The Cupid Chronicles (16 page)

Mum starts singing. It's Gramp's favorite song and mine. We all join in:

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine,
This little-light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine …

“Sing it, sister!” a man's voice bellows and we all turn back to look.

A tall black man in a gray suit and fancy hat is walking up the aisle. He maneuvers a cane in one hand. There's a bouquet of flowers in the other.

The man is smiling like he just saw Jesus. He's heading straight toward Mum.

This little light of mine …

Even in the dark, I can see that the stranger is handsome, very handsome. He walks with a confident swag, like he's walked up this aisle a hundred times before, although clearly, he's not from Bramble.

I look at Mum. She's stopped singing. Her hands are clasped over her mouth. Tears are streaming down her face. Her whole body is shaking.

We keep singing for her.
I'm gonna let it shine …

When the stranger reaches Mum, he stops. He holds out the bouquet. “Sully?”

“Riley!”
Mum screams and falls into his arms.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

After the service JFK asks me, “Want to see a movie Friday?”

“Sure,” I say, still sort of weepy over watching Mum and her long-lost love. Cupid came through after all. “Are Jessie and Tina coming too?”

“No,” JFK says. “Not unless you want them to.”

I spot Ruby staring at us.

“I thought maybe just the two of us could go,” JFK says, a bit awkwardly.

“I'd love to,” is all I have the chance to say before Stella calls me.

I can't write in my diary fast enough.
A date Friday … then the beach party Saturday…. Two nights in a row. Thank you!

Mum says the only prayer you ever need is just two words, “thank you.”

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

CHAPTER 23
 
So Quick Bright Things …
 

So quick bright things come to confusion.

—Shakespeare,
A Midsummer Night's Dream

I run to my locker in the morning. I can't wait to tell Tina. She'll know exactly what I should wear on my first “just-the-two-of-us” date with JFK. I still haven't asked Stella if I can go yet, but everything feels so perfect, somehow I'm not worried.

The Burners are huddled around Ruby. I can tell Ruby sees me coming.

“Oh, it's beautiful,” one of the Burners squeals.

“What did he say when he gave it to you?” another Burner shrieks.

Ruby whispers something and they all giggle.

“Oh hi, Willa,” Ruby says loudly, like she just noticed me. She is twisting something shiny around her neck.

“Show her,” one of the Burners says. She's talking about me.

“No,” Ruby says, but I can tell she really wants to.

“What is it?” I ask, taking the bait.

“A locket,” Ruby says, showing me the silver chain with a heart in the middle.

“Open it,” one of the Burners says.

“Yes, show her,” another Burner says.

Ruby opens the heart and I bend in closer to see.

Ruby's picture is on one side. JFK's on the other.

“He picked it out for her,” one of the Burners says.

The room is swirling. I can't breath.
It can't possibly be.

Then with an icy shiver I remember seeing JFK in town on Black Friday. And then Ruby came in the store talking about the new necklaces at Wick-strom's …

“Got to go,” I manage to say. “I'm late.”

I run outside. I can't go to class. There's the bench by the willow where he showed me his lyrics. The tears start. “Miss Havisham, you'll be late,” Mademoiselle Ferret snaps, rushing past. The bell
rings and I turn to follow, but my whole body's shaking,
no.

I run down to the basement, to the bathroom by the old art studio.
How could you do this to me, JFK?
You just asked me out on a date! And Ruby said she liked Chris Ruggiero. I hate you, Ruby. It smells like urine and turpentine in here. I'm going to puke. I'm not going back upstairs ever. I slide down on the floor and cry.

I cry through first bell and the second and then I turn from sad to mad.
Get up, Willa. Grow up.
He had no right to treat you like that. Track him down. You deserve an explanation. You told Mum to be a leaper. Be a leaper yourself, Willa. Come on.

I wash my face, fix my hair, and charge upstairs like a nor'easter. At the landing I turn, huffing, and that's when I see Stella and Sam. They are standing in front of Headmaster Chillmark's office. What's up? My grades are great. Dr. Chillmark pats Stella's back awkwardly, as if he's trying to comfort her. He shakes Sam's hand.

“Mother? Sam?” I walk toward them. I have a sick feeling inside. When they turn, I can tell by their faces that my life is about to change. I freeze like a statue.

Stella bursts into tears. Sam grips her arm. They walk slowly toward me.

Nana.

Oh no, please God, not Nana.

“No,” I say loudly, shaking my head.

Stella and Sam move faster.

“No!” I shout. Nana was walking every day. She …

Kids stop in the hall to watch. Sam and Stella are nearly to me.

“It's okay, Willa,” Sam says. “We just need to talk to you—”

“No, no, no.” I start crying.
“Not Nana, not Nana, please.”

Stella reaches me first and wraps me in a hug. She whispers gently in my ear. “No, sweetheart. Nana's fine.”

CHAPTER 24
 
Good Night, Sweet Prince
 

Now cracks a noble heart.
Good night, sweet prince,
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

—Shakespeare,
Hamlet

On the morning of Gramp's wake, it started to snow. Thick and heavy, like sheets of fog, sweeping in off the ocean. It snowed all day and by four o'clock, when calling hours at McNulty Funeral Home officially started, there was more than a foot and a half. It seemed it would never stop.

But the snow didn't stop Alexander Tweed's many friends from coming.

The line of mourners started at the steps of McNulty's and curved around to High Street, up and over the snow banks to Foster, around Tudor and Guilder and Starboard, and all the way to Main Street, where candles and bears and bouquets of flowers graced the steps of Sweet Bramble Books.

Gramp Tweed died of a heart attack in New York City. It happened quickly. He didn't suffer much. There wasn't time for us to get to the hospital.

And here all this time I was worried about Nana.

I am frozen. I cannot cry.

It hit me like a glacier when I first saw Nana after Gramp's death, that in all the years I have seen Nana laugh, I have never seen her cry.

Now, she cannot stop.

At first Nana wouldn't answer the door. “Please, Mother,” Stella begged in the gentlest voice I've ever heard her use. Scamp was barking and scratching against the door, Muffles purring strangely. “Please, Mother, let me in.” Stella pressed her ear to the door for an answer. “It's okay, Mother, I know. We just want to help.”

When Nana screamed “Get away from me,” Stella told Sam to take me home.

Sam nodded. I didn't argue.

The next morning I overheard Stella telling Sam how she found a spare key in the store. Upstairs, Nana was curled up on the kitchen floor, shivering, Scamp and Muffles huddled by her side.

I wasn't there but I can imagine how it went. “It was my fault, my fault.” Nana sobbed. “We never should have gone to New—”

“No, Mother,” Stella said, holding Nana in her arms like a baby, kissing her soft wrinkled cheek. “It's okay, Mother, it's okay….” Nana cried and cried and Stella didn't rush her. Later, Stella helped Nana take a bath. She warmed up some soup and fed it to her, slowly. She covered Nana with quilts on the couch and stayed up all night in the chair beside her, in case her mother needed anything.

Many people want to “say a few words” about Gramp. Mum welcomes each one to the microphone. Stella never leaves Nana's side. She hands her tissues and holds her arm firmly, so strong and kind and gentle.

“He was our town psychologist,” Gramp's friend, Bill Carroll, says. “When my Mary died after thirty-two years of marriage and nobody knew what to
do, Alexander brought me a bag of books that got me through the winter.”

“He never judged anybody,” Mrs. Bellimo said, with a hiccup.

Mr. Cohen goes next. “When my grandson announced he hated reading, Alexander said, “here David, give him this one.
Maniac something
I think it was called. Now Sammy can't read a book fast enough.”

One after the other, my gramp's customers, my gramp's friends, stood up and talked about him. And nearly every one of them mentioned a book.

Mrs. Saperstone hugs me. “See how personal books are, Willa? Your gramp gave people books that gave them hope and they will never forget him.”

Dr. Swaminathan shares something from Shakespeare about a sweet prince with a noble heart. Yes, that was my Gramp.

Sam reads from the poet Emily Dickinson:

We never Know how high we are
Till we are called to rise
And then if we are true to plan
Our statures touch the skies—

“Alexander.” Sam's voice breaks. “Alexander Tweed was a tall, tall man.”

Mum reads the “love is patient, love is kind” passage from the Bible, then leads us in Gramp's favorite song. “This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine …”

Stella, I am certain, wanted to say something, but Nana needed her daughter by her side and Stella stayed rock sturdy by her, never faltering for a second.

I went last.

“My gramp and I loved to talk about books. Every Friday he'd have a new one picked out special just for me. We'd drink lemon tea and talk about the stories, what made us laugh and cry. I realize now we weren't just talking about books on those Friday afternoons. We were talking about life.