All I Ever Wanted(116)

Ian, I want you to have this. Keep it, sell it, donate it somewhere worthy. It’s yours now.—Callie.

I tucked the napkin under the rocker and then, with one more long, grateful look at the chair that had meant so much to me for so, so long, I went home.

TWENTY-SEVEN HOURS LATER, my parents were once again married. The wedding was held at the funeral home, which was just sick, but the furnace at Elements had conked out. Dave sent over the food, but yes, my parents got hitched in the Tranquility Room. Fortunately, there were no wakes booked this day, and Mom had a point…we already had flowers, a damn good music system and plenty of room for dancing.

As my father pledged to love and honor Mom all the days of his life, I sobbed into a hankie. Ian’s hankie, actually. I’d kept it. My crying was kind of a given, I guess, but Hester cried, too, which was not. Freddie mugged dreadfully as best man. Bronte looked beautiful in her dress, so grown up and stunning that the sight of her alone had brought me to tears. Josephine looked startlingly wholesome, and Louis looked…well, he still looked damp and creepy, but he smiled at my sister throughout the ceremony, and Hester seemed to appreciate that.

“Make a toast, Poodle,” Dad said, beaming and sparkly and in love.

“No. Freddie should do it.”

“Right,” Dad snorted. “Or Hester. Or maybe your dog. No, honey, you do it. Come on. Do it for your old dad. And Mom.”

Mom drifted up, her face luminous with serenity and, er, tranquility. “This is a happy day, isn’t it, Calliope?” she asked, resting her cheek on my dad’s shoulder.

“It is,” I said, my eyes welling yet again. “I’ll make a toast. Sure. You bet, Daddy.”

And so I did, saluting persistence and love, faith and forgiveness, and yes, I did a great job, feeling it was only fair for everyone to shed a tear since my own eyes were working overtime. Then Josephine got the microphone and Bronte did something with her iPod and seconds later, little Josephine was wailing away, “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me,” and somehow that became the first song my parents danced to.

It was something, I thought, dancing later with my father. Today, there was a lot of happiness in this room of sorrow. Twenty-some-odd years ago, I’d watched my father leave this very building, and now he was back, married to Mom once again, and that sad little girl who’d waved from the upstairs window…she could go jump rope or play hopscotch or Wii or whatever it was that made her happy. Mommy loved Daddy and all was right with the world once more.

Almost.

No. Check that. All was right with the world. Period. If Mark had taught me anything, it was that I lacked the superpower to make a person love me. I could be friendly and helpful and cute, but I didn’t get to control everything. If Ian wanted me, he did. And if he didn’t…well, that was harder. But I’d be okay.

“Thank you, Poodle,” my father whispered into my hair.

“What for, Daddy?” I asked.

“For thinking I was a good man all these years.” He kissed my temple.

“You are a good man, Daddy,” I whispered. “A good man who made some mistakes, and that’s all in the past now.”

“Yes, I was right,” Dad mused. “You’re a genius. Hello there.”

“Callie?”

I stopped abruptly, causing Dad to step on my foot. “Hi,” I breathed.

Ian stood in front of me, his face looking creased and tired and…worried.

“I’ll just bow out here,” Dad murmured, winking at me.

Ian didn’t seem to know what to say. He just stood there, looking at me. “Hi,” I said again.

“Hi, Dr. McFarland!” Josephine said. “Guess what? My mommy’s boyfriend is giving me a kitten! Bronte says it’s a bribe, but I don’t care! I’m gonna name her Stephanie! Isn’t that a beautiful name?”

“They’re busy, honey,” Hester said, winking so that her entire face appeared to be in some grand mal seizure. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

Apparently, privacy meant let’s all stop talking and listen, because that’s what happened.

“Callie,” Ian said. “I…I was in Honduras with…and I… When I got back…” He took a frustrated breath and didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “See, I always thought I knew what I was looking for,” he said. “First it was Laura, and obviously…then I figured I knew what I should look for, but it was supposed to be…well, not you. But when I was away, I kept thinking about you, and God… I’ve missed you, Callie.” He seemed stunned by this fact.

“Shall I get everyone out of here, Callie?” Annie muttered, coming up beside me. I didn’t answer, as speech seemed to have abandoned me.

“That’s okay,” Ian said, swallowing. “I don’t care who hears.”

My heart rate tripled. The words emotional diarrhea flitted through my mind—not the most romantic words, perhaps, but then again, under the circumstances, maybe they were. I heard a panting, breathy sound, realized it was coming from me, and tried to stop. “Hi,” I said for the third time.

“Callie,” Ian said, “when I saw you kissing Mark—”

“Oopsy,” Jack said, grunting as Annie elbowed him in the ribs.