Father Northcutt had been true to his word, allowing Esther and Charlie to plan a suitable memorial, something to remember the woman one of them had known nearly her whole life, and the other had known just a week. A week that would have a lasting effect on Charlie Chambers. A week spent with a woman who had helped him open his heart from its long slumber.
They gathered together in the sanctuary of Father Larry’s church late one afternoon, just as the last rays of sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful bands across the marble floor. Lined up along the steps were all of Esther’s framed photos of a young Amber. A pot of wildflowers sat beside them, flowers that Esther Gibson seemed to have miraculously produced in the middle of winter.
No one knelt or sat, instead choosing to stand in a semicircle, arms looped around shoulders and waists, memories filling the space. After a brief prayer by Father Larry, Jake and Esther spoke of the little girl they had known and loved—one who had grown into a young woman who would have made her mother proud.
Izzy stood next to Charlie, her arm entwined with his. She looked at him, wondering whether he was going to speak.
Instead he smiled and gave her a brief hug, then walked over to join Andy Risso and Pete Halloran, who were both standing near Esther Gibson.
Andy pulled a drum stool from behind him and sat down as Pete picked up his guitar, then began strumming until the two had captured the beat. Esther grinned at Charlie, then wrapped one plump arm around his shoulders, and in the next minute the unexpected quartet filled the sanctuary in true Jimmy Cliff fashion with “I Can See Clearly Now (The Rain Is Gone).”
Before they’d finished the final verse, everyone had joined in, sopranos and baritones alike, heads thrown back as they cast away the winter with song, welcoming the sun and assuring Amber Harper—and themselves—that it was going to be all right.