Page 97 of Beautifully Shattered
“Yo-you want to sing to me?”
“Yes. If that’s okay, Angel.” He gestures to the seat JD has just placed down next to Bobbi’s grave, and I nod quickly, swiping at my tears as a hush falls over the crowd.
Ringo pulls the guitar from the case while JD sets another chair next to Hope’s grave.
When the background music cuts off, all that’s left is the soft tinkle from the wind chimes, and everyone settles quietly to hear what Ringo has to sing.
I’m trembling as I sit, my anxious hands wringing together in my lap at the anticipation of seeing yet another new side of my husband.
He’s never played his guitar for me before. There’s something so special about him doing this, here on one of the hardest days of my life.
I’m not left sitting alone for long, my childhood friends coming to surround me. Lexi kneels beside me, taking my hand. Marcus settles on my other side, his fingers stroking my arm. And Jared stands behind us, resting a steady hand on my shoulder.
Then Ringo clears his throat.
“Please excuse how rusty I am. It’s been a while.”
He strums the strings a few times, giving it a quick tune.
My heart is pounding, but I can’t tell why. Nerves. Excitement. Heartache.
Probably all the above.
“Sometimes, when I come to visit Hope…” He clears his throat, like he’s trying to push away a clog of emotions. “I sing this song to her, imagining her with blonde curls, maybe six or seven years old, when her eyes would’ve sparkled with excitement for her future. For the possibilities that dreams can actually come true.”
He takes a moment, drawing in a deep breath as he struggles to finish, but when he glances up and meets my gaze, all I see is strength.
“This song is all about her…Hope.”
His fingers begin to strum, slow and hesitant at first, but he quickly finds his rhythm.
The chords are simple, and I immediately recognise them, tears blurring my view of how utterly handsome my husband is sitting under the tree, faint light casting soft shadows across his face, bent over his guitar as he parts his lips and starts to sing.
“Why are there so many… songs about rainb…”
Sobs ripple through the crowd, the gritty rasp in his voice adding to how hauntingly beautiful it is as he lays his heart and soul out for all of us to witness while he sings the lyrics forRainbow Connection.
I can picture it then. Little Hope. Little Bobbi. Both with blonde curls, giggling as they skip under this tree, hand in hand without a care in the world.
“Someday we’ll find it,” he sings, his eyes locking with mine, “that rainbow connec…” He winks, and I smile through my sobs as his voice grows stronger. “The lovers. The dreamers… and me.”
I’m barely holding it together by the time he finishes the final chord, my love for him so monumental that containing it takes more than I can muster.
The moment his fingers fall still, I’m up, nearly tripping over Lexi as I stagger forward.
Seeing my desperation, Ringo rushes to put the guitar aside, just in time to catch me as I launch myself into his lap.
My arms and legs wrap tight around him, and I bury my face in his neck, crying happy tears that blend with my grief.
“Angel,” he breathes into my ear, his arms strong and steady around me like a shield against the rest of the world. “Do you wanna stay out here a while longer or—”
I shake my head against the curve of his neck, cutting him off.
“Take me to your room,” I sob, and he gives me a gentle squeeze.
“Ourroom, Angel.”
I nod, unable to speak, and he stands with me still clinging to him, excusing us, before carrying me inside.
