The Fourth Life: Chapter 11

"Starr?"  Todd bellowed, walking into La Boulaie without knocking.  "Starr?"


"Dad!"  she said, descending the stairs.  Hope followed.  Both were dressed for a party.  


"You think your mother is going to like this, right?"


"Dad, first, anything you do she loves.  Second, YES!"


"All right.  Review the plan, one more time, just so I know you have it right."


"I wait until you text me, then I go get the boys, have Williams bring us to the new place.  I make sure that we're about an hour or so behind you.  Satisfied?  It's not that hard, Dad, honestly."


"All right."


"I know you want everything to be perfect.  Well, how do you feel about your first year married?"


Todd wasn't sure what to say.  He loved every minute with her, but felt a dark, cold chill up his spine thinking of the times without.  "I love her, you know that."


She choked up.  "I know.  And she loves you.  She always did.  I remember before you came back, she was looking at your picture a lot.  Talking about it.  And she never even thought, or could have, that you were still out there."


"I thought of her every day."


"I know."


"Every day, Starr.  Day after day after day, it was your mother.  I even heard her voice."


Starr, sniffing back emotion, took Hope's hand, and said, "Well, shouldn't you be going somewhere?"


"I guess so," he sighed. 


"Dad, wear something nice."


"I always wear something nice, Starr."


"I'll see you later, now go ahead, she's going to love it, Dad."


She shut the door after him and wondered if he would ever have his happiness.  Since she had known him, though he had happy times, he was never fully at peace.  She asked herself if that was just what her father was going to be missing all of his life.  The closest thing she'd seen was the times he was with her mother.  Nothing else came close for him.  Peace included Blair and his children, but inside him, was always a darkness that kept him from complete solace.


***


Blair had done what Todd asked her.  She had packed an overnight bag, and she knew that Starr was on her way to sit with the kids and help with Ray for the evening.  In the bag, she had placed, with care, the book that she had made for him.  She knew that with all his money, he had most everything he wanted and needed nothing.  Buying gifts for him was always difficult, but this time, she felt she had done it just right.


She brushed her hair one last time, letting it all cascade around her.  She hadn't realized how long it had actually gotten.  In the past her hair had gone through so many changes, and come full circle.  Billowing around her like a soft wheat-colored waterfall.  She knew he loved her hair this way.  It was similar to how she wore it when he first met her, and his was getting close to that as well.


She heard him come in on the lower level, and quickly put a sweater over the book that was poking out of the bag.  She heard him call to her, and answered, "I'm here.  Almost ready.  I'll be right down."  She primped once more, and felt satisfied.  She'd packed everything he asked, including the red halter dress that she wore on their night out on the town, years back, which she carried in a garment bag.  To her amazement, it still fit her with a few adjustments.  She grabbed her bags and made her way downstairs.  


He was waiting at the bottom.  To her surprise, he was dressed casually, in his loose fitting jeans and gray-green henley t-shirt, but to her it didn't matter.  She knew him; surprises were his forte.  She was ready for the ride, wherever it took them.  She stood in front of him, bags in hand.  "I'm here, Mr. Manning.  All packed," she saluted.


He put out his arm to her, "Then we're off.  What do you say?"



"I say let's go,"  she said, taking his arm.  "Momma's got the kids until Starr gets here to help."


He lead her out to the SUV, and they departed.  On the drive, he said, "Will you sing?"


"You want me to sing?  What if that was my gift to you?"



"Is it?"


"No," she said.


"Then, will you sing?"


"Sure.  What do you want to hear?"


"What about the same one you sang at the wedding?"


"All right.  I know you love that.  Better than that sappy other one, right?"


He smirked, "Yeah.  So will you?"


"Okay."  She began to sing, and her voice filled the cab of the SUV and encircled him.  Her voice, the voice he heard over and over in his mind all those years, being kept apart from her.  It touched him somewhere he could not explain to anyone.  Something peaceful filled him listening to her.


As they got closer to the destination, he said, "I have another request."  


Blair, sitting next to him and loving the fact that he was with her and didn't seem to be plagued by his pains, said, "I think I know where we are going."


"Maybe you do."


"Are we going to Viki's cabin?"


"No comment.  I plead the fifth."


"Well, that's a nice place for us to spend our wedding anniversary, if so.  It's where we spent time together when you first came back, and also, when you came back the first time."


"Yeah?  What do you remember about that?"


"You'd just gotten back from Ireland.  Oh, God, I wanted you so much.  So much.  You were so bitter and so hurt.  We were at Viki's cabin, trying to reconnect.  I told you..."


"You told me that even my death couldn't change your love for me."


"You remembered, too."


"I remember every little bit, Blair."


She looked at him, his side profile.  The scar was facing her.  She never became tired of seeing how beautiful he was.  He reminded her of a Nordic warrior, or some kind of Roman god.  "Okay, so what's the request?"


"That sappy one, you know, the one we both hate."


"You want me to sing that one?"


"Yeah, I do.  And while you're singing, I have another request."  He hoped his timing was right.


She began, "Unforgettable, that's what you are.  Unforgettable, though near, or far..."


He wanted to close his eyes and bask in the sound of her, but was focused on one thing: making it up the mountain before she finished the last strains of the song, and he gave her the deed.


"Like a song of love, that clings to me, why the thought of you, does things to me.  Never before.  Has someone been more.  Unforgettable, in every way.  And forever more, that's how you'll stay."


He interrupted.  "Can you do me that favor now?"


"Sure," she said, puzzled.


"Go into the glove compartment and get me that scroll."


She looked sideways at him.  "A scroll?"


"Yeah, you heard me.  But you have to finish the song at the same time."


She continued by humming the interlude, and opened the glove box as he directed.  There was a scroll with gold and red ribbons.  She kept humming, and went to hand it to him.


He took his eyes off the road for a moment, and looked at her quickly.  "It's not for me, it's for you.  Sing the last chorus as you open that."


He drove skillfully around the last twist in the road that took them to a long driveway.  She didn't really take in all of her surroundings, busy with the song and reading the deed.  "That's why darling, it's incredible, that someone so unforgettable, thinks that I am unforgettable..."  she stopped.  And as she did, he stopped the car, and let it idle.


She looked at him, and said, "What does this mean?"


"Haven't you seen a deed before?"


"But..."


He put the car into drive, and said, "You forgot the last line.  Not done.  So you have to do it again."


She sang, looking finally out the front window,  and with her voice husky and tearful, she repeated, "That's why darling, it's incredible, that someone so unforgettable, thinks that I am, unforgettable, too."   Tears streamed as she stopped singing and he pulled the car around a twisting corner, and before them stood the house.


"It's called 'Unforgettable.'  I built it.  For you.  For us."


She dropped her lower jaw, in awe of him.  "Todd?"


"Welcome home, Mrs. Manning."


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