Page 116 of Dreams of Falling
“You can’t stop me.”
“Yes, I can. You’re going to move in here with me so I can take care of you and take you to your doctor’s appointments and make sure you never smoke another cigarette.”
Bitty just stared at her openmouthed.
“I’m glad we agree.” Ceecee sat down next to Bitty, putting her arm around her shoulders. “See? I can be selfish. I’ll be lonely now, without Ivy. But with you here, I won’t be.”
Bitty let out a long, shuddering breath, as if a world of worry had been told to leave. She leaned her head on Ceecee’s shoulder. “I guess I was the one who said you should learn to be more selfish, wasn’t I?”
“You sure did. And you might as well tell me now where you keep the rest of your cigarette stash. I’ll find them eventually, so I’d appreciate it if you’d save me the trouble.”
“I’ll think about it.” Ceecee felt Bitty’s smile against her shoulder. “Do you still miss Margaret? The way she was when we were girls?”
“I miss the way we all were when we were girls. What was it that my mama used to say? Something about Margaret suggesting something outrageous, me cautioning against it, and you goading us all into doing it anyway.”
“Sounds about right,” Bitty said. “And I wouldn’t change any of it.” She felt Ceecee look at her. “Except for one or two things.”
Ceecee watched as an egret perched on one of the dock pilings, looking out at the smooth water of the Sampit, happily oblivious to the cycle of life and death that took place beneath its beautiful wings. “Maybe Larkin can fill in for Margaret when she moves back home.”
“She’s moving back?” Bitty sat up with surprise.
“She hasn’t said so yet, but of course she is. Like Boyd used to say about our Ivy, she’s got salt water running through her veins. I don’t know what she’s been surviving on in New York, but I say it’s time for an infusion.”
They heard a car pull up at the front of the house. “Larkin’s here,” Ceecee announced as she stood. She gave her hand to Bitty and helped her stand. “Whatever’s in the letter, we’ll be okay, won’t we?”
Bitty squeezed her hand. “Of course. Friends forever, remember?”
Ceecee squeezed back, remembering the day they’d put their ribbons in the tree the first time, wishing that they’d simply told Margaret no. “Friends forever,” she repeated with a smile as they entered the house together.
•••
Larkin
2010
Bennett met me at the front door. All the tears I’d been holding back found their way to my eyes as I faced him, feeling the burden of my sadness shift from my shoulders because he was there. Like he’d always been when I’d needed him. Before I could say anything, he’d wrapped his arms around me, making me feel comforted without the benefit ofwords. “I’ve got the coffee on, as promised,” he said, kissing the top of my head. He smelled of soap, and his skin was still damp from the shower. I had the oddest sensation that I could get used to that.
“Thank you,” I said, my tears leaving a wet patch on his shirt.
When I got to the kitchen, I watched as Ceecee and Bitty walked through the back door, holding hands and looking like coconspirators. When they saw me, they each hugged me as we cried together, and it was a little like having Mama back.
Ceecee went immediately to the fridge and began pulling out eggs and cheese and other breakfast fixings. “We’ll need to start making phone calls and begin with the arrangements for your mama, but we can’t do that on empty stomachs, can we?”
I closed the refrigerator door. “Breakfast and phone calls can wait. We need to read the letter now. I know that’s what Mama would want.” Knowing this was the only thing keeping me from shrinking into my grief.
Ceecee and Bitty exchanged a glance, then sat obediently at the kitchen table. “I’ll get the coffee,” I said, bringing the pot over, along with four mugs and cream from the refrigerator.
Bennett excused himself, then came back with the letter. “Who’d like to read it?”
I looked at Ceecee, but she shook her head. “Your mama would want you to. Go ahead.”
Bennett slid the paper in front of me, and I looked down at the small, neat handwriting that filled the front and back, took a sip of my coffee to clear my throat, and began.
October 10, 1993
My Dearest Ivy,
I’ve already spent too much time deciding to whom this letter should be addressed, and have decided on you. You’re a mother now, more prepared to understand what it means to love someone more than yourself, to makechoices dictated by your heart, and not your head. Life is full of choices, and it’s up to us to decide what part will guide our actions.
