Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
My heart was in my throat as he moved to the piano. I held my breath as his hands splayed on the keys. And then he crushed my heart when the pastor introduced the piece he was going to play…“Wings.”
A familiar melody fluttered out into the cavernous church. I closed my eyes as Cromwell’s version of my song began, angelic and pure in this moment. Unsung lyrics circled my head, so perfect next to Cromwell’s genius:
Some are not meant for this life for too long… Angels they come, it’s time to go… No longer caged, now wings of a dove… Tears in my eyes, I give one last glance… I lived, and I loved, and danced life’s sweet dance…
As the music played, a strange kind of contentment flowed through me. Cromwell’s complicated passages and chords brought Easton to my heart, letting me know he was at peace now. That he was finally free from the chains that had held him captive in this life.
That he was finally happy and no longer in pain.
When Cromwell stopped playing, I heard the whispers in the church, the shock that Cromwell Dean could play like he just did. Perfectly. And without error.
He played just like he loved.
As Cromwell made his way back to his seat, he caught my eyes, and in that brief clash of gazes, I saw everything he was feeling. I saw it, because seeing him made me feel it too.
He missed me. He was in pain.
My mama reached over and took my hand. I held hers tightly as the service came to a close. The cars took us to the grave, and I let tears track down my cheeks as Easton was lowered into the ground.
I could hardly remember the rest. I knew I was taken back to our house, where the wake was held. But I spent most of it in my room, reading Easton’s letter. I stared out at the darkening night and thought of Cromwell. He hadn’t come back to the house. I’d wanted him to. But when he didn’t come, I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into despair. I needed the light Cromwell brought to my soul. I needed the color he brought to my world.
“Bonnie?” My mama stood in the doorway. She gave me a small smile. “You okay?”
I tried to smile back. But the tears betrayed me. I dropped my head into my hands and cried for it all—Easton, Cromwell…everything.
My mama hugged me. “Cromwell played?” I said. It was a question. A question of how.
“He asked us last week if he could.” Mama’s breathing hitched. “It was beautiful. If Easton had heard it—”
“He heard it,” I said. Mama smiled through her tears. “He was there today, watching us say goodbye.”
She stroked my hair. “We need to get you back to the hospital, kiddo.” My heart fell. But I knew it was true. I couldn’t be out long. I put on my jacket and let my mama push me to the car. But when she pulled out of the driveway, I had one place I needed to be. Something was calling me back. And I knew what.
My heart wanted to pay one last visit to its old home. “Mama?” I asked. “Could you go past the cemetery first?”
Mama smiled at me and nodded. She understood what it was like for me to be a twin. We were inseparable. Even death would never change it.
When we arrived at the cemetery, my mama pushed me to Easton. As we drew closer, I saw a figure sitting beside the tree that sheltered his grave. Rustling leaves, and birds singing in the branches.
Mustard yellow and bronze.
Cromwell lifted his head when he heard us approach. He jumped to his feet, his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes on hearing his voice. His deep, accented rasp instantly warmed my chilled body. I opened my eyes just as he passed me. I didn’t think it through. I didn’t have a plan. Instead, I let my heart guide me, and I slipped my hand in his.
Cromwell stopped dead. He took a deep breath then looked down at my hand in his. “Don’t go,” I whispered. His shoulders relaxed at my words.
“I’ll leave you alone,” Mama said. “I’ll be in the car. Let me know when you want to go to the hospital.”
“I can take her.”
Mama looked to me, a question in her eyes.
I cleared my throat. “He can take me.”
Cromwell exhaled a long breath. Mama kissed my head, then left us alone. Cromwell kept hold of my hand but stared straight ahead. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his graveled voice traveling all the way through to my bones.
I inhaled, the cool air bursting in my chest. “I’ve missed you too.”
Cromwell looked down at me and tightened his grip. “You’re talking better.” I smiled and nodded. “I’ve missed your voice too.”