Remember This

by Patricia Koerner

  I ended up buying a bag each of squash, tomatoes and sweet potatoes, plus a copper mold I knew would be an attractive addition to my kitchen décor. I finally caught up with John at a stall, talking to a woman selling paintings. He held up one, of a mare and foal in a pasture, the sun setting behind them. The artist had perfectly captured the tenderness between mother and offspring.

  “I’m buying this to send to Kylie, for her and Rich’s new house” He said. “She has always loved horses. I’m not going to wait for the wedding. I think I’ll just send it to her now.”

  John had only a few days in New York before he had to return home, but we made sure to enjoy every moment. We knew it would be a while before we’d have time together again. While I returned to work at the theatre, John filmed an anniversary reunion special with his former cast mates from Happy Valley. I also worked on composing Windchimes and published it the following year.

  In May, Kylie and her fiancé, Rich were married on his family’s horse farm near Charlottesville, Virginia. John sent me photos of the ceremony and one would have to have been blind not to see how proud he was of her. I texted him “You look like a puffer pigeon!”

  59

  The following summer, John’s son Robby graduated from UCLA with a BFA in computer graphics. Since Robby shared his father’s love of jazz, John took him to New Orleans to a jazz festival to celebrate. About a month before, John e-mailed me and asked me to join him there for a couple of days after Robby returned home. He attached a photo, an updated publicity photo he recently had taken. He was sitting on a ledge, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He was wearing black tie, but his jacket and tie were lying beside him. His shirt was unbuttoned a few buttons down, showing just a small patch of chest hair. When I looked at it, I caught my breath. I’m not sure if it the way he smiled, the twinkle in his eyes, or his insouciant pose. I blushed in spite of myself to realize that my heart’s passionate love for him hadn’t diminished, that my body still desired his, even after forty years.

  I had only a weekend to spend in New Orleans with John, but we made the most of it in spite of the heat and humidity. We made the rounds of John’s favorite places. I didn’t have much contact with John for the next month or so. At the theatre we were rehearsing No, No Nanette to open on July 15th and I was accompanying Matty and Paula house hunting. We looked at houses in Connecticut, New York and New Jersey. Finally, they settled on one over in Rutherford and I noticed that the place was large enough for a family.

  Over the remainder of that summer, I had many long talks with John over the phone. After Robby’s graduation, he began thinking about the direction of his life. He felt that he had fulfilled his obligations to his children and kept his bargain with Rachel. He wanted to officially end his marriage – a marriage that had not been a marriage in any respect for over fifteen years.

  “I want us to be together once and for all,” he said. “I want us to get married like we should have all those years ago … if it isn’t too late.”

  When I thought about all the years we missed, I cried. When I thought how at last he’d be by my side, I cried even more. “It’s not too late, John,” I finally said. “Yes, we missed a lot, but let’s not waste the chance we have now. Who knows but that the years ahead won’t be the best of all?”

  We discussed our future. We thought about moving to Vermont, since we both loved it there, and buying and running a bed and breakfast inn. John pointed out that as neither of us could so much as fix a leaky faucet, that alternative came with a steep learning curve. We also considered moving to somewhere near the water, but in the end, we realized we didn’t have to decide right away and that we’d be happy anywhere together.

  John and his lawyer began reviewing his assets to decide what to offer Rachel as a settlement. He worked on two series that fall, so the divorce process was suspended for a time. Meanwhile, I helped Matty and Paula (and Herbert) move into their new house.

  After the first of the year, John got another movie role. Filming in Italy began in April and was to run through June. However, one mishap after another delayed completion of the filming until well into August. When he stopped in New York on his return from location, he was pale, tense, exhausted.

  “This movie is a joke,” he fumed, his frustration evident. “I don’t think it will even get theatrical release, but probably go straight to DVD or one of those on-demand services.” He sighed. “Maybe it’s time I consider retiring; just do a stage role now and then.”

  “I think you’d be happier. You’ve always liked the stage better than movies and TV anyway. Think about it and when you come for Christmas, we can start making decisions.”

  ***

  I was practically counting the days until Christmas, until John would come. He phoned me on the 15th.

  “Hannah, would you be angry if I came after the holidays? Travel is so stressful then. My doctor advised me to avoid stress as much as possible.”

  A shiver ran through me. “Doctor? What’s happened?”

  “Sh-h-h-h, my love. Don’t worry. I’m fine. I started having chest pains on the movie set. When I got home, I consulted my doctor just to be safe. He prescribed some pills and had me start walking thirty minutes a day.” He paused. “There is another reason I want to come after New Year’s. I’m serving Rachel the divorce papers then. I think it will be better if she and I are apart for a while after that.”

  I was disappointed of course, but after waiting so long, what were a few more weeks? I got us tickets to a performance of the Philharmonic. I’d considered inviting Matty and Paula over to meet John, but John and I decided to wait until everything was over and done before telling our children.

  The night John arrived, it was so cold, my breath almost froze as I exhaled. I couldn’t remember when it last had been so cold in New York. I noticed that John had lost weight. When I expressed my worry, he assured me it only due to his daily walks. Although the freezing weather hadn’t let up, I went with him on these walks to keep him company and to get a little exercise myself. We could barely tolerate the cold for the required thirty minutes. When we returned from one such excursion, I needed a hot shower to thaw out. I had barely gotten wet when John opened the sliding glass door and stepped in with me.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow in that mischievous way he had.

  “OK, Mister,” I laughed as I squeezed the bath sponge I held over his head and watched the water run down his face. “You can start by sponging me down.”

  We went to the symphony and heard Shostakovich and Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto. Another evening we went to dinner at a new Brazilian restaurant I wanted to try, but the cold kept us in most of the time. One afternoon we spent in front of my computer looking at properties all over New England. We were still thinking of buying a bed and breakfast inn, but we couldn’t make a firm decision. We did however, decide on a Mediterranean cruise for October.

  “How about making it our honeymoon cruise?” John whispered, leaning close so his lips brushed my ear. “What do you say?”

  I turned and caressed his cheek. Looking into those amazing blue eyes, all I could say was, “Let’s book those tickets right now.”

  The night before John was to return home, I was feeling so anxious, I didn’t want to let him leave.

  “I have to tie things up with this divorce. It’ll only be a few months, then I’ll be back for good.” He pushed the strap of my nightgown down and kissed my shoulder. “Spring is a time of new life, new beginnings,” he said. “What better time for us to begin our new life together?”

  As we opened ourselves to one another in love, I could feel the physical boundaries between us dissolve and we melded together. When we finally separated and I fell asleep next to him, I knew we had each left a piece of our heart with the other.

  Sometime later, I woke up still next to John, my head on his chest. It was so quiet, I could hear his heartbeat. I idly played with the ring on his finger, one I gave him fo
r his birthday over thirty years before.

  “John? Are you awake, my love?”

  “Mm-mm, yes.”

  “I’m craving some cocoa. Do you want some?”

  “Sounds great.”

  I slipped my nightgown back on and went to the kitchen. On my way, I stopped and looked out the window. I shivered a little as I watched the snow flurries, the flakes glistening in the light of the street lamps below. Spring seemed an eternity away.

  When I returned to the bedroom, John had fallen asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake him, so I just sat on the bed and drank my cocoa, watching him lost in his dream. When I finished, I leaned over and kissed him, then turned off the light.

  When John arrived in Los Angeles the next evening, he texted me that he had arrived safely. He added, “Only 54 more days ‘till spring.”

  60

  Present Day (September 27th):

  Hannah was looking over the music score for the first of the three musicals the theatre was producing in the coming season. She had not been able to play the piano at all in the months since John’s death and now worried that her music was gone for good.

  The buzzer sounded indicating that someone was at the door downstairs. She went to the wall and pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”

  “It’s us, Sophie and Eddie.” Sophie sounded breathless. “I’ve got great news! Can we come up?”

  Hannah laughed. “OK, girl, get up here.” She pressed the buzzer to admit them. By the time Sophie and Eddie stepped off the elevator, Hannah had opened her door and was leaning in the doorway, waiting.

  Eddie extended his hand. “Happy to meet you, Ms. Newman.” He had an openness about him that reminded Hannah somewhat of John.

  “What is it that you just had to tell me at ten o’clock on a Sunday night?” They all went into the apartment and closed the door.

  “I just got a text from Graham. He heard from the publisher and wanted to tell me right away. They’ve made their final decision. We’re being published! And … they’re going to put it on the spring list!” Sophie stopped to catch her breath.

  “Eddie had better be a fast listener if he’s ever going to keep up with her,” Hannah mused to herself.

  Sophie impulsively threw her arms around Hannah. She looked over to a beaming Eddie. Tender warmth for the young woman bubbled up in Hannah. She embraced Sophie and stroked her curls.

  “Why couldn’t you have just phoned, Sophie, rather than come all the way here from Queens?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I was too excited. Between this, the wedding …”

  “Well, let’s have a celebratory drink, shall we?” Hannah went into the kitchen. She brought a bottle of champagne and glasses to the table. It took a couple of tries with the corkscrew, but the cork finally popped out. Hannah filled the glasses and handed two to Eddie and Sophie. “To Sophie and Eddie, a long and happy life together.” They raised their glasses and drank.

  “To our project, a story that deserves to be told,” said Sophie. As they drank, Sophie said, “I almost forgot the other reason I came over. Graham wants to set up a meeting with us as soon as Eddie and I get back from our honeymoon. He said any day we want would be OK by him.”

  Hannah went to her computer and checked her calendar. “Wednesday the twenty-first is open for me. How about that morning, say around nine?”

  “Awesome. I’ll text Graham right now.” Sophie set her glass down, pulled out her phone and tapped out the message. “I guess we’d better get home before it gets too late,” she said as she slid her arm around Eddie. “I have my final dress fitting in the morning.” She reached over and took Hannah’s hand. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”

  After closing the apartment door behind Sophie and Eddie, Hannah walked into the music room. She looked around at the shelves full of books and sheet music. She sat down at the piano and lifted the lid. For a moment, she gazed at the photos she had added to the ones of her and Danny on top of the piano. There was the one Matty had sent to her the previous week, of Paula sitting in a chair, Matty kneeling beside her, kissing his pregnant wife’s belly. In a double frame were the two of her and John in Central Park taken thirty-five years apart in 1972 and in 2007.

  Hannah looked down at her hands and took a couple of deep breaths. John’s ring was there on her left middle finger, where she always wore it now. Slowly, Hannah began playing Dancing Snowflakes. Her fingers moved across the keyboard as if she had last played yesterday, rather than six months ago. Her music was coming back to her with every breath.

  Downstairs, Sophie and Eddie exited the building. They could hear the tinkling of the piano wafting down from the open window. Sophie gestured to Eddie to stop and listen. Leaning against a tree, she smiled and closed her eyes as Hannah played on. Presently the music stopped and Sophie saw the light go off. She took Eddie’s hand and together they walked off up 87th Street.