The Legacy (32 page)

Adagio can understand his wife's feelings. Not many
women would choose to see their abuser again, much less
forgive him for the hurt he caused.
But then again,
he muses,
not
many women are like my Cisely.

When Cisely finally stops pacing, Adagio approaches her
from behind, wrapping his arms around her. She wearily leans
back against him.

“Everything will be all right,
amore
,” he whispers against
her ear.
“I know. As long as you’re there with me, I know it will
be okay.” She turns in his arms and he kisses her. “Thank you,”
she murmurs.
He smiles, pressing his forehead to hers. “Anytime.”

Could you
please
tell us
which
room Mr.
Alton
Matthews is in?” I ask the receptionist at the information desk.
I wait nervously while she looks up the room number.

“He’s in 236. Just take the elevator to the second floor
and turn left.”
“Thank you.”
Adagio holds my hand tightly as we step into the elevator.
I can tell he is a little nervous as well, not for himself, but for
me, and I feel the connection between us. I sense him trying to
send me his strength.
Breathe. Just breathe,
I tell myself over and over. Adagio
also whispers words of comfort. When we reach my father’s
room, I am literally sick inside. I turn to Adagio.
“I don’t
know
if
I can
face
him!”
I whisper
in
desperation.
“Yes, you can,” he soothes. “I will be right here with
you.” He presses a hand to my cheek. “You are much stronger
than you think you are,
amore
.”
No, I’m not!
I nod and take a deep breath. I have to go in.
There is no other choice. Putting my hand on the knob, I
hesitate.
“Would you hold me for a moment?”
“You don't even have to ask.” As his warm arms come
around me,
I cling
to
him,
comforted by
his
tightening
embrace.
Closing my eyes, I try to draw as much strength as I can. I
finally move back a little and he presses a kiss to my brow.
“I'm ready,” I finally whisper.

Taking another deep breath, I open the door, gripping
Adagio’s hand as we slowly approach the still form on the bed.
Except for the blip of the monitor and our soft footsteps, the
room is silent.
My father is hooked up to an IV and an oxygen mask
covers his nose. He doesn’t even look like the same man. This
small, frail, thin man looks nothing like the large one that used
to towered over and terrorized me and my mother. His cheeks
are now sunken and hollow, his dark skin gray and pasty
looking. I can’t believe this man who was once so strong and
healthy is now lying in a hospital bed totally helpless.
He can’t hurt me anymore. He will never be able to hurt me or
anyone else ever again.
As I stand looking at him, something tugs at my heart. I
can’t explain how or even pinpoint the exact moment, but I
truly feel sorry for him.
And there it is.
I have forgiven him. Almost instantly, I no longer see the
monster that stole my childhood. Instead, I see a man who had
somehow gotten lost along his way through life. While I'll
probably never truly know whether he has changed, it isn’t my
place to judge, only to forgive.
As if he senses my presence, my father opens his eyes. He
turns his head slightly and looks at me, and then he smiles. I
saw my father smile many times when I was younger, and most
of the time I thought it an evil smile. But the one he wears now
is one I never thought I would ever see on him. It looks like a
smile of contentment, and love.
He continues to stare, maybe waiting for me to speak, but
I don’t know what to say. What can I say? I can’t pretend the
past never happened, and I won’t pretend I am overjoyed to
see him either. I am trying to think of something to say when
he moves his hand to his face and weakly slides the mask to the
side. His breathing is more labored as his mouth begins to
move. I move to the head of the bed and strain to hear, but his
voice is barely above a whisper. I bend forward until my ear is
positioned above his mouth, and this time I understand when
he speaks again.
“Forgive me, please,” he feebly whispers.
Moving back a little, I look into his eyes, grasping the
depth and importance of this moment. Never in my wildest
imaginings could I have fathomed this would happen.
“I do forgive you,” I finally say.
He looks at me for a moment and another slow smile
spreads across his face. He turns his head, looking toward the
ceiling and a tear rolls back into his gray hair. Looking at me
once more, his eyes seem to say thank you. Then he closes
them and does not open them again. A moment later, he takes
a final breath.
And that’s the end of that story,
I muse sadly, staring down at
him a moment longer. The man who had been the source of a
great deal of my pain has now made me the source of his peace.
“Goodbye,” I whisper before moving into Adagio’s waiting
arms.
The tears I shed now are not really for my father, but are
the result of the peace in my heart. I've finally let go of the fear
and anger and have truly learned to forgive.
“Are you all right?” Adagio asks, wiping my tears.
“Yes,” I answer with a smile. “I am finally okay.”

Adagio lay in bed next to Cisely, contentedly watching
her nurse their son. Adagio Philip St. John II was born in the
middle of July weighing in at eight pounds, ten ounces, and
once again they thought there wasn’t a more beautiful baby in
the world. They decided to call him Philip to avoid confusion
when he is older. At three months old, his dark hair and
emerald eyes are just like his father’s.

Philip finally finishes, having fallen asleep while nursing.
Cisely burps him and takes him to the nursery. When she
returns, Adagio is sitting up looking at a framed photograph of
their family.

Adagio can’t believe how much his life has changed in the
past two years. He is the husband of an amazing and beautiful
woman,
and the
father
of
two
adorable
children.
Life
is
wonderful, and he can’t ask for anything more.

Slipping under the covers, I rest my head against Adagio's
chest. He circles his arm around me and I smile, marveling at
how blessed I am. I've dreamed of many things in my life, but I
never dreamed I could be so happy and blessed with so much
love in my heart. The peace I now carry inside is indescribable.
At
times
like
this,
I think
my
heart
will burst
with
overwhelming joy.

As if he is reading my mind, Adagio replaces the picture
on the bedside table and lifts my chin, looking into my eyes.
“There are no words to describe how happy I am.” He caresses
my cheek. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Sometimes those three words aren’t good
enough to describe what I feel for you, but they are all we
have.”

Pressing a hand to my face, he caresses my lips with his
thumb.
“I wish
there
really
were
stronger
words.”
His
continues to reverently gaze at me another moment before
lowering his head and kissing me passionately. As his tongue
sweeps over mine, heat fills my insides. Through this kiss, he
expresses to me everything he feels. There truly are no words
to describe our love.

Asheville, North Carolina
Gladys sits on the back porch steps of her home holding
a cigarette in one hand and a can of beer in the other. She is
alone now. Her' daughter abandoned her over a year ago,
leaving her to fin for herself.
Gladys is angry.
And it is all Cisely's fault.
If Cisely hadn't come back to Asheville, pretending to be
Miss
High
and Mighty,
Gladys
would be
sitting
pretty.
Somehow, she would have gotten the insurance money from
Geneva's
death,
and Velma
wouldn't
have
developed a
backbone and left to chase after the 'white man's' life.
Yes, this is all Cisely's doing.
And one day she will pay.
Gladys will make her pay if it is the last thing she does.

We are told that trials help to make us stronger, that we have to go
through pain to really savor the experience of joy. I have known this for a
long time, but I also know something else. The strength that comes from
those trials is actually faith refined; the joy that comes after the pain,
celestial favor.

Carrying a small tray of assorted homemade
biscotti
out
to the veranda, I place it on the table next to the pitcher of
raspberry
lemonade.
After
making
sure
there
are
enough
napkins and glasses, I sit in one of the padded iron chairs, and
with deep contentment, watch Adagio play with Ingo and
Phillip. It is a beautiful day. The sun is out and there isn’t a
cloud in the sky. Thankfully it's not as hot as it has been the
past couple of days. Of course, being raised in a similar climate,
I adapted to Venice the moment I moved here.

I laugh at Adagio feigning weakness as Ingo and Phillip
wrestle him to the ground and climb on top of his back
laughing. Turning over, he growls loudly and tickles the two
little terrors. The children squirm away from his reach, then
dive back in and repeat the process. I am amazed at the amount
of energy they possess, and I can’t believe how fast they are
growing.

Adagio surrenders, pleading for a time out. When it is
obvious the boys are not going to give in to his pleas, he tries a
different tactic, which always works.

“Hey, let's go and see what Mama brought out for us,
okay?”
“Okay,” they say, hopping up and running up to the
veranda.

Adagio
heaves
a
deep
sigh
of
relief
mixed with
contentment as he watches them take off up the hill. He enjoys
the time he is able to spend playing with his boys and is grateful
for a job that allows him this time.

Standing and stretching for a moment, he looks down
and smacks the grass from his clothes. There are stains on the
knees
of
his
jeans,
but
he
doesn’t
mind.
It
seems
these
afternoon wrestling matches with the boys always warrant a
change of clothes, but it's worth it. He leans his head over and
brushes the grass from his hair as well.

When he looks up again, he sees Cisely coming down
from the veranda heading out to him. Even after six years of
marriage, the sight or mere thought of her never ceases to make
his heart skip a beat. He continues to gaze at her as she comes
closer, the sun setting off the highlights in her dark auburn hair
and adding a shimmer to her brown skin. Her every move is
graceful, and just being in her presence is intoxicating. He is
thirty-eight now, almost ten years older than Cisely, but he
finds his age easy to ignore because she makes him feel so
young, and he is thankful every day to be blessed with her as
his wife.