CHAPTER7
Ian returned his rental car to the local office and took an Uber back to Amelia’s. The keys hanging in her foyer fit a Honda CR-V he found in the main parking area. It had more miles on it than the Kia, but Amelia had always treated her car as a pet. He showered and dressed in his last remaining clean clothes, retrieved her letter from the kitchen table, and took a long look at his own scribbled declaration.I am done racing toward the challenges of tomorrow, chased by the mistakes of yesterday.
Then he set out for town.
Miramar’s main street was a gentle slope easing its way toward the Pacific. Castaways Restaurant occupied a lovely position near the town’s center. The old-timey California structure’s smiling hostess apologized that she could not offer him a table, as they were fully booked, and declared that for Arthur to have given up his customary spot at the bar meant Ian must really be in good with the old grouch.
Ian assured her a seat at the bar would suit him fine. He accepted her recommendation of sea bass in a white wine reduction, with saffron rice and fire-roasted asparagus, then ordered a glass of wine, waited until her attention turned elsewhere, and brought out Amelia’s letter.
Even before he unfolded the two pages, he knew he had been right to wait for this time and place. She was there with him, savoring the noise and the people and the fragrances and the laughter. Amelia had always loved a good party.
Dearest Ian,
It’s just as well we have this final chat by letter. You and I were never much for harping over the sad times. Of which we’ve both had too many. I hope you’re reading this somewhere fun and happy. All in all, I’ve had a good life. And though I’ll miss you so very much, these days everything hurts, and it’s time. Writing does not come easy, for these very same reasons, which means I must be both quick and to the point. If I hurt your feelings as a result, I apologize, dear boy. Know I do so out of love. I hope with all my heart that you will find your own way to joy. Something I fear you have not experienced nearly enough.
This past year, I’ve watched you change. Your music remains good enough to fool most people. But sooner or later, they’ll recognize what I’m already seeing. They always do. And unless you see this first, they’ll come down hard.
I’m leaving you my little place in Miramar, hoping you’ll stay here long enough to find yourself. And do so before it’s too late. If the wolves of your world have already attacked, come here and heal.
I have always thought of Miramar as my midnight harbor. It’s the place I feel you need now, the haven where you can retreat when the winds are harshest, life’s storm is at its most violent, and no other place offers the refuge you so desperately need.
You possess a very special creative fire, dear boy. It is so very rare, so uniquely yours. You lost it somewhere in the rush and stress of your life, and you must find a way to rekindle this. You must. It is your most precious trait.
I asked Megan Pierce to try to make you come out for the reading of my will. I did so because I feel you need to step away from your world. May you find a healing peace, as I have, here in Miramar. If so, stay until you are certain the fire has been restored. In the meantime, enjoy life, the wonderful Pacific, the people. Raise a glass of something special. Play a favorite tune in my memory. Know I will love you always.
Amelia
Ian slowly folded the letter and slipped it back into his pocket. His aunt might as well have swept him up in one of her embraces, she felt so intensely close. Ian felt as though he breathed for both of them. The woman who had done so much to shape and shield him, even now, after she was no more.
Ian asked the bartender for a second glass of wine, one to rest where his aunt should be seated. As he settled it in place, an attractive woman with reddish-gold hair emerged from the ladies’. She took up position by the side wall, drew out her phone, and began taking Ian’s picture.
Ian did his best to ignore her entirely. He knew from bitter experience that confrontation only made things worse. He reached into his pocket and touched Amelia’s letter as he would a talisman.
Wishing the good feelings had lasted just a little bit longer.
