Staying True - A Contemporary Romance Novel (26 page)

At the bottom of the box sat a
handmade book.

“He wrote me a story.”

“Read it.”

I read his story about a bird named
Ruby who witnessed one too many of her family and friends falling mid-flight.
So this little bird, despite sneaking longing peeks up to the sky, stayed
grounded. She spent her days wandering around the ground pecking at droppings
and looking up to the sky, wishing she could fly. As her friends all began their
flight lessons, she hung back, pulled by a fear too big to tackle. She denied
this fear and blamed a broken wing. Soon, everyone she knew flew by day and
left her alone to wander the open hillsides alone. She longed to be a part of
the sky, so she wandered to the mountain’s edge day after day just to feel the
breeze rustle through the feathers on her wings. She dreamed of flying up to
where the clouds danced above. But, the fear of falling weighed heavier. So,
she sat alone on the mountainside day after day. Then one day, this beautiful
yellow bird came to her side and nudged her off the edge of the mountain side.
When she flapped her wings, and they failed, the yellow bird dove under her and
guided her, giving her the support and confidence to flap her wings again and
fly.

He ended with a personal note to me.

Fly, beautiful Ruby. Fly like the
free bird you are. Never fear life, for you’ve got an angel watching over you.

My grampa stood right there with us,
caressing us in his warm spirit. “Now I’ve got two angels.”

Nadia pulled me into her embrace. I
curled up against her and wept. She smoothed my hair and rocked with me.

“I want to honor him and make him
proud.”

“Of course you do,” she said kissing
the top of my head.

Many months later

Nadia and I purchased The Rafters
back from Mrs. Green. I asked her to stay on and help. She agreed without
blinking, as Eloise was moving to Providence with Shawna.

I stood in the center of the naked
room that used to be decorated in dark, rustic furniture. My heart fluttered
with a joy I could only describe as the feeling of wings flapping against my
inner walls. My soul snapped alive. I scanned the bare, green walls, the
laminated floors, and the baseboards with their crackling paint, and the
elation mounted to surreal levels. I spotted an ant crawling across the floor
in a mad dash to clear the room and make it to the corner. It danced across the
laminate, eager to meet up with its destiny under the baseboard. This beautiful
ant lived in my house. My house. I spun, arms wide-open taking in this moment
when I finally owned something other than a portable massage chair. And what a
room the chair would embrace finally.

The silence tickled my ears as if a
thousand trumpets blew. I’d never heard anything quite as beautiful. In its
wake, the echo of possibility rang and lifted me to a level where I could
finally take in the full-scale view of life’s beauty.

I walked up to the wall and ran my
fingers down its smooth surface. A layer of dust trailed behind on my
fingertip. I massaged it, stared at it, and got this jolt of excitement for
what was to come.

I pictured a fresh coat of whisper
yellow, embellished by beautiful artwork of mountain landscapes. I saw
oversized chairs with matching ottomans and glass accent tables adorned with
vases filled to the rim with polished rocks. Accent lighting would cozy up the
space and elicit conversation from guests returning from a day’s adventure
walking under the canopy of colorful trees. Their faces would be kissed by the
sun, their breathing methodically slow and steady, their gingerly laughter
rising as they retold their funny accounts of the day spent enjoying one of the
country’s hidden treasures.

Couples would sit together in the
oversized chairs, ankles draped over each other’s, holding hands, kissing the
tips of each other’s noses, relishing in the inviting home that would become a
sweet memory and possible tradition. And in the kitchen, I would bake cookies
and brew tea. I’d deliver them on my grampa’s silver tray.

Nadia, Shawna, Eloise, and Nadia’s
sister Sasha walked in carrying boxes. They dropped them in the corner where
the ant had just crawled.

“Actually those are going up to the
massage parlor room,” I said.

Nadia dug into a tote bag.
“Sweetheart, we should have a toast first.” She broke out a bottle of champagne
and glasses.

“Here, let me help,” Sasha jumped in
to the rescue.

Nadia handed her the champagne
bottle. “Thanks for being here, sis.”

Sasha busied herself with popping the
cork, swallowing a smile, and turning red. “Don’t be silly. It’s nothing.”

Nadia sneaked me an eye roll and half
smile—a secret look we’d surely continue enjoying for years to come. She handed
each of us a glass, and Sasha poured the bubbly. We held them up, and Nadia
toasted.

“To Grampa Clark, the greatest man
I’ve ever met,” she said. “He dazzled. He joked. He laughed. He lit up the room
with his smile. More importantly, he brought us all here to this moment in
time. Without him, this moment, and all future moments together, would never exist.
May we all live with such intensity, such character, such integrity, and such
true freedom.”

We clinked glasses and sipped our
champagne.

I breathed in this moment.

I never thought I would be ‘that
girl.’ You know, that girl who grew roots, employed others, and fell in love
with a beautiful woman who needed her.

Yet, here I was, all of that and
more.

I was finally
that
girl.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

As with all of my books, I enjoy giving a portion of proceeds
back to the community by donating to the NOH8 Campaign
www.noh8campaign.com
and Hearts United for Animals:
www.hua.org
. Thank you for being a part of this
special contribution.

A SPECIAL REQUEST

If you enjoyed reading this story, I’d be so grateful for
your favorable review of it. Just a sentence or two saying what you liked about
Staying True
will help others discover it and help me to serve you
better with future books!

(
www.amazon.com/author/suziecarr
)