The Legacy (15 page)

The day before, Adagio asked a favor of me when he
returned from the Flynn's. They wanted a musical number and
he remembered Ingo telling him I sing and play the piano. He
asked if I would sing one of Brian’s favorite songs during the
service. Though I have never performed in front of a large
crowd before, I said yes. I spent half the day practicing, wanting
to get it just right.

Walking up on the stand and taking a seat at the piano, I
am not nervous, but I do say a silent prayer that I will be able
to get through the song. I want to comfort the couple in any
way I can, which is why I had agreed so readily to do it. I can’t
imagine losing a child, or anyone close to me for that matter. I
absently touch my flat stomach. Contemplating our unborn
child brings me renewed gratitude for the gift of motherhood.

The
Flynns
had requested that
I sing
“I Can
Only
Imagine” by the Christian group, Mercy Me, which I do with all
my heart. I tearfully imagine the little boy smiling down on the
congregation, completely at peace.

The service concludes and Brian is soon laid to rest. Gary
and Tara thank me for singing, saying it made them feel closer
to their son. I assure them I was happy to do it.

Gary squeezes Adagio’s shoulder. “It has meant the world
to us to have you here. Thanks so much for all your help and
support. I know it made Brian happy you were here.”

“I'm glad I could be here. I had planned to visit you in
January when I come back to see Ingo and Cisely. I wanted to
bring something special for Brian. I am sorry I will not have the
opportunity to give it to him.”

Tara wipes her eyes. “He knew you loved him, and he
probably knows that even more now.”
“I think so too,” Adagio agrees.
Ingo and I leave the three alone to talk for a few minutes
more. They soon say goodbye to one another and Adagio heads
back home with us.

Sitting in the living room, we spend some more time
visiting. Adagio fills us in on what he's been up to since his last
visit.

“So, how is the love life coming along, my friend,” Ingo
asks. “Anyone new we should know about?”
Adagio laughs. “Sorry, but not even close.”
“What are we going to do with you?” I ask, shaking my
head.
“I don't know. I ask myself that very question from time
to time, with no answers.”
“Hey, I know,” I say brightly. “We could put an ad in the
paper. You know, post your picture in the lonely hearts section
along with your stats? Beneath the photo we could specify your
requirements in a mate. What do you think?”
Book men look at me with straight faces, but it isn't long
before the room is ringing with their boisterous laughter.
“Hey, I was serious, guys,” I pout and they laugh even
harder. “Fine, I know when my help is not appreciated.”
Ingo wipes his eyes, drawing me close. “I’m sure Adagio
appreciates your help. Don’t you?”
“Definitely,” he agrees, wiping his own eyes. “Thank you,
Cisely. I needed a good laugh today.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“What are your plans now?” Ingo asks. “Will you stay for
a while?”
“Probably just through Thanksgiving. Then I will need to
get back to the restaurant. I left it in good hands and I'm sure
everything is okay, but we've been pretty busy lately and I
should probably be there.”
“I can understand,” Ingo agrees.
“You two will have to come and visit me before Cisely is
too far along to travel. She would love Venice.”
Yawning, I lean my head against Ingo’s shoulder. “We
will. I would love to see it. Actually, I would love to tour the
whole country.” Covering my mouth, I yawn again. By this time
of the evening, I am always exhausted.
“Maybe you should go on to bed, love. I'll be up in a
bit.”
“Maybe
you’re
right,”
I agree.
“I’m sorry,
guys.
It’s
getting harder for me to keep my eyes open these days.”
“I understand completely,”
Adagio
says.
“I really
appreciate your help today. It meant so much to the Flynns,
and to me.”
“I was glad to do it, really.” Smiling sleepily, I head up to
bed.

Standing in the dark bedroom, Adagio stands at the
window, staring out at the night sky.
What is wrong with me?
The question runs through his head over and over, and
the answer is always the same.
He needs something more.
He doesn’t need material things. He's not after fame,
glory, power or prestige. He has no need of such things and he
recognizes the many gifts in his life. Each new
day
is a gift to
him.
No, what he seeks goes far deeper than any material or
worldly idea. His quest is a quest of the heart. His need is an
emotional one.
This experience with Gary and Tara has taken a bigger
toll on Adagio's emotions than he realized, and he sees so
much that he is missing out on. Love and laughter. A family to
call his own. He craves those things like a man in a desert
craves water.
His gaze moves to an object lying on the dresser with his
rental car key, the sparkling stones reflecting the moonlight. It
is his mother's ring. He always carries it with him, and he has
no idea why. Maybe to feel closer to her. Maybe it is for luck.
Maybe it is an unspoken dream of finally meeting and placing it
on the finger of the woman he loves.
A dream it pains him to think about at the moment.
I don't know what to do with this. It hurts.
He pulls back the covers on the bed but can’t force
himself to lie down. He is so lonely, the pain is threatening to
tear him apart. Slipping to his knees by the bed, he closes his
eyes.
Please help me to be patient, God. I know you have a plan for me. I
just need to be patient. Please help me.
Burying his face in the covers,
he lets the tears come, losing track of time as the emotion he
has been holding back for so long finds its blessed release.
Adagio’s next awareness is sunlight filtering through the
blinds. He doesn’t remember crawling into bed, but he feels
better, calmer, like everything will be okay.
Now he will wait patiently and continue to take life one
day at a time.

We hear from Adagio once or twice a week. When he
left after the funeral, he seemed more somber and we were
worried about him. We still worry. He constantly assures us
that he is okay and tells us
not
to worry, which is easier said
than done.

I visit Tara Flynn once a week and have gotten to know
her better. During our visits, we talk about Brian. Tara shares
stories with me of her son’s childhood and things they did
together. Her grief is still deep and I am glad to be a listening
ear. She even shares her pregnancy experiences with me, which
I enjoy a great deal. I ask questions about labor and delivery
and Tara freely answers them. Though I know every woman’s
pregnancy is different, it is still helpful to know a little more
about what to expect. We have become great friends.

Adagio spends Christmas with us. He is doing well but
couldn’t stand the thought of spending Christmas alone.
On Christmas Eve, we celebrate with eggnog and the
cookies and cakes Jessica and I baked all day. Adagio even
makes cannoli and chocolate biscotti, both of which are the
most heavenly treats I've ever eaten. Sitting near the tree, we
listen to Ingo read the nativity story from the Bible, then sing
Christmas carols with me accompanying on the piano.
On Christmas Day, Gary and Tara Flynn join us for
dinner. It is a tender day for all of us as we remember Brian and
other loved ones near and far away.
I have never enjoyed the holidays more. It is the first time
I have truly felt the spirit of the season. Surrounded by family
and good friends, I cannot ask for a better Christmas.

It snows frequently in January and February, but I
absolutely love Utah in the winter time. Even though the
temperature is sometimes freezing, it still feels warmer than the
coldest winter in humid North Carolina. I feel great and am no
longer experiencing morning sickness, or as I like to call it,
'anytime sickness.' The fatigue has eased up as well. And with
each
week
that
passes,
I am more
content,
and eagerly
anticipating the birth of our child.

February is almost over, and being halfway through my
pregnancy, I am now wearing maternity clothes. Ingo often tells
me I'm beautiful and never fails to show me how he feels.

I notice that Ingo has become more protective of me–so
much so that he puts off doing things he normally enjoys,
preferring to stay home with me. And while I appreciate his
concern and enjoy having him home, I feel guilty that he never
takes any time for himself. Whenever I suggest that he get out
for a bit, he makes an excuse to stay. Though I am grateful for
his determination to be here, he needs something to take his
mind off me. He needs to do something fun.

March has breezed in and Ingo has yet to indulge in one
of his favorite sports–skiing. Concerned about his vitamin-D
exposure, as well as his low total on the winter fun-o-meter, I
call a couple of his friends, who in turn call Ingo and invite him
to go skiing. And as expected, he doesn't want to leave me
alone.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, love,” he says, pulling
on a flannel shirt. Watching me where I rest on the bed, he
buttons his shirt, tucking it into his jeans. “I need to be here in
case something should happen.”

Shaking my head, I get up. “Nothing is going to happen,
Ingo. Stop worrying so much.”
“I can’t help it.” When I arch a brow, he holds his hands
up, already guessing what I'm about to say because he has heard
me say it many times. “I know, I know, women have babies all
the time, but if something happened while I was gone, I could
never forgive myself.”
“I’ll be fine. Honest. It’s just for the afternoon and you
really need this time. Besides, I can always call you on your cell
if there is an emergency, which I’m sure there won’t be. And if
I can’t get you, I can call Wendy at the boutique, or Tara.”
He heaves a resigned sigh. “Are you sure? Because I can–
”
I silence him with a kiss.
“Hmmm,” he growls. “I
know
I don’t I want to go now.”
“I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Then I’ll have to hurry back.”
”You do that.”
He is set to leave after lunch. I am in the kitchen packing
a bag of snacks for him to take when he pulls me into his arms.
“You know, you could go with me. We could purposely get lost
in the woods somewhere and try to find ways to keep each
other warm until help arrives.”
“We could, but I don’t know if I would want to be
found.”
“Me either. But then again, that
is
the plan.”
I laugh, handing him the bag. “Hold that thought until
you get back.”
“Don’t worry, love. I will.”
I kiss him and walk him to the door. “Have a good time.”
“Thanks. I'll try.”
“And don’t worry about me, okay?”
“You’re asking the impossible. But I’ll do my best.”
Kissing him again, I close the door behind him and move
to the living room window, watching him get in his car.
He really needs this time
.