She had known even then the darkness that was coming for her.
But did she know that he loved her, that he had always loved her, and that he always would? She was a part of him, perhaps the biggest part, and sometimes even now, he heard her laughter in the whisper of the wind. Last week, when he’d seen those beautiful white swans across the lake, he stopped and stared and thought, there they are, Kath . . . they’ve come back again. . . .
Izzy slipped her hand in his. “It’s okay, Daddy. She knows. ”
He pulled her into his arms and held her, looking up at the sky through hot, stinging tears. I have her, Kath—the best part of us—and I’ll always be here for her.
They placed a wicker basket full of blooming chrysanthemums on the grass, then drove home.
“I’m gonna check the garden,” Izzy said when they pulled into the driveway.
“Don’t be long. It looks like it’s going to rain. ”
Nodding, she got out of the car and made a beeline to the white picket fence. Nick slammed the door shut and headed for the house. Sure enough, it started to rain before he reached the porch.
“Daddy, Daddy, come here, Daddy!”
He turned. She was standing in front of the cherry tree they’d planted last year. She was hopping up and down like an agitated bird, flapping her arms.
He raced across the yard. When he reached her, she looked up at him, grinning, her face washed by rain. “Look, Daddy. ”
Nick saw what she was pointing at, and slowly he dropped to his knees in the already moist grass.
The cherry tree had produced a single, perfect pink bud.
Autumn brought color back to Southern California. Brown grass began to turn green. The gray air, swept clean by September breezes, regained its springtime blue. The local radio stations started an endless stream of football chatter. The distant whine of leaf blowers filled the air.
It was the season of sharp, sudden changes: days of bright lemon heat followed by cold, starlit nights. Sleeveless summer shirts were packed away in boxes and replaced by crew-neck sweaters. The birds began one by one to disappear, leaving their nests untended. To the Californians, who spent most of their days in clothes as thin as tissue and smaller than washrags, it began to feel cold. They shivered as the wind kicked up, plucking the last dying red leaves from the trees along the road. Sometimes whole minutes went by without a single car turning toward the beach. The crossroads were empty of tourists, and only the stoutest of spirit ventured into the cool Pacific Ocean at this time of year. The stream of surfers at the state beach had dwindled to a few hardy souls a day.
It was time now to let go. But how did you do that, really? Annie had spent seventeen years trying to protect her daughter from the world, and now all of that protection lay in the love she’d given Natalie, in the words she’d used in their talks, and in the examples she’d provided.
The examples.
Annie sighed, remembering the talk she’d had with Natalie and the disappointment she’d felt in realizing that she hadn’t been a good role model. Now it was too late to change all that she’d been and done as a mother. Annie’s time was over.
“Mom?” Natalie poked her head into Annie’s bedroom.
“Hey, Nana,” she answered, trying to inject cheerful-ness into her voice. “Come on in. ”
Natalie climbed onto the bed and stretched out alongside Annie. “I can’t believe I’m really going. ”
Annie put an arm around her daughter. Surely this beautiful creature couldn’t be the child who’d once licked the metal ski-chair pole at Mammoth Mountain . . . or the girl who’d climbed into her parents’ bed after a nightmare when she was only a year away from being a teenager.
Seventeen years had passed in the blink of an eye. It was too fast. Not long enough . . .
Idly, Annie finger-combed her daughter’s long blond hair. She’d been preparing for this day for ages, almost since she’d first dropped Nana off at kindergarten, and still she wasn’t ready. “Have I told you today how proud I am of you?”
“Only a billion times. ”
“Make it a billion and one. ”
Natalie snuggled closer and pressed a hand to Annie’s stomach. “How were the latest stress tests and ultrasounds?”
“Everything shows a healthy baby girl. There’s nothing for you to worry about. ”
“She’s lucky to have you for a mom. ”
Annie laid her hand on Natalie’s. There were so many things she wanted to say, on this day when her daughter was embarking on the adventure of her own life, but she knew that she had had her time. Everything of magnitude that was hers to say had been said, and if it hadn’t, it was too late now. Still, she wished she could think of one single, flawless bit of advice to hand down like an heirloom to her child.