Two months later
I heard the purring beside my head and opened my eyelids. Honey was staring at me, and I reached out and stroked her neck feathers right at the spot she liked. She closed her eyes and snuggled down into my pillow, and I smiled.
Who knew this dang diaper chicken would steal my heart and end up sleeping in my bed?
I pulled out my phone and took a picture of her, sending it to Ella.
It was midday in Paris, and Ella responded immediately.
Ella:She loves you more than me!
Seth:Probably
I responded with a smile. I wondered how she was doing all the time. I hung on every text, every picture ofPaulie and June Bug. Ella’s texts were sparse and tough on me, and I didn’t want to bug her too much, knowing she was raising two infants.
Chapter Forty-Two
Ella
There was a little park a five-minute walk from my mom’s new place. A sad willow tree was nestled in the corner of the park with its weeping branches, so I sat under it and opened the brand-new journal I’d just bought. I had no idea what I was going to write in it, but I’d bought it not ten minutes ago. Just sad me sitting under a sad tree and missing James. It was hard to raise our children without him. It almost made the grief fresh again. Knowing he would miss their first words, first time walking, first everything.
So I was only slightly surprised when the first thing I wrote in the journal was a letter to him.
My Dearest James,
Oh, you were always better with words. Paul and June aregrowing so fast, and even though I have Mom and Jaqueline, it’s hard. It’s hard because you’re not here, and this was our dream, to have a family, and now I have to live out our dream alone. Some nights, I wake up in the middle of the night, and for half a second, I forget you’re gone. I turn to your side of the bed, and then the crushing reality hits.
Those days are the hardest. I pray that God would heal my heart, but right now, it feels like it’s dying.
Love you always,
Ella
The following week, I sat under the willow and wrote to him again.
My Dearest James,
I know you’re gone. I know these letters will never reach you, and they are probably silly, but they make me feel better. How is heaven? Are there dogs and cats there? There better be, or I’m going to be mad at God again. Just kidding.
I miss you.
Last week, Seth texted me a picture of Honey on his pillow. I think he’s letting her sleep with him, which makes me smile. He was such a comfort and good friend when everything happened. I find myself thinking of him a lot, which makes me feel guilty. I feel like I’m cheating on you or something, even though you’ve been gone for almost a year now. I just… I always envisioned us old and gray together, and I’m not ready to let go of that vision yet.
I love you.
PS I hope there is chocolate in heaven, or I’m not going.
Ella
I began to write to him every Wednesday when I sat under the willow tree. It was cathartic and healing and sad and beautiful. I prayed under that tree, read my Bible, journaled, and listened to French audio lessons. I began to have such a soft spot for the tree that I found myself wondering if it would be possible to take it with me when I went back to Idaho.
Months passed, and I stopped writing letters so frequently, and I noticed that the tone of them changed. Today, I’d been in Paris for six months, and the twins were crawling. I opened my journal and began to write.
James,
I have come to terms with the fact that you won’t be here to see the twins grow up. It’s sad, but it is what it is, and I’m going to be okay. I tell them about you all the time.
Andre writes me letters from prison, and he’s making big changes there. He’s even going to an online seminary school. You would be so proud to know that your dying words made a prison preacher out of a lost soul. Something I’m pretty sure only you could do.
