Chapter 32

Michael

Waltzing outside on the first day of Winter, I made my way to the mailbox. My joints had started to ache more, and the first silver hairs on my head and beard had grown in some months ago.

Opening it up, I pulled out several bills, some junk mail that no money in the world could keep from me. One of them was addressed to me all the way from the Caribbean.

Attached to the postcard was a picture of Magdalene at a bar by the beach with two older guys, getting particularly chummy with her. She had suffered a long, painful road with Peter – sticking with him every step of the way. Praying for him, reading to him, loving him in every last moment that they could share together; but in the end,  as powerful as love was, life always had a way of taking the things we cared most dear in our life.

Made me smile to see Mags old face crinkle with such delight. I knew that even though it had only been a few years since her husband passed, he would want for nothing but her own happiness to continue. Her enjoyment of life to live on inside of her. Whenever she wanted to visit him, Magdalene knew that I’d offer to pay for any travel; or whenever she wasn’t able to make it, I’d place a dozen roses on his grave in their honor.

Making my way back inside, I opened the doors and a very excited, pure-bred Husky that we called Abagail bounded her way down the foyer stairs and over to me. She moved to her hind legs and pressed her paws up against my waist, her tail wagging happily at finding me.

“Hey girl,” I praised, running my hand up and down her face, pushing back her soft and perked up ears. “Where’s your mother, hmn?” I asked, knowing she hadn’t learned that command yet exactly. After setting Abigail back down on all fours, I strolled through the mansion and made my way to Morganna’s old room.

I flicked on the lights and crept down the stairs, having set up the buckets of paint and thrown plastic cover over all of the objects the night before.

Wasn’t sure where Jane was, but it didn’t matter. I had something that I had to do for her, and for myself.

The first hour went by in a frenzy as I painted one wall in a pristine coat of purple, playing a series of piano jazz songs off of my Spotify play-list, stopping occasionally for coffee, getting some drops of paint over my old, raggedy street clothes that I hardly wore. Now and again Abigail would lope down the stairs with her favorite toy in hand, and I’d throw it for her a couple of times before shooing her away.

The next several hours went by just as briskly, with me texting Jane while she was out inspecting a new stallion for the stables. Guess she was serious when she said that she was going to do that a few weeks back. I’d let her take over some personal and company responsibilities at her own behest; the majority of the workload I continued to pile on Rebbecca Childes. We didn’t speak for several years after her betrayal, but time, and a slew of less-than-stellar help had spurred me to reach out to her again. She’d told me how bad she felt over what she did, how she graduated through college and missed the work that she did for me. It took me some time to fully trust her again, but I knew that she was remorseful for what had happened. That it was my father that spurned her so.

It helped that, over time, Leonardo Ligotti and his cohorts had made a mutual trust and peace with me. In the long run, they weren’t exactly wrong about the corruption that had ate away at my company.

It was Tim’s companionship that I truly missed on the days that I was left to myself. But he was busy with A-Life. Appreciate life. Three locations all across North America, and turning quite the reasonable profit. Every step of the way he rebuffed seed money, including my own.

He was a true entrepreneur. I was just too blind to see it initially.

I made some coffee with the French press, along with scrambled eggs made with chives and creme fraiche; along with several strips of Applewood bacon and toasted sourdough.

Ever faithful in his service, Joshua Redwood joined me for some much needed grub, and we talked about the new love in his life that he was writing through pen and paper that was out in Antarctica. The wrinkles on his face had become more and more clear over the years, but he never lost his wry appreciation for life; choosing to work hard through his arthritis and reducing his working hours. He never could keep himself from staying busy, and I was certain, that no matter how painful, he’d die a tired, but happy old gentlemen. He’d probably insist that he build his own coffin in the hospital with my assistance.

When we finished eating, he insisted that he help me do one side of the room. I only managed to get a little bit of paint in my hair as we worked, and before I knew it, three fourths of Morganna’s old room had been redone.

I sent him and the dog away for the last sections. I’d long since put the old letters that the two of us shared into a private storage in one of my unused apartments in Chaos.

Jane had been okay with me keeping them, but I didn’t feel right with them being so close. They were important to me, but they were of the past now.

Where was Jane? She was my past, my present, and my forever future. The morning sun that cut through the blackest evening.

When I got done painting, I took a seat on the old chair and desk that I had kept. From now on, this would be Jane’s private study. She could come down here and get away from the world, like I once had.

I didn’t have a need for it anymore, and I always thought that she should have a space all her own, even if the mansion was in her name as well should the unthinkable happen.

“I know you can’t hear me,” I looked down to the ground, keeping my tone low and private, even though I was completely alone. “But I’m really happy for the time we shared. And I wish so much that the world hadn’t lost your light so soon. That I hadn’t lost you when I did. Life never treated you fairly,” I felt the words wanting to constrict my throat. “For that, I couldn’t let go of hatred and indifference for the world. But I’ve found someone that makes me feel whole again. So, if you could ever hear me Morg. If you ever could,” I felt my eyes sting, like when Jane had been in the hospital. “Just hear that I’m okay. That you won’t fade into dust. I’ll take all the lessons and love that you gave me, and treat this woman as best I can.” I kissed the tips of my fingers and placed them on the table one last time.

There was peace both here and in my heart at last.