Letters from Becca: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel (23 page)

John opened his eyes just a moment before Becca did.  She smiled weakly as she brushed his cheek with her cold hand.  “I remember,” she said softly.  He moved closer until their foreheads kissed, stroking her cheek.  “Tell me more,” she said, almost in a whisper.

So he told her about the bus trip down and all the things he had remembered over the past day on his journey to see her, about two small children racing across the riverbed, sunning themselves on their rock.  About tag with Taffy and hide and seek in her grandparents’ old red milk barn.  About lying on the dock counting tadpoles.

John told her how beautiful she had looked in her wedding gown, and about their weekend at the lake with the boys.  And as the last breath left her body he caressed her cheek and thanked her for being his best friend and for loving him through his life and for believing in him when he didn’t believe in himself.  And then he kissed her one last time, and told her goodbye.

The cool fall breeze blew gently against the three century-old oaks that had grown from one base, rustling their crisp fall leaves.  A few fell free and gently floated to the dying grass below.  The old farm had been sold and sold again, a victim of the 1980 Russian Grain Embargo.  It was now a multi-tract subdivision, with a small event center overlooking the banks of the Pedernales River in the exact spot that Becca’s family home used to sit.  The homeowners’ association had been generous in offering them the use of the facility to have their final celebration of Becca’s life.

There were friends and family, including both of John’s daughters and his grandchildren, present to say goodbye.  John had gone home the day after Becca’s death the same way he had come, on the bus.  When he arrived home, he called Jessica and Jennifer and invited everyone over for dinner.  That day he ordered out, simply because he could.  When they had arrived at his house, they were all very curious.  First, he rarely invited them over.  They usually just showed up to check on him.  Secondly, he rarely invited them all over at one time.  The girls had spent all afternoon on the phone speculating what was up; wondering if he was sick.

And the mystery wasn’t answered right away when they all arrived.  He met them each at the door, with hugs.  And not the kind of hugs where you greet a friend you care about or even one you don’t care that much for, but feel obligated to embrace.  No, he met them each with a full, long hug.  A warm, loving hug and he didn’t let go first like he usually did.  And he hugged his son-in-law.  A first.  That’s when the girls were sure he was dying, so they braced for the worst.

When they sat down for dinner, John asked his son-in-law, Neal, to say the blessing.  The girls stared at each other, even after everyone else bowed their heads, miming their surprise and concern.  John smiled to himself, knowing their curiosity was piqued; he knew his daughters.  While Neal carved the roast, John told them where he had been and why he had gone.  He told them about David and Becca and Marissa and things he’d never talked about, maybe because it was easier not to, or maybe because it was too painful to remember.  He talked about his father and his mother.  He talked about things buried since childhood that had always been painful to talk about, much less think about.  He apologized for having been so cryptic when he left.  Then he apologized for being reclusive all the other days.  He promised that he was going to be better about the things about which he’d been remiss.  Then he told them that since they’d never met Becca, he wanted them to meet her family.

They all drove to Fredericksburg together, and he felt more relaxed and more alive than he had in thirty years.  When they arrived, D.R. and Johnny’s families greeted his family as if they were old friends.  They chatted and looked at pictures, even some that John had brought, including those that he had left buried in a shoebox for thirty years.  When it was time, they walked from the small event center to the rebuilt wooden dock from which Becca and John had fished a hundred times and dived hundreds more.

Becca had been specific in her will, requesting cremation.  She wanted some of her ashes sprinkled on David’s grave, and she wanted John to sprinkle the rest in the Pedernales at their old dock.  D.R. and Johnny and William had all prepared something to read before they sprinkled some of her ashes into the river.  John had written something, as well, but once he started reading, he found he couldn’t finish.  He tried to keep himself composed as he looked at the faces of Becca’s sons and his daughters.  Then he looked down at his beautiful granddaughter, Amanda, who was standing at his feet, pulling petals from daisies and dropping them into the river.  He couldn’t help but smile.

Suddenly he had the words that he had needed to say for so long.

“Sometimes in life we don’t know why things turn out the way they do.  For so many years, I questioned what I did to make God keep punishing me by taking away the people I loved.  But I was asking the wrong question.  I should have been asking Him, ‘What have I done to be so blessed?’” He looked into the faces of his family.  “I wasted too many days, too many years, thinking about the things that I had lost, instead of thanking God for the things, the people, that He had given me.  I’m old now, and I’ve spent too many years wishing I could go back, instead of making the most of the amazing life that He gave me.”  John looked at his daughters.  “I’m not going to make that mistake any longer.” He slowly poured some ashes into the water.  “Thank you, Becca, for reminding me,” he added softly.  “No regrets.”

Both his daughters wiped their eyes and held each other’s hands.  John poured the rest of Becca’s ashes into the river, as Amanda continued to drop yellow flower petals in with them.  She looked up at him.

“She likes flowers,” she said, smiling.

John caught himself, as he choked back the tears.  “Yes, sweetie.  She does like flowers.”

When they finished, John stood at the end of the dock staring out over the water, as the rest of the family turned back for the clubhouse.

“Dad, you coming?” Jessica asked from behind.

“I’ll be in directly,” he said, not turning to face her.

“Come on, Amanda,” she said, holding out her hand.

“I want to stay here with Grampa,” she said, pouting.

John turned.  “She’s fine, sweetie.”

“Okay,” she replied.  “You behave,” she said as she walked away.

John looked down at his granddaughter.  “Was she talking to you or me?” he asked with a smile.

Amanda shrugged as she dropped the last of the flowers into the water.  She looked up and spied C.T. climbing across the rock ledge.  She jumped up and ran toward him, kicking off her shoes as she ran, catching up with him.  “Race you to the other side,” she challenged.

John smiled as he watched them play like they’d known each other all their lives.  He drew in a deep breath as he removed the letter and his glasses from his pocket.

It’s amazing how things work out.  I’ve raised my boys, and they seem happy.  They are all so bright and strong, and I’m so proud of them.  And now I have grandchildren!  Can you believe that?  With all I’ve tried giving them all these years, I can’t help but be sad for the things that they’ve lost.  For the things I’ve lost.  But I promise you I will never again look back with regret.  You’ve given me the greatest gift you could ever have given me.  You’ve been my closest friend, John.  Now here’s my gift to you, John.  No regrets.  No more looking back with sorrow for what we’ve missed because there’s so much we have in the here and now to be blessed with, John.  As for you and me, we were always meant to be as we were, and I’ll love you until the end of time.  But I couldn’t leave this world without you knowing what you’ve meant to me.  I can’t leave without telling you how much I love you.  I pray every day that God will watch over you and your family, as he has watched over me and mine.  I’m ready to let you go… Let me go and say goodbye, my dear, my love.  Always Yours, Becca xxo

John closed his eyes and lowered his head as he carefully refolded the letter and put it back into his pocket.  He looked as Amanda called out her challenge.

“You’re on,” C.T. said, picking up his pace.

John watched them as they rushed splashing through the shallow water on the embankment.  He smiled.  Her blonde hair glistened in the afternoon sun.  C.T. slowed as if he was trying to lose.

Amanda raised her arms and put her hands on her hips.  “Beat by a girl,” she laughed, as they turned and raced back.

A hand grabbed John’s backside, and he turned, startled.

He smiled at a very familiar face.  When she saw his perplexed look, she grinned.  “What?  Expecting someone else to be grabbing your butt?” she held out her hands.  “At your age?  Give me a break.”

John hugged her, not letting her go for many moments.  When he finally released her, he stood back, holding her hands.  He tilted his head as he eyed her up and down.

“Yeah, honey, it’s all me.  No tune-ups on this bod.”

He shook his head, unable to muster the words.

Marissa smiled back.  “Thank you,” she said.  “I work hard to keep this,” she said, patting her own backside.

“Well, you look good, as always.”

She eyed him up and down.  “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“I thought you were—” he began.

“Dead?” she finished for him with a smirk.  “It will take a lot more than this old world to knock me off.” She took his arm and turned with him at the end of the dock, looking out over the water.  “I heard she waited for you.  That you were with her when she went,” she said as she leaned against his arm.  John didn’t say anything.  “It’s as it should have been,” she said softly.  “Some things come full circle, you know?”

John glanced at her.  “Still reading my mind?”

“I’ll leave that one alone.”

John turned to watch Amanda and C.T. race back across the flat escarpment that spilled into the river and on up the hill and to the building behind them.  “Yeah, they do,” he said softly.  He patted her hand with his.  “There’s something I need to say to you.”

Marissa squeezed his hand.  “There’s nothing you have to say that I don’t already know.  She turned to him and as he looked into her eyes, his heart smiled.  “I’m glad you are...” he began.

“Not dead?”

John laughed.  “Yeah, that too.”  The wind blew, and he reached over and brushed her hair from her face, gently stroking her smooth cheek.  He winked as he held her arm closer.  “Let’s go inside.  It’s getting chilly.  Besides, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Is he single?” she asked.

John laughed as they walked down the dock and into the crisp fall grass.  “Didn’t you just bury your last husband?”

“Honey, that was five years ago.  You were there.  But in Texas you can marry up to five times,” she quipped.  “So, I’ve still got one chance left to get it right.  Know any takers?”

John shrugged, crinkling his lips.  “Maybe,” he said smiling before shaking his head.  He held her arm close, leaned over and kissed her cheek.  “You’re still an amazing woman, Marissa.”

“That’s what number four said, right before he had his heart attack.”

“Okay, I’m probably going to regret this, but where did he have his heart attack?”

Marissa didn’t look at him, but her smile grew with each step.

John dropped his head back as he laughed out loud.  “God help the next one.”

As they arrived at the door, they stopped and turned to each other.  Marissa reached across and stroked his cheek.  “I’m glad you’re still...” she began.

“Alive?” he asked.

Marissa’s smile grew.  She leaned over to kiss him, catching the corner of his lips.  She gently wiped away her lipstick.  “Yeah, definitely.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it tentatively before smiling at her.  “Let’s do this,” he said with a wink.  Then he held her close to his side, and they walked through the door together.

David Ray Richardson and his wife walked the green lawns of the Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery.  They didn’t need a map, because they came here almost every month to place new flowers at their father’s grave.  Barbara removed the faded fake flowers from the marker and replaced them with new ones that she had bought at Hobby Lobby the day before.  She fluffed and shaped them until they looked like a real arrangement in the ground.  Usually, their boys came as well, but they were now grown and in college, and wouldn’t be back until the holidays.  David took her hand as he looked down at his father’s headstone.  Then they walked to the back side and looked at the engraving in honor of their mother. 
“Loving mother, wife, and friend,”
it read.  Barbara squeezed his hand.  It didn’t matter how many years had passed, it sometimes felt like yesterday, and he ached for just one more story.  Just one more hug.  One more
“I love you, son.”

“Bye, Mama… See you soon,” he said as he patted the top of the headstone.  The wind blew his salt and pepper hair, and Barbara reached up and brushed it until it was shaped right.  “One more,” he said, as they stepped away.

David and Barbara walked the length of the cemetery to a newer section where the grass was more in squares patched together to create the appearance of a largely grown landscape, though it was just starting to take root.  Barbara pointed to the row of headstones that were newer and whiter than the older ones, those that had grayed slightly with weathering.  They stopped before the headstone and looked down.  It had a fresh bouquet already placed.  The girls must have been here recently.  David smiled.  It had been fifteen years since his mother’s passing, and in that time Uncle John and his family had been a constant part of their own family.  They had visited each other’s homes, and oddly enough, William and Jennifer had hit it off and started seeing each other.  They were married in 2005, joining the two families forever.

David knelt beside the stone.  The date was not terribly recent, but it was near enough that the pain of losing him still hurt.  He ran his hand across the letters. 

John Bard Montgomery
5/25/40–9/25/2015
Loving husband, father, and friend

David stood and turned to Barbara, who was waiting on the other side of the stone.  He walked to her side, then looked down with her and smiled.  The stone read:

Marissa Montgomery
2/08/41–9/12/2015
The love of my life

THE END

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