The Heart's Ashes
Page 115

“Guess not.” I shrugged.
“Now, my beautiful fiancé—” he wiped his thumb over my cheek and smiled fondly at me, “—you stay here and try not stress about tomorrow.”
“You know me,” I said, and he laughed.
“Yes. I know you’ve been worrying about everything too much. But it’s good to see you smile again.”
“How can I not smile? Have you seen you?”
He touched a hand to his back, crouching over his cane. “There is nothing amusing about the elderly, Ara.”
I stifled a giggle. “Except that you, who has never aged a day, play it only too well.”
His hand shook over the nob of the cane, his breathing becoming ragged, strained. “Just you wait, dearie, why, when I was your age—”
I rolled my head back, cackling as he wandered off down the path of a lengthy monologue, his voice unchained from its youthful poise.
“Will you be long, Gramps?”
“No.” He stood taller and looked down at me. “Just have to get something important.”
“What?” I opened the front door for him.
“You’ll see tomorrow.”
“What’s so important about tomorrow?” I grinned mischievously.
“Meet me by the altar at noon and I’ll tell you.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“You’d better.” He dropped a quick kiss to my cheek; I wiped it away, cringing.
“Ew. Your lips feel like sultanas, or. . . dried apricots.”
David shuffled out the front door, slowly. “Lucky we don’t have to face old age then.”
“Yeah, it’s scarier than an evil council of vampires.”
“Later, Ara.” He laughed, then switched into character again, fumbling clumsily with the car keys as a boy rode past on his bike.
“Grandpa?” I called.
He looked up; I pointed to his bowler hat rolling down the street with the wind.
“Oh, fiddlesticks,” he scoffed in an English accent. “We’ve got a runaway.” He chased after the hat, raising his cane in the air. “Come back here, you little scallywag…”
I shook my head, leaving my hundred-and-twenty-year-old fiancé to stumble down the street by himself as I ran for the phone. “Hello,” I chimed.
“Hi, how’s preparations for the big day?” Dad asked.
“Great. We spent all afternoon tying my hair in that stupid hairstyle Emily likes.”
“And how are the boys doing?”
“Well, David’s gone to the bank and Mike’s polishing his shoes.” I grinned at Mike, who offered a vertical thumb. “We’ll be coming over about five, tonight.”
“Good, good, that’s why I was calling.”
I folded my arms, leaning on the wall. “Is that the only reason? Your voice says otherwise.”
“It does?”
“Mr. Thompson, you are transparent, sir.”
He sighed heavily.
“Dad?” I walked into my room and shut the door. “Is something wrong? I mean, you sound kind of weird.”
“I uh—I’m just happy for you, Ara. I get a little choked up sometimes,” his voice deepened. He cleared his throat. “I’m all right, though.”
I sighed, blinking rapidly. “Dad, don’t do the proud-crying-parent-thing, ‘cause then I’ll cry and Mike will come running in wondering what’s happening.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry, honey. But I’m your dad. It’s my job to be sentimental. It’s hard for me to see you growing up.”
I won’t be growing up, Dad, if only you knew that. “It’s a part of life, old man.”
“Yes, and I’m glad it’s a happy one—now you finally get your knight.”
“My knight?”
“You know,” he said calmly, his voice filling with nostalgia while I sat panicking on the other end of the phone, wondering if he’d read my diary, “—when you were a little girl, you wished on every star, praying for a knight in shining armour. I guess, in a lot of ways, David’s been that for you, hasn’t he? I—I think, if he hadn’t come along when he did, I’m not sure you would’ve been okay again after you lost your mum.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have.” I smiled, thinking about the boy across the road—how he’d wait for me, a smile on his face, his hair moving in the wind—unnaturally beautiful and unimaginably in love with me. “And he is my knight. It just surprised me that you said it.”
“Why especially me?”
“You know…” I said, “dads aren’t supposed to be clued-in on their daughter’s lives.”
“Well, I’m not like other dads. I’m a teacher, which means I’m trained to know your business.”
I laughed. Not all of it. “Well, I’ll see you in a few hours, Dad. I better go gather my things and put the luggage by the door.”
“What time’s your flight tomorrow?”
“Not sure. David said it was at four, but when I checked the schedule it said one.”
“It better not be one—you’ll miss your own reception.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Dad.”
“Okay. Well, we’ll see you soon, Ara-Rose.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“You too, honey.”
Chapter 19
Moonlight filtered in through my open window in a calming blue, lighting the wall where my dresser used to rest. My old bed stayed in place after I officially moved to my new house, and I think Vicki was reluctant to stow it in the attic again after my whiplash turnaround when I suddenly decided not to go to Perth. But in truth, it’s probably more that she’s secretly waiting for me to come home.
I rolled over and shut my eyes tight, searching for the link to the world of dreams under this restless excitement.
“Can’t sleep?” David sprung up suddenly and launched through my window.
“David!” I sat up. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He smiled—his secret smile. “Well, it’s much easier to get in here now without that desk in the way.” He jerked his thumb to the empty space under the window.
“What’re you doing here? You’re not supposed to see me ‘til tomorrow.”