Page 124 of Look on the Bright Side

Lark laughed. “It’s like you do.”

“How are things, Larkby? And I’m not talking about the ER. I’m talking about the hot brother you were kissing.”

The stab of loss—even just the loss of potential—was sharp and fast. She hadn’t heard from Dante since she’d stopped by his place, and she didn’t blame him.

“Yeah, that,” she said. “It’s on hold or dead. Kind of complicated. I think I botched it.” Even with Addie, it was hard to talk about.

“Dead? The first guy you’ve liked since you were five? It can’t be dead, honey.”

It was the endearment that made her throat tighten. “Well, it’s not exactly alive.”

“Good thing you’re a doctor, then,” Addie said. “Resuscitate immediately.”

There was a crash and a scream in the background. Two screams, so both nieces.

“Everyone okay?” Lark asked.

“Probably,” Addie said. “Nicole is with them. We’re looking for another au pair. They keep quitting.”

“I’ll babysit my next free night, how’s that?”

“That would be amazing. You know how Nicole is. If she doesn’t get attention, she gets bitchy.”

“Sounds like a twin of mine,” Lark said.

“Bite me,” Addie laughed. “I should go. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Lark said. “Thanks again, Addie.”

She ended the call, still gazing on the bounty of her refrigerator. All that food. Connery was curled into his cinnamon bun pose on the couch, ready for snuggling. She left the fridge, went over to the couch and looked at the wall behind it. There were…let’s see…five framed pictures featuring Justin…the two of them with his parents, with Addie, in Venice, at the beach.

But today, those pictures reminded her of Dante. The innate kindness and gentle curiosity as she’d shown him the photo albums, how he’d listened as she told him the story behind the pictures. How he’d simply tucked her against him as she cried for a man he’d never met.

Her stomach growled.

“Connery?” she asked, still staring at her engagement picture. She had crow’s-feet now that hadn’t been there back then. Her face had been a little rounder, her cheeks pink with love. “Want to go for a ride?”

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the cemetery, the Yorkshire Breakfast Hamper in one hand, Connery’s leash in the other. She spread out a blanket, sat down next to Justin’s headstone and opened the picnic basket.

“Justin, you’ll be happy to know the Yorkshire Breakfast Hamper is being put to good use,” she said, taking out a block of cheese and slicing a piece off. She handed it to Connery, who ate it delicately, and then sliced off another piece for herself. The sun had set an hour ago, but daylight took its time fading at this time of year, reluctant to give over the sky to darkness. A night bird trilled nearby, and Lark could hear the gentle rush of passing cars on Route 6. Connery tilted his little head but otherwise seemed content to snuggle and mooch. He didn’t like the olives, though. More for her.

“So, Justin,” she said. “I met someone. I think I’m…I think I’m in love.”

Only the night bird answered.

It would be so nice if he’d send her a sign, letting her know he was okay, that there was indeed an afterlife—she thought there was, but who really knew? A sign that he watched over her and his parents, that he was happy, that they’d be together again someday in some form. But in all these years, the only dreams she’d had about him involved her coming into a room only to catch a glimpse of him leaving it. Yes, she saw cardinals, and butterflies, and feathers, and dimes. Didn’t everyone?

She was tired of being tragic. Tired of trying not to be so…pitiable. Tired of loving someone who’d been gone so long. Tired, she now realized, of building a career based on a tragedy. It had never been her destiny to be an oncologist. It had been her penance, assigned by herself. She wanted to be kissed again, to be loved, to have a person waiting for her. She wanted children. And, she knew, Justin would want that for her. Heather and Theo already did. She was the only one holding herself back.

We loved with a love that was more than love. But what happened to the guy who had loved Annabel Lee? He’d gone to her tomb by the sounding sea and lay down with her…which, creepily enough, was what Lark was doing right now.

There had to be more for her. All she had to do was say yes.

The lid of the Yorkshire Breakfast Hamper banged shut, and she bolted upright. Connery barked twice and whined.

The wind. Except there was no wind tonight.

“Justin? Is that you?” she whispered. Goose bumps rose on her arms. There was no answer. Just the little night bird, trilling again. It seemed to wait for an answer “Justin? I…” He knew she loved him. Never once had that been a question. “I’ll always be glad we were together, honey.”

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