by Rachel Hauck
Bruno pressed his hand on the back of his neck and let him go. This was probably a long time coming.
Tyvis lifted his head. “Sorry, man.” He wiped his eyes with the edge of his jersey.
“You just grew two feet in my eyes.”
“Got to be honest, I wasn’t sure you really believed in me until now.”
“We’re all each other has in this game, so let’s go for it. I’ll call in every favor I have to get you a fair look. I’ll spend myself on you, Tyvis.”
Running out of the field house with Tyvis, Bruno couldn’t have been prouder if Calvin Blue or Todd Gamble were at his side.
As they emerged onto the field, Scott Fuller caught Bruno by the arm.
“Change of plans, man.”
“What do you mean, change of plans? Fuller, come on, we made a deal.” Tyvis stood about five feet away, watching, waiting.
“You have your Pro Day, but my quarterback sprained his wrist in practice yesterday. The good news is he had a great combine. Bad news, he can’t throw today. I need a quarterback.” Scott nodded to Tyvis. “You up for it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s go. I have a wide out who needs a really good day. Tyvis, you’re a godsend.”
A godsend? You bet your bottom dollar, Fuller.
While Tyvis worked out on the field, Bruno chatted up the scouts. “He benches 230. Got a vertical leap of thirty-two and runs the forty in four point five. Take a look, boys. The name’s Tyvis Pryor.”
The Jaguars’ scout pulled Bruno aside. “I remember this kid from FSU. Where’s he been?”
Bruno inhaled. “JUCO. He’s a superior athlete with a heart to go along.”
Once the passing drills started, Tyvis’s arm did all the talking. Bruno became a honeycomb and the NFL scouts his bees.
Every pass was textbook perfect. And he did it over and over.
When he finished, the entire field exhaled a collective breath. The UCF coaches, the agents, the scouts patted Bruno on the back.
“Welcome back, bro.”
“The Endicott magic lives.”
He heard two scouts on the phone with their front office.
“. . . a client of Bruno Endicott’s. Unbelievable.”
“You have to see him. Arm like Dan Marino.”
Bruno caught Tyvis’s eye and nodded. The kid was beaming.
chapter thirty-seven
Beck
April
Fernandina Beach
The memory house was brimming with life. Tyvis with his mom, sister, brother, and cousin. Mom, Flynn, and Wyatt. Hunter and Gaynor. Natalie.
And of course Beetle Boo, who decided Bruno was his best buddy when he saw Beck’s lap held a new baby.
Baby Girl arrived three weeks early but in beautiful health. She had Beck’s dark hair and Hunter’s perfect Greek nose.
Bruno flew up the next day and along with Hunter and Gaynor met Everleigh Holiday Ingram.
When baby Everleigh was released from the hospital, Beck and her family returned to Florida with Bruno.
They were married the next day on the beach by Pastor Oliver in an intimate ceremony with immediate family, and Hunter and Gaynor, as guests.
Hunter held baby Everleigh the entire time.
They hosted the reception at the memory house with Mrs. Acker supplying the caterer, and Beck danced with Bruno in the backyard under twinkle lights.
They planned a Paris honeymoon for the summer.
For now, they were adjusting to being parents as well as lovers. Beck was home. Truly home.
Tonight, however, was the first round of the draft. It was not Tyvis’s night. Nor the next round. Maybe not the round after that. The excitement after his Pro Day had quickly faded.
So Bruno prepared him to be an undrafted free agent and lined up on-site visits with teams in the South. Nevertheless, he was at the memory house to watch the draft.
Upstairs in the master bedroom, in the peaceful quiet, Beck fed and rocked Everleigh, listening to the hum of the house below.
Outside, Wyatt and Tyvis played football with his brother and cousin, plus half the kids in the neighborhood.
In the kitchen Tyvis’s mom, Arnell Pryor, along with Mom and Natalie, fussed over NFL draft food.
Bruno came upstairs with Beetle Boo and set the dog down as he bent to kiss her forehead, then the baby’s.
“Doing okay?”
“More than okay.” She kissed him with a lover’s kiss.
When she sent Hogan a picture of the wedding, he texted, The Ice Queen has finally melted.
Then he informed her Parker Boudreaux had completed rehab and his parents shipped him to Montana to work on a dude ranch.
“Hunter just told me the news about Gaynor,” Bruno said.
That was a miracle that had taken Beck by surprise. Gaynor was twelve weeks pregnant.
“Everleigh’s going to have a baby brother or sister by the end of the year.”
“Need a break?” Gaynor peered in from the door.
“Please, come in.” Beck handed over the sleeping Everleigh as Gaynor took her place in the rocker.
Bruno shook his head, wrapping his arms around Beck. “This kid’s feet are never going to touch the ground.”
Hunter called up that the first team in the draft was on the clock, so Bruno headed downstairs.
Beck freshened up in the bathroom, then told Gaynor she was going down to make sure the kitchen was still standing.
“They’re having a blast in there.”
But she paused on her way, caught by the dark wood of the narrow, twisting stairwell leading to the third floor.
At the top, she opened the door to the room with the pictures, telling the tale of lives once lived with the hope of those to come.
The room was peaceful. A retreat to get away and commune with God. She picked up the picture of the little boy on the tricycle.
She asked Mom and Natalie if they knew who he was, but neither did. Then Mom snapped a photo and made a rare Instagram post.
Turns out it was cousin Lou Jr. from when he lived across the street. Who knew? Small, small world.
A cheer buoyed up from the yard. Beck leaned to see out the glass. Tyvis was running with the ball as four little neighbor boys clung to his legs. He was light with laughter.
Beck turned to Miss Everleigh’s wedding picture. “See what you started?”
On the once-bare wall to the left, Bruno had hung their wedding picture. Next to it was Everleigh’s baby picture with all four parents.
Yeah, they were going to have some explaining to do.
Inspired by the room, Natalie dusted off her old camera and had become a photography ninja these days. By the time she was done, every wall in the house would be plastered with family photos.
Beck loved this room. It’s what made the house on Memory Lane the memory house.
She heard another shout from below and Mom’s voice announcing, “Food.” The front yard was vacant at once.
With a final look around the room, Beck paused, noticing something on top of the bureau.
Reaching up, she pulled a small leather book down and thumbed through the pages. There was only one entry, and it was addressed to her.
Sitting on the settee, she read the elegant script.
October 20, 2015
Dear Beck,
I suppose you will wonder why I left you the Memory House. We’ve not seen one another in nearly twenty years. Yet I have fond, dear memories of you and often told Don, “If we had a girl, she’d be just like Beck.”
We adored your family, and your father was good to me after Don died. I was devastated at his death, but then I had the comfort of your family.
Your mother, in a rare Christmas card, detailed how the tragedy of 9/11 had robbed you of your precious memories, and I knew one day I’d leave this home with its memory room to you.
We are connected through love, my girl, but also through grief. I understand how you’d want to forge
t everything when you’ve lost someone you love so desperately.
You lost your father, and I lost my first husband in a terrible tornado.
For a while, I lost my memories of Rhett and my will to live. It was horrible not knowing who or what I grieved. I was pregnant with our first child when he died, and out of grief I gave him up for adoption.
Eventually I emerged from the darkness and my memories returned. I was determined never to lose them again. So I rarely spoke of my short marriage and enduring love for Rhett.
I lived with and took care of my mother for seven years. I cared not how I looked or felt. I thought love would never be mine again. After all, I’d lost my husband and given up my son.
Then Don came into my life, and his love reminded me I had everything to live for.
Much like what happens when Jesus enters our hearts with love. We want to live again. Or perhaps live for the first time free of guilt and shame.
Still, I clung to my memories of Rhett. He deserved to be remembered. I was afraid of forgetting him if I loved Don. Then Don said so wisely, “I’m not asking you to forget Rhett. I’m asking you to love me too.”
If that doesn’t win a girl’s heart, what will?
Don created this room for me. Instead of being jealous of my first husband, he helped me remember. He said Rhett was part of forming the woman he loved.
In another divine coincidence (wink), we moved across the street from Don’s cousin, who just happened to be the family who adopted my son. I watched him grow up from age seven to fourteen.
You might wonder how I could do such a thing, but I was comforted to see how much he was loved. He was healthy and smart, full of joy. I can’t imagine who and what he’d have been were he raised by two very sad, very emotionally broken widows. I did the right thing for him.
I hope I am helping you remember. Helping you move on. Joshua is a fine lawyer, and I’m sure he will explain everything to you. If not all at once, as you need to know.
That’s how it is with God sometimes.
Don and I never had children. It wasn’t meant to be. I have no regrets. My life is very full. We were very happy together. We gave of ourselves and our time to our community. We traveled and saw parts of the world that enchanted our hearts.
I pray by the time you read this, your memories will be restored. Your dad was a man worth remembering.
Enjoy the house. Spend the money! Don worked hard for it.
I hope you have many, many happy memories here in my memory house. And tell Bruno I love him too.
Beck sank to the floor, reading through her tears.
Many, many happy memories here in my memory house.
“Beck?” Bruno’s voice climbed the stairs. “Are you hiding out?”
“No, just reading Everleigh’s note to me.”
His face appeared around the door. “She’s writing already? Let me see? Is it print or cursive?”
Beck laughed, swatting at him. “Miss Everleigh.”
He climbed the stairs and sat next to her, taking the notebook. “She was something else.”
“Do you think she knew?” Beck took his hand. “That we belonged together?”
“I have no idea, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Are you happy?” she said.
He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “You have to ask?”
“Look what you married into! Craziness. We haven’t even had a real wedding night yet, let alone a honeymoon.”
“We have our whole lives for wedding nights and honeymoons.” He wiggled his brow and winked. “I’m in this for the long haul, Beck Endicott. Not just one night or two. Either way, we wouldn’t have had a honeymoon until after the draft. I couldn’t leave Tyvis.” He kissed her.
She leaned against him and gazed up at Miss Everleigh’s wedding photos. “She was gorgeous, wasn’t she?”
“This house was made for gorgeous women,” Bruno said. “What are some other pictures we should hang? Your mom and dad? Flynn and your mom? Of course Wyatt.” Beck’s baby brother was thrilled to have another sports junkie in the family.
“What about you and your dad?”
“Maybe.”
Since they’d been married, Stone visited once, though he called Bruno weekly. Bruno still struggled, often walking down Memory Lane after a call with his dad. His healing was a work in progress.
They’d drifted into a peaceful silence when a house-shaking shout rose up through the floors. Beck launched to her feet.
“I think we had an earthquake.”
“Bruno! Bruno!” The chorus was almost deafening.
Beck glanced at Bruno. “We’d better get down there.”
She saw Tyvis huddled in the corner with a phone to one ear, his hand over the other.
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir.”
“What’s going on?” Bruno glanced from Arnell to Natalie to Hunter.
“Watch,” Hunter said, upping the volume.
Beck took a spot on the couch, sensing a miracle was about to happen. Tyvis roped his arm around her husband, unashamed of his fat tears.
“Do you have something to tell me?” Bruno said, peeking down at his phone, then tucking it into his pocket. He glanced at Beck with a slow nod.
“Here’s the NFL commissioner,” Hunter said, always the commanding lieutenant.
“For the twentieth pick in this year’s draft, the Jacksonville Jaguars pick quarterback Tyvis Pryor.”
Well, the room went berserk. Sheer and utter pandemonium. Tyvis had his long, dark arms around Bruno, bouncing him up and down, while Arnell Pryor shrieked, “Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, Jesus. Oh, Lord Jesus.”
Then everyone was dancing and cheering, hugging and laughing, even the seven-year-old neighbor girl who, later they found out, thought all the shouting was about ice cream.
That’s when Beck knew. Family is whoever fits into your heart. And these people were her family.
Tyvis’s phone was blowing up as well as Bruno’s. Mom and Natalie wanted to know who was ready to eat and everyone trailed into the kitchen.
Mom squeezed Beck’s hand as she picked up a heavy paper plate.
“I have no idea what’s going on, but my heart is pounding and I feel like a million bucks.”
Bruno ran down some preliminary draft numbers with Arnell and Tyvis.
“They want to pay that much for my boy to throw a ball?”
“Yes.”
“Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, Lord.”
The evening celebration faded around midnight. The food was eaten and put away. Hunter and Gaynor checked on Everleigh, then left for their B&B.
Natalie walked home arm in arm with Arnell, who stayed in her guest room. Their sons were the surprise hit of the NFL draft.
Tyvis was still grinning when he went up to bed, his brother and cousin not far behind. His sister slipped away sometime in the night to read.
Mom and Flynn had the downstairs bedroom while Wyatt happily took the servant’s quarters off the kitchen.
And finally the house was quiet.
Tired, Beck knew she should get some sleep. Everleigh would wake soon for another feeding. But she wandered into the kitchen to help Mom with the cleanup.
“Go on, get some rest. I have this.”
Beck reached for a stack of pots and stored them in the cupboard by the stove. “It’s nice to be here with you. Where we used to be with Dad.”
“Yes, yes, it is.” The soft sheen in Mom’s eyes made her more real to Beck than she’d been in a long time.
“You know, Mom, Miss Everleigh lost her first husband. To a tornado.”
Mom drew a long sheet of tin foil from the roll, listening.
“And she didn’t want to move on because she thought she’d forget him.”
“And how do you know this? Did she tell you?” Mom tucked the stiff silver foil around the deviled eggs.
“As a matter of fact she did. But when she met Mr. Don, he made her realize she could love him and s
till remember, even love, her first husband.”
“And what does this have to do with me?” Mom slid the plate into the fridge and faced Beck with her arms folded.
“You can love Flynn and still love Dad. Or what you had with him. I think that’s why you shut me out all those years ago, and put away all of his things and never talked about him. You were trying not to love him.”
Mom’s jaw tensed as she stared toward the dark kitchen window. “How’d you get so smart?”
“I had a good mom.”
She smiled. “It is so strange being here without him. We used to sit out back late into the night, dreaming of living here instead of Flatbush.”
“Well, now you can visit as much as you want.”
Mom wrapped Beck in her embrace. “I needed to come back here. It’s given me closure I didn’t know I needed. Thank you.”
“Can I interrupt?” Bruno dropped his phone on the table. It’d been plastered to his ear for the past two hours. “Miranda, can you listen for the baby and take care of Beetle?”
“I’m on it.” She shooed them out the door, wiping her eyes. “Go, celebrate.”
“Where are we going?” Beck leaned into him as he walked her toward the garage-barn.
“For a ride.” He pushed aside the door and helped Beck into the old Studebaker. “With the love of my life.”
She curled under his arm as they drove toward the beach and south on A1A. Music played low on the radio and the early-morning hour was still thick with night.
One a.m. was familiar to Beck. She knew the night. But now she saw the beauty of the light that showed through the darkness.
The glow from the dash, the scattered yellow hue from beach house windows. The whiteness of the moon and the distant blue of the stars.
She’d surrendered to the light of love in all of its forms. But she especially loved the light she saw in her husband’s eyes when he was looking at her.
The End
Discussion Questions
Tragedy has a different effect on people. For Beck it was memory loss. For Everleigh it was clinging to her memories. How do you think memory loss would have affected you?
Do you think Everleigh would’ve come out of her gray world without the love of Don? Talk about the power of love to change hearts and minds.
