Of course, she’s also a woman who knows her own mind and who isn’t afraid to follow her heart. So it’s no surprise it didn’t take long after we came back for her to realize what should have been all along. While she will always be the love of my life, I have never been the love of hers.
YOU have.
This dying business has taught me there’s no stopping what life wants. Or what love wants. One way or another, things end up as they should.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the tumor. But I’m a prideful man, despite your shining example to the contrary. I didn’t want to be pitied for things I couldn’t control or pardoned for things I could.
Do you suppose there’s dignity in thinking some pain can’t be shared, that it must be suffered alone? Or is that simply my ego talking?
Anyway, it’s the only secret I ever kept from you. Please forgive me.
Forgive me and know that I feel like my life only truly started after you and Maggie entered it. And even though I’m leaving earlier than I’d like, it’s been a wonderful life. A full life.
The love and friendship you and Maggie have given me is the sum of everything I ever did, all I ever felt, and who I ever was. The two of you have given consequence to my life. And for that, I thank you.
Cash
Chapter Ninety-four
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Maggie
Dr. Seuss said,Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.
Today we’re giving Cash the final farewell he asked for, and it seems fitting that the day dawned sunny and bright. The kind of day that doesn’t mourn death, but celebrates life. The kind of day that doesn’t cry because it’s over, but smiles because it happened.
As I stand at the edge of the bayou, watching Luc arrange more kindling and branches over the top of Cash’s simple unvarnished pine casket, I listen to the sounds of life around me. The slurp of the mud. The snap of a twig as a swamp animal goes in search of food. A hundred yards away, bubbles rise to the surface of the tea-colored water, and I wonder if it’s swamp gas or the breath of a submerged alligator.
The smell of the coming spring is in the air. The sweet hint of flowers blooming. The subtle green scent of new-forming leaves. And around and below it all, the ever-present aroma of the bayou. Briny algae. Slow-moving water. The decay of deadfall.
“I reckon we’re ready.” Luc steps back from Cash’s bayou bier, which will become Cash’s bayoupyreonce Luc sets a match to it.
“How many laws do you suppose we’re breaking?” I open the lid on the old shoebox I brought with me.
“Who knows?” He runs a hand through his hair. “Hell, maybe all of ’em.”
“It’s so like Cash to make us into criminals here at the end.”
“Ain’t it just?” Luc’s lopsided smile is contagious.
“You think the pirogue will stay afloat long enough for…” I wrinkle my nose. “For the fire to do its job?”
He pats the end of the hollowed-out log. “Her wood is thick and dense. And her waterproofing is solid. Cash said he wanted the gators to eat what the fire doesn’t, but I reckon she’ll hold up until there’s nothing much left.” He turns to me and hitches a chin toward the shoebox. “You ready?”
I nod, and he offers me a hand to keep me steady as I step on the spongy soil near the edge of the water. Placing a hand on top of Cash’s casket, I close my eyes and say a silent prayer. Then I reach into the shoebox and take out a flattened, dried rose. It’s from the bouquet he bought me for my fifteenth birthday.
“Thank you for understanding the heart of a teenage girl,” I whisper as I tuck the rose between two twigs.
Next comes the flip-book he titled,The Story of Us. I flip through the pages, smiling at the memories they hold. “I don’t know if our story has a happy ending or a sad one, Cash. But I’m sure glad I got to read it. It’s pretty epic, don’t you think? A story of friendship and sacrifice and redemption and love. I don’t suppose most folks could ask for more than that.”
Tucking the flip-book beneath a limb, I make sure it’s secure. Then I reach into the shoebox again and pull out a glow stick. It’s from the private rave he threw for me.
The memory of how gentle he was, how patient and loving he was as he taught me about the beauty of two bodies giving pleasure and receiving it, blooms in my mind’s eye.
“You always claimed to be a tough guy.” A tear drips from my chin and falls onto his casket, seeping into the grain of the wood and darkening it. “But you were always tender with me.”
I place the glow stick in the bottom of the pirogue and go back to the shoebox for the empty package of gummy bears he gave me the time I was sick. “Your whimsical side was one of your best sides. I’m so glad you allowed me to see it.”
