He waved us over. "Come and sit with me. We have a lot of catching up to do. I saw your story on the news. Ella, come and sit too."
She stepped toward the bed. He hugged her and gave her a pat on the head, then moved toward me. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me toward him, into the bed alongside him. I collapsed in his embrace, feeling like a five-year-old again, laughing so hard I cried. Tears of joy. Unexpected, unbridled joy. Never in a million years could anyone have pulled this off. No one except Pop. Or maybe Ella.
I took a step back. "How did you manage this? They said you had a month to live."
"They told me last year that I would probably have six months. The cancer went crazy inside and they suggested this and that treatment. I stopped chemo and radiation. Stopped going to the doctor. I don't want to die that way. I'm ready to go now. I've lived plenty. I needed to get you straightened out before I left and I stayed here hoping you'd make it before I died." He held is chest. "After that scare just now I think it may be any day now."
"So did you plant all those boxes and notes right before we dug them up?"
"Some of them, but it took you a while to get to the next one sometimes. I'd check every so often and one would still be there. I had some help too.”
"We've had a lot going on." I looked at Ella, her face one huge brilliant ray of light. "Started a new business together. Planning our wedding. Ella's best friend was in a camping accident and severely burned."
"It's hard for me to walk," Pop said. "But let's go down to the trees and talk a little."
We helped him out of bed and down the steps.
"How did you bury all those notes as weak as you are?" Ella said.
“Well, like I said, I had a little help. Remember though, you can be dying on the outside, but the only thing that matters is how alive you are on the inside. You'd be amazed at the things a dying body can accomplish when the heart is filled with love."
"I always thought you couldn't wait to die since grandma died," I said as we walked outside and into the grass.
He grabbed my hand. Gripped as hard as his frail hand could. "You were always worth living for. Besides, your grandma would've wanted me to be with you. She never got to meet you. I really think having you helped me live when my heart wanted to give up."
I held Pop's left arm. Ella held his right. Together we walked in peace. Slow and steady. Down the hill we used to race down when I was a kid. Memories flashed through my mind like an old black-and-white film one still frame at a time.
We reached Pop’s trees. His and grandma’s favorite. Zelkova trees with enormous trunks and twisting branches. Pop sat in the shade on a wooden bench, white paint chipping off from years of wear. We sat beside him as he caught his breath. It wouldn't be long now, I thought. He was at peace. He finished what he set out to do and I could already see the darkness creeping in.
We talked for hours on the bench. At times I'd get so excited that I'd end up pacing around the tree and talking with my hands. Ella smiled the entire time. Pop did too. Whenever I stood he held her hand as though she were his own grandchild. Matt always said I was the balloon in his life and he was the weight that kept me down. For once in my life I felt like that were true not only on the outside, but the inside too.
Pop knew me so well. He knew I needed this. I needed to live from my heart. From the place he and Ella knew so well. And he knew it wouldn't have happened unless I was broken first. So he broke me. And then, as we sat in the shade on an amber September night, watching the sun fade behind the trees, Pop took my broken pieces and molded them into something new. Something deeper. More beautiful. Colorful. He molded me into a person with desire and life. A person who stopped to smell roses and climb trees. A person who didn’t take life for granted.
A person like him.
Chapter Nineteen
The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Ella and I spent a lot of time with Pop as his health quickly declined. He went over his will with us. Gave us the house and told us we could sell it and keep the money, or live there mortgage-free. Acres upon acres and a huge house completely paid off. Ella already imagined our future children running down to the same trees I grew up climbing. I wasn't so sure at first, but she talked me into it. Well, actually, she challenged me to a tickle fight where she made the craziest motions, like some kind of dying hyena. I laughed so hard I could barely stand. Easy win for her.
Pop asked if we could move in before he died so he wouldn't die alone. I think he enjoyed Ella's presence. The soft presence of a woman. She'd just sit there and read books to him. He loved it. I did too. I'm so glad they got to meet each other after all.
So, we gave our art and music students a three week notice of cancellation and advertised for Lancaster. Pop's house had a small guesthouse that would make a perfect studio. Already had fifteen students registered for November and we hadn't packed our stuff yet.
Ella insisted that we get married before moving in together. So we had one month to do so and Sarah was still in a coma.
They moved James to a different part of the hospital. Not completely sure how it all works, but Ella told me they were working with him in a therapy unit. We could visit and talk with him. So we did.
When we got there he smiled. Looked the same as he always did, except his arms and legs had been burned. Face looked great. Just one small mark near his left ear and neck.
Ella's voice shook when she spoke. We made normal small talk for a few minutes, then James put an end to it.
"It's my fault," he said. “I should’ve put the fire out. I wasn’t thinking. When the tent caught fire I jumped up and ran out without thinking. Like a dream or something. I forgot about her.” He shook his head. “Then I went into the flames to get her and it was too late. She was covered in flames.” His lip trembled. “I rolled around on the ground with her to get the flames off of us. It was my fault. Seeing her like that. I did that to her.”
“It’s not your fault, man," I said. "You can't beat yourself up about it. It was an accident. These things happen. You can't dwell on it."
"I'm good at dwelling. The last words I said to my brother were in a text right before he died. I'm the reason he went over the line. We were fighting. My last words to him were two letters. 'F U.' I saw his iPhone go from blue iMessages to green text messaging within seconds. I assumed he turned his phone off to ignore me. I will never forget the way my mother broke down when the cops came to the door to tell us he was dead." His tone carried weight as he talked. Lots of weight. Too much for one man to bear. He continued, "I killed Sarah. Even if she wakes up, I killed her spirit. Most of her skin was burned and a few organs were affected. If she wakes up she has a long road to recovery. I don't want her to wake up. I don't want her to suffer because of me."
He yelled at himself as he told us the rest of his story. When he finished, Ella and I looked at each other. She motioned for me to say something. I couldn't have found a word even if someone handed me a dictionary. So I looked down and let the silence kill his anger.
For a second I thought peace returned to him, but he flung his body back and forth and screamed to the top of his lungs. Nurses flew in. Ella explained what happened. They told us to leave the room. As we walked away James shouted over and over, "Let her die. Just let her die. And take me, too."
Sobering, to say the least. Ella and I drove back to Philadelphia in complete silence. No music. No talking.
I thought of my dad. So glad Pop cracked my heart open and poured a little of it into my dad's life. Holding grudges made me feel justified for a little, but that kind of anger and bitterness never dies and the only person it would've killed would've been myself. The people we choose not to forgive will move on. They'll get over it. Meanwhile the person who refuses to forgive is like a tea bag steeping so long that even ten spoons of sugar wouldn't make the bitterness worth drinking. I didn't want to be the drink no one wanted to swallow.
Then there's James. What do you tell someone when the one person they
can't forgive is their own self? I guess I could relate.
Ella and I finished up the last of our lessons, moved all of her stuff into Pop's house, and moved her in with him as well. He liked that idea. Yes, it put her an hour-and-a-half away from me, but it wouldn't be for long.
On an usually pleasant sixty-five degree October afternoon Ella and I had a picnic on Pop's land, our future home, down by the creek. We talked about Pop and Sarah. What to do about the wedding. Then, Ella got a call from a Pittsburgh number. Within minutes, we were in the car.
Three months and six days after Sarah and James got into the accident, she woke up to a new season of life. Ella could visit, but they still wouldn't let me. Not until they moved her to a different part of the hospital. When we arrived I kissed Ella and wiped her eyes, "Be strong, okay? Don't let her see you cry. She needs us to tell her everything will be fine right now. There will be other times to cry with her. That time isn't today."
"I'll try," she said, lip shaking. "This isn't going to be easy."
"I'll wait here as long as you need me to. Don't feel rushed."
She rounded a corner, wiping her tears onto her sleeve. They would take her away and dress her in a gown, gloves, and a mask. Required for all visitors of burn patients to avoid infections. I watched the clock for a while, but when the minutes turned into an hour and the hour turned into two hours, I got up and walked around. Ella happened to walk out a few minutes later, head buried in her elbow. Maybe it's cheesy. Maybe everyone would think it was strange. I didn't care. I picked her up and let her hide her tears in my sweater as I carried her to the car.
We stood next to the curb. I gazed into Emerald City. A little darker there tonight.
"Did she remember you?" I said.
Ella nodded. "She remembered everything and everyone."
"Does she know what happened to her? That she's burned pretty bad?"
She shook her head and tried not to cry. "Gavin. I don't know how. Don't understand it at all. The girl just got over a bout of cancer, possibly lost her chance to have children, finally gets engaged to a man who really, really loves her, and she's lying there on this hospital bed, looking like a mummy. Something out of a horror film really. She can't move. All I can see are her eyes, lips. and toenails. And she knows she's lost her face, her body. She knows she has a long road ahead of her. And what does she do, Gavin? While I'm holding back tears, trying not to lose it, what does she do?"
She stopped to catch her breath. I waited.
"What?" I said. "Everything okay?"
"She whispered, 'Ella, is that you?' Her eyes were closed. I told her it was me and she said, ‘Please, don't worry. Remember what I told you before? A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.'" Ella sniffed. "Can you believe that?"
I smiled. "With Sarah, yes, I can believe that."
"I don't think she will be able to see us get married. I asked if we could do it in her room. We can't. So I'm ready whenever you are."
"Okay," I said, opening the car door for her. "Let's not think about that today. We can talk about it later."
Chapter Twenty
The night before our wedding Pop's body weakened even more. He could no longer move or speak, but he could hear and nod a little to communicate. We didn't think he'd make it through the night, so Ella insisted I stay. Our first night together. Besides the few hours at the park. Not the best circumstances, but it actually was romantic. Pop asked us to light candles in his room, especially the lavender beeswax candles. My grandma's favorite. Then he directed us to a box in the closet. Top shelf. Furthest back. I pulled it down and looked inside. Tons of letters. Hundreds or thousands of them.
"Want me to read these?" I said.
He nodded.
I sat beside his bed. "Can Ella and I take turns throughout the night?”
He nodded.
I sifted through the letters. Didn't take long for me to realize what they were. Ella reclined in the chair next to Pop's bed, held his hand, and closed her eyes.
The letters were divided by year. Obviously he saved them in chronological order. I held the first one by the flickering light of a candle and read aloud.
October 30, 1929
My dearest love, my Miriam,
Yesterday most of the world experienced something negative with the stock market, but I barely caught wind of it because my heart was set on you. You probably think I'm crazy. I'm sure you give hundreds of guys your address every day. I'm no different than most of them. Nothing special here.
I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since the moment you walked into the room. Your black dress and coat. Your dark hair pulled up and under a red hat. Single pearl earrings. I've painted you in mind so I always remember the day I fell in love with my wife. Maybe I'm bold, but when you know, you know....
I hereby proclaim this the first letter of hundreds. Care to write the greatest romance in the world with me?
If so, write back.
Eagerly awaiting your response,
Edward Kessler
November 10, 1929
Dearest Edward,
I find it quite silly that you questioned my affections. Did I not give it away with my constant blushing and childish grins?
I found myself thinking of you every day since we first met. Of course I will write this love story with you. Even when we are old and gray with many grandchildren, our feeble hands barely able to hold a pen, I will still write to you. Let's promise to always write letters to each other, regardless of the difficulties we face.
When you know, you know....
Most affectionately yours,
Miriam
Ella drifted to the land of sleep as I continued reading aloud. Every now and then Pop nodded and grinned. As far as I could tell, he never fell asleep, so I kept reading through their Great Depression romance. Their wedding, several miscarriages, and so much more. All before the 1940's started. Their deep commitment to each other even through disagreements, which I read about several times, amazed and inspired me. Ella woke up when I reached the mid-forties. She took over the letters and I took her place beside Pop. Didn't take long for me to fall asleep to her sweet voice.
When I woke to bands of sunlight lying across the room, Ella had a huge smile on her face and tears in her eyes.
"Did you finish them all?" I said.
"Yes. All the way up to the last one. He kept writing to her after she died. Every Sunday they would walk down to the Zelkova trees and sit on the bench. They'd talk for hours, even when your dad was a baby. So every Sunday after she died he sat there on Sunday and wrote her letters."
"I remember him doing that."
Pop rustled, tried to open his eyes a little.
"Morning, Pop," I said. "Do you need something?"
He nodded to the left of him where two letters were partially hidden beneath his pillows. One read To Ella and Gavin and the other My Love, My Miriam.
Dearest Gavin and Ella,
As I write this you two are probably embracing for the first time. Matt called and told me about Ella being on the news and you racing around Philadelphia trying to find her. Yes, Matt knew I wasn't dead. Did you really think I could dig all those holes as old as I am? I needed help. He's been a good partner. He's a good friend, Gavin. Keep him around.
Anyway, I'm writing this in case I can't speak anymore when the end comes. If I can speak, I probably already told you this. If not, here are my last wishes:
1) if I am still breathing, don't care how bad off I am, I want to be at your wedding
2) invite your father and please, be his son when I'm gone. As much as you have always thought of yourself as some kind of dark cloud, you are not that. You bring sunshine to everyone around you. The best part is you don't realize it. Your father could use some sunshine.
3) put this last letter to your grandmother on her grave right after you bury me. It’s also for you to read, but not until I'm buried beside her.
Never give up, you two. Hard times ar
e bound to come. No relationship is perfect, but if you soften up and allow yourselves to mold into one person, instead of two separate people sharing a home, you will find it much easier and more beautiful.
Be one and let no one tear you apart.
Gavin, thank you for lighting up my life after Grandma died. You have no idea how much you helped me live and love again. You are so much like her.
Ella, what joy you have brought to Gavin's life. I still remember the first time he saw you a decade ago. He called me after work that night and talked about you for an hour. Within minutes of seeing you, he lost the receipt with your number on it and the search began. I hope he never stops pursuing you. You are a sweetheart. You will be a great wife.
Love you both always,
Pop
Edward Kessler
Chapter Twenty One
We didn't invite too many people to the wedding, so it didn't take long to prepare. Ella and I did everything together. She wanted to get married by the Zelkova trees, where my grandmother was buried, and instead of chairs she wanted everyone to sit on blankets in the grass. So we put a basket under the trees with a sign that said, "Make yourself at home."
Ella put bags of rose petals in another basket. She made a little tag for each one. Each tag had a copy of a drawing she made me create and the words, "And so . . . Life begins. Gavin and Ella Kessler. October 28th."
She placed a picture of Sarah on the bench under the trees and sat beside it for a minute.
"Things never turn out the way they look in our dreams," she said.
"It's not easy to get married while she's in the hospital," I said. "But my real dream is to wake up to you tomorrow and every day after. I don't care about fancy dresses and wedding receptions. I don't even care who comes. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. I don't know about you, but my dreams are coming true today."
Down from the Clouds (The Unspoken Series) Page 12