A Bird Without Wings
Page 31
“Oh, Callie,” he muttered roughly, his voice cracking. He hauled her to her feet, arms banding her until she was crushed against him.
It took several moments before he could risk speaking again.
“Proud of you? It breaks my heart that you don’t see how proud I am of you. As for tally cards and making yourself more important to me—it can’t be done. You’re already the most important part of my life. I don’t know how to convey to you—how much I . . .” He drew a steadying breath. “Here’s a quantifier for you. You’re everything to me, Cal.”
She blinked up at him, trying to believe. God, there were tears in his eyes . . .
“Please,” he begged. “I don’t know how else to tell you.”
The love, the respect, the awe—it was all real for him, as much as it was for her, and not in the least diminished in the understanding of each other’s weaknesses and twisty character flaws.
And at last, in a matter of love, Callie Dahl moved forward. Blinkers off.
Kissing him gently, she said softly, “Just love me the best you can. I’ll try, Lucius. I promise. If you help me . . . the rest will come.”
And when she smiled again, all sweetness and no bitterness, he believed it, too.
Epilogue
SUBJECT: Xmas wishes and a plethora of updates
TO: Constance Simms
DATE: Sun, 23 Dec 2012
FROM: Callie Dahl
Connie:
Thanks for the card and the pic of the whole family – I can’t believe how big Tyler’s grown in the last year . . . but I can hardly believe you’re a grandmother, at any rate.
Hope you’re ready for the holidays – I’m still running around like decapitated poultry since Lucius blew our entire weekend searching for the mythical Perfect Xmas Tree for his living room. An entirely new experience for both of us. I suggested buying an artificial tree as it was more practical, and was subjected to the long-suffering sigh as per usual, followed by the excuse that all of the research he had conducted on said-PXT shouldn’t be wasted. Ten Xmas-tree lots later . . . Okay, must admit that the balsam fir was a good choice – it looks lovely and smells great – but we did not buy nearly enough ornaments for the monstrosity. So, guess what we’re doing tomorrow? (I bought a little pre-decorated fake tree for my place, and I like it just fine. He says it looks very nice for a 4-foot hunk of plastic in an 11-foot-ceiling room.)
I never realised that families fight over who spends Xmas with whom and when! Half the Ransome clan want to do a big Xmas-Day thing; half voted for Xmas Eve, including Midnight Mass (they are not Catholic) and carolling (Lucius and his uncles are the only ones who can sing). Lucius and I will visit with my grandparents on Xmas Eve, spend Xmas morning by ourselves at his place (can’t let that PXT go to waste), and have dinner with Gordon. I’m pretty sure the rest of the Ransomes will show up for that. We’re having a few friends over to my place for Boxing Day, and then (read this bit in Lucius’ Grumpy Tone I’ve described to you) heartily pray for a snowstorm to prevent anymore visiting.
In other news . . . I’ve resigned my position at FalTech, effective mid-January, but will stay on as a consultant – a sort of special-projects advisor. The hours I was putting in were wiping me out; I didn’t expect that the initial phases of Ben’s film project would chew up so much of my time, but Lucius pointed out that I was turning one task into two – why couldn’t the script serve as the bones of the book? I was attacking them separately. I guess the added pressure of planning both the exhibit and the wedding made all the other projects in my life a bit fuzzy.
That’s right. The wedding! We set the date. When we got engaged officially in October, we told everyone there was no rush and maybe we’d do the deed in the next couple of years . . . but I should have known he was toying with me! He gets that reckless, determined look in his eyes and suddenly I’m getting talked into just about anything he has a mind to talk me into! So, when the date of September 21st was tossed at me in the middle of a meeting, I agreed, just to facilitate the end of personal and continuation of business. Naturally, he was less than willing to let me change my mind after the fact. Oh, Connie! Even now I’m laughing at the mutinous look on his face when I suggested we rethink it. I’m half annoyed and half charmed by it all – as I am by him, every day.
Sorry; this has turned into a rather convoluted ramble. I guess I just wanted you to know that things – all the many things in my life – are moving forward; some as planned and others not so much. And sometimes, on these rare occasions when I shoot off an email to you, I remember the unhappy little girl I was and the happy, wonderful teacher you were, and I want to assure you extra hard that I’m all right. Over these past years, I’m certain you’ve found my epistles tinged with that bitter girl . . . and I hope she hasn’t annoyed you, and that maybe, at last, she is less.
It was only a bit better than a year ago when I saw Lucius for the very first time, and it still catches me by surprise – nearly every day, a hit of stunned and pleased reality – that that vague dream I had of him didn’t come true, but truer. And he proves to me – every day – that he’s worth the risk, and lets me know that for him, I am, too.
There’s that classic joke about “Money’s not everything – but it’s way ahead of whatever’s in second place.” We both know that was no joke to me, but creed. Of course, it wasn’t about money at all. It was a bedtime story; a prayer that frightened, unhappy girl recited, subconsciously convinced that financial security would dull the poignancy of emotional insecurity.
It’s still a bit of a struggle, remembering I’m okay now. All the things I ever wanted, plus, plus, plus. There should be no more angst. I feel a fool for having any still. Even Lucius, who gets it, gets me, becomes a bit impatient when I balk on what he refers to as the “median of old fears”; unsure of where to go, and so refusing to proceed. My old mantra – “Move forward. Blinkers on.” – had a built-in flaw: the blinkers prevented me from seeing that I was, as a person, standing horribly still.
But you knew, Connie. My first and best friend, who taught me for scant months over twenty years ago and contributed more to my emotional nurture than anyone else in my life. It is to you I credit these happy circumstances in which I finally find myself – without you, that slim access to my heart that Lucius burst through would not have existed; we would not have stood a chance. I can’t imagine the monster I would have become had I not met you.
(Okay, getting mawkish and misty, and Lucius is glaring suspiciously at me.)
So, look for the wedding invite in the mail sometime next spring or summer (I have no idea how these things are timed, but my maid-of-honour Rachel promises that she knows everything there is to know about such things) and I’ll see you at my wedding – and you’ll finally meet in person all these marvellous people I’ve been describing to you over the last months. Especially Lucius.
Merry Christmas to you and your family, Connie!
All my love,
Callie
The End
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