Page 103 of Find My Way Down to You

My fingers pluck restlessly at my bracelet.

“It’s gonna hurt,” she continues. “But they’ll survive. And go on. That’s what we all do, whether we want to or not. Everyone is given time. It’s never enough.” A smirk plays like a steady progression of major chords on her face. “But I sure as hell made the most of mine!”

Another laugh, this one echoing through the whole house.

I wonder if these halls will miss that sound. Do more than just the people we meet and love miss us when we’re gone?

Cautiously, Cary touches her shoulder. “Are you ready for what is next?”

Bernice wrings her hands. “Will my Joseph be there?”

“I cannot answer that for you.”

“Figures.” She squints at him. “You can never trust the pretty ones.”

I bury my own laugh in my shoulder so Bernice doesn’t notice me.

Cary doesn’t hide his snort. “Whenever you are ready.”

Bernice stares wistfully at the wall of photographs. She takes her time scanning every frame. As if she can take them with her.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

A gossamer of white falls over her. A stardust queen. She meets Cary’s smile with one of her own.

Once they leave, I sit in the lounge chair Bernice’s soul just occupied. I stare at her sweet-faced corpse. My mind drifts to Yuri, Hasan. How they were each afraid in their own way. But Cary was there for them.

He was kind. Comforting. Even a little teasing.

He is the first real smile they see once this life is over.

Cary isn’t just the ferrier of souls. A Deathless relentlessly dedicated to his role. He’s something more.

I just never got to see it until now.

Jazz continues to hum throughout the house. My hands itch for a pen. To pluck notes from the song and scribble words into lyrics. I settle for letting the music run through me. In my head, I compose a ballad that will never be heard.

Cary steps back into the sunroom. He’s not alone.

A blue-eyed Siberian husky comes charging in. My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. Cary shrugs weakly.

“She followed me.”

The dog turns in quick circles before she flops on theground, whimpering. Instantly, Cary kneels to scratch behind her ears. He doesn’t jerk away when her long pink tongue swipes at his cheek.

“Good girl,” he whispers smiling as he strokes her nose.

“You like animals,” I observe.

I remember how he was with Diana. How, despite his stiff shoulders and flat tone, he’s always let Cerby be affectionate with him.

“I care about a lot of things,” Cary says frankly.

“You look like you want to take her home.”

Under his breath, he whispers, “I wish.” Then, more clearly, he says, “Cerby would not approve.”

“I can take him off your hands,” I offer with a wide grin.