Chapter 28

Chelly went to work Friday, and Sean started writing his business plan for Kelvin’s Bar and Grill. His theme; a diner with attitude. The attitude would stem from the jazz and blues that would score every meal served. He’d need a logo that reflected the music, but wanted to get away from the traditional image of music notes.

Because he’d set the cordless phone to be used as a room monitor, he could sit at the piano, which was where the thought of music sent him, and still hear Kelvin. Sean composed a melody that was a summer breeze on a blue-sky day. It reminded him of that picture he had in his shoe box in Maryland of his father smiling. From there, lyrics came.

Sean was struggling with the flow when Chelly phoned. He answered it, walking back into Kelvin’s room, now that the room monitoring was not in use.

“Hey, it’s me. How’s Kelvin?” Chelly asked, her tone subdued.

He looked over at Kelvin and listened. His breathing was the same. “Everything’s status quo here. How are you?”

“Not so good. I’ve got bad news. Sean, Nicole didn’t make it.”

Somehow he’d known Nicole wouldn’t make it, but the truth fragmented his reality for several seconds, rendering him speechless.

“Sean?”

“I’m here.”

“The attorney who helped with the DNA testing was notified, and then he told me. Nicole passed away at 9:46 this morning.”

“Nicole died?” He’d understood her the first time. Reflex had taken over while he dealt with the shock.

“Yes. I’m coming home, okay?”

“Come home.” He began lowering the phone to hang it up. Nicole’s young life, snuffed out before its time. So vibrant. And her voice, that magnificent voice, silenced forever. Riana. Maybe Riana would remember Nicole’s voice long after images of her mother faded.

“There’s something else I have to tell you,” Chelly said. “You still there?”

He’d heard her. “Go ahead.”

“Maya told me that she and Kelvin couldn’t leave yet, because they were waiting on a child of his to go with them. I’m sitting here guilt-ridden because I’m glad it was Nicole and not you. Sean, did you hear me?”

“So you’re saying the DNA test will come back positive because of what Maya told you?”

“Yes. I think it will.”

Sean rubbed the tension from his forehead. According to Chelly, Maya, Nicole, and Kelvin were good to go. Kelvin could leave this world any minute. He sighed heavily, the pain shredding his heart into a thousand pieces. He felt Chelly waiting for a response. Could he suspend disbelief and trust completely like she did? He turned toward his father, ears perked, panicked his father’s exhalation would be his last breath. There. He heard the ragged inhale. At war with the adrenaline overtaking his pulse, he cleared his throat as a peace settled over him. “Well, like I said before, I’m glad things don’t end for Kelvin here. There should be something for him to look forward to other than a slow ride in a hearse.”

When they hung up, Sean hesitated, allowing the high, unrelenting waves of sadness to wash over him. All he could do was pray for Kelvin’s safe passage. He squared his shoulders and slowly walked to Kelvin’s bed. Linen was a good color choice for the spread, he thought irrationally, as he smoothed it out. Next he looked at the oxygen machine, marveling at its life-assisting power. Finally, and only when he had no other choice, he zeroed in on Kelvin’s sallow, creased skin clinging to a face that edged toward skeletal. “Pop, I’m writing a song for you. You probably heard snatches of it.” Sighing heavily, Sean lowered the side rail and sat on the bed. He swallowed hard and took his father’s frail, cold hand in both of his.

“Dad?” Sean paused, realizing Kelvin had earned that title. “Daddy, I’m going to do the right thing by Riana. It’s clear her father isn’t interested and his parents couldn’t care less. I’ll step up to the plate. If worrying about this is what’s keeping you here, you can…” Sean’s voice broke as the next wave swallowed him. He took a huge breath to support his submergence. “You can let go. It’s all right. You can go and hang out with Maya, Nicole, and maybe even Mom.” Without warning, his half chuckle at the thought of his mom with Kelvin changed into a full-fledged sob.

Tears streamed undeterred as Sean hugged his father. Kelvin’s shrunken body and dank smell of sweat and medication didn’t matter. Greedily, Sean absorbed every nuance.

“Thank you for being my dad,” Sean said into the crook of Kelvin’s neck. “Thank you for what you taught me and for introducing me to Chelly.” Grief raged through him, shaking the whole bed. When he sat back, he reached for a tissue, and then he held his father’s hand again.

“Chelly’s the one. I’m going to make it work. Riana, Chelly, and I are going to be fine, I promise you. I love you, Dad.”

A soft knock at Kelvin’s door preceded Miss Minnie Eva’s entrance. They exchanged knowing looks. Sean started to stand, thinking maybe Miss Minnie Eva wanted time alone with Kelvin.

She shook her head. “No. You’re fine. Stay where you are.”

He did and minutes later—he wasn’t sure how many—he felt a kiss on his cheek. Somewhere he registered the added layer of silence in the room. His father was no longer breathing. He knew it, he just couldn’t let this truth take hold—not yet. He turned, surprised to see Chelly. Had she said something?

“Sean, sweetheart, Kelvin’s gone. He’s gone.” Her tears dripped onto the back of his hand, the one that still held his father’s. “You can let go now.”

* * *

Decades old, Metropolitan Church sat atop a hill on a residential street. Inside the stately stone structure, the dark pews and ceiling beams gleamed. The red cushions on the pews matched the red carpet lining the sanctuary. Large, arched stained glass windows added an imposing and justified reverence.

From the front pew, Sean craned his neck. A spattering of mourners occupied the first four pews on both sides of the main aisle, leaving the rest of the church empty. Compared with his mother’s funeral, this one was sedate, but the ache in his heart was equally profound.

At Nicole’s funeral the church would be overflowing, he thought, but quickly pushed this aside. He could only absorb so much loss at one time.

Sean faced forward again to stare at Kelvin’s closed silver casket and its spray of white lilies. He reached in his pocket for a mint to soothe the constant lump in his throat—the one that held the tears back. He offered one to Chelly, then one to Brenda, who sat next to Chelly. Brenda had called to extend her condolences, and with her customary frankness she’d asked Sean what his plans were. He told her, and they talked for almost an hour.

The minister took his place at the podium and spoke of how no one knew how long or short life would be, therefore laying one’s burdens down at the feet of the Savior was better done sooner than later.

He said when you loved the Lord, your life changed. Suddenly you found yourself eager to be of service. Kelvin had volunteered to repair the church—everything from fixing the roof to installing floors—for the short time he had been an active member.

Kelvin, according to the minister, had been a man of boundless energy, generosity, and wit. Sean knew the wit and Kelvin’s generosity, but he could only remember the boundless energy from years ago. Well, maybe he had seen it when Kelvin had mustered the strength for his trip to the hospital to see his daughter. He had been right in his conviction; the DNA test proved Nicole was Kelvin’s child.

When the minister asked if anyone had a word to share about Kelvin, Chelly stood.

“Kelvin spoke plainly, treated people with respect and fairness, and loved in a way that left you feeling it. He had a great sense of humor and was extraordinarily compassionate. This man left his mark on the world. It was a short life, but he gave more than he took, and because he did, I’m better for having known him.”

Miss Minnie Eva read Kelvin’s eulogy, one he had written himself. Here lately, I count the number of sunrises I have left and remember the number of times I felt the brush of lips on mine. I wish I could have a second attempt at so many things, but you can’t do better until you know better and, by then, sometimes it’s too late.

Chelly, Minnie Eva, and Sean, miss me for a little while, but know I’m all right. Love always.

Taking some time to compose himself, Sean sat at the piano to sing his father’s song. “My father and I had thirteen years and a little more than four weeks together. Because today is about beginnings more than endings, you’ll forgive me. I only have the first verse.” The swell of his piano introduction peaked, then Sean sang.

Although you couldn’t stay when you probably should have

Your love surrounded my life, taught me what you would have

Holding me close, letting me go, through tears, laughter, life, and change

Your love found a way behind the pain.

After the song, Sean, Gus, Bill, and three other pallbearers delivered Kelvin to the hearse for the last ride before his trip home to Maryland. Kelvin would be buried next to the woman he left twenty years ago, but had never divorced.

* * *

At home, Brenda got a fire going, now that Kelvin wouldn’t mind. Friends and acquaintances came again to console. Adrift in sorrow, those “remember when” stories Sean hadn’t wanted to hear at Kelvin’s party were a life raft for him now, making him hold his sides in laughter.

It was late when the last person went home. By then, Sean had found a measure of peace. He and Chelly sat holding hands, watching the fire die down, comfortable in the moment.