Part 42 (1/2)

She had her face buried against my shoulder, and I could barely hear her, but I swear at that moment she said words I thought I'd never hear, words that I'd desperately wanted to hear from her.

She whispered, ”I love you, Crank.”

My breathing changed, growing ragged, and I couldn't let go or pull back or say anything, because I was afraid. Afraid that she hadn't really said it, that she hadn't really meant it, or that she meant, ”I love you Crank, like I love my little sister.” But she pulled back, and she said, ”There couldn't possibly be a worse time in the world for this. But we need to talk.”

My heart fell in my chest. This was going to be it. I knew it. She was going to tell me there was no chance for us. We separated, and I turned to my mom, and Julia said, ”Hey, Margot. Sean.”

My mom walked over, and she started to cry, and pulled Julia into a hug. Sobbing, she said, ”Thank you so much. For doing this. For getting us here. For coming.”

Julia hugged her back, and said, ”There's nothing to thank me for, okay? Jack means a lot to me. You all do.”

Then she pulled back from my mom, keeping her hands on Mom's shoulders, and said, ”I need to borrow Crank for a little while. We've got ... some things to talk about.”

My mother nodded, and Julia said, ”We'll be back.”

And then she pulled me away from the waiting room.

We slipped into the tiny nondenominational chapel three doors down.

It was dim in here, the only light from up near the altar. An electric piano sat near the front of the room, and a line of small, utilitarian pews were lined up in rows.

She sat down in the first pew. I sat down next to her and turned toward her, and she grabbed my left hand. And that's when I realized there was something different about her. She wasn't wearing any bracelets.

I reached in my pocket, my hand touching the friends.h.i.+p bracelet she'd given me. I held it in my right hand.

Tears immediately started rolling down her face, and she said, ”I can't promise ... not to pull back. Not to run away. It's too much a part of me now.”

”What?” I said, stupidly.

”Just shut up and listen to me, all right?”

I shut up. And nodded. And listened.

”I've spent most of my life alone, in one way or another. But an old friend reminded me of something yesterday. He said ... you make your own home. I've never had one. For a while, I had a big brother. And he kept me together, when I was just a little girl, all alone. And then ... you know what happened. All I had was my armor. All I had was my sh.e.l.l, holding me together, because I couldn't trust anyone. I couldn't believe in anyone.”

She sniffled and then said, ”But something has happened to me. Something I never thought would happen. I want to trust you. I ... I want to feel. I want to know what it's like to love and to have a real life. I want to know what it's like to have a home for the first time in my life.”

She was really crying now, and I would have wiped her tears, but it would have taken a mop bucket. Instead, I pulled her close to me and let her cry on my s.h.i.+rt.

”Crank ... you're my home now. You're the person I want to come home to. You're ... I love you, Crank.” She laughed in the midst of her tears, her eyes s.h.i.+ning, 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 t.i.tle 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, s.h.i.+ning 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.