the bloody cache pot! Must have fallen, yeah?’ and then she sits beside me and pats me on the hand and she says, ‘Go get it and get over to your brother’s! Don’t mind the rain! Make what’s on page twenty-seven. Silvia has everything you need. It’ll bring back memories you’ve forgotten!’” Tears were welling in Alexander’s eyes, “And then she tells me she loves me and Lucy and asks me to tell you two that she loves you both and that she’s so proud of us all. And then she says to me, ‘I really have to go, Xan. Don’t miss me because I’m not far. Tell Oliver and Eddie you’ll all see me again in time’. And then I woke up.”

“Well, what the hell’s on page twenty-seven?” Oliver demanded with a good natured grin. He took the whole story in stride without even a question. Then again, he’d been speaking to elves since he was a child, why would it seem so out of the realm of possibility that his mother could have visited his brother in a dream?

“Let’s find out!” Lucy hugged the book to her chest, “Come on, Silvia! Let’s go cook!”

It was a simple bread. Flour, butter, eggs, sugar, brown sugar, baking soda, milk, a little nutmeg, and vanilla. We baked it for a little less than an hour and pulled it out.

“It smells good,” I held my nose over the pan.

“It says to butter it and serve it hot,” Lucy glanced over the recipe one last time. “Mummy scribbled a note.”

We sliced it and served it to the twins.

“I remember this!” Alexander said through a full mouth, “She used to make it after mass on Sundays! Before they sent us to Bennington!”

“We’d have it with chamomile tea and orange slices,” Oliver covered his face with his hands. “This is what it tastes like to be seven years old, Alex!”

“It was our favourite! Bake the bread, Mummy! We’d beg for it. And she would, she always would!” Alex wiped his eyes, “God, our mother loved us! She loved us so bleedin‘ much!”

“Ah, Mum!” Oliver sniffed, “God bless you! I was missing you, but here you are now! Thank you, Mum!”

“Yes, thank you, Mum,” Alexander smiled, savouring his slice of bread. He squeezed Oliver‘s shoulder, “Thank you for page twenty-seven!”

I must have made that bread a hundred times after that night. They never told me more of what memories it brought back, but it made them both extremely happy every time. It was the taste that made them remember how much their mother loved them. It was an honour for me to carry on the tradition of baking it for Ana. She had been the only mum I had ever known as well.

Edmond lived quietly for another year and then he crossed the veil himself. It was odd how he left us. He complained of chest discomfort and the twins took him into hospital where he was admitted for observation.

“I love my children,” He told his sons as they left, “And I love my grandchildren. All the work I did in my life was to preserve history and all along my greatest contribution to it was my family. I am so proud of all of you, but especially of my two boys.” Oliver said he gave them both a long embrace and kissed them on their heads before he crawled into his bed and sat there smiling. “Everyone will be just fine,” He told them, “Don’t you worry about that.”

They both got phone calls at about five the next morning telling them that he had passed away in his sleep. There was no clear medical reason they could find right away, he’d just gone. We all knew in our hearts he was happy to move on. He had loved his wife and living without her had been a long and lonely struggle. Ed left his estate to his sons and a portion of money to all the grandchildren and great grandchildren, but bequeathed his grand piano and all of his musical collections to his grandson, Warren.

“Blimey,” Warren sighed as he stood in the front room of his grandparent’s home with Alexander, Oliver and me. He ran his hand through his thick brownish red hair, “I’m sure glad you guys are letting me move into this house now that I’ve come home. I’d hate to have to move this piano to a fifth floor flat in Newtown.”

“No shite!” Alexander whistled.

By the age Oliver and I were, it came as no surprise that our children should be getting married and our parents should be leaving us, but we still considered ourselves young. We were fit and active and ready to take on the world more than ever. We had our same energy and with it we had wisdom as well. We thought it was time to start masterminding a plan to conquer the universe, but we were too busy laughing at each other to focus.

Taking this into consideration, it was no great surprise that we got the wind knocked right out of our sails when a year later we got word from Merlyn that Lance had died quietly at his home after a long illness.

“What?” Oliver’s face went crimson. He turned with the phone in his hand and stared at me with a look that sent a sickening bolt of electricity straight through me, “When did this happen? Wait a minute! I just spoke to him! Did you know? Why didn’t he tell anybody? Oh, sweet Jesus. Poor Lance…I can’t bloody believe it. Did you call Alexander?”

When he hung up the phone, he turned to me. “Silvia, Lance has died,” He told me softly, “Pancreatic cancer, Merlyn tells me,” He shook his head, “Come here, I need you.”

I held him tight for what seemed an hour.

“I need to call Alexander,” Oliver mumbled, moving away from me. He looked at me for a moment, “It’s OK if you cry now, Love.”

I took his permission. I sat on the floor in the front room and I sobbed.

Oliver called Alex. I only heard the tail end of the conversation, “No, I guess he’d been sick a good while. Alex, are you telling me he had cancer before? I never knew that. He didn’t tell me. Well, certainly cancer can reoccur. Why are you asking me? I don’t give a fuck if I’m a doctor! He never told me anything about being ill! I don’t know the details! He told Merlyn a few weeks ago! Fucking phone Merlyn up then! Maybe he knows!” He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. This is just so wrong. Yeah, well, I want to puke. Ok, Brawd. Ring me then. Oy, Alexander? I love you.”

He hung up the phone and wandered out into the garden. I watched him walk around mumbling at the trees and then he sat on the edge of the hill and hung his head in his hands.

I went out after a while and put my arms around him. “When you’re ready, Sweetheart.”

He patted my hand and stared up at the sky. “Do you need me?”

“No, Sweetie. I’m all right.”

He nodded.

Oliver did nothing for hours. I let him be. Sometimes it was best to just let Oliver alone when he was upset and allow him come to me when he was ready to talk.

He came in for dinner, but he wasn’t eating. Neither of us were. “I just spoke with Lance two weeks ago,” He said softly. “He never told me he was ill. His funeral’s the day after tomorrow. Alex and Lucy’ll ride with us to Caernarfon to pay our respects.”

“Of course.”

It didn’t seem real to me at all that one of us could have died. Not one of us Bennington kids. It didn’t sink in that any of it was actually true and not some horrible dream until we got to the church where Lance’s memorial service was being held.

It was very hard to take. There were dozens of people wandering about that none of us knew. They looked at us oddly. It seemed like they should be the ones out of place, not us. I caught myself looking for Lance in the crowd, as if I would see the top of his head cutting a path around the shoulders of everyone else and hear him call, “Silvia! How are you, Dear?” It was at that moment I caught sight of the coffin and him in it.

He looked so tiny lying there, like a child’s body with an old man’s face. Even with the work they’d done on him it was easy to see he’d suffered. His dirty blond hair had fallen out and the patches that were left had turned dark grey. He had deep set circles under his eyes. His once pudgy face was drawn, painted the wrong shade of peach and his teeth looked too large beneath his lips. He didn’t look like the Lance I’d known in life.

“Oh, my,” Lucy whispered what I was thinking, “Is that him?”

“It is,” Alexander’s voice was barely audible. He walked to his old mate and covered his frozen hands with his own. “Ah, Christ! Lance!”

“I can’t stand this,” Oliver looked away from the casket.

I took his hand. “I know, Sweetheart. None of us can. I can’t either.” My eyes stung with tears. I looked away and across the room, but I could not stop them from falling.

“I can’t look at him,” Oliver swallowed, “He looks so…so small.”

“He wasn’t very big, Oliver.”

My husband looked at me. His beautiful brown eyes glowed with tears, “He wasn’t small to me, Sil. To me he was always very big. He was always very, very big.”

Alexander embraced his brother, “This is rough, Boyo.”

“He looks so tiny. As if he was helpless all his life. Lance was not helpless. He was strong. He was…” My husband trailed off. He clutched his brother’s shoulders. His eyes were wide, almost wild, “This is Lancelot, Alexander! This is Lance Crosby! Lance Crosby can’t be dead! It isn’t right!”