Page 89 of Shifting Years
Her tiny hand cupped my cheek and my throat clenched with decades' worth of raw, mixed emotion.
"How remarkable, this world."
"So, you know everything?"
"Probably not all, but a lot." She wiped away a tear and another. "I'msosorry about Vietnam."
"Me too," I whispered.
"You stayed, Todd."
"Was that a good thing?"
She nodded. "You always wanted to protect people. I used to joke about a guardian angel, and I had one. Mystery cash, my husband's surprise job, scholarships for my children… they were all you." It wasn't a question and Mike had helped, but I nodded.
"Three children?" she asked.
"More or less."
"I have two, but it's very lonely. They're good kids, but they can't come every time I'm sick." She studied my face while leaning into me. "It was a happy life. Oh, Brian and I argued, but we had lovely years."
"Because he was a better man than I could have been."
"Enough," she said firmly, the weight of decades in her voice. "No more guilt."
"I hurt you."
"If you did, it's because you had to be you. My Todd and Mike's Todd." She stood tall. "I'm not hurting now, but I always felt better around you." She hesitated, her voice softer. "Will I see my Brian again?"
"I don't know. There's magic, but some things stay mysteries."
She nodded. "It's enough." Her voice cracked. "I know I missed you, even when I didn't know you existed." She paused. "I was proud of you then, and more now. What about me?"
I suppose, in the end, that's what matters: 'Did I live a good life?' The new Donna might have stumbled at first, but she stood taller with every challenge. Her fire burned brighter as the years went on, a beacon for others who needed her strength. Like Mike, she embraced the fervor of the late sixties and kept it burning for decades. Donna, who went along with everything before, became a leader.
She marched on Washington, supported the ERA, and formed counter-protests against Anita Bryant. When other people were confused about gay couples or confident in their hate, she came to understand love faster than others. Mike adored her for that, even if he couldn't personally thank her. It was too late for wishes, but I could give thanks.
She lost her memory but never her spirit.
Like with Mike, we spoke without words. We knew each other's life and hearts. After a quick command to my phone, slow music from the summer of sixty-nine played. It was the kind two young people would have loved back then.
Her head rested against my chest, and a quiet laugh fluttered against my shirt. A moment ago, she was frail, tethered to a bed. Now? She spun, light as air, like the ballerina she once dreamedof being. I led. She let me. For faster songs, we danced like teenagers. With others, we moved slowly to the dreamy melody.
As the song faded, her steps faltered. I caught her gently as she slumped forward, her final breath warm against my chest. A soft smile shouldn't be on a corpse, but it was. Tears streamed down my cheeks while I laid her back on the bed. I never wanted to howl so badly in my life but kept quiet as I shook violently.
There were no spoken words and the promise was already made, etched into my bones. I'd watch over her children andtheirchildren. For as long as I had time left to give.
The bayou women didn't appear, but a thought came that wasn't mine.
She didn't die alone. She left this world cradled in the arms of someone who loved her. In the end, isn't that all we can hope for?
***
Chapter Thirty-One
Months later
Todd
