Page 98 of One Last Rainy Day
“Why are you so upset, Tatie?”
“I don’t want to talk about me.” She appraises me as I pull to a stop light. “You are a handsome man. So much of Celine I see in you.”
“Are we seriously having a heart-to-heart?” I ask, utterly confused.
“You have found love,” she states, not at all a question.
I blink back at her. “Why would you think that?”
“We are so alike, Dominic. I know you might not want to hear it—and maybe do not believe it—but we are. In many ways. I’m happy if you have.”
“Happy if I found love with Roman’s daughter?” I query incredulously.
She stares back at me, lips quirking. “You deny you are?”
“That wasn’t the question,” I redirect.
She turns back to stare out of the windshield. “I am happy you are capable, that you embrace it.”
“Wouldn’t go that far,” I mutter, almost inaudibly, but that’s not exactly true anymore. We spend the first of the drive making small talk, which makes me feel a little like I’ve entered theTwilight Zone. She laughs, twice, andloudly.The unease increases, and I start to wonder if she’s lying about her treatment progression and is now on borrowed time.
A little under an hour later, we’re coasting up the narrow, winding road to the top of the mountain with twenty minutes to spare for the sunset. Delphine remains quiet, trusting me to get her there, anticipation radiating from where she sits with a rare hope in her eyes. When I pull into a parking lot which consists of nothing but a small building sitting to the right of us, she looks over to me skeptically. “Here?”
I nod and walk around the car to help her out. She practically falls against me when she hits her feet, sweat beadingher brow and upper lip as I grip her tightly to keep her upright. “You okay?”
Her lips tremble, her pride at stake as she eyes the distance to the building. “I’m weaker than...we don’t have to—”
“I’ll walk you,” I assure her. Her eyes again mist and I clutch her to me, walking her toward the building. When we reach the steep stairs leading to the door, she looks at them warily, shaking her head. “Dominic, I’m too wea—”
“I’ve got you.” Sweeping her securely in my arms, I take the stairs toward the doorway just as a man opens it and spots us, quickly ushering his wife through and holding it for us to pass.
“Thank you,” I mutter, and Delphine echoes it. Her eyes trail the couple, who curiously stare back at us as I step in, cradling her to my chest.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Tatie,” I tell her just as she buries her face in my shoulder before I slowly start descending the heavily inclined steps passing the vacant pews which sit to our left and right.
Once I reach the bottom, I glance around satisfied before nudging her with the lift of my shoulder. “Just in time for the show. Look at your sunset, Tatie.”
She slowly lifts her head and gasps when she sees the view before us. Feet ahead stands a twelve-foot cross secured in a brick foundation, and to both sides of it lies a low-lying border wall. Beyond that is an endless sea of Blue Ridge Mountain peaks, which are quickly becoming saturated in various hues of orange, gold, and pink.
“Mon Dieu!”My God!she exclaims, her voice shaking as I lift her gently to her feet. She soaks in the scenery forseveral quiet seconds, her hand still clutched to my bicep as we watch mist and color steep through the mountaintops. “What is this?”
“It’s called Pretty Place Chapel,” I answer, just as taken aback by the sight before us, which is almost too surreal to believe.
She shakes her head, shock and awe in her expression, appreciation in her voice, and a follow-up question. “How do you know about it?”
“I’ve been here a few times,” I admit.
She narrows her eyes in suspicion. “You do believe.”
“Still in negotiations,” I tell her.
We spend a few quiet minutes as I glance around the small chapel and back to the blocked-out view the size of a theater screen. It’s when I look back and glimpse the fear that’s been crippling her expression since she was diagnosed that I speak up. “I did a little research a few years back...when I was curious.”
“Curious about what?”
“Yourgood book of morals,” I grin, “the climactic ending, and what happens after.”
She nods in encouragement for me to continue.
