A crease formed in her brow as she lifted Maple onto her hip. But she nodded and said, “Okay.”
We loaded Maple up in the new car seat I’d gotten for my SUV and headed out of town.
Thirty minutes later, when I slowed and pulled into the cemetery, Finley’s eyes widened and she straightened bolt upright in her seat. “Grey?”
I took her hand, lacing her delicate fingers between mine, “You okay?”
She swallowed, her throat bobbing. It was probably as dry as a bone...just like mine. “Yes.” She took a deep, heavy breath and then leaned back against the seat again, her eyes darting everywhere as I drove along the little lane leading us to our destination.
I wondered if she’d been here, if she sometimes came to talk to him, or to cry, or to remember the happy times. But I didn’t ask. Just because we were in a relationship didn’t mean I needed to know every secret she kept. She was entitled to her privacy, especially about sensitive matters like this one.
I parked the car and took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, and without saying anything, went to retrieve Maple from the back. I could only guess what she was thinking.
Everything looked the same – little neat rows of headstones as far as the eye could see – but I remembered. Our destination lay on the other side of the big maple tree, and we headed straight towards it. I wondered if there was some kind of significance there…. I’d never asked Finley how she chose Maple’s name, after all.
It was a beautiful resting place. The leaves offered shade from the scorching summer sun. The wind rustled them, casting dancing spots of light on the grass.
The carved granite headstone glinted in the setting sun.
Finley stopped suddenly several paces behind me and I turned. She lowered Maple to the ground and she took off on unsteady legs, exploring the grassy area beside us. “Come on. It’ll be okay,” I promised. I took Finley's hand and led her the rest of the way over toward the headstone.
Steeling the nerves I’d been fighting all day, I took a deep breath.
I didn’t look at the ground, or the stone marking it, because I knew he wasn’t there. Staring out into the distance, I talked to him.
The words came, stilted and self-conscious at first, then more natural as I continued. It was just like old times – me and him, casually sharing what was going on in our lives. Of course, this particular chat was decidedly one-sided. But I knew he wouldn't mind. I held Finley's hand in mine the entire time; I couldn't say who needed that contact more, me or her.
Finally, I reached the moment I'd come here for. The scariest question, the biggest leap of faith.
“Finley has become ... everything to me.” I choked up and had to pause for a second. “I’m in love with her, man,” I admitted.
A quiet sniff made me look over to see that Finley was crying. Silent tears streaming down her cheeks, making her green eyes shine even brighter.
Maple was chasing a grasshopper nearby, innocently unaware of the heavy moment, so I continued. There was more I needed to say.
My throat tight, I pressed on, “I promise to always protect her and Maple. I promise to be there no matter what. That is my vow. I couldn’t save you, but I can save them.”
Just then, a songbird flew over and landed on a low branch of the maple tree, not far from where we stood, and gave a quick whistle, catching all of our attention. Plumed in bright blue, that bird whistled a long tune, a sweet high song just for us.
I’d never heard anything like it. Even Maple stopped what she was doing and craned her neck to listen. Then she glanced excitedly between the bird and her mother, her eyes wide with wonder. Her expression seemed to say, He’s trying to tell us something important.
We both watched it for several minutes, and then Finley’s gaze met mine. “It’s a sign from Marcus.” She smiled, only a little sadly. “He’s giving us his blessing.”
The most peaceful feeling settled over me and I knew she was absolutely right. I nodded.
“There’s something else,” I continued. “I want you to know that your little girl will grow up knowing all the best stories from her father. And even though you’re not here with us, she’ll always have a father’s love. She isn’t mine, not by blood, but I’ll always take care of her.”
“Grey ...” Finley’s voice broke. “What are you saying?”
“We’re going to be a family. I’m going to marry you.” I gave her left hand a squeeze, stroking the naked ring finger.
She laughed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Are you sure about that, Mister Archer?”
“I’m positive, Finley Sutton Archer. You two are mine, and I don’t want to live any more of my days without you. Now come on, let’s go home.”
I kissed Finley’s temple—she was still staring at me—and then picked up Maple.
The bird continued its magical song the entire walk back to the car.
As if Marcus were really here, as strong as ever, looking down on us. Watching over us. I laced my fingers with Finley’s, feeling lighter than I had in a long time. We had our whole lives in front of us—and Marcus wouldn’t want us to waste them.
Epilogue
Finley
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present the new Mr. and Mrs. Archer!” the emcee called.
A burst of applause greeted us as Grey led me into the reception tent. The spring sun warmed my shoulders, left bare by my wedding gown, and the breeze played with the curls of my updo. The opening chords of Sinatra's “The Second Time Around” rippled into the open air.