I awoke the next morning, still fully clothed, having had one of the best night’s sleep in ages. The rain continued pounding away at my windows.
Another burial, on another rainy day. What is it with rain and funerals in this family?
I realized I didn’t have much time before we were to lay Mother to rest. So I jumped into the shower and washed my hair quickly.
Rosa met me at the bottom of the stairs with a cup of coffee. She asked me what I would like for breakfast. When I learned that everyone was in the Chapel I wanted to make my way there right away. Grabbing one of the huge umbrellas I headed to the church.
Manuel smiled as I blew into the Chapel. Michael came over to me and helped me with my umbrella. A pretty woman walked over to us.
“Sarah, this is my sister Clare,” Michael said.
“I wanted to be here, too,” she said, extending her hand to me.
“Thank you,” I said, overwhelmed.
It was a short ceremony, partly because of the rain. Manuel said it was the angels crying. I smiled to myself. That was what I had thought the first time I saw mother cry. I believe he knew that somehow.
We left Manuel alone to put mother’s ashes in the tiny plot he had prepared behind the church. Michael, Clare, and I raced back up to the house. Michael reminded me that a hurricane was off the coast.
Rosa had a large pot of Colombian coffee brewing and had put out freshly cut fruit and yogurt. We all sat around the table in the kitchen and dug in.
Clare was quiet at first, but when I asked her about her children she became more animated. “My youngest daughter just began college, and my son is a junior partner in their father’s law firm. They are wonderful children,” she said smiling.
She asked about mine, and I boasted about my beautiful girls. Michael sat quietly, but I could feel his satisfaction that Clare and I were getting along.
“I wanted to let you know that I was able to make another flight for you tomorrow afternoon. The rain is supposed to completely stop by then, and it would be my pleasure to take you to the airport,” Michael said.
I thanked him and told him how much I appreciated everything.
Clare was going back to her friend’s home about a mile away, but she said she would love to stay in touch once back in California.
“I would love that,” I said. I’m sure Mother would have loved it, too.
Back in my room, I sent a couple of e-mails to the girls letting them know I was staying an extra day. Rosa had already tidied my beautiful room and lit another small fire. I considered climbing back into the wonderful bed, but I noticed the rain had subsided quite a bit. Although it was very gray and foggy outside, I thought I might explore the grounds of Manuel’s home.
As bundled up as I was, I was having trouble keeping my teeth from chattering outside. I made my way up to the paddock I had noticed on the drive up. Fortunately Rosa had given me an extra pair of Wellington boots. I walked into the stable where the horses were in individual stalls.
Manuel had three mares and a gelding. The male was a gorgeous palomino, the kind of horse that appeared on the cover of one of my books. As I got closer, their ears pricked up and they all blew steam from their noses.
“Hi, guys!” I reached for a couple of apples in a barrel next to one of the stalls. I hadn’t been around horses in a very long time, but had always loved them. My father had promised that I might have a pony of my own one day, but after Rachel died I think he had forgotten.
“You like horses, I see?”
Startled, I turned to find Michael standing in the doorway to the stable.
“Yes. I was just thinking how I missed being around them. My father used to take us to the pony rides. As I got a bit older I was allowed to help brush and saddle some of them.”
Michael walked over to me. “Want to ride one?”
“Now?” I asked nervously.
“Why not?”
It took about twenty minutes for Michael to saddle up two of the horses. I was actually a bit frightened as I mounted one of the mares. It is very apparent when you sit on top of an equine of the immense power this animal has, and the potential to cause bodily harm to us lowly humans. Michael assured me that Sophie, my horse, was very sweet and calm. Michael looked more than handsome on the Palomino.
I followed close behind as we rode on the trails around the property. The air was crisp and fresh. I had to pull my scarf up over my nose and mouth to keep my face from freezing off. It was exhilarating.
The horses seemed happy to be out. As we trotted up a crest they both became excited. We got to the top of the hill overlooking the valley below and the ocean.
“Beautiful, no?” Michael asked, looking back at me.
All I could do was nod. I was speechless.
He dismounted his horse and came over to mine. He extended his hand, I climbed off Sophie. We stood next to one another staring out at the vista. I realized we were holding hands.
“I can’t believe she’s gone!” I said out loud.
Michael turned to face me and without warning I began to cry. Slightly at first, but as he wrapped his arms around me, I couldn’t control it anymore. The floodgates opened, and I sobbed. I wailed, I made noises I had never made before and my knees grew weak. Michael was steadfast in holding me up. He let my body contort and do whatever it needed to in those moments without saying a word. I hadn’t realized how much I had been holding in for so long. I had been so angry at my mother for most of my life, and now that she was gone I didn’t know what I would do without her.
Michael insisted I go back into the house to get warm while he took the horses back into the stable. Neither of us spoke on the ride back. I felt as if I had been hit by a bus. I had cried for at least twenty minutes. Walking back, I wondered if I had been selfish with my emotional breakdown. I had lost my mother, yes, but at least I had her for most of my life. Michael had never known his. I hoped I didn’t appear to be totally self-involved.
I ventured back toward the chapel before returning to the house. I walked around the back to the tiny cemetery. I could see the small mound of fresh soil just above the existing headstones. Manuel’s parents and wife were there, and now my mother was behind them. Manuel had a lovely headstone prepared before we got here. It read:
Olivia Mancuso O’Malley
1942-2012
Mother, Wife, Companion, and loving Friend May the Angels look upon you forever.
Michael made the most wonderful supper that evening. A Spanish Paella and a lovely salad. He cooks too!
Manuel was very quiet as we sat and ate. But Michael and I couldn’t stop talking. I felt a deep sense of relief and release that night. Crying had been cathartic and now that all of Mother’s wishes had been granted, I started to feel more like myself again.
Later, Michael and I found ourselves, once again, in my room with another roaring fire and a lovely bottle of wine.
He made love sweetly. It was soft and considerate. His body was firm, and his arms welcoming. He told me how beautiful he thought I was from the moment he saw me. I told him how smart he was . . . and we laughed.
There was a peacefulness lying with him. There was also a sense of sadness. For me, anyway. I liked this man. I hadn’t really felt a soul connection like this is a very long time, and I had no idea if I would ever see him again. How ironic, I thought. We were years older than our parents were, but here we were, like them before us. Feeling deep emotions and both of us knowing I would have to leave, and both of us knowing we would have to go back to our daily lives again.
We got to the airport on time, but my plane was delayed. Michael sat with me before I had to go through security. I had left Mother’s and Manuel’s journal and letters on the table in the foyer for Michael to read. I thought he and Clare might like to understand their father a little better. We sat not saying anything about the previous night together. We were both feeling raw and vulnerable.
My plane was announced and Michael slipped his hand i
nto mine.
“I hope this isn’t the last time I see you.”
I kissed him lightly, and told him I had hoped so, too.
• • •
A year passed by so quickly. I had decided to stay in my mother’s home. All the imaginary cobwebs had been removed, and I had a sense of belonging there. Something I hadn’t felt in many years. It was also the perfect house for Phoebe and Terry’s wedding.
Brad walked her down the aisle and although he brought Witchy Poo along, I was actually okay with it. The only thing Brad and I shared were our children, and we were devoted to making it as easy on them as possible.
Phoebe looked radiant. She was not only beaming about her wedding, but she also graduated culinary school and landed a job as the sous chef in one of the top hotels in San Francisco.
Marie cried on Sybil’s shoulder as her brother recited vows he wrote himself.
She and Sybil were planning on buying a home together in Los Angeles. Marie’s kids still couldn’t accept their mother’s new choice of lifestyle and remained back east.
Lily had brought her new love. Another med student, an African American named Omar. Dwight was supposed to attend, but he and Violet were expecting their first baby any day. WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE? Manuel had flown here a week before the ceremony and planted all new flowers in Olivia’s Garden. The arbor dripped with wisteria and was the backdrop for the exchange of vows. Manuel presided over the communion.
I had kept Manuel’s spaceship in the yard and made it my new office. As the kids exchanged their “I do’s” the sun changed angles and rays bounced off the Airstream shining a beam of light onto the newlyweds.
“Olivia is giving her blessing!” Manuel said, looking toward the heavens.
I believed that she was.
All in all, I was feeling pretty terrific about my life. Tequila Sunrise Nights did what everyone expected and flew off the shelves. It was being made into a movie.
I had finally decided to take the trip to the one place I had wanted to see my entire life. I was going to Africa for an entire month. I had also decided I would try my hand at a “legitimate” novel.
Chapter Twelve
As I waited in yet another airplane terminal, the love of my life who seems to chronically run late, finally appeared out of breath and carrying too may bags.
“Is this running late thing, something I’m going to have to get used to?”
“Yes,” Michael said, grabbing me and pulling me to him. “It’s all about the moment, dear heart. This . . . right here . . . right now.” He kissed me full on the mouth.
A kiss that still sends me reeling.
“I love you now . . . and forever!”
• • •
Chapter One
Home Of The Brave
It’s funny that it hadn’t occurred to me until that very moment, when I pulled into my mother’s driveway, that the idea of losing her would devastate me more than I ever could have imagined . . . .
When Angels Cry Page 19