Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Cooper
P enny’s eyes are clear, as blue as the sky overhead. Despite not being here in years, she knows the exact path. When we reach the headstone, nestled underneath a scrubby tree I don’t know the name of, she stops. She lets out a shaky breath. I reach for her hand, but she doesn’t squeeze my fingers.
Her mother’s headstone is a simple, polished granite, with an engraving of a photograph underneath the name.
Evelyn York Ryder.
Dance, then, wherever you may be.
Even though the image is pressed into the stone, I catch small bits of Penny in the shape of her eyes, the point of her chin.
“Hi, Momma,” she says in a small voice.
I squeeze her hand, and this time she reciprocates. “Want me to give you a moment alone?”
She shakes her head. “Stay.”
She kneels in the grass, setting down the small bouquet of flowers we brought with us. She takes out the poem she wrote for her. “Dad chose the epigraph. It’s from a song, English I think—the funeral home had a book of examples, and it caught his eye. He liked to say that she was a dancer who chose ice as a medium.”
“It’s beautiful.”
She looks up at me. Her eyes are filled with tears now, and when she blinks, one escapes, running down her cheek like a tiny river. “She would have liked you so much.”
“Can I meet her?”
She holds out her hand.
I settle on the ground next to her, the dry grass crinkling. My family has never been religious, so I’m not sure what to believe here, but I do know I believe in the woman by my side, and that must count for something. “I wish we didn’t have to meet like this, Mrs. Ryder.”
Penny’s eyes widen for half a second before she bursts into laughter. “She would have insisted you call her Evelyn.”
“Evelyn.” Wind rustles through the air, ruffling our hair and the ribbon tied around the bouquet. “I love your daughter.”
Penny rests her head on my shoulder.
“And because I’m a lucky bas—really lucky, she loves me back. She tells me all the time.”
“After you say it once, why stop?”
I kiss her temple. “You can say it all damn day and I’ll never get tired of it.
“I wish I could have known you,” I add, speaking to the wind. “I think I’d have seen a lot of Red in you.” I hold up my wrist, where my new tattoo, matching Penny’s, is healing. “How she feels about me is imprinted in my skin. It’s everywhere. She’s everywhere. She’s the best person I’ve ever known. If you could see her now, you’d be proud of who she’s become.”
Penny’s holding on to my hand so tightly, I can’t feel my fingers. She throws herself into my arms, knocking us both onto the ground. She kisses me soundly, breath shuddering as she clings to me. I hug her back, just as tight, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Lavender. Mint. Salt.
“Gummy bear,” I murmur, so softly it’s barely audible. She hears it, though. She hears me.
We always hear each other.
“I used to tell myself I would give anything for five more minutes with her,” she whispers. “Five more minutes, and I’d give up anything in the whole world. Just to talk to her again. To hug her. To tell her everything I didn’t have words to voice then.” She sits up, so we’re looking each other in the eyes. I brush away a stray tear. “But things are different now. I wouldn’t give up you. You’re the one thing I can’t give up. And I think she’d be happy about that.”
I kiss her everywhere I can reach. “I love you.”
I love you. I love you.
The warm wind continues to blow.
It blows when Penny slowly untangles herself from me, poem in hand.
It blows when she reads it, her voice soft but steady.
... I saw you with skates dangling from your fingers.
I saw you with desert roses in your hair.
I saw you with dreams in your eyes and love in the curve of your smile.
I saw you, and I said goodbye . . .
It blows when Penny looks at me, strands of orange-red hair flung over her face.
It blows when she tells her mother everything that has happened since that day in the hospital. She talks about her past. About us. About her father, slowly and surely moving on with Nikki.
It blows when she turns into my arms, and speaks of the future. Our future.
It fades when we stand, but then, as we start down the path, there’s a caress against our faces. A hello and a goodbye.
“I love you,” Penny murmurs, and I know she’s talking to us both.