The Language of Sisters (50 page)

She would have liked that, too.

* * *

I had Nick help me. We waited until it was nighttime, stars sprinkled across the sky, a few clouds, grayish blue across the black.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Toni?”

“Yes, I'm positive.”

We carried it up the dock and into his truck. We drove to the white house with the red door. We quietly grabbed the two-seater red kayak and put it to the side of the house.

I left a note. “I hope you enjoy many happy days kayaking with your family.”

I knew that I could not be in that two-seater kayak again, nor did it belong with me anymore. It belonged to a new family who would make new memories.

Nick and I climbed back into the truck and drove off.

We held hands all the way home, then he spent the night on my tugboat and we made love on the red bench in the captain's wheelhouse.

“I like being the captain,” Nick murmured.

“Aye, aye, handsome.”

We watched for shooting stars together.

“There's one.” He pointed. I hugged him close.

* * *

The next afternoon, coming home from work, I saw a huge cardboard sign in front of the white house with the red door. Clearly, the kids had painted it. There was a picture of the red kayak and four people in it, with the words, in purple, THANK YOU! WE LOVE IT!

I smiled.

27

Nick took me out on his boat. We headed downriver, to the quiet part, then stopped, dropped anchor, and watched the sunset, our lounge chairs side by side. Nick was wearing a sweater and jeans, as was I. I had borrowed one of his coats.

I felt it then ... peace. Utter peace, the sky glowing, a mammoth, moving painting.

He took my hand and held it. We didn't talk. Nature was enough. Geese flew overhead. We watched a river otter swim by. A fish jumped, then another.

When the sky was still purple, lush and soft on top, orange and yellow swirled together below, he sat up, turned toward me, and said, his voice skimming on the edges of ragged, “Toni, we need to talk.”

“Okay.” I tensed.

“I love you.” He held my hand, and I sat up and faced him.

“I love you, too, Nick.”

He leaned over, and we had a soul-touching kiss, warm and yummy. The wind drifted around us, and I relaxed into his kiss, into him. He pulled away, kissed my forehead, then leaned our heads together for a few seconds before pulling back.

“I started falling in love with you the day we met, babe. You know why I love you, I've told you a hundred times.”

I smiled, kissed him again. Yes, he had.

“I remember being in my houseboat, the first time we made love, after months of trying to get you to go out with me, to be friends, and I thought to myself, ‘This woman is now my life.' I meant it then, I mean it now, I'll always mean it. You are my life. I'm happy with you. I'm truly happy. I know we can be happy together, forever. I know we can grow to be a hundred together, and we'll still have things to say to each other, we'll still laugh, and we'll still be in love.”

I was so happy, I almost embarrassed myself by giggling.

“I want to marry you, Toni. I would have asked you before we even made love the first time, but I knew you weren't ready and you'd bolt. But please, honey, marry me.”

“Marry you.” I whispered it, trying those words out for size. I waited to feel guilty, but I didn't. I felt Marty, but only for a second. I saw him smiling at me, then he was gone, into the sunset, and Nick filled my vision, and hope filled me, hope of a future with Nick, with a bunch of kids, with love.

I laughed. “I love you, Nick Sanchez.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. That's a yes.” He smiled. I loved that face. Loved that smile. Loved that man.

“Now you have made my whole life happy. We'll get married and we'll have kids and eat bananas dipped in melted chocolate chips in the bathtub as you like to do.”

“Kids, plural?”

“Yes. You've said you want kids, and so do I.”

I knew that truth to my bones. “I do. Many children.”

“We can have as many as you want. Pick a number. Try to keep it out of the double digits. And I hope they all look like you. If they look like me, they'll look like criminals.”

We laughed. “You don't look like a criminal, Nick.” I kissed him, linked my arms around his shoulders. “Okay. Maybe you do. A sexy criminal.”

He pulled me up into those mongo-sized arms, and we made love on his boat, on his bed.

We really rocked that boat.

* * *

The next night, at sunset, waiting for Nick to come by so we could go to dinner at Pepper's Grill, I saw Dixie, my blue heron. She was on the bank, blue and elegant. She turned and stared right at me for long seconds, then spread her wings out, majestic and proud. The sun was tunneling through the puffy clouds, creating that golden staircase, from here to heaven.

I watched as Dixie soared this way and that, following the wind, before climbing higher, soaring near the trees, closer and closer to the staircase. When she disappeared, I knew I would not see her again.

“Ready to go, babe?” Nick called, stepping onto my tugboat.

He was smiling, strong and gentle, protective and smart. I loved that man with all my heart. “Yes, I'm ready.”

* * *

Our wedding was beautiful. I wore a red, lacy dress. We had it overlooking the river on a sunny day, then my parents closed down Svetlana's for the reception. There were about 250 people there. My family, Nick's family, his parents loving and welcoming, his uncles, aunts, cousins, our friends from high school and college, everyone from the dock, Ricki and my friends at the paper, Nick's friends from the DEA, friends from the church, the staff at Svetlana's, Ralph and Charlie, who played the piano, and Marty's parents, of course.

At my parents' invitation, Nick's mother brought her favorite Italian recipes and Nick's father brought his favorite Mexican recipes. The staff cooked the food, along with our Russian favorites. Yes, at Svetlana's Kitchen on our wedding we served something other than Russian food. Miracles do happen.

We danced. We drank wine. We had a couple shots of vodka. There were funny toasts.

Nick and I were married, and everyone had a fabulous time.

But Nick and I had the most fabulous time of all.

28

I told Ellie and Valerie, in my head.

Ellie called me immediately, joyful. “I heard that!”

She was teary, I was teary. We talked for an hour. “Congratulations, Toni.”

Valerie called me. “I've been trying to get through. You were talking to Ellie, I'm sure. Anyhow, I am thrilled.”

We laughed, she was teary, I was teary.

“Congratulations, big sister.”

“Thank you.”

Ellie, Valerie, and I met at Ellie's house later that week. We were each making two pillows.

I am having twins.

When Nick found out, he was so happy he said, “Nice work, Toni,” then wiped a napkin across his eyes.

My parents were, for once, speechless.

They are not shy about crying. “We love you, Antonia. We love you, Nick. And that,” my father said, “is my final word.”

And so it was.

* * *

The language of sisters is a gift from our mother. It came down the Sabonis line, like genes, through our widow's peaks. From the Romanovs, to Lenin, Stalin, Germany's invasion, the siege of Leningrad, the Cold War, we have heard each other.

Passed from mother to daughter.

 

 

ABOUT THIS GUIDE

 

 

The suggested questions are included to enhance your group's reading of Cathy Lamb's
The Language of Sisters.

Please e-mail Cathy Lamb at [email protected] if you would like her to visit (in the Portland, Oregon, area) or Skype with your book group.