His dad’s grave site was hushed. And beautiful, in its way.
From where he stood, Corbin could see acres of cemetery lawn and the town of Shore Pine far below. This early April morning smelled of cut grass and damp wood and earth.
His father had died a month ago today.
Despite the grief of that, mornings kept on coming. Sunlight kept on coming. God could still be trusted. And Willow still loved him.
He watched her kneel and place the bouquet of flowers they’d brought on the base of the headstone.
As his dad’s physical condition had worsened, his dad’s soul had been more and more at rest.
Joe had been accepting. He’d griped about bad football plays he saw on TV or the fact that the curtains let in too much light or the food Corbin brought him. But he’d never second-guessed the fact that he was dying. And he’d never complained about the pain.
Joe had been calm. After a life of overblown rough patches and good patches, his dad had ended his life in a steady patch. The steady patches were the ones Corbin had always trusted most.
Throughout those final weeks, Willow had been there. Every single day. Every time he needed her. Willow and his dad had made amends, and near the end his dad had even told her that he liked her baked French toast, which was high praise, coming from him.
Corbin helped Willow up, and they stood without words, their hands interlaced.
The day Dr. Benton had told Corbin that it was time to call in hospice, Corbin had reached the conclusion that his dad’s story wasn’t going to be a miracle story.
He’d been wrong.
His dad’s story had turned out to be a miracle story after all.
God had heard Corbin’s prayers for himself and for his father. Corbin knew exactly where his dad was now, and he was holding on to the certainty that he’d see him again one day.
At some point Corbin’s own body would be lowered into a rectangular plot of ground. It was up to him to make the most of the time he had left between now and then.
He squeezed Willow’s hand, and they made their way toward his car. “You know what I’m in the mood for?” Corbin asked.
“Shopping for housewares?”
“No.”
“Meeting with the wedding coordinator?”
He’d proposed a week ago, and she’d said yes. “No. I’m in the mood for flourless chocolate cake and whipped cream.”
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning,” she said.
“And yet I’m in the mood for flourless chocolate cake. You?”
“ . . . Yes, actually.”
“Then don’t worry, Willow. I will find us a restaurant somewhere in Washington that serves chocolate cake at this hour.”
“I don’t have a single doubt that you will.” She smiled at him so brightly it caused his pulse to skip.
His story with Willow? He knew a secret about it that he hadn’t told her yet.