Page 56 of Wildfire
That seems like a good plan. Cole can be a buffer for me. "Yes, please."
He tears the top off and reaches inside. He pulls out a binder with a note taped to the top. He reads the note and then looks at me with such care. "You should read the note."
He slides it across the kitchen island toward me, and I look at the letter in my father's characteristic scribble.
Renée,
I know I haven't been the best father. And for that, I will always be sorry. When you left, it was the shock I needed to wake up and make a change. I've started going to the local AA meetings. I'm 6 days sober.
Zoe came to see me and told me you're about to live your dream. I'm so proud of you and know your mother would be too.I begged Zoe to give me your address, and I hope this package makes it to you in time. This is your mother's songbook. I know she'd want you to have it.
Dad
The tears drop in puddles on the letter I hold in my shaking hands. Cole gently releases my grip on the paper and leads me to the couch with the songbook in his hand. He holds me tight as the tears fall, wetting his shirt and washing me clean.
These are tears I didn't know I needed to shed. They are tears of relief. Of release. Of self-forgiveness.
He grabs a tissue for me, and I clean up my face before I open the book.
Most of the songs were written before she met my dad and during their courtship, but at least three were written after they married. Each date was around the time each of us kids was born. I had no idea she'd written songs for us. As far as I could remember, she'd never played them.
I read the words and feel close to her. My arms get gooseflesh from feeling like she is standing there with me, reading these with me.
The songs are all her. I almost hear her singing them as I look over the notes and melodies. The one thing that stands out above all else is that through her music, I can see something plain as day—she never regretted her choice. She chose us and never looked back. We were her world as much as she was ours.
No wonder we fell so completely apart when she died. She was our sun. She was everything.
"I think I need to call my dad."
"Why don't I start dinner while you do that?"
I nod and go into the bedroom to find my phone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Cole
This morning, when I wake and reach over to caress Renée's soft hair, I know it will be for the last time. There's an aching black hole in my gut that's sucking all my energy into it. I wish it would suck me in after she leaves. I'm happy for her, but watching her drive away will hurt like hell.
But if you love something, you have to set it free, right?
And that's what came to light this week. I'm in love with this woman. I will never comprehend how she enraptured me after only a few weeks, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I support her and don't add to the guilt I know she still has about living her dream.
That's not how it's supposed to work. People aren't supposed to feel guilty for pursuing their dreams. They're supposed to feel excited, empowered, and supported. So even though it's killing me to watch her leave, I refuse to be the guy who makes her feel bad about it. I refuse to be like that asshole Michael that I punched. She helped me see how selfish it is to ask someone to give up the most important thing to them so that you can be happy while they feel deflated.
It's because of Renée that I think I owe Sadie an apology. I guilted the hell out of her for choosing her dream over me. I don't need us to be buddies, but I need her to know that I am glad she chose herself. She chose to live instead of wither on the vine here.
Maybe that's part of getting older and wiser. You realize that people sometimes have to make decisions that hurt you but aren't actuallyaboutyou.
Damn, I should put that on a poster and sell it.
Renée rolls over, kisses me sweetly, and then pulls the sheet over our heads.
"Let's forget what's out there for a few more minutes."
We make love one last time. It's bittersweet and tender, and afterward, we stare at each other instead of saying the words that hang between us.
"As much as I hate to say this, I must get out of bed."
"Me too. I've got a tour bus to catch."
