Page 34 of Wisteria Winds
“He’s a very wise man,” Clara said.
“He is. So, how are you doing, really?”
Clara considered the question. “Better. Each day is a little easier than the last. Playing music again has helped me the most.”
“I’ve noticed a change in you,” Danielle said. “There’s a lightness that wasn’t there when you first arrived here.”
“Well, you know… the grief doesn’t go away. It’s a life sentence,” Clara said. “I still miss my husband every day. But I’m learning that remembering him doesn’t have to only be remembering pain. I can honor him through music, and really think about our memories together with a smile.”
“That’s a beautiful way to think about it.”
“You know, he would have liked your Bennett. Robert always appreciated people who built things to last—whether it was music or communities.”
“Well, I wish we could have met him.”
“He’ll be here in a way,” Clara said, “in the music I’ve arranged and the pieces I’ll play. A small part of him lives on in everything I create.”
Danielle nodded. “You know, that’s why I asked the pastor who will officiate the wedding for us to do a remembrance moment in the ceremony. For Bennett’s grandmother, my father, and all of the people who have lost someone who live here on Wisteria Island. People who should be there but can only be with us in spirit.”
“That’s very meaningful,” Clara said.
They sat together at the piano, and Clara showed Danielle the processional score, explaining how the music would flow throughout the ceremony. Two months ago, she couldn’t have imagined sitting here planning wedding music without being overwhelmed by memories of her own marriage.
While the memories would always remain, they brought more comfort than pain now. She refused to remember her marriage as a sad thing and something she’d lost.
“Will you play something for me?” Danielle asked when they finished discussing the ceremony music. “Something of Robert’s?”
Clara nodded and placed her hands on the keys. She chose one of Robert’s later compositions, a piece he’d written after they celebrated their thirtieth anniversary.
As the final notes faded, Danielle wiped away a tear. “That was beautiful, Clara. Thanks for sharing it.”
“Thank you for asking,” Clara said. “For a long time, I couldn’t bear to play his music. I wouldn’t even pull out the pieces of paper and look at them. But now it feels like the most natural way to keep him with me. It’s like he’s right here beside me.”
When Danielle left, promising to return later in the week for the final music rehearsal, Clara remained at the piano. She pulled out a blank sheet of staff paper and began to write, capturing a melody that had been forming in her mind for days. It would be a wedding gift for Danielle and Bennett—a brand-new composition, the first she had attempted since her husband’s death. Not a replacement for his music, but something that grew alongside it.
Inspired by the new connections she had already formed on Wisteria Island, she felt her husband’s presence not as a ghost, but as an inspiration, encouraging her, as he always had, to create beauty in the world—even in the face of grief.
Danielle tried to keep her eyes closed as Bennett led her up a slight incline. His hands were warm on her shoulders, guiding her forward.
“We’re almost there,” he said. “Just a few more steps. But you better not peek.”
“I’m not,” she said for the umpteenth time, though the temptation was very strong.
Of course, she’d seen the gazebo during the construction, but Bennett had insisted on doing a final reveal as a surprise.
They stopped, and his hands left her shoulders. She heard him move to stand beside her.
“All right,” he said. “Open your eyes.”
Danielle did, and her breath caught in her throat.
The gazebo stood before her, gleaming white against the deepening twilight sky. Landscape lighting illuminated its beautiful columns and dome from below, and in the interior, it glowed with the soft radiance of hidden fixtures. Around its base, carefully arranged plants created a beautiful flowing transition from the surrounding landscape. Two curved benches flanked the wide entrance steps, and a path of crushed shell led to where they stood at the gazebo’s opening.
But what made it truly magical was what was beyond it. It was positioned perfectly on the bluff, with the gazebo framing the ocean horizon. Tonight it was being painted in shades of purple and gold as the sun dipped behind the water.
“Oh my gosh, Bennett,” she said. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. Better than any big cathedral or fancy wedding venue could have ever been.”
He took her hand and led her up the shell path toward the structure. “Come see inside.”
