Chapter 28
The years kept passing, gentle and kind.
Our grandson, little Ethan, grew up, a smart, funny little boy who loved soccer and dinosaurs and spending time with his grandpa. Lily and her husband had another baby, a little girl named Clara, after her nana. We were over the moon.
Jamie got married, to his high school sweetheart, and they had twins, a boy and a girl. Our family just kept growing, bigger and happier every year.
Rose got married, to a fellow artist, and they had a little girl. Thomas got married, to a girl who sang in his band, and they had a little boy. We had seven grandkids now, all loud, all happy, all running around the house, making messes, making memories.
Clara and I were in our seventies now, still happy, still in love. We moved a little slower, our hair was gray, our faces had wrinkles, but we still held hands when we walked, still kissed each other good morning and good night, still danced in the living room to our old songs.
We spent our days gardening, and reading, and playing with the grandkids, and traveling to see our kids and their families. We went back to all the places we’d visited when we were young, and we made new memories, too.
We sat on the porch every evening, drinking tea, watching the sun set, talking about our lives, about the kids, about the old days. We never got tired of talking. We never ran out of things to say.
One day, we were going through some old boxes in the attic, and we found the old wheelchair I’d used when I was faking the paralysis. It was dusty, a little rusty, but it was still there.
Clara laughed when she saw it. “Remember this? You used to hate sitting in it. You’d pace the room for hours after everyone left, just to stretch your legs.”
I laughed too, running my hand over the armrest. “I hated it. But it was worth it. If I hadn’t faked it, I never would have known who was loyal. I never would have seen you. I never would have had the courage to be with you.”
She sat down on the wheelchair, patting her lap. “Come on. Let’s recreate that night. You can be the helpless rich boy, and I’ll be the kind maid.”
I laughed, sitting down on her lap, just like I was the one in the chair. She leaned in, pretending to whisper in my ear.
May you like
“You still deserve to be treated kindly,” she said, just like she had all those years ago.
I kissed her, right there in the dusty attic, surrounded by old boxes and memories, and for a second, we were young again, back in the ballroom, scared but hopeful, ready to take on the world together.
