Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
He smiled. “Great.”
That afternoon, we opened the box. Lou’s ashes were on the table, the bright-blue urn adorned with a daisy, making me feel sad and happy at the same time. It felt as if she was with us, watching as we looked at pictures. The color and the daisy were like our matching glasses, and I recalled her loving daisies. We used to pick them and make crowns, wearing them all day.
The box was a treasure trove. There were more wedding pictures and even one of them standing in place, her holding a bouquet of daisies and tiny roses and wearing the yellow dress. She was tall for a woman, and Gerard was at least six inches taller, making them a striking couple. There were pictures of his family. One of them taken in this house. Jesse was interested in those, comparing them to the house now and murmuring about putting the house back to its former glory.
“I’ve always hoped that under that wall is a matching wooden rail. I bet they built around it,” he muttered, indicating the staircase.
“I guess you’ll find out after I’m gone.”
He frowned and looked at me, then returned to the photos. I picked up a pile and gasped.
“What?”
“It’s me,” I said, showing him a picture. It was Lou and me, sitting in the kitchen, crafting. We were both smiling, our fingers covered in whatever project she had us working on. I looked happy, and she was beaming. “I think my mom must have taken the picture.”
He looked at others. “There are lots of you. You were adorable.”
I stood and peered over his shoulder. There were several. Me laughing, playing, eating roasted marshmallows by a fire. Sleeping on the same sofa that I’d recovered. Hamming it up for the camera. In a dress, obviously for Easter, with a basket over my arm. My mom must have insisted.
“She had so many,” I said in wonder. “When I went through my parents’ things, there were hardly any. School pictures and the occasional photo, but not like these.”
“She loved you,” Jesse said simply.
I felt the tears well, and I could only nod. He pulled me to his lap and pressed a kiss to my head. “You deserved to be loved by everyone, Pixie. But I’m glad you had her.”
“She loved you too.”
“I know. I was one of the lucky ones, having her in my life.”
We were quiet for a while, and I stayed on his lap as we went through all the photos in the box. You could see when her life changed. There were fewer pictures. There were gardens and other people. Community events. Kittens and puppies. Bake sales. She was in very few of the pictures, and when she was, it was the Lou we remembered. Overalls and jeans. Her hair went from dark to gray quickly, it seemed. No doubt the shock of Gerard’s death had something to do with that. And there was always a trace of sadness on her face.
Except the ones where she and I were together. “You made her happier too,” Jesse pointed out. “Her eyes are glowing.”
I nodded.
“So are yours.”
“She made me feel special. My parents sort of ignored me most of the time. I always felt in the way. Lou made me feel like I belonged.” I traced one picture of the two of us laughing. “That was the only time in my life I felt that way.”
I almost added until now, but I stopped myself.
We finished looking at the pictures and repacked the box with the albums and loose photos. I kept out the ones I wanted to get copies of and hopefully restore. Some of the old ones were very faded and cracked.
My phone beeped, and I read the message. “Damn,” I swore.
“Problem?”
I sighed. “This client wants another change to the website. I do exactly what he wants, and then he changes his mind and wants it ‘tweaked.’ Except tweaked means rewriting shit. And fixing the links and—” I stopped talking and stood. “I need to go call him.”
Jesse stood and kissed my forehead. “Go work. I’ll finish this, and I’ll look after dinner later, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m taking Miller for a run too.”
“All right. I’ll see you later.”
For some reason, I picked up Lou’s urn and took it with me. Jesse watched me with understanding on his face. As I was walking toward the closet, he called my name, and I turned.
“You like musicals, Pixie? Live theater?”
“Yes. I rarely get a chance to go, but I do.”
“Okay.”
Then he waved me off, and I headed to my desk.
Work waited.
I worked until Jesse appeared, carrying a pizza. We sat on the sofa, the box between us, eating. My eyes kept going to the screen, and Jesse waved his hand. “Just take a break for a bit, Pixie. You looked tired.”