The Legacy (17 page)

“Cisely!” Tears spill down Adagio's face as he quickly lifts
her and carries her up to her room. Though is own heart is
ripping in two, he needs to take care of her. With Jessica gone,
there is no one else. Reaching her room, he places her on the
bed and covers her with a light blanket.

Noticing a list of numbers on the dresser, he scans it for
Ingo’s parents. Finding the number, he takes a deep breath and
quickly dials, praying he will get through.

“Hello,” a male voice answers.
“Hello. Is this the Kelly residence?”
“Yes, this is Patrick Kelly.”
“This is Adagio St. John, Ingo and Cisely’s friend.”
“Yes, I remember you. Has something happened?”
“Yes. . . It is about Ingo.”
Keeping his emotions in check, Adagio tells Patrick about
Ingo’s death, and then listens quietly as Ingo’s father weeps
softly. He attempts to offer his condolences, but the words
sound trite even to his own ears. He hears Patrick’s wife crying
in the background and his heart goes out to them both.
Patrick tells Adagio they will be there the day after
tomorrow. He says to tell Cisely they love her.
Ending the call, Adagio moves back to Cisely. He presses
a hand to her cheek and tucks the blanket around her. Then he
wearily sits in the chair across from the bed and silently cries.
He can’t believe it. His best friend is gone. How can Ingo
be gone? Heart aching, Adagio rocks back and forth, missing
him more than mere words could express. Dropping his face in
his hands, he thinks back on the conversation he'd had with
Ingo last week.
Ingo had been so excited when Adagio told him he was
coming for a visit. They discussed how fun it would be to
surprise Cisely. They hadn't decided on a specific day, but the
day of his arrival was supposed to be a happy one.
Adagio futilely wipes at his tears. Losing Ingo is like living
a nightmare, only this nightmare is more Cisely’s than his.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubs his temples as the pressure
builds in his head.
Why?
He knows better than to ask such a pointless question.
But just as he wasn't able to stop himself from asking it when
Brian died, he can't help it now.
He looks up as Cisely slowly comes to and moves to the
edge of the bed, wanting to be there for her.

Emerging from a heavy fog, I open my eyes and sit up,
thinking I have awakened from a bad dream until I look into
Adagio’s red eyes. It all comes rushing back, the policeman's
words again echoing in my head.

“Your husband was in a terrible skiing accident. He didn't make
it.”
Shaking my head in denial, I grip the front of Adagio's
shirt. “It's not true, is it? Please tell me it isn’t true!”
“I wish I could,” he answers, emotion cracking his voice.
“But I can't.” Wiping his face, he takes my shoulders in his
hands. “He is gone, Cisely.”
His words are the blow of an anvil and I immediately
crumble. Adagio draws me to him, holding me as I cry, rocking
me
as
my
sobs
grow.
The
pain
is
unbearable.
I've
lost
everything and right now I want to die, too. My world has been
turned upside down and there is no way to right it. Clinging to
each other, I feel more than hear the sobs ripping through him,
blending with my agony, making it hard to even breathe.
What am I going to do without Ingo? I can't go on. He is
the only man I have ever loved. We were supposed to grow old
together and watch our children grow to raise children of their
own. How can those dreams be gone?
What am I going to do? Oh,God, it hurts! It hurts so much!
Adagio tightens his arms around me. “Shhh,” he whispers
against my ear. “I am here, angel. I am here.”
My sobs lessening, I finally draw back, taking in his
soaked shirt through swollen eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He gives me a teary smile. “Don't be sorry. I have plenty
of shirts. You can cry on them all if you need to.” He hands me
a box of tissues from the bedside table.
I have to admit, I am glad Adagio is here, because I need
him. I can't do this alone and I'm grateful for his presence.
Blowing my nose, I let my gaze slowly move around the room,
taking in all of Ingo’s things. Emotion wells again. “He’s gone.
Everything is gone.”
“Listen to me, Cisely.” He dries my tears with his fingers.
“Ingo will always be with you because you will keep his
memory alive in your heart.”
I try to latch on to his comforting words, but it's too
hard. Grief blinds me to everything except Ingo’s absence. My
husband is never coming back through our door. This is all I
know, all I can think about. This is my reality.
“It hurts so much. I can't stop crying.”
“Don't stop. Just let go and cry.”
And I continue to do so as I press my face against his
shoulder, sobbing like a lost child. A large chunk has been cut
out of my heart, leaving a gaping hole with no way to heal itself.
The pain clenching my insides is beyond description.
Minutes go by before I can speak again.
“It was my fault. He didn’t want to go skiing because he
didn’t want to leave me here alone, but I practically forced him
to go. . . I should have let him stay home. If I hadn’t made him
go, maybe . . . he would still be here.”
Drawing back, Adagio presses a gentle hand to my face.
“Don't do this to yourself, Cisely. No one is to blame. It was
simply his time to go. It is hard for me to say it, to accept it, but
I know it is true. It was his time, Cisely.” He closes his eyes,
fresh tears falling down his face, his voice growing softer. “It
was
not
your
fault.
Ingo
would not
want
you
to
blame
yourself.”
“We didn’t have enough time,” I whisper. “We didn't
have enough time together. He was supposed to always be with
me, to help me raise our baby.”
“I know,” he soothes. “No matter how much time we
have with someone, it is never enough. But as I reminded Gary
and Tara when they lost Brian, you will always have your
memories of him and your life together.”
My heart begrudgingly validates the truth of his words. I
will always
have
treasured memories.
But
right
now
this
knowledge isn't helping much. I need my husband with me
now
.
“I should call Ingo’s parents,” I say with my head against
his shoulder. I dread this task. I don’t know how to tell them
their son, my husband, is gone. I never imagined having to
make such a call.
“I already called them.”
I draw back in surprise. “You did?”
“I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. You have so
much to handle already.”
Tears of gratitude clog my throat. “Thank you.” I ache
even more thinking about Patrick and Gloria and what they
must be going through having lost their oldest son.
Adagio wipes my tears once more. “You should lie down
and rest.”
I shake my head. “I need to make other phone calls. Then
there are arrangements to be made. I have to . . .”
“The arrangements can wait until morning, and if you will
give me your list, I will make the calls.”
“I can’t let you do all that.”
“I am your friend, Cisely. That is what I am here for, to
help. And I want to do everything I can to take as much of the
burden off of you as possible. I worry for you and the baby.
You don't want anything to happen to Ingo’s child. This baby
is a gift from him.”
I realize the importance of his words, but instead of
feeling comforted, a fresh batch of pain surfaces. “Oh, Adagio,
I love him so much. It hurts . . .”
“I know,” he soothes. “I don't know how to be without
my best friend, either. But you will eventually be okay. We both
will, I promise.” He urges me to lie back down, spreading the
blanket back over me. “Try to rest. I will call everyone. Where
do I find your address book.”
“In the drawer,” I say, pointing to the bedside table.
“I will take care of everything.”
I reach for his hand. “Thank you.”
Brushing a wisp of hair from my face, he presses a kiss to
my brow. “You are welcome.”

Closing my eyes, I imagine Ingo lying next to me. I need
to feel him near, and I ache for another chance to tell him I
love him. One afternoon has completely changed my world. In
an instant I have lost everything. I didn't even get to say
goodbye to him. I never got to tell him how much joy he
brought into my life, how happy he made me.

Turning over, I bury my face in Ingo's pillow, breathing
in the scent of his after shave and sob until I am exhausted. I
drift to sleep, still holding on to his pillow, longing for the
comfort of his arms.

Grabbing the phone, Adagio sits at the desk in the family
room, unable to staunch the flow of tears. He misses Ingo
desperately and the pain is excruciating. To know he will never
see his friend again in this life tears him up inside, but he needs
to be strong for Cisely. Swallowing his emotions, he makes the
calls.

Ending his final call with Gary and Tara, he glances out
the window. It has grown dark, and realizing it is well past
dinner time, his thoughts shift to Cisely. She needs to eat
something to keep up her strength for herself and her baby.

Looking
through
the
refrigerator,
he
pulls
out
an
assortment of meats and cheeses, as well as some left over
cheese and broccoli soup. While the soup is reheating, he
makes a sandwich. After pouring a little of the soup into a mug
and putting the sandwich on a plate, he mixes a can of frozen
orange juice and pours a small glass. Placing it all on a tray, he
takes it up to Cisely.

Adagio quietly opens the bedroom door. Cisely is lying
on her back, clutching a pillow, staring up at the ceiling as tears
trickle back into her hair. The sight affects him deeply, causing
his own eyes to burn again. Clearing his throat, he enters.

“I brought you something to eat. You need to keep up
your strength.”
She sits up and wipes her eyes. Adagio places the tray
over her lap and sits down. She looks down at the food, then at
him. “Thank you.” Her voice is hoarse from crying. She
probably has no appetite, but even a few bites will be better
than nothing.
“You are welcome.” Watching her take a small bite of the
sandwich, he wishes he could say or do something to take away
the pain, but only time can do that. The bottom has just
dropped out of her world and her pain is too fresh. He will do
everything in his power to help her through the times ahead.