“Losing him nearly killed her.” He paused. “Nearly killed me, too. He was such a sweet little boy—just at that age where he was beginning to discover the world, when everything’s new and exciting. As the baby, he used to try to keep up with the bigger kids. He was always chasing after them in the yard. And he was healthy, too. Never had so much as an ear infection or a serious cold before he got sick. That’s why it was such a shock. One week he was playing in the yard, and the next week, we were at his funeral. After that, Allie could barely eat or sleep, and when she wasn’t crying, she just sort of wandered around in a daze. I wasn’t sure she’d ever get over it. That’s when she told me to plow the garden under.”
He drifted off. I said nothing, knowing it wasn’t possible to fully imagine the pain of losing a child.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked after a while.
“I thought it was just her grief talking,” he said quietly, “and I wasn’t sure if she really wanted me to do it, or just said it because her pain was so awful that day. So I waited. I figured if she asked me a second time, I would do it. Or I’d offer to remove just the outer heart, if she wanted to keep the rest of it. But in the end, she never did. And after that? Even though she used it in a lot of her paintings, she never felt the same way about it. When we lost John, it stopped being a happy thing for her. Even when Kate got married there, she had mixed feelings about it.”
“Do the kids know why there are five rings?”
“Maybe in the back of their minds they do, but they would have had to figure it out on their own. It wasn’t something Allie or I liked to talk about. After John died, it was easier to think about the garden as a single gift, rather than five. And so that’s what it became. And when the kids were older and finally got around to asking about it, Allie just told them that I’d planted it for her. So to them, it’s always been this romantic gesture.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw the swan appear and glide toward us. It was curious that it hadn’t appeared before now, and I wondered where it had been. I thought that Noah would toss a piece of bread immediately, but he didn’t. Instead, he simply watched it paddle closer. When it was a few feet away, the swan seemed to hover briefly, but then, to my surprise, it approached the bank.
A moment later it waddled toward us, and Noah stretched out his hand. The swan leaned into his touch, and as Noah spoke quietly to it, I was suddenly struck by the thought that the swan had actually missed Noah, too.
Noah fed the swan, and afterward I watched in wonder as—just as he’d once confided—the swan settled down at his feet.
An hour later, the clouds began to roll in. Dense and full bellied, they portended the type of summer storm common in the South—intense rain for twenty minutes, then slowly clearing skies. The swan was back-paddling in the pond, and I was about to suggest that we go back inside when I heard Anna’s voice behind us.
“Hey, Grampa! Hey, Daddy!” she called out. “When you weren’t in the room, we thought we might find you out here.”
I turned to see a cheerful Anna approaching. Jane trailed wearily a few steps behind. Her smile seemed strained—this, I knew, was the one place she dreaded finding her father.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said, rising. Anna hugged me fiercely, her arms tight around my back.
“How’d it go today?” I asked. “Did you find the dress?”
When she released me, she couldn’t hide the excitement. “You’re going to love it,” she promised, squeezing my arms. “It’s perfect.”
By then Jane had reached us, and letting go of Anna, I embraced Jane as if doing so had somehow become natural again. She felt soft and warm, a reassuring presence.
“C’mere,” Noah said to Anna. He patted the bench. “Tell me about what you’ve been doing to get yourself ready for the weekend.”
Anna sat down and reached for his hand. “It’s been fantastic,” she said. “I never imagined how much fun it would be. We must have gone into a dozen stores. And you should see Leslie! We found a dress for her too that’s totally awesome.”
Jane and I stood off to the side as Anna recounted the whirlwind activities of the past couple of days. As she told one story after another, she alternately bumped Noah playfully or squeezed his hand. Despite the sixty years between them, it was obvious how comfortable they were together. Though grandparents often have special relationships with their grandchildren, Noah and Anna were clearly friends, and I felt a surge of parental pride at the young woman Anna had become. I could tell by the softness in Jane’s expression that she was feeling exactly the same way, and though I hadn’t done such a thing in years, I slowly slipped my arm around her.
I suppose I wasn’t sure what to expect—for a second she seemed almost startled—but when she relaxed beneath my arm, there was an instant where all seemed right in the world. In the past, words had always failed me at moments like this. Perhaps I’d secretly feared that speaking my feelings aloud would somehow diminish them. Yet now I realized how wrong I’d been to withhold my thoughts, and bringing my lips to her ear, I whispered the words that I should never have kept inside:
“I love you, Jane, and I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you.”
Though she didn’t say a word, the way she leaned further against me was all the response I needed.
The thunder began half an hour later, a deep echo that seemed to ripple across the sky. After walking Noah to his room, Jane and I left for home, parting ways with Anna in the parking lot.
Riding through downtown, I stared out the windshield at the sun cutting through thickening clouds, casting shadows and making the river shine like gold. Jane was surprisingly quiet, gazing out the window, and I found myself glancing at her from the corner of my eye. Her hair was tucked neatly behind her ear, and the pink blouse she wore made her skin glow like that of a young child. On her hand shone the ring she’d worn for almost thirty years, the diamond engagement ring coupled with the narrow gold band.
We entered our neighborhood; a moment later, we pulled into the drive and Jane roused herself with a weary smile.
“Sorry about being so quiet. I guess I’m sort of tired.”
“It’s okay. It’s been a big week.”
I brought her suitcase inside, watching as she dropped her purse on the table near the door.