The Girl and Her Ren

by Pepper Winters

  Today, I wore no ribbon.

  No usual flair of blue.

  Today, that ribbon fluttered around the lid of the silver urn, hugging Ren one last time.

  Jacob squeezed the urn, pressing his cheek to the coolness, breaking my heart all over again. “I love you, Dad. No matter that you’re just ash now.”

  A sob grabbled with my voice as I forced myself to turn from the touching, breaking moment and face the tear-streaked members of our town.

  John cried silently. Cassie hugged Nina while Chip hugged her. Liam hugged his wife and son while Adam and his family hovered close by. Behind them, the town stood poised and waiting for whatever words I could deliver that might stop the pain.

  But I didn’t have that power. No one did.

  And even if such a magic existed, I wouldn’t want it.

  I wouldn’t want my smarting, bleeding grief to be erased because that was the price of love, and I’d loved dearly.

  Reading from my printed page, even though the words were typed on my heart, I took lines from the prologue and shared them, all while keeping others just for me.

  “First, I want to say thank you. Thank you for falling in love with Ren just as much as me. Thank you for understanding that love spans decades, infects souls, and turns you immortal because, when you love that deeply, nothing can ever die.”

  I looked up, meeting the eyes of John.

  He nodded, biting his trembling lip, his mind awash with Patricia and Ren.

  I spoke for me and for everyone with lost loved ones.

  I hoped they’d see what Ren and I had seen…that love truly was mystical and miraculous.

  My voice threaded tears with truth.

  “Love transcends time, space, distance, universes.

  “Love can’t be confined to pages or photos or memories—it’s forever alive and wild and free. Romance comes and goes, lust flickers and smoulders, trials appear and test, life gets in the way and educates, pain can derail happiness, joy can delete sadness, togetherness is more than just a fairy-tale…it’s a choice.

  “A choice to love and cherish and honour and trust and adore.

  “A choice to choose love, all the while knowing it has the power to break you.

  “A choice, dear friends, to give someone your entire heart.

  “But in the end, love is what life is about.

  “And love is the purpose of everything.”

  John broke from the ranks, striding in leaf-crunching boots to bear hug me. Cassie joined him, her subtle perfume clouding around us.

  “We’re here. You and Jakey are not alone.” John let me go, blowing his nose on a handkerchief.

  “I love you, Della.” Cassie kissed my cheek and squeezed my arm before guiding her father back to their places.

  With their kind support, I stood braver in the face of heartbreak and tucked my page away.

  I smiled at the crowd, wobbly and watery. “Ren died knowing how loved he was. And we’re still here, knowing he’ll always love us in return. Some might say our romance is over. That his death ruins our story. And I’d agree, but only because romance can be killed, but love…it can’t. It lives on, and I’m patient enough to wait for our happily ever after.”

  Townsfolk nodded, some sharing looks, others glassy-eyed with their own memories.

  But I’d said what I needed to.

  I’d done what was expected for a grieving widow to honour her dead lover.

  Now, we had something else much more important to do.

  Turning to Jacob, I held out my hand. “Ready?”

  He hugged the silver urn tighter. “No.”

  I kissed his soft hair. “He’ll always love you, Jacob.”

  “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

  “But we’re not.”

  “I don’t want to let him go.”

  Bending closer, I whispered, “We’re not letting him go. We’re setting him free. The wind will guide him to visit us; the forest will keep him safe. He’ll be all around us, Wild One.”

  His face shone with tears. “But who will I talk to?” He stroked the urn. “At least he’s still here.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek. “He’s not in there, Jacob. His spirit is already listening. He hears you when you talk to him, even without his ashes.”

  “You sure?” He hiccupped. “Promise?”

  I opened my arms.

  Jacob launched into them, wedging the urn between us. “I promise. He’s watching us right now, and he’d want us to be brave, okay?”

  Pulling back, he wiped his cheeks with his black-suited forearm. “Okay. I’ll be brave. For him.”

  Standing, I didn’t look back at the crowd, merely waited for my son to take my hand.

  When he did, we moved farther away, deeper into the green-shrouded forest.

  Once we found a perfect sun-lit spot, we stopped.

  “Ready?”

  “’kay.”

  Together, with shaking hands and slippery grip, we unscrewed the lid.

  Another flute of a breeze found its way through the boughs and leaves to lick around us.

  My skin prickled. My heart answered. I felt him near.

  I love you, Ren.

  As we started to tip, I whispered, “Don’t say farewell, Wild One. Don’t say the words goodbye because it isn’t. If you must say something, say I love you. Because he’ll hear it and know he’s not forgotten.”

  “I’ll never forget him,” Jacob vowed.

  “Neither will I.”

  Together, we tipped the silver jar and let my husband and his father free.

  The grey of Ren’s mortal body swirled and clouded, giving wings to his immortal soul, becoming one with the trees and skies he loved so much.

  Even though I knew this wasn’t goodbye.

  Even though I knew I’d see him again, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done to watch him vanish before us.

  The faraway murmur of people leaving hinted we should probably head back, but Jacob stalked toward a tree, holding the Swiss Army knife Ren had given him.

  Studiously, firmly, he scratched something into the bark, stabbing and carving.

  I let him.

  I didn’t try to stop him or interfere.

  And once he’d finished and his face was once again wet with tears, I moved closer to see what he’d done.

  And just like the father had wounded me, so did the son.

  My heart was no longer intact but a lake of mourning.

  “Do you like it, Mom?” He sniffed back sadness.

  I shook my head as my fingers traced the wonky lines of Ren’s tattoo.

  A swirl of ribbon with the initials J and D with an extra kick in its tail with an R.

  All three of us.

  Always together as the tree grew higher and our family soared closer toward the heavens.

  “I don’t like it. I love it.”

  A small smile tilted his lips. “Good.”

  My eyes shot wide as I spun to study him. The phrase Ren and I had used. The one word that meant so much.

  I had to finish it.

  To acknowledge that there would always be so much of Ren in this child. That every day he would surprise me, remind me, heal and hurt me.

  On a shaky breath, I said, “Fine.”

  And together, we walked out of the forest, toward the house Ren and I had built together, and crossed the threshold alone.

  Ren wasn’t in the fields, or on the tractor, or in the barn.

  He wasn’t in the forest, or baling hay, or dozing in the meadow.

  He was gone…gone.

  And I had to put one foot in front of the other and accept it.

  But I also accepted that this new reality was only temporary.

  Life had so many paths and different journeys, but eventually, we all ended up in the same place.

  I’d been lucky to share my life with Ren.

  I was still lucky to share the rest of it with Jacob.

  I wouldn’t give up, even
on the blackest of days.

  I wouldn’t stop living, even on the saddest of moments.

  I would keep trying, learning, surviving, because I owed Ren that.

  I owed him my life.

  Jacob grabbed my hand, bringing me back from my thoughts and into our living room where we stood.

  “You okay?” his innocent voice asked.

  I smiled sadly. “Are you?”

  “Not yet.” He sniffed. “But we will be…right?”

  His dark eyes, so similar to Ren’s, blazed for an answer—a promise of healing.

  Ducking to my knee, I hugged him tight, pressing his lanky body into mine, asking for healing for both of us. He kneeled with me, and I kissed his hair, inhaling deep, smelling the scents of my son mixed with the smells of my husband. A familiar wild intoxication that no soap or time could steal.

  Hay and hope and happiness.

  “We’ll be okay, Wild One. I promise.”

  And we would be.

  Because there was no expiration on love.

  Ren was still mine.

  Forever.

  * * * * *

  That night, I went to bed in sheets I hadn’t washed and still smelled of Ren.

  I crawled from my side into the middle and grabbed his pillow for mine.

  And there, hidden beneath the place where Ren rested his head—glaring up as if impatient for me to find it—was a gift from beyond.

  With air trapped in my lungs, I sat up and snatched it from where it had been hiding. My fingers shook as I unwrapped the blue paper, revealing something that made tears explode in a flurry.

  A new ribbon wheel.

  Full to the brim of cobalt satin, tucked in place with a pin.

  The cardboard was pristine and untouched, ready to cut off lengths of ribbon to replace the faded old.

  I stroked the wheel, feeling Ren all around me as a note fell from the package.

  A note that would break me all over again.

  Biting my lip to stem my sobs, I unfolded it and read.

  Dear Della Ribbon,

  I miss you already.

  I miss your voice and touch and kisses.

  But please, don’t miss me.

  Because I’m right there beside you. I feel your sadness. I hear your tears.

  I know it will take time, but eventually, I need you to be happy because I’m always there.

  When you cut off a piece of this ribbon, my hand is enveloping yours.

  When you replace old with new, my fingers are on yours tying it in your hair.

  Everything you do, I’m there with you.

  And hopefully, this cardboard wheel will last until you come find me.

  And there, I’ll be able to touch you once more.

  Until that day.

  I love you.

  Forever and ever.

  For always.

  Ren.

  EPILOGUE

  DELLA

  * * * * * *

  2033

  ANNIVERSARIES CAME IN so many different forms.

  Happy and hard and horribly sad.

  Today was an anniversary.

  The day I lost the air in my lungs and the life in my heart.

  The day I lost my Ren.

  Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days without him.

  Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days of soul-deep sorrow.

  But I wasn’t a girl left behind with the luxury of grief. I was mother to the best son in the world, and for him, I woke in the morning even when the darkness was acute. I kept living even while my sadness was constant. I helped Cassie with her horse business. I rode often for mental and spiritual health. I learned how to run our acreage and hire help when required.

  And John was true to his vow to Ren, always there for me when the loneliness of missing a soulmate became too much.

  Life had been gentle even after being so cruel.

  And through it all, I had a contract with love.

  A contract I did my best to uphold.

  I never dared pity myself or begrudge my grief.

  I was never angry that I’d loved the best man in the world and lost him.

  Ren had given me his legacy, and together, me and Jacob would be okay.

  Every day, I spoke to Ren as if he were there beside me.

  He was in the sun, the sky, the meadow, the forest.

  He was in everything. Waiting. Loving. Watching. And I lived every day for him because I knew a time would come when we would find each other again, and I’d have the honour of regaling a lifetime of tales.

  I accepted each new sunrise without Ren. I endured each new sunset without Ren.

  I chose to continue because that was what he wanted and that was what I owed.

  After a lifetime of sacrifice, it was now my turn.

  My turn to keep moving, keep fighting, keep living.

  And I did.

  I accepted I’d had my epic love story.

  I was one of the lucky ones.

  And I didn’t want another.

  My heart was Ren’s—no matter where he was—and it would stay his until we met again.

  At least, my family understood that.

  No one dared murmur I would get over him.

  No one dared encourage me to put my past behind me and open my heart for another.

  No one dared because they knew the truth.

  The truth that a love like Ren and I had…it was once in a lifetime.

  And it wasn’t over yet.

  The five stages of grief didn’t matter.

  There were no five stages for me.

  And I didn’t want there to be.

  I didn’t want the wound to heal because I never wanted to be anything less than Ren’s. I still touched him in my dreams, kissed him in my thoughts, and accepted that I might endure in a world without him, but I would see him again.

  I knew that.

  And I could be patient.

  “Mom!” Jacob’s voice rang through the sun-dappled house. “Moomm!”

  “What is it?” I pressed a hand to my forehead, pushing aside my melancholy thoughts, tucking them into the pocket of my heart where yearning was a regular friend.

  “Package for you. Need you to sign!”

  Abandoning my laundry folding, I cut through the living room to the front door where a deliveryman stood on the veranda and held out an e-tablet. “You Mrs Wild?”

  I’d long stopped scolding myself at the sharp intake of breath whenever anyone called me that. I both loved and despised that name. “Yes. I am.”

  “Sign here, please.”

  I took his tablet, scribbled on the scratched screen, and passed it back to him. “What is it?”

  “Dunno, but it’s heavy. Need help carting it inside?” He raised an eyebrow beneath his red cap.

  Jacob ducked to his haunches, testing the large box. “She doesn’t need help. She has me.”

  I chuckled under my breath, running my fingertips over his dirty-blond head as he stood and huffed. “Ugh, it’s too heavy.”

  “We’ll do it together,” I said.

  “Leave you guys to it.” The delivery guy tapped his cap in farewell and bounded off the veranda. My eyes tracked him as the sun glinted off the windscreen of his van, obscuring him just enough to show a tall man running through the garden, giving me a millisecond fantasy that it was Ren.

  Tears welled.

  Pain manifested.

  And I closed the door on the illusion.

  “Wait. The package.” Jacob rolled his dark chocolate eyes at me, so much like Ren’s I sometimes forgot he was part of me and merely saw the boy who’d saved my life.

  In a way, he had saved my life…just like his father.

  Without him, I wouldn’t have continued trying.

  Ren had saved me when I was a baby.

  And his son had saved me when I was a woman.

  Two boys of ten years old.

  Two boys of my heart.

  Charging toward the kitchen, he came skidding back
with a pair of scissors.

  My hands clamped on my hips. “What have I told you, Jacob Wild? No running with sharp implements.” Just like his father, he always had a knife on his person for slicing through ropes and other farm necessities. I was surprised he’d chosen scissors instead of the Swiss Army blade in his pocket.

  The blade I was constantly fishing out before washing.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes again before falling to his knees and cutting the tape on the box.

  Uncle John sometimes did this—delivered boxes of goodies from things he’d ordered online for Jacob and me.

  Care packages, I called them.

  Love reminders, he called them.

  Either way, this wasn’t one of those as Jacob tore out brown paper packaging and yanked out a book nestled with countless other books.

  A book that my eyes skimmed, discarded, then shot back to with a cry.

  A book that took the strength in my legs and crashed me to the floor.

  “I-I don’t understand.” Tears streamed down my face, obscuring the blue cover with a lonely boy walking in a blizzard. A boy almost hidden by the title and wrapped up in a blue satin ribbon.

  “The Boy and His Ribbon by Della and Ren Wild,” Jacob muttered, reading eloquently and smoothly. His eyes flashed to mine. “Mom? Did you and Dad write this?”

  My head shook blindly as I held out my hand.

  Hardback.

  Freshly printed.

  Heavy as a gravestone.

  It tingled in my hands, warm and alive and filled with ghosts.

  What has he done?

  “Mom?” Jacob asked again, but for once, I couldn’t put him first. I couldn’t assure him. I couldn’t push aside my own selfish pain. Jacob missed his father as much as I did…but he’d had Ren for ten years. I’d had him for thirty-two.

  In this…my heart was cruel.

  Standing on shaking legs, I couldn’t tear my eyes off the cover, desperate to open it, petrified to read it.

  “I…I’m going for a walk, Wild One. Okay?” My voice broke and patched together, thicker and rougher than before. “I…I won’t go far.”

  “Mom?” His voice rose with worry. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” I drifted forward as if my legs were no longer made of sinew and bone but air and storm cloud. “I-I’m fine.” I repeated, desperate to believe it.