"I'm all alone in the world, and everything I have struggled to find seems to be out of reach. Every decision I have made since the war has revolved around chasing love, and I left so much behind."
Claude pressed his hands into my shoulders, pushing me back. "Charlie, you can't summarize your life that way. You have accomplished so much and overcome many battles. It has been a journey full of challenges you were meant to fight through. There were lessons to be learned."
I heard Claude's words, but they were swimming above my head, because I was now drowning in sorrow.
Chapter 39
Current Day
Amelia rests her hand down on my knee as our train ride zooms through the trees.
Another train ride, another destination.
"Life can't be full of gains, or we would never learn appreciation from our losses," Amelia says.
"I would never compare my losses to yours," I tell her, needing her to know I don't expect sympathy.
"You don't have to explain yourself to me," she says, holding my hand.
Even though we have seventy-four years' worth of conversation to catch up on, I am content with the quiet between us as we take in the view from outside the window. I enjoy listening to Amelia breathe, as well as inhaling the sweet scent of the rose perfume she is wearing. "When is the last time you have been in New York?" I ask.
"Oh, goodness. Maxwell and I moved to Massachusetts back in the seventies, and I'm afraid I haven't been back since."
"Not much has changed," I assure her. "People are still in a rush, dressed in their finest, and the streets are filled with chatter and smells from nearby restaurants."
"Just how I liked it," she says, smiling widely at the unraveling city skyline.
The train ride flew by rather quickly, and before I know it, I am helping her up the stairs to my apartment.
I open the door and allow her to walk inside first. A smile pokes at her lips as her eyes gaze around with wonder. "My paintings," she says.
"Yes, I own every single one I could get my hands on, darling. Your paintings have made my apartment feel like home."
Amelia circles the small area, tracing her finger along the white walls. "I often imagined how a place of our own might appear. I realized I knew less than I wanted to know about you, and while I knew some of your passions in life, I didn't know what made you, you."
"Well, I have spent many years figuring that out for myself," I explain.
Amelia takes slow, cautious steps around the perimeter of the space. "Everything is so neat and tidy," she says as she spins around in the center of the room, stopping in front of the brown, leather chair. "Is this—"
I sweep a piece of dust from the leather and smooth my hand over the seat. "Amelia, this is your chair. No one has ever taken a seat on it before."
Amelia's lips press together, and she offers me her hand. "May I?"
I press my lips together, stopping my chin from trembling, and nod my head. "Please. I have waited a long time to see you rest in this chair," I tell her, helping her ease down into the seat.
"It's quite comfortable, she says, leaning her head back with a smile. You have fine taste in furniture, Charlie Crane."
I find myself gazing at her, losing myself in the moment. All those times I imagined talking to Amelia, while she sat in this very chair, they are all coming to life.
"I'm sorry you never found that person who could make your world complete as your mama wanted," she says. "I had hoped and prayed for your happiness so many times, Charlie."
I reach into my pocket and retrieve the little yellow envelope I have kept safe. I slip my fingers into the opening and pinch the gold band. "Amelia, there was never a time limit on finding the person who would complete my world, and I knew I had to be patient for my dream to come true. I have only ever listened to my heart, regardless of how crazy I thought I had been so many times throughout my life, but my heart—" I tap my fist on my chest. "It was right all along."
It is a struggle to bend down on my knee, but it is a struggle I will endure. "Amelia, I have wanted you to be my wife for seventy-four years. I know we're old and certainly not getting any younger, but finding you has been a challenge in my journey, and I was never going to give up. Will you—"
Tears stream down Amelia's cheeks as her hand cups over her mouth. "Charlie Crane, please be my husband," she pleads through a soft cry. "I have never stopped loving you. I knew someday we would find each other again."
The thought of us escaping Austria together plays out in my mind. The vision of us holding hands and running through the meadows that would lead us to Zurich, and the bed and breakfast where we should have been saving up money together so we could raise a family in America. New York should have offered us late-night strolls through Times Square and Central Park. We could have leaned on our elbows on a cafe table while being mesmerized at live jazz bands playing our favorite tunes. I would have been at the art galleries standing beside her as she blushed at the attention. We could have sung our children to sleep and curled up in our chairs while sharing a bowl of popcorn that sat on the small circular table between us. I would have kissed my love before bed every single night, thanking God for allowing me to have her all to myself.
