Chapter 29
Ann sighed contentedly as she walked along Main Street toward the O’Donnells’ with Bill pushing Junior in his pram.
It was hard to believe it had only been a week since Bill came home from the hospital.
They put in an offer on the Millington House and had it accepted.
Ann visited the burnt remains of her home to see if anything at all survived.
Nothing was left but ashes and the chimney.
She said her silent goodbyes and asked their realtor to sell the lot.
In the meantime, she and Bill could hardly keep their hands off each other. Every time they were alone, it seemed, she wound up naked in bed. Not that she minded. As impossible as it seemed, her pleasure with him grew each time.
Something fundamental had shifted for her with Bill’s return, and she felt joy more often than grief in his company.
The pain that had seeped into every part of her over the last year finally seemed to be abating.
She had moments of feeling like her old self.
No, a new self—someone that had been through the darkness and found the light.
The innocence of youth and first love were gone, replaced by deep knowledge of her own strength and resilience in the face of loss and grief.
“Ooh, I love those peonies,” she said, standing in the O’Donnells’ flower shop, looking at the selections and letting her eye rest on the big blousy blooms.
“Then I’ll wrap them right up for you, my dear,” said Finn, beaming at them.
“I still don’t know what he has up his sleeve,” she told Finn. “All he said was he had a surprise for me.”
“Always up to something, Bill is. My boy is many things, but idle is not one of them.”
“No, he certainly isn’t.”
On doctor’s orders, Bill hadn’t returned to work yet, so instead, he spent the week lining up contractors to do work on the Millington house as soon as the sale went through.
He estimated the work would only take a month, as he’d promised to pay extra to expedite it.
Ann thought this was a bit of an extravagance, but Bill swore they could afford it.
He’d promised her they would get out of the apartment as quickly as possible, and he intended to deliver.
“You all know I’m standing right here,” Bill said, picking up Junior, who had started to fuss, from his baby carriage.
“It does my heart good to see you so happy, son, not to mention healthy again. You gave us a good scare.”
“Yes, I apologize for that. Quite an inconvenience. Made me cough and splutter like a broken airplane engine. All fixed up now, though. I’ll be going back to work next week.”
Finn shook his head at his son, smiling. “Can’t keep a good man down, as they say. Shannon said you two were coming up for lunch?”
“Indeed,” said Bill.
His father put a “Closed for lunch” sign on the door and followed them upstairs.
Shannon was busy in the kitchen when they came in. “Can I help?” Ann asked, seeing pots and pans sizzling on the stove.
“Would you mind giving the carrots a stir?”
Ann followed Shannon’s lead, assisting as needed while Bill sat with his father and Junior in the dining room. She cast the occasional glance their way and smiled at the sight of three generations of his family sitting together.
“How are you holding up, Ann?” Shannon asked. “I know it’s been a difficult month.”
It had, though it was hard to believe she lost her home only one month ago.
Given all that had transpired, she had no right to be so happy.
But she was. “I’m doing quite well, Shannon.
Thank you for asking. Bill’s cough is almost gone, and we’ve arranged for the sale of the lot where my house was.
And things are going smoothly with the purchase of the Millington house. We should sign the papers next week.”
“I’m so glad you two will be moving there. So close by! We can visit each other any time. And I know it will be beautiful once Bill is done with it. I always did like that house. Lovely facade.”
Shannon started moving dishes of food to the table.
It was funny how comfortable Ann felt in her mother-in-law’s present.
She was nothing like her own mother, but somehow the motherly love they both offered had the same soothing, strengthening affect.
No one could replace Mama, but with Shannon, Ann felt less alone in the world.
“Thank you again for all those casseroles. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Ann carried the carrots out to the table.
“Don’t even think of it, dear. Can’t have my daughter-in-law wasting away on my watch.”
“Mmm. Roast chicken.” Bill rubbed his hands together, hungry as always. “Smells delicious.”
“Make sure you leave some for the rest of us,” Shannon said as the family all sat around the table. “You and your hollow leg.”
“Have to keep up my strength. I have a family to support, after all,” Bill said with a wink.
He reached beneath the table and put a hand on Ann’s knee, making her cheeks go up in flames.
Finn looked from one of them to the other and smiled knowingly.
“Did you know that chickens originally came from China?” Bill said, cutting off a thigh for his plate. “This is quite an exotic feast by ancient standards.”
“Why do you know so much about chickens?” Ann asked, unable to contain her incredulousness.
“Why shouldn’t I make it my business to know about one of the most common foods we eat? I think it’s fascinating.”
Ann smiled and shook her head. “You’re making it all up, aren’t you?”
Bill shrugged. “Maybe I am, but it would make for a fascinating fact, wouldn’t it?”
“Interesting that you use the word ‘fact.’”
“Ah, Ann. I solemnly swear to tell you the truth about the things that matter. But I can’t turn off all my nonsense like a kitchen faucet. When it comes to chickens, I can’t seem to help myself.”
“Duly noted,” she said with a grudging smile. “You can spout as much nonsense as you like about chickens.”
“Did you know chickens howl at night when they see a full moon?”
She chuckled.
“Did you know they can recite Shakespeare if you feed them cherry pie at dawn on a Thursday?”
Her laughter grew.
“You know, you can get a chicken to dance a jig if you blink at it three times while looking it straight in the eye.”
Now, she was laughing so hard, she wasn’t sure she could ever stop.
“Go on with you,” said Finn with a wave of his hand at his son, laughing almost as hard as Ann.
Not a serious word was spoken for the rest of the meal. Ann could hardly eat for laughing.
As they left the O’Donnells’ she leaned into her husband, hanging on his arm. “My life with you will never be dull. Of that I can be sure.”
“Absolutely certain. I am many things, but no one has accused me of being dull. I want to give you your surprise when we get home.”
Oh dear. “Not another cake,” she said, hand on her belly.
He laughed. “No, it’s not cake, my lady. It’s something special that I commissioned.”
Commissioned? What could it be?
“I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
“It’s smaller than a bread box.”
She darted him a look.
“It isn’t blue.”
“Smaller than a bread box and it isn’t blue. Well that narrows it down,” she said with an arched eyebrow.
“It isn’t jewelry, if that’s what you’re thinking. This is a more personal gift.”
“I can’t imagine what it is,” she said as they climbed the stairs to the apartment.
She put Junior down in his crib where he cooed at his bunny, and she sat down at the tiny kitchen table.
“Here you are, my love.” He handed her a wrapped square package.
Was it a book? No, it felt more like…a frame? She slipped her fingers beneath the paper and opened it to see…
“Roger. You gave me a picture of Roger. And my mother.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and she didn’t bother to blink them away.
This is the last thing she would ever have expected from him, and try as she might to summon words of thanks, she couldn’t come up with anything big enough to say.
She’d worried that she would need to choose between her memories of Roger and the man before her, but here he was encouraging her to remember.
“They are an honored part of our family. We wouldn’t want Junior to forget his father or his grandmother, now, would we?”
The generosity of the gesture overwhelmed her.
She’d never dared hope that he would understand and accept the place Roger held in her heart or how important it was to her that Junior remember his father.
This picture was permission to feel all the complicated grief and love that she’d tried to set aside for Bill’s sake.
It seemed impossible that she could love this man any more than she already did, but somehow he’d managed to rock her to the very core.
“Oh, Bill, it’s perfect.” She flew into his arms and sobbed shamelessly on his shoulder.
“Once we have a proper mantel, you can put it there. For now, the bookshelf will have to do.” He put it up in a place of pride, as if that wasn’t the most extraordinary thing anyone had ever done for her, as if it mattered to him as much as to her that their family be complete and that the memories of those she’d lost be preserved.
She never thought she’d see her mother or Roger again after all the photos were destroyed by the fire, but there they were, beautifully captured. “The likeness really is striking. How did you do it?”
“Pritchard sketched and I described from memory until we had it right.”
She couldn’t form words. All this time she’d feared her love for Roger would keep her from giving her all to Bill, but with this gesture, Bill showed her that she could love Roger and him. They were one family, all united by love.
Ever since she lost Roger, she felt as if a part of her was missing.
Even marrying and loving Bill hadn’t been enough to banish the feeling, but with this picture she felt whole.
There was continuity, caring, respect. They were all together, the memories of those she’d lost honored in loving detail.
She had felt like she needed permission of a sort from Roger to care for Bill, but really what she needed was acceptance from Bill of her love for Roger.
It was a different love she had with Bill.
Roger would always be her first love, but their love was untried.
Their hardships during their time together were small compared to what she had endured after losing him.
From the moment they met, Bill had been there for her, accepting all her messy, difficult feelings and not balking at her circumstances.
He had given her comfort when she was hurting, help when she was in need.
Between the fire and the Spanish Flu, they had been through hell together, and their connection only strengthened through adversity.
Her love for Roger was like a fire, intense, beautiful, and ephemeral.
Her love for Bill was an ocean, buoying her up like a ship at sea, putting wind in her sails when she thought all was lost, carrying her home when she’d lost all sense of direction, all hope.
She felt the excitement of an explorer on uncharted waters.
The future held untold joys with Bill. Together, they would raise Junior, and hopefully some children of their own.
They would sing together by the piano. They would laugh together every day. She would bake him countless cakes.
Ann burrowed her face into Bill’s chest and let the tears of joy flow as she felt his strong arms around her and his lips kissing the top of her head. She was safe and content in his embrace.
At last, when the tears abated, she stepped away and got out a doily she’d crocheted during her quarantine. Its lacy pattern looked like a fan of peacock feathers. She placed it under the picture, her own humble gift to the people she’d loved and lost.
She took a moment to gaze at it, silently sending her love to Roger and her mother in heaven.
Then she turned to Bill and kissed him, putting everything she couldn’t put in words into the touch of lips and tongue, entwining, caressing. And from the way he kissed her back, she knew he understood.
Her life was beginning again, and she couldn’t wait to share it with him.