by Marilyn Grey
I eagerly opened it and three rings sparkled in the flickering candlelight.
“This gentleman here is going to officiate our wedding. Right now.”
I couldn’t breathe. Or think. Or stop the tears from wetting my face.
My family, his family, my friends, and some of his friends I recognized from his photographs, moved closer and surrounded us as Donovan stepped up and took the rings.
More tears.
“Oh, wow,” I said. “I need to compose myself here.”
“I chose Donovan as the best man.” Alistair smiled. “Without him, I don’t know if we would be here today.” He turned and gave Don a bro hug, thanked him for pushing me to do things I didn’t feel comfortable doing, and turned back to me. “Jane, your love has healed me,” he whispered sweetly as the candles showered him with a warm glow. “Your love has changed me. And I love you not only for that, but because of every little thing you are. Will you marry me?”
I would’ve jumped into his arms, but I was afraid to hurt him and I noticed his one arm still didn’t move much at his side. So I gently wrapped my hands around him and held the back of his neck. He looked down at me, that sly grin on his face. I shook my head, kissed him, and said, “I love you.”
We turned to the man who officiated our intimate wedding and right after we kissed, the first time as husband and wife, the cannons of 1812 Overture blasted. Alistair pulled me into him, pressing our Carpe Diem tattoo’s together as we laughed at the intense cannon ending.
“Couldn’t have timed that better if I tried,” he said, then pulled back from our embrace and whispered, “Jane Gladwyn, let’s go home.”
“Where’s home?” I said.
“Floyd Street. London.”
“Hey! You knew?!” I laughed. “What?”
“Yes. I knew all along.” He turned to Don. “He knew about the proposal and told me I wouldn’t have to worry about getting a new flat, that you were taking care of that part.”
“Oh, you guys!” I smiled so much it hurt. “I don’t deser—“
“Yes,” Alistair whispered. “Yes, you do.”
Don nodded in agreement, his eyes glistening too. Then everyone erupted in applause as Alistair and I turned toward their joy-painted faces.
There are things you deserve in life, but love isn’t one of them. Every time you’re given it, it’s a gift. That’s what Alistair was to me, no matter how much he thought I deserved it … I didn’t. And never would. As we stood there under the treehouse, our fingers intertwined and turning white from squeezing so hard, fireworks started. And I mean, they actually started. Spilling out in the sky above us. White and yellow against the dark blue star-speckled backdrop.
"Batman fireworks," I laughed.
He leaned into me and said, "Just wait till you see the fireworks tonight."
I blushed.
"I rented a thatched cottage," he said. "And it has a huge tub."
"Oh, fancy that." I grinned as the fireworks burst in his eyes.
Everyone watched as the crackling colors fizzled out. The song finally ended. But I knew it was only the beginning.
I whispered a Nightwing quote, "Whenever someone is asked what power they wish they had, flying is always at the top of the list. But I have to admit, I've learned to love the art of falling too."
Donovan handed Alistair his cane. He steadied himself on it, then looked at me with the most contented expression. "What do you say we get on?"
We said goodbye to everyone and drove away with "Love is Worth It" painted on the back window of my car. We barely spoke and didn't need to, but every few minutes we'd squeeze each other's hand and smile across the car.
When we got to the thatched cottage, he apologized for not being able to carry me inside and I told him to stop apologizing, as usual. Then we entered the bathroom without questioning. Black and yellow rose petals covered the floor and the water, which was warm.
"How'd you get it to be warm?" I said.
"You didn't notice, but Eddie left before us."
"You're something else, Mr. Gladwyn."
He set his cane down beside the tub and grinned. "I suppose we don't need a cozzie this time."
"A cozzie?" I laughed.
"A bathing costume."
"You mean a swimsuit?" I laughed again.
"Mmhmm." His lips were now distracted by my neck. He moved my dress sleeve down my shoulder and kissed across my collarbone. I closed my eyes and savored every sensation from the rush of excitement to the firmness of his hand on my hip. He slipped the other sleeve down and my dress dropped to the floor. It was a little more difficult to take his suit jacket and shirt off with the lack of motion in his right arm, but we managed while kissing and laughing and enjoying the ever-evolving chemistry between us.
Carefully, I helped him ease into the petal-covered water, then slid my body down beside his. Perhaps it would've been a convenient time to make love, but we held each other, making love with our eyes and deeply passionate kisses instead.
The water turned cold and we woke in each other's arms, only to end up on the bed, under the sheets, where we finished the night as one.
It's only one of the thousands of moments I've captured with my mind, safely holding them in a place I could return to time and time again whenever I needed to remember why love is worth it.
And will always be worth it.
We fell that night. But we also flew.
Trust me when I say, brokenness is proof that the heart works and when it's fixed it works better than it ever did before. You just need to find someone willing to fix and be fixed with you.
For me, that person was Alistair.
The English boy who captured my heart and made it new again.
Epilogue
May 10, 2075
The last time I saw my sister she handed me a USB drive and said, "I'm not a writer, but this is my story. Edit it, call it The Best of Fools, and share it with the world. Love is too beautiful to keep to yourself." Then she handed me the CD of the music they composed together over the course of their lives.
The cancer ate away her body and she was hanging by a thread. Alistair never left her side, even though his frail eighty-two year old body was weighed down by the heart attack he survived five months before Jane's cancer started its vicious attack against her life.
I hated traveling and my bones were old and tired too, but I wouldn't miss my big sister's last days. So I stayed there, telling Alistair to please go eat something, but he no longer had the desire to push forward.
When Jane died May 12th on a rainy London morning, the lights in Alistair's eyes went out. I actually saw it happen when she took her last breath. He sobbed into her chest, convulsing, stopping for air, and then staring off with reddened eyes every few minutes. Same thing a few days later at her funeral. I had just walked away from her casket with Donovan and Zoe when Alistair walked up.
He stood for a few seconds, just looking at her. Then he placed his hand on her heart and his other hand on his own heart.
"The tattoo," Donovan whispered as we watched. "He's holding their Carpe Diem tattoos."
Then, without warning, he leaned into her casket and bawled like a baby, whispering something no one could hear.
Donovan walked back up to the casket, put his arm around Alistair, and cried with him as they stared together at Jane's lifeless body. It's an image I'll never forget. Ever.
My nieces—Jane's three daughters,—and their children, gathered around as well, hugging their dad with drenched faces.
Alistair was never the same after that.
Zoe and I decided to stay a few extra weeks, but our son and daughter flew back home right after the funeral. We just couldn't leave Alistair in such a state. Jane's last words to me were, "Don't let Alistair lose the will to live. Our children need him."
I needed to help, because I loved her and even though she was gone, I knew I still had a piece of her left in my brother-in-law.
Zoe and I c
leaned and cooked for him, but he barely ate.
Then her birthday came around and he asked to visit her grave. Zoe and I drove him there and gave him some space. We sat under a tree and watched as he set his cane against her stone and cried on his knees. After an hour, he stood and put a letter against her grave, then walked back to the car with his shoulders reaching toward the ground.
"How will he ever go on?" Zoe said as she wiped her face.
I shook my head and walked to her grave. Zoe's hand in mine. We stood there with a cloud of heartbreak over us.
I read the altered Dark Knight Rises quote Alistair insisted on having etched into her stone.
A hero can be anyone. Even a girl doing something as simple as loving a boy ... to let him know that the world hadn't ended.
I peered over my shoulder to make sure he couldn't see me from the car, then stuffed the letter in my pocket.
"What are you doing?" Zoe said. "You can't do that."
"It's just going to get ruined in the rain anyway."
"You're terrible," she said, half-smiling, but of course she was the first to want to rip it open when we got back to their home.
So, since this was Jane's story, I thought it would only be fitting to let Alistair have the last word. Here it is. This is his letter, written in shaky letters and blotched with tears.
Dear Jane,
Happy Big Day.
I despise this feeling in my chest and I know it can only be seven thousand times worse than what you felt when I got into the accident. It's not fair that you went before me. You're the strong one. You're the one that kept me going. You were the real hero in my life, Jane. Truly.
Now I'm just a weak old man with a weak old heart. My body hurts, but my heart is worse. My real heart, not this ticker in my chest.
I know you told Donovan and Eddie to watch over me and I know our girls need a father, but I need you. And I won't be much of a father without you anyway.
Sixty years today. Sixty years since the day I fell into your life and five days since the day you fell out of mine. I can't be expected to go on. Please forgive me, and I know you'll say not to apologize as you did the many other times I failed you, but as always, I apologize anyway.
I miss you. I love you. And I'll see you soon.
You came after me. Now it's my turn to come after you.
Carpe diem,
Yours
The End
Guys, I can't tell you how hard it was to write The End on this story. This one, of all the novels I've written, is my favourite. Yes, I spelled that with a U intentionally. :-)
I don't know why this is my favourite. Just as Jane didn't quite know how to explain what love was to her. It's hard to explain why I love this one more than the others. Maybe it's my love for all things British. Maybe it's my love for Jane and Alistair. Maybe it's Batman. I don't know. What I do know is that writing The End on this book felt like a depressing goodbye between Jane and Alistair at an overcrowded airport. It felt unnatural. No, it can't possibly end. These are my friends and I miss them. I want to spend more time with them!
But nothing ends. Every end is only the beginning of something else. While I plan to write little novella stories here and there to fill in the gaps of Alistair's recovery and show you some of their letters and other things that I couldn't fit into this book without making it an enormous read, I have plans for another book. A book of friendship and sacrifice called, "All You Need."
And although I am forced to move on from my beloved Jane and Alistair, I know that it's only the beginning of sharing them with the world. I hope you enjoyed them as much as I did. If not, well ... no two hearts beat the same. Perhaps you aren't a dork destined for dorkdom like I am and I congratulate you on such things. :-) But I truly loved writing this book and it will always be dear to my heart, regardless of how it's received by the world.
Thank you for reading. For sharing the beauty of words and stories with me. And most of all ... celebrating this thing called love.
By the way, The Best of Fools is a lyric in one of my favourite songs. I do that a lot. :-) Oh, and Jane's voice ... that was me. I hope you enjoyed the sound clips and drawings! :-)
Win a Free Kindle
Leave a review (on Amazon!) of The Best of Fools for a chance to win a free Kindle Fire with a $75 gift card, plus signed copies of every book I've written in the past and in the future! Email your review to [email protected] to enter! A random winner will be chosen when 100 reviews are received. PLUS, I'm going to choose my favorite review and gift that person with a special scavenger hunt in their own town! Email me to enter! And don't forget to visit me on Facebook or Marilyn-Grey.com to stay in touch! I adore my readers and many of you have become my closest friends. I love all of you. Thank you for inspiring me to write stories of life and love. Thank you for being a part of mylife. Just ... thank you.
And So ... It Begins
