Chapter Twenty-Six Bonnie

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bonnie

I stared at the letter in my hand. The letter I hadn’t been able to open for days now. My hands shook as I lifted the envelope to my nose. I inhaled the spiced scent that still clung to the paper. Easton. The familiar smell was a dagger to my heart.

His heart.

I pressed the letter to my chest and closed my eyes. The lump that had clogged my throat since I’d woken up swelled as I thought of Easton. His smile. His laugh. The way people were drawn to him like a magnet. Then that Easton washed away, leaving the sad version of my brother that sometimes took him over. The one who was bathed in black and gray paint, forlorn and so down not even the sunniest of days could raise his spirits.

“Easton,” I whispered as I ran my hand over my name on the envelope.

I glanced down at my black dress and black tights. I appealed to my soul to help me make it through, knowing what lay before me today. My first outing into the real world after my surgery.

The final goodbye to the brother who had saved my life. Who had been my life for so long, I wasn’t sure how to breathe without him. Music came from the nurses’ station beyond the door, and I heard the high-pitched notes of laughter.

I wanted to smile at the happiness in their voices. But when I looked down at the envelope, I didn’t know if I would ever be able to feel happy again.

I stayed that way for over an hour, just staring at the letter. Finally, when I had mustered up enough courage, I flipped it open and unveiled the letter inside.

My hands shook so hard I wasn’t sure I’d be able to read it. But I turned it over and opened it. The letter wasn’t long. And before I’d even read a single word, my vision blurred with tears.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe. My new heart beat like a drum in my chest. The feeling still shocked me. I wasn’t used to hearing such a rhythmic beat. But the beat was strong and loud, and it should have made me feel full of life.

Instead I felt empty.

I took a deep breath and looked down at the words written just for me…

Bonnie,

As I write this, I’m looking at the lake we love so much. Have you ever realized how blue it is in the sun? How peaceful? I don’t think I’ve ever looked at the earth much and truly seen its beauty.

I’m writing this as you lie in your hospital bed. Papa has just called to let me know that you don’t have long left. I don’t know if you will ever get this letter. I don’t know if you’ll make it. And if that’s the case, then I’m sure we’re together somewhere, somewhere that isn’t this world. Somewhere better. Somewhere where there’s no pain.

But if by some miracle you get a heart at the last minute, then I wanted to write you this note. And I wanted you to know why I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I want you to know that it wasn’t because of you. I know you’ve blamed yourself for so many years, but none of this has ever been about you.

I want to explain how I feel, but I’m not you. I don’t have a way with words like you. I never lit up a room like you did. Instead, I always felt like I was on the outside looking in. Looking at everyone else happy and excited for life. But for me, it was the opposite.

I found life hard, Bonnie. Every day, when I took a breath, I felt like I was breathing in tar. Every step I took was like walking in quicksand. I had to keep moving or I would be pulled under.

I fought it. But the truth is, I wanted to sink. I wanted to close my eyes and disappear and stop the fight. The fight to want to live, when for as long as I could remember, all I’ve wanted is to let go.

When you got sick, it only made me realize the truth—that I just wanted to go. I wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. Because, Bonnie, what is a world if you aren’t in it? And if you got your heart, if someone saved your life by giving you what they could no longer use, then know that I’m happy. You might be angry at me. In fact, I know you are. You’re my twin. I feel what you feel. But I can’t do it anymore. Even as I sit here now, knowing I have only minutes left, I want to go. I’ve lost the fight to be here anymore.

And I refuse to say goodbye to you, Bonnie. I want to leave it this way. With me at our favorite place, knowing that I’ll see you again. After you’ve lived for us both. Lived a life I never could.

Some of us just aren’t meant for this world, Bonnie. And I’m one of them. I know you’ll mourn me, and if you survive, I’ll miss you every day until I see you again.

Because I will see you again, Bonnie. Look up, and I’ll always be there with you.

But I have to go now.

Keep strong, sis. Live a life that you love. And when it’s your time, I’ll be the one to come get you. You know I will.

I love you, Bonn.

Easton.

Wracking sobs tore at my chest, teardrops falling to the letter and smudging the writing. I quickly brushed it with my hand, needing to save every part of this letter. I pulled it closer to my chest, and I was sure, in that minute, that I felt Easton in my heart. Felt him smiling at me, trying to comfort me. I felt him smile at me. Smiling because, while he didn’t know it, he’d become my miracle. He’d taken himself from this world and, unknowingly, had kept me in it.

I held his letter close to my chest until I had no tears left to cry. When my mama and papa came to get me for the funeral, as they wheeled me from the hospital, I kept his letter in my pocket. Close to me. I needed his strength to help me get through today.

The next hour was a blur. Being pushed into a car. Us following the car that held my brother’s casket. Lilies spelling out his name in white. When we arrived at the church, my eyes watched the casket as it was pulled from the car. Papa and my uncles surrounded it. And then I saw one person I hadn’t seen in days upon days.

Even though I was numb, my heart managed to skip a beat when I caught sight of Cromwell. Cromwell, dressed in a black suit and black tie, his messy hair jet black in the sun. I tried to pull my eyes away from him, but I found that I couldn’t. He walked forward and shook my papa’s hand. I frowned, wondering where he was going. Then he took one point of the casket, lifting my brother onto his shoulders, taking the burden Easton couldn’t carry onto him.

A hand slipped into mine as they started carrying Easton into the church. My mama pushed me behind the procession. I saw people from college in the pews. Bryce, Matt, Sara, Kacey. But I couldn’t manage to acknowledge them. I was too busy staring at Cromwell. He walked with such purpose that it broke my heart.

Because I’d pushed him away.

Kept him from me when all he wanted to do was show me how much he loved me.

Loved Easton.

As the service started, I stared blankly at the altar, at the cross hanging on the wall. The pastor spoke, but I didn’t listen. Instead, I stared at the casket and replayed Easton’s letter in my head. But I did listen when the pastor said, “And now, we have some music.” I had no idea what was happening, but then Cromwell got up from his seat on the opposite side of the church.

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.”

He kneeled before me, and I met his gaze to see the prettiest of blues staring back at me. His hand cupped my cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. He pointed at the tree. “Do you want to sit with me?” I nodded, and I held my breath when he scooped me into his arms. He sat down, placing me beside him. The birds sang above us, the branches cradling the spot where Easton lay.

I stared at the flowers that had been laid and the fresh soil that had been poured on top of his coffin. This was the perfect place for him to be.

It was beautiful, just like he had been.

“I’m going to put a bench right here,” I said, “so that I can always come and see him.” Cromwell turned to look at me, his eyes glistening. “The way you played for him today…” I shook my head. “It was perfect.”

“It was your song.”

I sighed and looked out over the horizon, at the moon starting to rise. “I haven’t been able to listen to music since he left. It makes me feel too much.” The lump bobbed in my throat. “I’ve lost the enjoyment it used to bring me.”

Cromwell just listened. Exactly what I needed him to do. Then, “Lewis is my father.”

I whipped my head to him so quickly that I felt it in my neck. Shock forced its way through me. “What?”

Cromwell leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree. “You were right. Synesthesia’s genetic.”

“Cromwell…I…” I shook my head, unable to grasp the truth.

“He knew my mum in college.” He laughed without mirth. “More than knew. From what I can tell, they were together.”

My fragile heart struggled to comprehend what he was saying. Yet it beat fast, the strength of it making me breathless at what had just fallen from Cromwell’s mouth. “Cromwell…” I murmured. “I don’t know what to say. What…what happened with them?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I haven’t been able to bring myself to ask him. He wants to tell me. I see it in his eyes every day. He told me he wanted to explain…but I can’t hear it yet.” He lowered his head, red bursting on his cheeks. When he looked up again, he said, “But he’s been helping me. We’ve been working together every day.”

I frowned, until it dawned on me. “You’re playing the gala?”

A flicker of a smile pulled at his mouth. “Yeah. And I think…” He looked into my eyes. “I think it’s good, baby. The symphony I’m composing…”

Baby. The endearment circled my head, only to float down and take up its rightful home in my new heart. As it settled I felt calm. Warm and safe beside the boy I loved.

“Easton wrote me a letter.” I closed my eyes, still feeling the sadness it brought me, but… “He’s at rest now.” I tried to smile. “He’s no longer taunted by the demons that took away his joy.” My eyes stayed on his grave. And I wondered if he saw us here now, needing to be with him. Missing him so much it hurt.

I turned to Cromwell. “What color do you see around his grave?”

Cromwell exhaled. “White,” he said. “I see white.”

“And what does that mean to you?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Peace,” he said, a relieved calm to his voice. “I see it as peace.”

The final tether that had kept me chained to the grief I couldn’t release floated away to the dark sky above us. I leaned against Cromwell, sighing in contentment when he put his arm around me and held me close.

We stayed that way until the night grew cold and I grew tired. “Come on, baby. Time to get you back.” Cromwell picked me up and brought me to the car. He put me in his truck then went back for my chair. Sleep pulled me under, and I didn’t wake until I was back in my bed. I opened my eyes to Cromwell kissing my cheek. He met my gaze, a plea in his expression. “Come to the gala.”

My heart fell. “I don’t know, Cromwell. I don’t know if I can.”

“I have to go to Charleston. To work with the orchestra. But please come. I need you to see it. I need to know you’re there, in the audience…the girl who brought music back into my life.”

I went to answer, but before I could, Cromwell leaned down and kissed me. He stole my breath and my heart in that one sweet kiss. He walked to the door, then stopped in the doorway. “I love you, Bonnie. You’ve changed my life,” he said without looking back, and then he walked away.

I was sure he took my heart with him as his footsteps faded away. And I knew that the only way to get it back was to go to Charleston in a few weeks to see him perform.

My boy, who once again had music in his heart.