A Song for Julia

blue green. “I can’t believe I just said those words. But it’s true. I love you. I want to be with you.”
    It was all I could do to keep from crying myself. I held her tight against me as she shook, and she whispered, “Can you forgive me? For not being able to say it before? For not being able to admit it? I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted that.”
    I leaned close to her ear. “There’s nothing to forgive. But even if there was, then yes. I’ll forgive you today, tomorrow, every day.”
    She was still crying, but she said, “And you won’t write any more stupid songs about me?”
    I guess if she could joke, then things were better. “Can’t promise that,” I replied.
    She laughed, shaking against me, and I said, “In fact, that may be all I do for the rest of my life.”
    She leaned against me and whispered, “Mine.”
    I leaned close, looking in her beautiful blue eyes, then at her lips, and I moved closer until our lips touched. Sweet, beautiful lips. It was different than before. Not so rushed, not so fraught with tension and distance. I felt like she was looking into my soul, that with the touch of our lips, she could see and feel everything about me. And me, with her.
    She pulled back from the kiss. “Can you put up with me? I’m crazy half the time. You know I’ll pull away and get angry when things are tough.”
    “I’ll chance it.”
    “Why?” She looked in my eyes as she asked the question. “Why would you risk that? Why would you risk me hurting you?”
    I put my hands on either side of her face. “Because you make me better. You make me—you make me feel like I matter. Like my life matters. I feel like, with you, I can do anything in the world. That we can do anything in the world. And we will.”
    “We will,” she said. “I promise that.”
    And so, we sat there in that chapel for a long time, holding each other, listening to each other breathe.
    And then I got a crazy idea.
    “Come here a second,” I said. I stood and led her over to the electric piano.
    “Sit down,” I said. We both sat down at the bench, and I said, “Do you remember when I said I wanted to make music with you?”
    Her eyes watered, and she nodded. I took my messy notes out of my front pocket and unfolded them. “I’ve been working on this for a few weeks, but I couldn’t get it right. Help me?”
    She smiled a crazy, happy smile, and nodded.
    So I put the notes on the music stand. “Your part,” I said, pointing.
    Then she saw the title of the song. A Song for Julia . And she started to silently cry.
    I started to play. She listened, nodding, then on the second measure, joined in. She was studying the notes I’d scribbled on the paper and kept up with me. It was perfect, every note in place.
    And then I started to sing. It was a duet, and I sang of my longing, of her refusal, and of my precious hope that if I let her go, if I kissed her goodbye and watched her go, that she’d eventually come home.
    I could feel her beside me, her eyes wide, shining bright, even as tears rolled down her face. We were in sync, and when she joined in the song, her voice scratchy and tired, we still sang it with perfect, beautiful harmony.
    Finally, the song ended. And she said the words again. The words I’d waited for her to say, the words that scared her so much she’d run away from me.
    “I love you, Crank.”
    I whispered back, “I love you, Julia.”
    She leaned against me, and I put my arms around her, and she closed her eyes.
    “I’m so sleepy,” she said. “And I can’t seem to stop crying.”
    I just smiled, then reached out and lifted her up and carried her over to the pew.
    So we sat and waited. I knew I had Julia in my arms, and that she loved me, and that somehow, with us, everything was going to be okay. I thought of Dad, a few rooms away, fighting for his life. Julia and I would wait it out together. It would be enough.
    Julia fell asleep, leaning against me. I shifted positions, cradling her in my arms, and I watched her face, the lines smooth, and her sleep peaceful.
    Not long after that, my mother found us. She looked in and saw us there, quiet in the chapel, and put her hands, clasped together, to her chest. There were tears of hope in her eyes.
    “The doctors called. Jack’s waking up.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

    Epilogue (Julia)

    “You’ve got everything you need?” Margot asked. “Toothbrushes. Razors?” We were standing at the entrance to the security lineup at